justprompts: Ten first times.

[letsdropin]

A/N: This started with a vignette and grew into a 7K words or so monster. But it's very relevant to the muse, so here we go. Pogue is lieutenantwitch, the Tyler and Alya mentioned do not have journals currently; Caleb is theirgoldenboy, and Chase is broken_circles. Not binding to any other muses but the ones mentioned (and used with permission), unless their muns decide to pick on any or all elements in/for interactions with Reid.
The fics up to number seven are valid for all 'verses; the last three, for the 'girls yay' 'verse only.


One

The boy was six years old. He was a little skinny, and blond, and sitting in the corner of the large couch before the TV, he was tiny. As though the soft furniture was about to swallow him up. The remote sat huge in his hand, but he wasn't even pointing it to the reception set in front of him.

That may be because Reid wasn't watching the TV.

His mother had come back from one of her training or seminar or something-like-that trips half an hour ago, and was now unpacking her papers in the next-room study. She had been supposed to return a few days sooner - she'd called to say that she'd gotten held up, but not much explanation - and she was finally home, and Reid was glad, even if she was busy already. Unpacking.

Or, supposedly unpacking - the quiet, familiarly tense voices, not really raised for even a moment, but not easy or comfortable for a moment, either - suggested that there was very little work actually done. And then there was silence. Just silence - no sound of steps walking down the hallway - merely the absence of words, long enough for the little face to fully turn towards the door. The too-large remote slipped from the thin fingers as the boy wiggled off the couch and walked carefully to the door, peering into the next room.

She had her back turned to the room, looking out the window in the early spring afternoon light, fresh after a short shower; she looked tense. Her husband was standing as if frozen, eyes fixed on her and face a mixture of things that Reid could not figure out. It seemed that the air between them was filled with all sorts of stuff, and he swallowed up his impulse to step and ask what was going on. Besides, his father crossed the few steps and put a hand on her shoulder, speaking way more gently than Reid would have expected.

"You should have told me. I should have been there."

Her face half-turned towards that hand, and Reid thought there was a glint on her cheek, before she looked away again, shrugging the support away. "And done what? There was nothing you could do, and I assure you, Joseph, it's not going to happen again."

"Meredith..."

"Now you know. Will you leave me alone?" There was a chill in her voice which made both man and boy shiver slightly.

"Is there anything..."

"Just go."

He tried to say something else, but she did turn now, her chin held high, and stared at him, so he sighed, wheeled around, and left. She crossed to the desk, busying her hand with rummaging through her briefcase, but in a moment sat down and leaned her forehead against long, pale fingers.

Actually, Reid thought she kind of looked pale, a little less strength to her than usually. He sighed a little and knocked on the door frame, waiting for her to look up before stepping into the study. "Are you alright, mom?"

A small pause, and a tired smile. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"Oh." He came closer, within reach. "Um... do you need help unpacking?"

"No, I've got it. Go along and play, Reid. I've got it."

"O-kay..." Then a quick breath in, and he did something he never had before when they fought. "Mom... why did you make him go away? He wanted to help."

The pale eyes blinked at him, and she frowned. "This is grown-up business. Stay out of it."

"But you know he cares and wants to make it better, and even if you say you're okay, you're not, and you should talk to him, and--"

"That's enough."

"What happened, mom? What happens every time when you fi--"

"We do not fight." She took a sharp breath, swallowed, and went on in a lower voice, as tense as when she was having those talks with his dad. "Everything is alright, and now you need to go to your room. And stay there."

"Mom..."

"To your room, Reid. Now." Steel in her eyes. He didn't know what to say to make her listen. She only had to listen. Maybe... maybe his father would. Dragging his feet and throwing looks back over his shoulder (meeting every time the same firm stare), the boy made his way out of the study.

On to the living room. His father had poured himself some sort of a drink and was standing... leaning with both hands against the bar, looking down. As Reid stepped across the doorway, he shook his head as though he couldn't believe something and straightened, and looked around, very startled at the boy's voice. "Dad, why don't you--"

"Reid! I said, go. to. your. room." Meredith's words were clipped and firm, from up the hallway. Joseph shrugged and tilted his chin towards the stairs. And then took a long sip from his drink.

