FIC: Last Night Last (Rossi/Reid, NC-17)
Title: Last Night Last
Author: darkhawkhealer
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Rossi/Reid
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,171
Warnings: Can be found here.
Summary: There's always a fallout after a one-night stand.
Note: crimsonquills requested Reid/Rossi fic for her winning bid at help_haiti. Thanks to kyrdwyn for being an incredibly patient sounding board/first reader, and resolucidity for awesome beta work.
It's shocking, how it happens. He starts out having a drink with Reid, decompressing after that disaster of a case. They leave in the morning, and for now they're haunting the hotel bar, loathe to go back to their rooms. Later, when he's asked, Dave will say that he was drunk. He'll say that he has no idea how he lost control, or how he ended up following Reid back to his hotel room.
That part, at least, is true. All Dave knows is that Reid is looking at him intently, eyes dark and speculative, then he's being pushed back against the door, large, fine-boned hands coming up to cradle his face and tilt his head up minutely and it's weird, it's odd to find himself in a position he's had countless women in. But then Reid's mouth descends on his and he's lost in the heat of a surprisingly skillful kiss.
Dave makes a small sound in his throat and gives as good as he gets, not willing to yield an inch. He may be new to this 'kissing guys' thing -- hell, he's new to everything with guys; this fucking old and though he may have looked once or twice, he's never been attracted enough to make a move. Reid, however, is damned good at it, and the fact that he IS a guy is just enough to have lust shooting sharply through him, combining with the alcohol - more drunk than is probably wise, and they both know it - to make the room spin. His hands come up and rest on Reid's upper arms, tightening in pleasure and looking for an anchor.
He can't help it, he makes a sound low in the back of his throat and Reid responds in kind, growling a little and nipping at Dave's mouth, sharp teeth making him impossibly hard.
"Never took you for a biter," he mutters, and feels Reid chuckle, dark and promising in the back of his throat.
"Just wait," Reid promises, hands dropping to cup Dave's erection through his pants; measuring and mapping and fondling.
Dave can't help the thrust of his hips, doesn't want to, any more than he wants to stop from twining his fingers in Reid's hair and pulling him down for a hot, wet kiss, mouths opening and tongues slickly sliding against each other. They fight for dominance, for entrance past hot lips and hard teeth, with Dave pulling out all his favorite tricks.
He drags his hands down Reid's neck and over his shoulders, pushing off the jacket and pulling on his tie, taking perverse pleasure in unbuttoning another man's shirt while Reid fits their hips together, an equal hardness separated by just a few layers of clothing and just enough send a flutter of nerves through Dave.
Reid does a dirty roll of his hips, his own hands working just as intently on Dave's shirt as he presses open mouthed kisses over jaw and neck, and it turns into a delicious competition, both of them lost in the mutual pleasure of discovering each other for the first time.
Reid's thin, but surprisingly well-defined, all hard planes and sparse hair, a welcome contrast to Dave's own solid build. His chest is hairless, but Dave runs his fingers down the trail of hair over his abdomen, teasing at a belt buckle and pulling a ragged groan from Reid.
Reid nips again, sharp teeth pressing into the skin Dave's shoulder and Dave shudders, fingers faltering for just a second. A sharp gasp, and his head is dropping back to the door, seeking a bit of elusive, teasing friction.
It's a moment to get his brain back up and running, then Dave's unbuckling Reid's belt and reaching for the button and fly beneath, pushing just enough to have the pants dropping off a narrow waist and down long, lean legs. Reid pulls back long enough to reach into the pocket and pull out a small square package, sending a frisson of nerves and a thrill of lust through Dave. He steps out of the pants, losing his shoes and socks along the way and giving Dave an opening to move forward, further into the room.
Dave drops his own pants, suddenly, unaccountably nervous. He clears his throat, then -- "I've never --"
"I know." Reid crowds Dave back, herding him to the bed following him down, laying against the length of his body. He reaches into the nightstand and pulls out lubricant from the drawer, leaving Dave to wonder just what Reid gets up to on his own.
