Criminal Minds Fic #4: The One where Reid Graduates
Title: The One where Reid Graduates
Author: myrna1_2_3
Pairing: Rossi/Reid
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Reid receives a degree
Word count: ~7,500
"Oh, but you’re lovely."
Jerome Kern
Seated at the breakfast table, their breakfast table, for the first time in 12 days, David Rossi realized that a black cup of coffee, a piece of whole wheat toast and the Sunday New York Times was just about as close to heaven as he’d been in quite some time.
A “hmmm” from his lover, sitting across the table opening their piled up-mail, made him amend his list. Perhaps last night he’d been slightly closer to heaven. The thought made him grin and the grin became a lusty chuckle which made Reid shoot him a curious glance.
“What are you reading?” Rossi asked, nodding toward the letter in Reid’s hand. He recognized the Georgetown letterhead and pursed his lips. “Is there something you need to tell me about your studies, young man?” he droned.
Spencer lifted an eyebrow at him. “You’re the one who freaks out whenever Jerry Fowler’s mom asks you how that lovely son of yours is doing,” he reminded him.
With a glare, Rossi snatched the letter from him and made a production of reading it aloud. “Yadda yadda yadda, pleased to inform you…completed the credit hours necessary … conferring upon you … Bachelor of Arts in Philosophy. Hey, this is great!” Rossi re-read the letter, but couldn’t find the information he was looking for. “When’s the graduation ceremony?”
“I don’t know,” Reid answered.
“You don’t know?” Rossi repeated. “What do you mean, you don’t know.”
“I mean that I am not in possession of the answer you seek.”
“You’re so literal,” Rossi said, tossing the letter back toward Reid and returning his attention to his newspaper. “And yet, whenever I tell you to suck my dick, nothing happens.”
“Only if you say it at a time or place where it would be improper to comply,” Reid replied.
“And you are nothing if not a proper young man.”
Without lifting his head, Reid shifted his eyes to Rossi. He relaxed with a shy smile at the warmth in Rossi’s gaze. “It’s very charming,” Rossi assured him.
Reid lifted his chin and said haughtily, “Goethe said a man's manners are a mirror in which he shows his portrait.”
Rossi smiled sweetly at his lover. “Suck my dick.”
Reid pursed his lips around a smile and replied archly, “I am disinclined.”
Rossi grinned and folded the paper to begin the crossword puzzle. Nothing ventured, as they say. “So you must be an old hat at this graduation thing,” he said. “Are we gonna go or skip the ceremony?”
“What do you mean?” Reid said.
Rossi looked up at him. “It’s not every day you get a degree conferred upon you.” He shrugged and added, “More like every other day, but if you want to go to the graduation ceremony, I’m game…”
Reid had long since lost the shameful demeanor that used to greet Rossi’s questions about Reid’s “pre-Rossi” years, but any time they discussed it, Reid’s first move was to reach out for Rossi. Something else Rossi found charming. “I don’t think so,” he said, his hand on Rossi’s arm. “I was at my high school graduation because the paper wanted to take pictures. I didn’t want to go-it’s not like my mom could come, and I was nothing but glad to be done with that place, but the principal came to my house and gave me clothes to wear, and it was just easier to go, I guess.” He shrugged and licked his lips. “I had pictures taken with the Cal Tech president when I got my first undergrad degrees, but no one made me go to the ceremony. After that it wasn’t much news anymore, so I didn’t go.”
Rossi nodded and ducked his head for a second. His graduations-both high school and college-had ushered in a week of parties. Of course, the joke in his family was that a successful trip to the grocery store was reason enough for a celebration. Both of his graduations had been attended by mom, dad, grand parents, aunts, uncles, brothers, cousins, neighbors. There was always room at the table for one more when they were celebrating; that was his family’s motto. (Also when they were mourning or, really, just feeling neutral about something).
Rossi sat up straight and made a snap decision. “Well seeing as this is the first graduation of your Rossi years, we’re going to have a party,” he said.
“Dinner at Dragonfly?” Spencer hazard to guess, eyebrows raised at such a bold idea.