The boy's shoulders hunched and he did trudge up to his room. Closed the door and sat on the bed. He didn't even know if it was cold or not; he felt chilled, shivering. Arms wrapped tightly around himself, he just... sat there, not wanting to reach for a book or a toy or ... anything.

He didn't get it. If they would just talk with each other, and listen, it should be alright. It had to be, there didn't seem to be another reason that he could find. That they cared about each other, he did not doubt. Just... couldn't get along. Sometimes really badly.

Maybe I didn't do this well enough. I'll try again. There's got to be a way.

Two

It was the new teacher they got in second grade.

They were filing out for recess when her voice rang out, "Reid? Would you stay with me for a minute, please?"

That got her three almost identically worried looks (and the boy she'd addressed to hunch his shoulders and stare at the ground, but yes, he did stop to stay behind), and it was the dark-eyed boy who actually spoke. "Is he in trouble, miss?"

The woman's eyebrows rose slightly, but she smiled. "Trouble? Oh, no, I just want to talk with him. Run along, Caleb, boys." The oldest of the four looked up another moment, then nodded and did herd his other two friends on. If she suspected that they'd wait for their friend behind the corner... she wouldn't be wrong.

She returned to her desk while the children filed away, and when they did, she called him softly. "Reid? Would you come over here, please? I'd like you to look at this with me." The boy shuffled over - he'd perked up a little after Caleb's question and her answer, but hadn't exactly relaxed. Then again, she had rarely seen him relaxed, in the few weeks since she'd started teaching him. Unless in a relative public privacy with his three friends... or. For moments. In arts class.

The teacher laid out on her desk a few of his latest pieces, and he frowned. "You like drawing, don't you?"

A non-committing shrug. "Kinda." A moment, and he added, "never really thought about if I like it or not. It's just... another thing."

"Ah. But, you see, you draw very well. This might be a bit of grown-up talk, or might not," he glanced up at her - adults usually left it at the first part and didn't say what they actually meant, but she did continue, "but you have a very good eye for detail, and you manage to bring out things in what you draw that most people don't notice."

"Most people my age?"

"Some of them, yes. Some, just most people."

"... so?"

"So... I just think that you might want to pay attention and see if you do like drawing. I could give you a few tips in class, if you'd like me to, and... I do think you could grow to enjoy this. Just something to do for fun."

"Huh." He blinked up at her, then down at the penciled drawings on the desk. "I'll think about it."

"Good."

"Can I go now?"

She sighed a little. "Of course. Let me know what you decide?"

He shrugged, then turned and shuffled out... actually running before he was truly outside the door and definitely before she could call out to him not to.

"Hey, what was that about?" Sure enough, his boys were right around the corner, and he skidded to a halt, or, rather, a more acceptable pace as they all headed to lunch.

"Nothing."

"If there's any trouble, just let us know and we'll help?"

Reid actually smiled at the older boy. "Yeah, I know. No trouble, though. Just, she liked some of my work in class." Which was a first. And it kind of felt very nice. "Hey, I'm hungry. Race you?"

The other blond chuckled. "Well, if it's not one kind of trouble, it's got to be another. Start in three, two--"

"Pogue!"

"Come on, Caleb! One!"

It didn't even matter which one won.

Three

The first thing Reid saw when he opened his eyes on the first day of winter vacation - were the frosted windows.

The sun rose late, or something like that; fact of the matter was that it was rising right then, and the golds and pinks and fiery oranges glittered along the translucent flowers, and it all seemed to glow to the boy.

He clambered out of the bed, stuffed his feet into the fluffy slippers, wrapped the thick robe, just as small as he was, around himself, and scrambled up on the window sill, grabbing a couple of pencils and an eraser and his sketch pad from the desk on the way. It had been a long time now (or it seemed to so him) that Miss Nesson had been working with him, and he thought he could draw this magic down.