Long fingers play with the waistband of Dave's boxer briefs and Reid meets his eyes, lust receding a little. "Yes?"
He's drunk, it's probably a bad idea on both their parts, and somebody's going to regret this in the morning, "Yeah."
Reid smiles, a slow, blossoming smile that's both shy and a little bit dirty at the same time. It's a matter of seconds and then they're both completely naked, pressed against each other from sternum to knees. Dave spreads his legs a little and shudders at the feel of another man's cock against his for the first time, hands wrapping around slim hips and pulling Reid down, searching for something, anything to take the edge off.
He reaches for the condom and the lube and slides down, pressing suckling open mouthed kisses along Dave's neck and chest, stopping to pay quick attention to pebbled nipples, but intent on reaching Dave's insistent erection, nuzzling the thin skin just inside his hipbone. One hot, wet lick up the length of Dave's dick and then Reid's sitting up, ignoring Dave's strangled moan. Long, nimble fingers tear open the packet and pull out the thin latex. Reid meets Dave's eyes and grins, then places the condom just inside his lips. Dave has just enough time to reach down and tangle his fingers in Reid's hair before that hot mouth envelops him in one long, fluid motion, rolling the condom on at the same damned time.
Dave's dick hits the back of Reid's throat and he arches helplessly, all higher brain function rapidly disappearing. He hears the clicking of the bottle cap being opened and looks down his body, curious and eager for whatever comes next. Reid's bobbing his head and slicking his fingers, reaching behind himself and groaning in the back of his throat. Dave's breath catches and he stares, incredulous and it's impossible, but more turned on than he'd thought he could be.
Dave licks his lips, trying to bring a hint of moisture back to his mouth. "C'mere," he croaks, meeting Reid's speculative gaze. "I wanna-let me..."
Reid comes to a decision and swings around, settling onto Dave's chest and presenting the most beautiful hole for Dave's inspection, handing back the bottle of lube and returning to his self-appointed task of sucking Dave's brains out through his dick. He picks up the lube and considers it while his mouth waters. It's been a while since he's done this particular act, but Dave wants to taste and right now his impulse control is bordering on non-existent. So he drops the bottle and props his head higher up on a pillow before parting Reid's cheeks and darting in to lick a long stripe from just beneath Reid's balls - and that's new and exciting - to his hole. Small, darting licks to the clenching hole and Reid's moaning low in his throat, panting in short, gasping little breaths as he fondles and plays with Dave's balls, making him roll his hips raggedly.
It's easy to lose himself in sensations, in kissing and sucking and licking the flesh before him. It's easy to slick up his fingers and press one inside, to chuckle at the impatient sounds Reid makes as he presses back into Dave's hand. Another, and Dave's marveling at the warmth, and the tightness around his fingers. Already he's aching to be inside of Reid, but this is good, too.
Reid pulls himself off of Dave's dick and pulls away from his hands, turning and rearranging himself to hover over Dave's hips. "Thought you said you were new at this?"
Dave reaches out and fondles Reid's balls, running curious fingers over the hard length of him. "This is new. Other than that, this isn't my first rodeo."
Reid shoots him a filthy smile and sinks down onto Dave's dick, hissing in pleasure at the fingers that dig into his hips. "I find myself pleased to hear that," he admits, rising and then falling again.
Dave gets a good grip on Reid and then rolls them so he can control the speed and angle of his thrusts. "If you can form coherent sentences, I'm doing something wrong."
Reid offers a challenging, mischievous smile as he wraps his legs around Dave and pulls him closer. "Likewise."
***
Six hours later, Dave groans and rolls over. Maybe if he's really lucky, the events of last night are just a really good dream. Or maybe a hallucination, because there's no way Dave slept with his much younger, male colleague. He'll be the first person to admit to being more reckless than is sometimes wise, but Dave also prides himself on not being really stupid.