“That’s not a party!” Rossi said. “I mean, we buy a ton of booze and a ton of food and fill the back yard with people to celebrate.”
“But I can’t think of anyone else who cares about my getting another degree,” Spencer said, brows now furrowed in consternation.
“They’ll care about the booze and food, and since they’re here, they might as well care about your new degree.”
“I don’t know,” Reid said, nervously licking his lips, as if Rossi were suggesting they take up mountain climbing or lion taming.
Rossi smiled at him, reaching over for Reid’s hand. “Nothing overwhelming,” he promised. He supposed he could drop the idea, but he wanted Reid to celebrate-to be celebrated. “We’ll have a cook-out,” Rossi said. “Give me a chance to use that ‘monstrosity of a grill’ you’re so fond of criticizing.”
“Who will you invite?” Reid asked, moving now from nervous to curious.
“We’ll start with the Bureau…”
“I hardly know anyone outside of the BAU!” Reid squawked. “Outside of our team even!”
“Again with the literal,” Rossi sighed, eyes toward heaven. “We’ll invite the team,” he clarified. “Give us a chance to eyeball Hotch’s new friend.”
“You think Hotch will bring her?” Reid asked. “Morgan hardly ever brings a date, and Emily said after we all went to that Mexican restaurant that she’s not bringing anyone ever again.”
“My pointing out that her date was gay did not make him gay,” Rossi said, clearly tired of defending himself on this issue.
Reid just shrugged. “I guess we can mark a spot for ‘And Guest,’” he said. “Garcia and Kevin will come together,” he said. “He’s been insufferable about the fourth season of Starbase Alpha , and he’s so totally wrong about the commander of the army. General Beytron is not half-cyborg, but try reasoning with him about it! And there is no way Garcia’s buying it, because we went through the first three seasons totally on the same page, but now that they’re dating she’s conveniently forgotten that we saw Beytron bleeding-red--in Season 3, Episode 8!” He looked beseechingly at Rossi, as if he might be able to explain such lunacy.
“That’s the spirit,” Rossi said. He had no idea what the hell Reid was talking about. “We’ll invite the Muellers, the Fowlers and the Calhouns…”
“But I just wave at them when I’m getting the mail,” Reid said uneasily.
“You have a party, you invite the neighbors,” Rossi said. “That way no one calls the cops when things get out of hand.”
Reid thought about that for a moment, obviously unsure if Rossi was serious. “Jerry Fowler’s mom is 86 years old,” he said.
Rossi couldn’t tell if he was saying it was improbable she would cause enough trouble to rouse the police or if he was pointing out that it would be unsafe for her to attend a party where there was a potential for police involvement. “We’ll keep an eye on her,” Rossi said, figuring the response worked regardless of Reid’s point.
“Are you going to wear an apron that says “Kiss the Cook”?”
“Sometimes I get the impression that everything you’ve learned has come from an ‘80s sitcom.”
Reid shrugged, conceding the point, but only slightly. “Just things like never invite two dates to the same prom and don’t turn your house into a bed & breakfast when your parents go out of town.”
============================================================
The BAU team was predictably enthusiastic about the idea of a barbecue, and Rossi enjoyed the points he earned for being the ever-thoughtful partner. Never mind that the idea of a party was somewhat agitating to the fair Dr. Reid.
Morgan in particular was pleased at the idea. He’d been the hardest one for Rossi to win over when he first took up with Reid, which was ironic given the fact that Rossi credited Morgan with changing the course of his relationship with the young man.
Reid had been confounding to Rossi from the moment they met. One day he looked like a refugee from a Goodwill store circa 1965; another day he was so drop-dead gorgeous Rossi found himself staring at him all day long trying to fathom the difference from the day before. One day it looked like Reid had gone weeks without a meal and even longer without a good night’s sleep, another day he looked like some Michelangelo representation of beauty. And that was just his physical appearance. Reid’s intellect was both staggering and off-putting-barely believable and yet the entire team blindly accepted everything he said with such equanimity that at first Rossi thought they were setting him up as the butt of some joke. But no sooner had Rossi come to terms with (grown accustomed to?) Reid’s unsettling memory than he began to question the way the team seemed to coddle him.