Of course, it didn't work out at first. He couldn't get the way it looked right, and so he kept looking closer and closer and from different angles, to try to see how it worked, until, oops, his breath melted a big gaping hole in the frost, the lines and curves growing fragile and melting with the warmth. Reid whimpered in frustration.

Thankfully, there was a whole other pane. The sun was now merely breathing a life of gold to the pale flowers, instead of painting them in color; maybe it would be a little easier like that, and he tried to get the shifting sparkle just right, and it was difficult, but eventually, a drawing that he thought was recognizable emerged underneath his fingers.

He slipped off the window sill, dropped the notepad on the desk, tore off the page with the frosted glass he liked, and skittered down the stairs to show it to his parents.

His dad was on the phone, his face down, voice imploring. "You can't keep on doing that. You know that, you must know just by looking in the--" A sigh. "I know it's hard to resist it, God, William, we all know it, but you owe it to--" Joseph flinched, sighed, and let the receiver slide down along his cheek, holding it before his lips for a moment before setting it. Reid's brows rose as his mother stepped behind his father, and reached, placing her hand lightly on his shoulder-blade. Joseph's shoulder's hunched even more. "I can't..."

"I know."

He turned, tried to hold the hand against his back, but his wife just sighed and shook her head and stepped away. He squeezed his eyes shut, and walked out, absently ruffling Reid's hair but not really noticing his son.

The boy bit his lip, then took a breath and stepped forward. "Mom? See what I did! Isn't it pretty?"

She automatically took the sheet of sketching paper, looking down at it without paying attention, then looked down at her son. "Hey, why aren't you dressed yet? You've been doing nonsense all morning, haven't you? Go have breakfast, then dress and sit down to do your work for today. If you finish on time and don't get distracted doing unimportant things, you might even get to play with your friends later. Run along now."

Reid started to comply as his mother balled the drawing and tossed it, absent-mindedly, into the lit fireplace. It flared into a bright orange puff, dying black, before the boy had time to take a breath to object.

He ran to his room, instead of the kitchen, and sat in his bed, curled in a ball, watching the beautiful flowers which had faded to weeping spiderwebs until his eyes blurred. Then he went to the desk, took the sketchpad and pencils, and stepped to the trash can. Then the narrow shoulders hunched and he tucked his chin stubbornly against his chest. And instead of throwing them away, turned and opened a drawer and placed them carefully inside, hidden from view. But safe.

The other three did come over later. And they all tried to be cheerful, because it was the first day of the vacation and everything, but... it didn't really work out.

Instead, they somehow ended up curled up in a tangle, murmuring stories about stars or ghosts or some other nonsense, none of them wanting to talk about anything of what they had managed to gather earlier. And each of them comforted by the proximity and warmth of the rest. Reid was, at any rate, the easy closeness soothing the blackening burn from the morning.

Well, he could do his work. And if doing that and not showing drawing got him at least this, he could do that. The pencils and paper weren't going away; they were just going to be his and not to bother other people with, that was all.

Four

She had hair that was so black as to seem to reflect the light blue, a slim face, full lips, and eyelashes to die for. Her name was Mina and she was the reason Reid finally tried drawing people, and it was his looking at her that got her attention. He smiled when she caught his eye; they fell into step going to lunch.

"Hey, if you suddenly read Bram Stoker or watched the movie and are about to start making Dracula jokes..." At least her voice didn't sound hostile, nor did her smile look so.

"No, it was... actually the last thing on my mind. Although I could, if you think I should..."

She grinned at him, and fluttered her eyelashes. "No... that would mean I'll never speak to you again, and that would be a shame, right?"

"Oh, definitely. I'd really hate that."

It wasn't even discussed, but if one of them was seen with a girl, the other three boys tended to leave him alone till he figured it out; after all, they all had a lot to figure out. So he didn't worry about Caleb or Pogue or Tyler looking for him too hard. He liked the banter anyway. It kind of didn't come out as funny as usually with the boys, but she made a fair go at it.