Reid stirs behind him and Dave groans again. No, no, no, no, no. This is such a bad thing, there's too much hard-earned respect between them for Dave to have screwed it up like this. It's cowardly, he'll admit, but Dave rolls off of the bed and escapes to the bathroom, locking the door behind him and leaning up against it, sense memories of tightness and heat and musk flooding back. His chest itches, another man's dried semen flaking off of his skin and prompting him to reach for the water taps. Maybe he can drown himself in the shower and not have to deal with the fallout.
Twenty minutes later, Dave steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around his waist, grabbing the other to dry off with. He opens the door and lets the steam escape before stepping out, stopping short at the sight of Reid leaning up against the dresser, looking pale and wan.
"You're still here," he says stupidly, looking desperately around the room.
Reid arches an eyebrow and nods minutely, hands shoved into his pockets.
Dave tries not to think of how horribly things can go wrong as he runs a hand through his hair. "Listen, kid. We both had quite a bit to drink last night, way more than was wise..." he trails off as he tries to bring order to his thoughts, glancing at Reid out of the corner of his eye.
Reid straightens, comprehension dawning. "You know, we tend to have kind of an unofficial policy between us. You might not have heard about it, I can't see you'd ever have had need to invoke the rule; but it's a lot like the Vegas rule...what happens while we're out, stays out." He shrugs a little. "So, we're all meeting for breakfast in fifteen minutes. See you."
Dave feels like ten different kinds of an ass as Reid quietly leaves, and it's not until the door closes that he looks up completely. There, on the dresser, is an Alka-Seltzer and a full glass of water, Dave's preferred hangover cure. He doesn't bother questioning it, working with a bunch of profilers guarantees that they'll know you better than most other people. He just drinks it down carefully, thankful and sheepish and kicking himself all over again.
It's a good rule, he thinks. He can't wait to walk out of this hotel room and forget last night ever happened. Denial can be a pretty powerful tool, and it's not one he's afraid to make use of when the situation calls for it.
Last night?
It never happened.
***
Dave can't stop thinking about that night.
It's been three weeks, but every time he looks at Reid over the round-table, he remembers the feel of those lips wrapped around him, sees long fingers wrapped around a leaking prick. It's distracting, is what it is. His concentration is shot all to hell because every time Reid looks at him, Dave sees no recognition in his eyes. There's no acknowledgment of what happened between them.
It'd be one thing if it was just lust. If sex were the only problem, he'd gladly go pick someone up and get it out of his system.
The problem is, combined with those memories of dark eyes and intense arousal, Dave finds himself thinking of Reid's other attributes. His passion and his intensity. The force of his anger and the ruthlessness behind his intelligence when he gets really involved. The leaps of logic that form connections that only Reid can make.
Everything about him is attractive, like a moth to flame. Even his socially awkward tendencies when he's nervous, the way he gets self-conscious is endearing. It's a crime to cover up that beautiful body in so many layers, and yet Dave's not sure he'd be able to handle it if everyone were aware of what lay hidden beneath those clothes. He's touched that body, seen it and tasted it, but he was drunk, and unable to truly, properly appreciate it.
He finds himself wanting a second chance.
It's ridiculous, all the reasons why it was a bad idea three weeks ago still stand today, but it doesn't stop Dave from thinking about it late at night, wondering if it would be possible to possess Reid, to have him and keep him and make something work, make it last.
Just because he's been married three times, doesn't mean any of the divorces were his idea. Dave believes in going into relationships for the long haul, he always has. Who knows, maybe a relationship with a guy would be completely different anyway. Less of the conversational minefields and feeling like nothing he's capable of is ever good enough. And it's not like he's never dated inside of the office. Yeah, it might be 'discouraged', but no one ever really says anything anyway -- or at least, they wouldn't bother saying anything to him.