It was nothing overt, and yet to the profiler in Rossi it spoke volumes. Reid had obviously been pushed and pulled through the normal Bureau vetting process. Rossi knew enough of that through discussions with Aaron long before he returned to the Job. But if they were going to bend and break an overabundance of rules to get Reid where he was, it was even more important that he be given no special breaks now that he was there.
Rossi and Aaron had tussled over it privately more than once-small things to be sure-Reid’s absence from a victims empathy seminar; the way the team hovered around Reid during a case where the unsub filmed his crime on a webcam and then publicly posted it on the internet. The sheltering behavior always seemed arbitrary to Rossi; and ultimately damaging and unprofessional for Reid.
Rossi understood later that as Reid’s supervisor, Hotch couldn’t fill in the blanks for him, so it eventually fell to Morgan. That seemed fitting somehow. Though he and Reid were fairly close in age, Morgan seemed more paternal to Reid, though a teasing older brother sometimes surfaced.
One day, after a rather public disagreement between Rossi and Hotch over Reid’s involvement-or lack thereof-in an upcoming seminar involving the veracity of multiple personality disorder, Morgan took Rossi to lunch.
A disgruntled Rossi had walked with Morgan to a sit-down restaurant near the office; Rossi glowering at being subjected to what he was sure would be an hour-long defense of Reid; Morgan uncharacteristically anxious.
Morgan had said little on the way to the restaurant, and it wasn’t until they’d ordered that he was ready to talk. He’d spun a water glass between his fingers for a moment, then without preamble said, “Reid was the agent in Georgia.”
It was common knowledge that an agent of the BAU had been held hostage during the case the year before. Anyone who’d been on board at the time surely knew who that agent was, but baldly asking about something like that after the fact was taboo, and Rossi knew that the information would eventually come to him one way or the other. It had never crossed his mind that the agent might have been Reid; that the agent might have been one under Hotch’s command. And reviewing behaviors he’d considered curious at the time, Rossi realized it wasn’t that Hotch and the others had taken pains to conceal the truth; Rossi simply hadn’t allowed for the possibility.
Hell, even hearing the truth bluntly stated, Rossi could barely comprehend it.
He would remember it later with renewed appreciation for the complexity of the human psyche. He’d heard Morgan’s words, and despite the fact that Morgan would never joke about something like that; would never purposefully lie about something like that; despite the fact that Morgan had participated in the case; despite all of that, Rossi was utterly certain that Morgan was mistaken.
“No, that’s not…” and even now Rossi wasn’t sure what he’d intended to say. That’s not right? That’s not possible? That’s not what I want the truth to be?
Morgan hadn’t waited for Rossi to complete his thought, just leaned closer to him and kept talking. “And those fucking stories that a recording of it was found after the fact are bullshit. Fucker was streaming it live.”
“You saw what was happening to him?”
Morgan had nodded. “Not everything. Enough. At one point, toward the end, the guy holds up a .45 in one hand, a bullet in the other, shoves the bullet in the chamber and then spins it. The gun’s almost touching Reid’s forehead and the fucker says, ‘Pick one of your teammates to die.’ Reid says kill me. Guy says no, you pick one. Reid says no. Click. The chamber advances a round. Guy tells him again, pick someone to die. Reid says no. Click. Tells him one more time to choose someone. Reid says, I won’t. Click. Bullet’s in the chamber now, Reid can see it-that’s how close the barrel is. So he names Hotch, gives a bunch of BS reasons why, then quotes a line from the Bible, gives the chapter and verse. Hotch figures out that the kid is sending him a message, looks up the Bible verse, and sure enough, it’s not what Reid had said out loud; damn if he wasn’t telling us where the hell he was bein’ held.”
“Jesus,” Rossi had said, lunch forgotten in front of him.