Within a week, he was being teased, or rather, mock-asked how far they've reached. All in good humor and so accepted, but it was... well. They were becoming a bit of an item or something. Weird.

Even worse, there were more and more pages in his sketchpad filled with attempts to draw what he spent time observing. The slender line of her chin, maybe, or the way her hair laid against the side of her neck. Her fingers over a book or the handle of her books bag. Eyes, who would have thought it was so difficult to draw something so small as an eye? They started out clumsy; he'd been drawing still things that he could watch or had watched for a long while; now this? Was a challenge. But he kept at it.

The drawings got even more numerous after the awkward banter slipped through faint teasing into shy words and even shier brushing of lips against lips. Which seemed somehow not enough, suddenly, and he found himself leading them into a kiss. And it felt... surprisingly good, actually, for all the years he, as most boys, had spent being all 'eww' about people eating faces. Not that they were eating each other's faces, as such. Just... kissing. Feeling her hand slip around his body, the slight pressure of her against him. But mostly, sensations where mouth met mouth, taste and pressure and warmth and moisture and ... it felt new, and very good.

They had been trying that for days, they had a long time to experiment and to see how much better it could get, because it did feel like it would. And he was liking her more and more and liking that they were also treated ... like they were dating, almost. Wow. And she kept laughing at his jokes.

That day he got an idea of getting something for her. He thought she'd like it; but of course, the idea came to him in one of the breaks, rather than after or before school. So, yeah, he headed out, meaning to skip class and come back and surprise her. His boys wouldn't be too happy, and if his mom heard, even more of the same, but if he could make her smile, that'd be worth it. He'd read the book they were discussing, anyway, Pogue had liked it a lot a few months back so, kind of sort of, all four of them had read it. Reid wouldn't be missing a lot.

He stopped dead in his tracks, though, when he heard a familiar voice around the corner. Her voice. "It's just... I've never been kissed before, and ... can you show me how it's done?"

The blood in his ears couldn't quite mask the sounds that followed; he peeked around the corner anyway. The boy was a couple of years older, and obviously a bit further along with the learning.

It was only...

She'd said the exact same words to him. He could vividly remember the feeling. Knowing that he wouldn't admit he hadn't kissed anybody before, either, for his life. Meaning to do it right, he'd seen it done on movies or grown-ups enough, right? And it hadn't worked that badly either, and she'd seemed to like it, and she'd not even said a word to him about liking somebody else and...

There was a bitter taste in Reid's mouth as he was stalking back to class, arms tightly wrapped around his stomach except for when he rubbed at his eyes and nose with the back of his hand right before going in to make his apology for being late and sit out the class anyway. He got weird looks. He could live with that.

Mina tried to talk with him again after. He shot her down without even thinking of it. Not loudly, but definitely. She frowned at him, but shrugged and walked away. He winced to himself, because that sounded a bit like how his mother could cut somebody out, and he didn't want to do what she would. But she lied to me.

Was that why his mom was doing it? He shook his head. Didn't matter, did it.

The bad taste didn't go away for a while yet.

When he got home, he made to throw away the sketchpad with all the tries to draw the girl. Not my girl. Just the girl. A girl. That's who she is. Then the ones on the top page caught his eye, and he sighed and lowered the pad down into the drawer again.

She still had eyelashes to die for.

Five

The first time Reid kissed a boy was...

Heh.

Pogue.

By then, he'd started drawing his friends, a lot. Which also meant looking at them and noticing them, and, well. They were all pretty damn hot, look at it any way you wish. But that didn't mean that he'd push anything, hell, he didn't know how to do any of it, and it was hard enough with girls, and girls you could date and break up with, but if something like that - the latter, especially - happened between any of them... That would be a Mess. With the capital letter possibly understating things.

But Pogue... well, he had walked in on him.