The question is, can Dave convince Reid -- Spencer -- to give him a chance, after the completely shameful way Dave treated him the morning after?
***
If being married has taught him anything, it's that first and foremost, Dave needs to apologize. He spends a frustrating and embarrassing fifteen minutes at the flower shop, agonizing over flower choices. Roses or tulips? Red or pink? Orange, maybe?
One of the shop girls takes pity on him and is incredibly helpful, directing him away from roses (overplayed), and on to a long stem of purple hyacinth. Apparently they're the flower to use when conveying apologies or asking for forgiveness, and Dave's calling that one a win, because he knows Spencer will know the meaning -- or at least where to find it -- and Dave won't actually have to come out and say he's sorry.
So he goes in early the next morning and lays the flower on Spencer's desk, then wanders off to a coffee shop a few blocks away -- killing time until an acceptable hour and distracting himself with a danish. Then he buries himself in paperwork, glancing up every few seconds until he sees Spencer walk in.
His steps falter, and slow, but he keeps moving forward, dropping his bag by the desk and his coat onto the back of his chair. Dave searches for any hint of expression, but his face is unreadable as he picks up the flower by the stem, twirls it between his fingers and then drops it into his desk drawer.
Dave tries to ignore the disappointment still roiling in his stomach when JJ calls them all into a round table.
The case is in Missouri, and the only hotel available is short a room, so someone has to share. Dave offers to room with Spencer, hoping to have some private time to really talk to him, but he shakes his head and makes quiet arrangements with Morgan, ignoring everyone's speculative glances.
Dave frowns, but keeps moving. His attention is needed elsewhere, and he'll have to deal with this when there isn't an arsonist on the loose.
The day after they get back, Dave brings in two more hyacinths, and this time he leaves a note.
Please forgive me.
This time, Dave thinks he sees Spencer's lips twitch before he sweeps those into his desk drawer.
***
Day three, and three more flowers.
I'm not going to give up until you do.
It earns him a laugh, and Dave watches with rising hope as Spencer climbs the stairs and comes to his office, leaning against the door.
Spencer smiles at him. "Pax."
"You forgive me?" Dave asks.
"There's nothing to forgive," he says, stepping back out into the hall, "But thank you for the flowers."
***
A week later they find themselves in Bellevue, Washington, and Dave's been around this area before. There's a chocolate shop in the next town over, and Dave remembers signing an autograph for the owner the last time he passed through. He's got a few minutes of down time, driving from one of the crime scenes back to the station, and it's the perfect opportunity to call up the owner and apply his not-inconsiderable charm to finesse an after hours personal delivery to the hotel.
Reid's got the room next to his, and Dave listens unashamedly as the best lavender chocolates in the Northwest are delivered to his door. Reid sounds baffled, surprised but happy as he accepts the delivery and then opens the box with the door open.
"What's that?"
Dave frowns, wondering what Emily's doing there.
"Chocolates," Reid answers, still sounding pleased.
"Oooh, give me one!"
"Get your own," Reid says, and makes Dave smile as he hears the sound of the door being closed.
***
The day they get back, Spencer wanders upstairs and leans against Dave's door frame again. "How do you feel about the Newseum?"
Dave blinks. "I've never been."
Spencer shakes his head, fondness and amusement written on his face. "Do you like Elvis?"
"I do."
"There's an exhibit opening up soon, about the impact Elvis had on music and popular culture. I think you'd like it, we should go."
Dave grins, and sits back in his chair. "Spencer Reid, are you asking me out on a date?"
He rolls his eyes. "Yes or no, Rossi?"
"I'd love to," Dave says. "But a museum is the kind of thing that takes all day. We should have breakfast first. And since I make a damned impressive breakfast, we may as well have dinner the night before."
Spencer laughs before stepping back into the hallway again. "Don't push your luck."
He waves, and he's gone, leaving Dave to plot out just how he's going to get Reid to spend the night with him.