Morgan had shook his head-obviously he still couldn’t quite believe it either. “And after all that? Kid’s been drugged up full of shit; smacked around; the asshole took a fuckin’ wooden board to his bare foot; he’d had a seizure, gone in to cardiac arrest, was given CPR, has the trigger of a gun pulled in his face at point-blank range not once, but four God damned times. And after all that, you know what? He saved his own ass. The fuckin’ psycho has him digging his own grave, and Reid manages to get his hands on the gun-only one bullet in it, remember-and save himself. Here comes the cavalry ridin’ in to save the day and the kid’s just… waitin’ for us.”
Rossi had realized he was still shaking his head no, even after Morgan had stopped talking to stare down at his glass, letting the memories play out. “Why the hell is he still here?” Rossi had wondered allowed. “He’s got a boatload of degrees, right? Doctorates. He could be teaching, doin’ research, runnin’ some…”
Now Morgan was shaking his head. “No, man, you gotta understand, the kid has nothin’ but us and the Job. His mom’s schizophrenic, been committed since he was old enough to sign the papers to lock her in. I don’t know what the deal is with his father, just that he’s not around. There’s no siblings, no aunts, no uncles, no old neighbors, no family friends. There’s us and this job.”
“Christ,” Rossi had swiped at his mouth, trying to fathom it all.
“No one would tell you the kid wasn’t shaky for awhile, all right? He went off the rails a bit, but we weren’t turnin’ a blind eye. He got himself straight; got his head back together; he’s a hundred percent-every last one of us believes that.“ Morgan had leaned in again, arms on the table. “Dave, I just… I want you to understand that it’s our issues you’re seein’ play out here, not some reaction to mistakes Reid’s made in the past or some… lack of confidence in his abilities. He’s proven himself far beyond what anyone should ever have to. I guess the rest of us are tired of him havin’ to, you know?”
“Jesus,” Rossi had said, shaking his head. “I feel like I owe the kid an apology, but that’s about me isn’t it? What the hell good does that do him?”
Morgan had smiled, relieved that Rossi got where he was coming from. “Nah, just give him a little attention,” he said. “Let him quote a few more of your books back at you. Ask him a couple of questions. He’s pretty easy once you tiptoe close enough.”
Morgan probably thought twice about those words later.
Rossi had sighed, still having a hard time grasping what he’d learned. “I have a feeling the closer you get to Spencer Reid, the more you have to revise what you think you know,” he said.
Morgan had waved him away as Rossi reached for his wallet. He’d tossed a couple of twenties down on the table and grinned at him. “Ain’t that the truth. Hey, ask Hotch to tell you about that hostage situation we had at a hospital with an LDSK.”
Rossi had snorted. Okay, Morgan would pull his leg about that. “Yeah right. He gonna tell me that it was Reid who pegged the shooter between the eyes?”
Morgan gave a decisive nod as he slid his wallet in his back pocket. “Damn straight he did.”
It was a month before Rossi had the nerve to verify the story. Of course, he was sleeping with Reid by then, and hardly had to ask to know that it was true.
Rossi enjoyed a friendly relationship with Morgan now, though Derek still periodically summoned Rossi out to lunch for a man-to-man talk when he felt it necessary. If Rossi were the more foolish man of his youth, it would irritate him, he supposed. As it was, he reacted with a mix of amusement and resignation. Hell, it always meant a free lunch and the opportunity to torture Morgan with unwanted details about his sex life.
“I don’t get you, man,” Morgan had said, shaking his head at Rossi the last time a lunch had been arranged.
“Yeah, I’m a mystery,” Rossi had said around a gigantic mouthful of cheeseburger. Since he’d managed to spend close to $100 at one of Morgan’s lunchtime lectures, the restaurant picks had been decidedly lowbrow.
“No, I mean it. Reid’s out there careless as a uniform his first day in the field, and you waltz through it all like it was a day at the beach. Why?”
Rossi swallowed a couple of french fries and sat back in his chair, wiping the grease from his fingers. “Derek, it’s the oldest reason in the book. Sex.”
“What?”