And it had looked damn good, and he had wanted... to see. To have. To share. But of course, anything that bordered on sharing was, at least at home, frowned upon. Denied. In a way that he was getting to increasingly recognize as faintly mocking him. And it stung. He could have anything that he wanted, as long it was possible to buy with money. Best clothes, trendy, whatever. Greatest toys. Comfortable anything. Sure, they were usually chosen for him, but still. However, the things that mattered? No.

So when he dared to kind-of ask Pogue to watch, he more than half expected the same.

And got... something else. Which made his pulse race and arousal... happen. A lot.

Now, this was something way different from what he'd expected, coming back. Way better than he'd expected minutes ago. That's what he thought as Pogue tugged him closer, undid his jeans. And then the older blond was complying, taking his shirt off, and Reid sort of clambered over him, touching, feeling the warm skin underneath his fingers, and yeah, he kissed him then. It seemed consistent with being so hard, and it was enthusiastic - how not? - but it didn't feel right.

Felt too much like there was something going on here which they might not want to happen. After all, if they weren't dating, they couldn't break up, right? No fuss, no mess...

Okay, some mess, as he knew would come, as soon as Pogue's mouth closed on him and the sounds he was coming up with were moans that almost held a whimper in them.

So kissing didn't work out, but the rest definitely did. And it wasn't like they were a couple or anything. Just foolin' around. And damn, that felt good.

Six

The lady of the house was late for dinner.

She had invited the guests for the Labor Day evening, too.

Naturally, Reid and his father managed on their own. The man with practiced social grace of somebody raised into old blood, old money; the boy - teenager now, but not bothering to use what he knew of the same practice his father did - with a kind of endearing awkward outrageousness which give people pause for a few moments, when they first had to deal with it, and then they tended to settle into being amused by it. Indulgently amused, some; irritatedly amused despite themselves, others; or even simply amused by the constant stream of words which at times seemed to have seriously bypassed his brain - and occasionally that was the case, though way less often that most suspected. At any rate, the guests were entertained for the evening; they also had the social grace to realize their hostess was not home yet and there was no idea when she would be, so they left at a reasonable time.

When Meredith came home, it got to familiar, known quiet tense words and phrases quickly. It was almost like a dance. Joseph's 'you could have at least called' was worried and taken as an accusation, her not-snapping back was too cutting for him to show, so he responded in turn. Quiet, clipped words which carried way more meaning than the short sentences would suggest. An elaborate dance by now many years in the practice. Lilting cadences; even their motions seemed choreographed.

Reid sat and watched, arms wrapped in front of his body, hands holding elbows.

A lull in the words. Yeah, this was his cue.

And for the first time in many years, he didn't take it. His father looked over first; his mother a couple of beats later. His eyebrows rose, and she shrugged dully. "Go straight ahead. I'm going up to my room."

His father frowned. "You're ... okay with this? With what happened?"

"No." Reid rose, shaking his head, not unwrapping his arms, not straightening his shoulders. "I'm far from okay, dad. But, you know what? It never mattered before, and I honestly doubt what I have to say will start mattering now. Go on. Do your not-fighting or whatever you want to call it. I can't help you."

"We're not fighting, Reid."

"Whatever, mom." He did start up the stairs, feeling the stares of both of them on his back. "Good night."

Since he'd been six, he'd tried to make them listen to each other instead of lock everybody out. He obviously sucked at it. He couldn't make anything better.

But he was out of here tomorrow. Spenser. Fucking boarding school. He wouldn't have to listen to this until winter break, and by then, he'd have gotten a good rest from it.

Oh, and he was going to be rooming with Tyler, and Pogue would be somewhere nearby, too. Caleb was staying home and commuting, but that also made sense, and he'd be around enough, they all knew that. Heck, they'd all talked about it. You know, actual communication, not pretending to co-exist in the same place just for the sake of appearance.

Seemed heavenly.

Seven

"Hey, Tyler, you in here?" Reid peeked into the boys' showers room; sure enough, somebody was in the shower, so he took a look around, to see if there wasn't anybody else there, and then crossed the space to the glass door. Pushed it just enough to lean his head inside, grinning. "Hey, just wanted you to know that... ooh."