Author: darkhawkhealer
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Rossi/Reid
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,171
Warnings: Can be found here.
Summary: There's always a fallout after a one-night stand.
Note: crimsonquills requested Reid/Rossi fic for her winning bid at help_haiti. Thanks to kyrdwyn for being an incredibly patient sounding board/first reader, and resolucidity for awesome beta work.
It's shocking, how it happens. He starts out having a drink with Reid, decompressing after that disaster of a case. They leave in the morning, and for now they're haunting the hotel bar, loathe to go back to their rooms. Later, when he's asked, Dave will say that he was drunk. He'll say that he has no idea how he lost control, or how he ended up following Reid back to his hotel room.
That part, at least, is true. All Dave knows is that Reid is looking at him intently, eyes dark and speculative, then he's being pushed back against the door, large, fine-boned hands coming up to cradle his face and tilt his head up minutely and it's weird, it's odd to find himself in a position he's had countless women in. But then Reid's mouth descends on his and he's lost in the heat of a surprisingly skillful kiss.
Dave makes a small sound in his throat and gives as good as he gets, not willing to yield an inch. He may be new to this 'kissing guys' thing -- hell, he's new to everything with guys; this fucking old and though he may have looked once or twice, he's never been attracted enough to make a move. Reid, however, is damned good at it, and the fact that he IS a guy is just enough to have lust shooting sharply through him, combining with the alcohol - more drunk than is probably wise, and they both know it - to make the room spin. His hands come up and rest on Reid's upper arms, tightening in pleasure and looking for an anchor.
He can't help it, he makes a sound low in the back of his throat and Reid responds in kind, growling a little and nipping at Dave's mouth, sharp teeth making him impossibly hard.
"Never took you for a biter," he mutters, and feels Reid chuckle, dark and promising in the back of his throat.
"Just wait," Reid promises, hands dropping to cup Dave's erection through his pants; measuring and mapping and fondling.
Dave can't help the thrust of his hips, doesn't want to, any more than he wants to stop from twining his fingers in Reid's hair and pulling him down for a hot, wet kiss, mouths opening and tongues slickly sliding against each other. They fight for dominance, for entrance past hot lips and hard teeth, with Dave pulling out all his favorite tricks.
He drags his hands down Reid's neck and over his shoulders, pushing off the jacket and pulling on his tie, taking perverse pleasure in unbuttoning another man's shirt while Reid fits their hips together, an equal hardness separated by just a few layers of clothing and just enough send a flutter of nerves through Dave.
Reid does a dirty roll of his hips, his own hands working just as intently on Dave's shirt as he presses open mouthed kisses over jaw and neck, and it turns into a delicious competition, both of them lost in the mutual pleasure of discovering each other for the first time.
Reid's thin, but surprisingly well-defined, all hard planes and sparse hair, a welcome contrast to Dave's own solid build. His chest is hairless, but Dave runs his fingers down the trail of hair over his abdomen, teasing at a belt buckle and pulling a ragged groan from Reid.
Reid nips again, sharp teeth pressing into the skin Dave's shoulder and Dave shudders, fingers faltering for just a second. A sharp gasp, and his head is dropping back to the door, seeking a bit of elusive, teasing friction.
It's a moment to get his brain back up and running, then Dave's unbuckling Reid's belt and reaching for the button and fly beneath, pushing just enough to have the pants dropping off a narrow waist and down long, lean legs. Reid pulls back long enough to reach into the pocket and pull out a small square package, sending a frisson of nerves and a thrill of lust through Dave. He steps out of the pants, losing his shoes and socks along the way and giving Dave an opening to move forward, further into the room.
Dave drops his own pants, suddenly, unaccountably nervous. He clears his throat, then -- "I've never --"
"I know." Reid crowds Dave back, herding him to the bed following him down, laying against the length of his body. He reaches into the nightstand and pulls out lubricant from the drawer, leaving Dave to wonder just what Reid gets up to on his own.