Rossi shrugged, as if the reason was completely beyond his control. “Sex,” he repeated. “I come down on Spencer about this kind of thing, and he’ll stop having sex with me. I don’t want him to stop having sex with me. And since you and I are doin’ the dishy girlfriend thing here, I might as well tell you, quite frankly, I’d like him to have even more sex with me than we’re currently having, because he does this thing with his tongue…”
“All right, all right, that’s enough,” Morgan said
Rossi shrugged again, but relaxed his posture, signaling to Morgan he’d be serious now. “Look, there’s a reason-a good reason-that agents who are personally involved shouldn’t work together. Don’t think Spencer and I both haven’t given a lot of thought to it. But… I don’t know, enough rules have been broken for Spencer to be where he is that maybe one more won’t make a difference. Maybe I’m just too fucking selfish to see it any other way. Besides, Hotch is here as his supervisor to chew his ass for bein’ an idiot; you’re here as his peer to chew his ass for bein’ an idiot…”
“And you?” Morgan asked.
Rossi’s shit-eating grin was enough to tell Morgan he shouldn’t have asked. He was already making a face as Rossi said, “I’m here to do something else entirely to his ass, although come to think of it…”
“Dave, Jesus!”
Rossi laughed and held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I’ll behave,” he said.
Yeah, right, said Morgan’s look.
“Morgan, the way this team works; specifically, the way this team works with Spencer is the main reason he and I can work together and be together. Don’t think for a minute that I don’t know that or appreciate it because I do; probably more than you’ll ever know. But for me and Spencer, the goal here on the Job is that our being together affect it only to the extent that bein’ in a good place with someone you love makes you better at what you do, all right?”
Morgan looked more revolted than when Rossi was going on about sex. “So, you’re off to write greeting cards if this profiling thing doesn’t work out?”
“Hey, don’t knock my skillful prose ‘til you take a gander at the projection TV it bought.”
Morgan shook his head in disappointment at Rossi. “How come whenever I’m lookin’ out for my man Reid, you gotta rub my nose in the projection TV? That’s cruel, man.”
Rossi shrugged. “You get squirrelly whenever the subject is sex. If we can’t talk electronics the only thing left is the Carrera GT I test drove last week.”
“Dude, seriously. That’s just heartless.”
==================================================================
The day of their barbecue dawned with a favorable weather forecast and an anxious Spencer, certain they were making a mistake.
Rossi kept him busy enough in the morning--making a final run to the grocery and liquor stores, setting up the back yard, walking the dog.
After applying a dry rub to the ribs and putting them back in the fridge, Rossi came out to the family room, intending to make some notes for the book he had just started.
Spencer was just standing there in the middle of the room. “What if nobody comes?” he said, gnawing on his bottom lip.
“We’ll be eating ribs for months,” Rossi said, unconcerned.
“We shouldn’t have bought so much food,” Reid worried.
“Babe, look at it this way--who wouldn’t want to spend an afternoon with me?”
“I’m going to put some of the stuff in the freezer,” Reid said, heading for the kitchen.
Laughing, Rossi grabbed his wrist to keep him from going too far. “Would you relax? Spencer, you handle the most extraordinary things without blinking an eye, but regular, every-day crap gets you up in arms.”
“The ordinary is what’s extraordinary to me,” Reid said with a self-deprecating shrug.
Rossi chuckled. “Spoken like a man with a degree in Philosophy,” he said. He pulled Reid down on his lap and held him tightly around the chest until he quit struggling to get up. “It’s a beautiful day, and we have good friends coming over to enjoy a few drinks and what will be the best ribs they’ve ever had in their entire lives. I want you to have fun, okay?”
“Okay,” Reid said, sounding more determined than resigned, which Rossi appreciated. Spencer leaned back against him so he could kiss Rossi’s cheek. “Just for the record? The most fun is when it’s just you and me.” He yelped when Rossi flipped him over on his back and laid down on top of him.
“Believe me, I know,” Rossi said. “Seems cruel not to dole us out a bit to the rest of the universe, don’t you think?”