The blue eyes stared at him, wide and startled underneath the dark, plastered hair. Then glimpsed down, where his hand was holding, pretty unambiguously, his, ah, still rather fresh erection. "Reid..."

"Yeah, just hold on for a sec, alright?"

The blond pulled back out just so he could strip off his shirt and jeans and socks, and popped right back in. His friend's hand had pulled away from where it had been, and was rubbing the back of his neck. "What're you doing?"

Reid flashed him a grin. "Helping you out."

"What? Ohgod..."

The blond drew back his lips just enough to smirk up, kneeling as he was. "I think you're gonna like this." And then promptly resumed what he had started. It didn't even take long, but Reid thought he was getting better at these; the water running over the two of them was an interesting addition, anyway - neither of them thought to turn the tap. At any rate, Tyler's knees seemed to be shaking when he came.

Reid rose and slapped his butt lightly. "You can finish your shower now."

Tyler's eyes opened to look at his friend disappearing out the showers. "Hey!" His voice was kind of shaky, too.

The blond head peeked in again. "What?"

"... your boxers are wet."

"I'll live." Bright grin, bright sparkles in his eyes; he vanished again.

Tyler caught up with him in their room, a few minutes later.

"Reid!"

"Hmm?"

"What was that?"

The blond made a face at him. "What do you mean? I thought it was a pretty damn decent blowjob!"

"Well, yeah, but... um. You know I do like girls, right?"

"Duh. Although, right now it's not liking girls, more it's liking a girl, a certain Annie Lou who was on that camp from before we started school..."

"Oh, shaddup! Brat! I do not..."

"Yeah, right. Which is why you got so tongue-tied around her that you never dared to ask her for her actual address, even!"

Tyler was definitely blushing now, bright spots on his cheeks, blue eyes flashing at his friends. "That's NOT relevant! I mean..."

Reid rolled his eyes and sighed. "I know. 's alright, I like girls, too. It's just... not like a relationship or anything. Just... a bit of foolin' around, you know?"

"Oh."

"You do like... You did like it, thought, didn't you?"

"Well... yeah..."

"Okay." Reid's hand held the other a bit, as he looked down. "Anyway. I was coming to tell you that I was heading out. Might as well get going."

"Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah. Catch you later."

"'course."

Eight

They took their time.

No, actually, they didn't start off meaning to get here. They started off talking. Finding pleasure in each other's company. Discussing books and likes and dislikes and he really hadn't been up for flirting or hitting on anybody, and maybe that's how they ended up spending more and more time together.

Dating. Kind of. Mostly, he was discovering that a. she had gotten under his skin in ways that nobody other than his boys had - he'd had crushes and even the occasional besotted times in his past, but this was different - and b. he could keep up a relationship, even with the added discretion. Conversations rolled by. Dates. Walks outside when the weather permitted it; movies. Eating out, places away from campus - which was also fun, because it meant exploring. Not that he wouldn't have gone exploring anyway, it was just better with somebody. And, even if he missed Tyler and Pogue and Caleb, it was better with her.

Pogue had known, even the very first time Reid had gone home. He hadn't asked, but he had known. His friends were amazing that way, yes.

And they'd still taken their time. Not for lack of attraction or anything. There was just so much they could and wanted to do... sex was definitely on the list, just didn't find its way to the top of it for a while.

When it did, neither of them doubted that the other wanted it. Mostly because, like with many things, they'd talked about it. Sometimes in-between kisses. Sometimes in-between attempts of his to both make something a treat for her... and not flaunt money. It seemed unnecessary. All of his previously used means to show off seemed unnecessary with her; things just worked best when he wasn't pushing any agenda but just letting things happen.

He was more than fine with that. He'd turned away too many by letting things happen and seeing his abrasive words taken the wrong way, for example; that just being himself could be the preferred mode... well. It wasn't something he'd held hopes for where dating was concerned. And yet, now that was the case.

Because it's not just dating, not just dating anybody. It's Alya.