Long fingers play with the waistband of Dave's boxer briefs and Reid meets his eyes, lust receding a little. "Yes?"
He's drunk, it's probably a bad idea on both their parts, and somebody's going to regret this in the morning, "Yeah."
Reid smiles, a slow, blossoming smile that's both shy and a little bit dirty at the same time. It's a matter of seconds and then they're both completely naked, pressed against each other from sternum to knees. Dave spreads his legs a little and shudders at the feel of another man's cock against his for the first time, hands wrapping around slim hips and pulling Reid down, searching for something, anything to take the edge off.
He reaches for the condom and the lube and slides down, pressing suckling open mouthed kisses along Dave's neck and chest, stopping to pay quick attention to pebbled nipples, but intent on reaching Dave's insistent erection, nuzzling the thin skin just inside his hipbone. One hot, wet lick up the length of Dave's dick and then Reid's sitting up, ignoring Dave's strangled moan. Long, nimble fingers tear open the packet and pull out the thin latex. Reid meets Dave's eyes and grins, then places the condom just inside his lips. Dave has just enough time to reach down and tangle his fingers in Reid's hair before that hot mouth envelops him in one long, fluid motion, rolling the condom on at the same damned time.
Dave's dick hits the back of Reid's throat and he arches helplessly, all higher brain function rapidly disappearing. He hears the clicking of the bottle cap being opened and looks down his body, curious and eager for whatever comes next. Reid's bobbing his head and slicking his fingers, reaching behind himself and groaning in the back of his throat. Dave's breath catches and he stares, incredulous and it's impossible, but more turned on than he'd thought he could be.
Dave licks his lips, trying to bring a hint of moisture back to his mouth. "C'mere," he croaks, meeting Reid's speculative gaze. "I wanna-let me..."
Reid comes to a decision and swings around, settling onto Dave's chest and presenting the most beautiful hole for Dave's inspection, handing back the bottle of lube and returning to his self-appointed task of sucking Dave's brains out through his dick. He picks up the lube and considers it while his mouth waters. It's been a while since he's done this particular act, but Dave wants to taste and right now his impulse control is bordering on non-existent. So he drops the bottle and props his head higher up on a pillow before parting Reid's cheeks and darting in to lick a long stripe from just beneath Reid's balls - and that's new and exciting - to his hole. Small, darting licks to the clenching hole and Reid's moaning low in his throat, panting in short, gasping little breaths as he fondles and plays with Dave's balls, making him roll his hips raggedly.
It's easy to lose himself in sensations, in kissing and sucking and licking the flesh before him. It's easy to slick up his fingers and press one inside, to chuckle at the impatient sounds Reid makes as he presses back into Dave's hand. Another, and Dave's marveling at the warmth, and the tightness around his fingers. Already he's aching to be inside of Reid, but this is good, too.
Reid pulls himself off of Dave's dick and pulls away from his hands, turning and rearranging himself to hover over Dave's hips. "Thought you said you were new at this?"
Dave reaches out and fondles Reid's balls, running curious fingers over the hard length of him. "This is new. Other than that, this isn't my first rodeo."
Reid shoots him a filthy smile and sinks down onto Dave's dick, hissing in pleasure at the fingers that dig into his hips. "I find myself pleased to hear that," he admits, rising and then falling again.
Dave gets a good grip on Reid and then rolls them so he can control the speed and angle of his thrusts. "If you can form coherent sentences, I'm doing something wrong."
Reid offers a challenging, mischievous smile as he wraps his legs around Dave and pulls him closer. "Likewise."
***
Six hours later, Dave groans and rolls over. Maybe if he's really lucky, the events of last night are just a really good dream. Or maybe a hallucination, because there's no way Dave slept with his much younger, male colleague. He'll be the first person to admit to being more reckless than is sometimes wise, but Dave also prides himself on not being really stupid.