Reid laughed. “You didn’t feel that way when that nice DA asked us to go to lunch the other day.”
“He wasn’t asking us to go anywhere. He was asking you. And he was an asshole.”
“How could you tell? We’d only known him for a couple of hours.”
“There is a reason the words preeminent profiler describe me whenever I am introduced somewhere.”
“Because you write the introductions,” Reid said, yelping again when Rossi poked him in the ribs.
The doorbell rang and Rossi glared at his lover. “This timing is very suspect,” he said.
“Indeed,” Reid said.
Rossi snorted and planted a wet, noisy kiss on Reid’s cheek, laughing when he grimaced and shoved Rossi off of him.
While Reid took Muchie to one of the back bedrooms, Rossi opened the door to find the majority of the BAU arriving together. Emily, Garcia and Kevin were on the doorstep along with JJ, Will and Henry and what looked like two week’s worth of baby supplies. Rossi barely kept from making the clichéd joke asking how long they were planning to stay.
Will pretty much made the joke for him. “Am I gonna scare you if I tell you this is just the first load?” he drawled, earning a smirk from JJ.
“It is kind of ridiculous,” she agreed, coming in and setting down the largest bag so the rest of the group could get through the door. “But it’s a nightmare when you’re out somewhere and you’re missing something you really need.”
Emily said, “What’s the big deal? All he needs are diapers and a boo…”
“Hey, hey, hey,” JJ said, pointing to the men in the room. “Mixed company.”
“Oops, I forgot,” Emily said. “Delicate sensibilities.”
Reid stuck his head around the corner and was greeted with a chorus of cheers for the new graduate. JJ, Emily and Garcia hugged Reid, who as usual reacted as if he were in imminent physical danger. Will heartily shook his hand--more wincing on Reid’s part-and Kevin offered a friendly one-armed hug.
“Come on, let’s head out back where the drinks are,” Rossi said, ushering them through the kitchen out on to the deck.
A few neighbors came around to the back yard and let themselves through the fence and Rossi had to chuckle as Garcia took over hostess duties for a tongue-tied Reid. “Degree number six-Philosophy--can you believe it?” Garcia was saying to Ann and Rodger Calhoun and another man he didn’t recognize. He guessed it was Ann’s brother given the family resemblance.
Morgan soon walked in, an arm thrown casually around the shoulder of a woman Rossi hadn't seen before. Rossi didn’t understand the stormy look that crossed Emily’s face at the sight.
Happy to escape his current situation, Reid scurried over to greet Morgan and was promptly yanked into a bear hug and slapped on the back which might actually have caused some physical pain. Morgan introduced his date as Carla-no last name provided, Rossi noted.
While a curious Garcia and JJ traded small talk with Carla, Prentiss glared at Derek. “Damn it, Morgan!” she hissed. “You said you weren’t bringing a date!”
“She told me last night she’s moving to Boston!” Derek whispered back.
“So, coming with you today is a parting gift?” Emily asked.
Morgan shrugged his confirmation, and Emily almost sprained an eye she rolled hers so hard. “We were havin’ a good time last night,” Derek continued, “And it just happened…”
“God, you sound like my college roommate every Saturday morning for the entire three years we roomed together,” Emily groused. “As the last two devoutly single members of the team, we had a pact!”
Garcia leaned over to Emily and said, “One of Reid and Rossi’s neighbors brought their brother. Single, appropriate age range, full head of hair.”
Emily huffed in irritation, but said, “How tall?”
“Taller than Rossi, shorter than Reid,” Garcia reported. “He’s over there drinking a beer by the dogwood.”
Emily craned her neck and took a fortifying breath. “All right, I’m on it,” she said and with a final glare at Morgan, headed out to the back yard.
“I owe you, Baby Girl,” Derek said.
“Already added to the tab, Rico Suave,” Garcia said.
Morgan grabbed his date’s elbow and nodded toward the house. “Come on, Carla, you have got to see the entertainment set up downstairs. I gotta warn you though, I get emotional every time I see it. I’ll might cry a little.”