So it was. And it was Alya that he was kissing and caressing and slowly undressing in the dusk of her researcher-and-teacher apartment. Neither of them made a motion to turn on the lights - they could see with their lips and tongues and the pads of their fingers and their ears well enough, and there was enough coming in from the outside to reflect into her eyes when their faces were that close for him to revel in them, too. Connection. (He wasn't used to being alone, and that was possibly a part of it. But it was also her, and she was unique. And he spared no touches or kisses or little words or big words to let her know.)

Clothes pooled at their feet; when they stepped away, traced their way to the bed. When her body was revealed, and his fingertips found the ugly scarring on her side and back, she tried to shy away, and there were quiet words, soft reassurances and small kisses and light touches. He did ask to make sure it wasn't hurting to touch it - if it did, he would avoid it; since it did not, it was another part of her to caress and love. An interesting part the story of which hurt, by how she tried to shy away from him knowing about it, so it wasn't for now.

Tonight, nothing should hurt, and he smiled slightly to himself when her body softened against his again, relaxed as reason reasserted itself over defensive reactions too deep for him to fathom yet, and helped his reassurances that no part of her would turn him away. It was easier after the glitch.

Still, they took their time.

That is, until the final rush washed over walls and determined carefulness, pressing them with just enough violence against each other for cries to happen, be realized, and both of them to attempt to stifle them against each other's lips, mixing kisses with gasping for air with words that weren't fully conscious, but no less meant, for that. Neither of them remembered those words, and both of them remembered the feeling they left as heat ebbed away and he wrapped his arms around her and she snuggled.

They weren't those words, neither of them was ready for them yet. But they weren't silence or awkwardness, or either of them dealing with the intensity on their own.

Connection. Physical and verbal. The act and the follow up, the embrace, the shared warmth. The stupid joke murmured in her ear before she was drifting off too much to appreciate and laugh at it. Even relaxing together.

Reid had done the dating thing before. And sex without dating. And even sex with friends - even if that, for all it was fooling around, was also more than just sex.

This was more, too. This felt like how it should, too.

Drowsing faded up into the awareness that he should probably go faded into starting kissing, and more, again, and when they collapsed after it once more, he didn't just dress and leave.

None of it felt complete until they were curled around each other, at least for a little while.

He knew with unsurprising clarity that the routine staying away from each other, and abstaining from being too close in public, would be more difficult, painfully so at times, until she was in his arms again.And that was fine.

He wasn't going anywhere on her, and, at least right then, he knew she wasn't going, either. They'd figure the rest out.

Nine

Reid caught himself when he realized his roommate was staring. At him. Chase. He blinked, and frowned, losing his train of thought. Reorienting himself in a usual sulky tone. "What?"

The older boy shook his head slightly, and tried to look away, but only succeeded in a small decrease in the intensity of the stare. "You were ... ranting, I think that's the word."

"Yeah? I talk a lot."

The comment got Chase to short. "That you do, but not like this. It was like..." Somebody had pulled a string of a wind-up toy. Once it had started, the momentum seemed unstoppable. Or maybe the string had caught back there with that stupid non-argument. And had pulled and pulled until the closing of the door had finally snapped it loose. Something like that. "... like somebody pushed your button. Except if you'd asked me three months ago, I'd have said you don't have buttons."

Reid's turn to snort, one arm crossed before his body, hand holding the opposite elbow. The last few minutes, he'd been pacing like that, the semi-free arm gesticulating from time to time. "Everybody's got buttons."

Something flashed in the blue-green eyes of the older boy, but he settled as the blond didn't turn to fix his too well-seeing look on him. He hadn't had a clue how deep Reid could see, and he'd known him and about him for years. In the months since they'd started sharing a room, he'd caught a glimpse here and there, how the other boy's blustery, humorous, abrasive appearance was based off a very keen perception of the world...

... but the last few minutes had been a revelation of their own.

For one thing, there had been an observation or two in the rant that Chase had needed to go back mentally to verify... and then blink for having missed it.