Reid stirs behind him and Dave groans again. No, no, no, no, no. This is such a bad thing, there's too much hard-earned respect between them for Dave to have screwed it up like this. It's cowardly, he'll admit, but Dave rolls off of the bed and escapes to the bathroom, locking the door behind him and leaning up against it, sense memories of tightness and heat and musk flooding back. His chest itches, another man's dried semen flaking off of his skin and prompting him to reach for the water taps. Maybe he can drown himself in the shower and not have to deal with the fallout.
Twenty minutes later, Dave steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around his waist, grabbing the other to dry off with. He opens the door and lets the steam escape before stepping out, stopping short at the sight of Reid leaning up against the dresser, looking pale and wan.
"You're still here," he says stupidly, looking desperately around the room.
Reid arches an eyebrow and nods minutely, hands shoved into his pockets.
Dave tries not to think of how horribly things can go wrong as he runs a hand through his hair. "Listen, kid. We both had quite a bit to drink last night, way more than was wise..." he trails off as he tries to bring order to his thoughts, glancing at Reid out of the corner of his eye.
Reid straightens, comprehension dawning. "You know, we tend to have kind of an unofficial policy between us. You might not have heard about it, I can't see you'd ever have had need to invoke the rule; but it's a lot like the Vegas rule...what happens while we're out, stays out." He shrugs a little. "So, we're all meeting for breakfast in fifteen minutes. See you."
Dave feels like ten different kinds of an ass as Reid quietly leaves, and it's not until the door closes that he looks up completely. There, on the dresser, is an Alka-Seltzer and a full glass of water, Dave's preferred hangover cure. He doesn't bother questioning it, working with a bunch of profilers guarantees that they'll know you better than most other people. He just drinks it down carefully, thankful and sheepish and kicking himself all over again.
It's a good rule, he thinks. He can't wait to walk out of this hotel room and forget last night ever happened. Denial can be a pretty powerful tool, and it's not one he's afraid to make use of when the situation calls for it.
Last night?
It never happened.
***
Dave can't stop thinking about that night.
It's been three weeks, but every time he looks at Reid over the round-table, he remembers the feel of those lips wrapped around him, sees long fingers wrapped around a leaking prick. It's distracting, is what it is. His concentration is shot all to hell because every time Reid looks at him, Dave sees no recognition in his eyes. There's no acknowledgment of what happened between them.
It'd be one thing if it was just lust. If sex were the only problem, he'd gladly go pick someone up and get it out of his system.
The problem is, combined with those memories of dark eyes and intense arousal, Dave finds himself thinking of Reid's other attributes. His passion and his intensity. The force of his anger and the ruthlessness behind his intelligence when he gets really involved. The leaps of logic that form connections that only Reid can make.
Everything about him is attractive, like a moth to flame. Even his socially awkward tendencies when he's nervous, the way he gets self-conscious is endearing. It's a crime to cover up that beautiful body in so many layers, and yet Dave's not sure he'd be able to handle it if everyone were aware of what lay hidden beneath those clothes. He's touched that body, seen it and tasted it, but he was drunk, and unable to truly, properly appreciate it.
He finds himself wanting a second chance.
It's ridiculous, all the reasons why it was a bad idea three weeks ago still stand today, but it doesn't stop Dave from thinking about it late at night, wondering if it would be possible to possess Reid, to have him and keep him and make something work, make it last.
Just because he's been married three times, doesn't mean any of the divorces were his idea. Dave believes in going into relationships for the long haul, he always has. Who knows, maybe a relationship with a guy would be completely different anyway. Less of the conversational minefields and feeling like nothing he's capable of is ever good enough. And it's not like he's never dated inside of the office. Yeah, it might be 'discouraged', but no one ever really says anything anyway -- or at least, they wouldn't bother saying anything to him.