Rossi laughed. “I know a guy with a PhD in Engineering who can help you set something up at your place,” he told Morgan.
Morgan shook his head. “It’s not the designer I need, it’s someone who’s written enough best-sellers to finance the operation.”
“Good luck with that,” Rossi said, giving him a helpful shove toward the door.
Rossi was just loading the ribs onto the grill when Hotch and his date walked out through the back door. Rossi waived his spatula at the two of them and they headed over.
“Welcome, welcome,” Rossi said. He wiped his hand on a towel and held it out to Hotch’s date. “Dave Rossi,” he said.
Hotch’s date shook Rossi’s hand. “I’m Laurie McLean,” she said. “So nice to meet you. I’m a big fan of your books,” she said. She was about Hotch’s age, tall and athletic-looking-Rossi guessed she was a runner. Hotch was wearing a smile Rossi would have characterized as goofy, no matter how stridently Hotch would deny it.
“Well how nice that Hotch is seeing a woman of taste and distinction,” Rossi said.
“But sadly not much class,” Laurie said. “I’ve got a couple of books in the car for you to sign. Sorry if that’s really gauche.”
“It is never gauche to feed Dave’s ego,” Hotch said. “Those of us who have to work with him may not forgive you, but he won’t mind a bit.”
“There’s always time and place for a little graciousness,” Rossi answered Laurie with a superior sniff, as though Hotch hadn’t even spoken.
“Thank you,” Laurie said. “So where’s the guest of honor?” she asked with interest, and Rossi recognized in her the curiosity of one who’d been told of Reid’s unusual intellect.
Hotch looked around and spotted Spencer in an animated conversation with Garcia and Kevin. “There he is, in the navy shirt.”
Laurie followed the direction of Hotch’s nod. “No, I’m sorry,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “That’s not possible.” Rossi lifted a brow in question, but Hotch looked just as confused. Laurie explained, “No god is going to make someone off-the-charts brilliant and then wrap it in a package that looks like that.”
“Jesus would,” Hotch said with over-the-top smugness that made Laurie laugh.
“Well, get ready to hire a new agent because that man is destined to be my pool boy.”
Rossi just grinned proudly and contentedly basted the ribs.
Hotch didn’t seem concerned as he brushed some non-existent lint from his shirt. “You don’t have a pool.”
Laurie shrugged at such an easily overcome objection. “I’ll get one.”
“You live in a town house,” Hotch reasonably pointed out.
“I’ll move.”
“In this real estate market?”
She narrowed her eyes at Hotch. “Why are you throwing road blocks in the way of my destiny?”
Hotch sounded resigned. “Jealousy, I guess.”
“You’ve had years to make him your pool boy and suddenly when I want him, you do too?”
“In my defense, it’s only in the last year that he’s moved beyond a stereotypical façade…”
“Year and a half,” Rossi mildly corrected as he tossed his empty beer bottle and retrieved another.
“So what are the odds I can get Dr. Reid to sit on my lap and talk to me for a little bit?” Laurie asked brightly.
“Very slim,” Hotch estimated.
“You’re his boss, make him.”
Hotch smiled politely at Rossi. “Have I mentioned that Laurie is the Associate Director of Employment Practices for the ACLU?”
Laurie sighed in dramatic disappointment. “When we started seeing one another it was with the understanding that I would benefit from your gross abuses of power.”
“I told you, I only use my powers for good,” Hotch insisted.
“And it would be really, really good if Spencer sat on my lap and told me about his day.”
Rossi nudged his friend with his beer bottle. “I have to say--and this is experience talking-Laurie is absolutely right about that.”
“Have you ever noticed that you have no objections when women have designs on your boyfriend, but let some random guy give him a second look, and you…”
“Designs on?” Rossi echoed. “What are we-in a Harlequin romance novel?”
“Oh, he’s coming over!” Laurie hissed excitedly. “Look busy!”
“You made it!” Reid said happily to Hotch. He stopped just behind Rossi, more than an arm’s length back so he wouldn’t have to make any decisions regarding a hand-shake, one-armed hug or anything else on the greeting spectrum.