For another... It was the first time he was letting his roommate in this deep.

Sure, they'd slowly started to talk. Hell, Reid had given some good advice, before the vacation. And he'd said enough for Chase to start unraveling. But this?

The usual filter just seemed to be almost completely gone from what the blond was saying. In a way, that really made the older boy realize how thorough that filter tended to be. So much so as to be at times unnoticeable, that consistent. And Chase knew a thing or two about pretending and seeming one thing on the surface... and he hadn't fully expected any of the Ipswich four to be doing this.

Almost least of all Reid. Who was talking again. "...everybody's got knee-jerk topics, and that's... just that. They might not share them overmuch, but they're there." A bit of a sour smile at Chase, and he flopped on his bed. Which was a relief to the other boy; the room they shared was small enough that the ping-pong ball pacing was close to making him dizzy. "And now you know some of mine." Shrug. Accepting the fact.

... that got Chase to blink again. He'd expected threats or jokes or... something. Not resignation.

Nor the small, brittle crystal of trust that adorned it.

Ten

It was still dark outside.

Even with his experience, which was admittedly greater than that of most new fathers, Reid thought it was over in a distorted, excruciating - for Alya, of course - short time. He worried about her, if it hadn't been too much, too fast. But her tired eyes were following the tiny shape that was carefully handled around the room - cleaned, measured, weighed, wrapped up - and she did smile when the baby was returned to her arms, laid out on her chest so he could hear and feel her heartbeat again. She didn't look bad, was his professional estimation based on the newly post-natal women he'd cared for... She looked gloriously beautiful, was his husbandly opinion as he hovered over the bed, holding her arm as she cradled the baby, careful, exhausted, radiant.

And then she looked up and asked quietly, "do you want to hold him?" and Reid's eyes widened and his chest and throat contracted so he could only nod. Then he waited a moment for something to happen, and realized that he had to pick the baby up. Obviously.

Okay, I can do that. I've held babies before. I haven't dropped anybody...

It was still scary.

He still reached down to carefully, oh so carefully scoop up the small bundle, cradling him carefully against the crook of his arm, against his body, the head safely propped, just as he had been taught. The baby blinked his eyes open, then his lips, and mewled. Reid blinked in return, then slowly, very slowly smiled as the newborn settled again. He was too little to be able to focus his eyes yet, but it was still the first time his son looked up at him.

His son. Reid's mind, which had focused a lot on Alya and how she was and the whole birth process, finally caught up to the fact and promptly exploded. His eyes flicked up to his wife, who was already drifting off, but still looking up. "Wow. This is..." He smiled. It was beautiful and awesome and "... amazing." And scary as hell. "What were we thinking?"

"It'll be okay, Reid." Sleep-muzzled voice, and he smiled more.

"True. Rest now. He'll be in good hands."

"Oh, I know that." Her return smile was... well, the one she gave him, loving and confident in him and letting him know that whatever effort he made, had made, would make, it was worth it. Pale one, but that smile indeed. Between it and the warm bundle against his chest, the panic relaxed its hold a little.

He looked back down to the baby in his arms. Arm, really. Long fingers caressed one cheek, very, very lightly. "You hear that? It'll be okay. I won't, we won't let anything happen to you." And they'd had a chance to work on that with Isabel earlier. God. Child molesters. Bullies. Bad drivers. The curse that was in his blood. The chances that Reid would mess up. He gritted his teeth, and added quieter, more determined, "I'll do right by you. I promise."

Circles, things coming around and around.

But it would be alright, this time. Between the two of them, or the ten of them? They'd do well by the little ones. THEIR little ones. (Yeah, unexpected additional empathy with Chase. It did freaking change one's world...)

The nurse hovered beside him and he relinquished his son to her competent hands; Alya had fallen asleep, and the baby could use the rest, too. They'd be given instructions on how to care for him later, when she woke up.

And later yet, he'd be able to take his family home.

You'll like it there, little one. You'll love it.

Like Reid loved it. Like he loved them.

Truly.