The question is, can Dave convince Reid -- Spencer -- to give him a chance, after the completely shameful way Dave treated him the morning after?
***
If being married has taught him anything, it's that first and foremost, Dave needs to apologize. He spends a frustrating and embarrassing fifteen minutes at the flower shop, agonizing over flower choices. Roses or tulips? Red or pink? Orange, maybe?
One of the shop girls takes pity on him and is incredibly helpful, directing him away from roses (overplayed), and on to a long stem of purple hyacinth. Apparently they're the flower to use when conveying apologies or asking for forgiveness, and Dave's calling that one a win, because he knows Spencer will know the meaning -- or at least where to find it -- and Dave won't actually have to come out and say he's sorry.
So he goes in early the next morning and lays the flower on Spencer's desk, then wanders off to a coffee shop a few blocks away -- killing time until an acceptable hour and distracting himself with a danish. Then he buries himself in paperwork, glancing up every few seconds until he sees Spencer walk in.
His steps falter, and slow, but he keeps moving forward, dropping his bag by the desk and his coat onto the back of his chair. Dave searches for any hint of expression, but his face is unreadable as he picks up the flower by the stem, twirls it between his fingers and then drops it into his desk drawer.
Dave tries to ignore the disappointment still roiling in his stomach when JJ calls them all into a round table.
The case is in Missouri, and the only hotel available is short a room, so someone has to share. Dave offers to room with Spencer, hoping to have some private time to really talk to him, but he shakes his head and makes quiet arrangements with Morgan, ignoring everyone's speculative glances.
Dave frowns, but keeps moving. His attention is needed elsewhere, and he'll have to deal with this when there isn't an arsonist on the loose.
The day after they get back, Dave brings in two more hyacinths, and this time he leaves a note.
Please forgive me.
This time, Dave thinks he sees Spencer's lips twitch before he sweeps those into his desk drawer.
***
Day three, and three more flowers.
I'm not going to give up until you do.
It earns him a laugh, and Dave watches with rising hope as Spencer climbs the stairs and comes to his office, leaning against the door.
Spencer smiles at him. "Pax."
"You forgive me?" Dave asks.
"There's nothing to forgive," he says, stepping back out into the hall, "But thank you for the flowers."
***
A week later they find themselves in Bellevue, Washington, and Dave's been around this area before. There's a chocolate shop in the next town over, and Dave remembers signing an autograph for the owner the last time he passed through. He's got a few minutes of down time, driving from one of the crime scenes back to the station, and it's the perfect opportunity to call up the owner and apply his not-inconsiderable charm to finesse an after hours personal delivery to the hotel.
Reid's got the room next to his, and Dave listens unashamedly as the best lavender chocolates in the Northwest are delivered to his door. Reid sounds baffled, surprised but happy as he accepts the delivery and then opens the box with the door open.
"What's that?"
Dave frowns, wondering what Emily's doing there.
"Chocolates," Reid answers, still sounding pleased.
"Oooh, give me one!"
"Get your own," Reid says, and makes Dave smile as he hears the sound of the door being closed.
***
The day they get back, Spencer wanders upstairs and leans against Dave's door frame again. "How do you feel about the Newseum?"
Dave blinks. "I've never been."
Spencer shakes his head, fondness and amusement written on his face. "Do you like Elvis?"
"I do."
"There's an exhibit opening up soon, about the impact Elvis had on music and popular culture. I think you'd like it, we should go."
Dave grins, and sits back in his chair. "Spencer Reid, are you asking me out on a date?"
He rolls his eyes. "Yes or no, Rossi?"
"I'd love to," Dave says. "But a museum is the kind of thing that takes all day. We should have breakfast first. And since I make a damned impressive breakfast, we may as well have dinner the night before."
Spencer laughs before stepping back into the hallway again. "Don't push your luck."
He waves, and he's gone, leaving Dave to plot out just how he's going to get Reid to spend the night with him.