“We did,” Hotch said. “Congratulations on the new degree.” He placed his hand on Laurie’s back and introduced her to Reid. “Spencer Reid, Laurie McLean.”
Spencer did offer his hand to Laurie, eyes bulging when Laurie pushed his hand away and embraced him. “Oh come on now, it’s your party,” she said. “Congratulations.”
“Um, thank you. Thanks. Um, thanks,” Reid said, shooting confused, flustered looks between Hotch and Rossi, both of whom seemed inordinately interested in the beer labels on the bottles they held.
“So Hotch said this is something like degree number 15? Amazing!”
Reid’s brows furrowed. “Just the sixth,” he said, looking curiously at Hotch for having so gravely misrepresented the number.
“Oh, only six?” Laurie said, copying Reid’s look to Hotch. “Still, that’s kind of impressive,” she said.
Reid looked like he might suspect Laurie was joking, but Rossi knew he wasn’t going to say anything, lest he be wrong. “I waylaid Laurie on her way to a glass of wine,” Rossi said, one hand casually rubbing Reid’s back. “Why don’t you show her the way?”
“So, tell me everything you know about cleaning pools,” Laurie said as they walked toward the drink table.
Reid looked puzzled. “Well, I can tell you the chemical components of the pool water, but I’m afraid I don’t know much about the actual cleaning of them.”
Rossi watched Reid and Laurie for a beat before asking Hotch, “She gonna be okay with him?”
“No,” Hotch answered in all certainty and without a moment’s deliberation.
Rossi laughed. “All right, go rescue her.”
“Oh, it’s not Laurie who’ll need to be rescued,” Hotch said taking a pull on his beer.
Rossi looked back over and nodded in understanding. “He got pissed at us about the detective in Orlando,” Rossi reminded him.
“I still don’t understand why was he angry at us,” Hotch said, and Rossi had to remind himself that Aaron Hotchner did not whine. “It’s not our fault Detective Archer kept trying to … what did she call it again?”
“Touch his naughty bits.”
“Right, right.” Aaron took another sip of his beer. “Why was he mad at us?”
Rossi shrugged, and it was obvious he was quoting Reid when he answered. “He says we knew her intentions were less than honorable and that for purposes known only to ourselves we conspired on multiple occasions to leave him alone with her.”
“He really thought the purposes were known only to ourselves?”
“That is his contention.”
The idea was so outrageous, it was necessary for Hotch to clarify. “Even after we flew home with the insufferable trio of Morgan, Prentiss and JJ, he thought the purposes were known only to you and me?”
Rossi shrugged. “Whaddaya gonna do?”
Hotch chuckled. “He’s grown so much when it comes to his social interactions, I forget that he’s still so…”
“Retarded?” Rossi offered.
Hotch smirked at him. “I was going to say naïve.”
“There’s naïve and then there’s not understanding what a 48 year old woman means when she keeps finding one reason after another to grind her ass against your dick. Sometimes that kid needs special classes.”
“I keep expecting his association with you to propel him completely from naïve to jaded in one fell swoop.”
“It’s not for lack of trying, but I’m not a miracle worker,” Rossi said as he turned the ribs. “At least his naughty bits are safe with Laurie.”
Hotch made a scoffing noise. “What makes you think that?” he asked.
Rossi looked at Laurie and Reid, then looked at Hotch. He stared at the ribs with pursed lips until sighing in resignation. He shoved the spatula at Hotch and grumbled, “Watch the ribs.”
=================================================================
When the ribs were finished and piled high on trays ready to be served, Rossi called for attention. Standing a step behind Rossi, Spencer reached nervously for his sleeve, touched it and let his hand drop.
“Thanks for comin’ everybody and helping us celebrate,” Rossi said. “I wasn’t fortunate enough to be there when Spencer got his first college degree… Or his second. His first doctorate, his second, the third…” The crowd laughed as Spencer blushed and ducked his head. “That’s probably a good thing,” Rossi continued. “Because, uh, the underage graduate and I shouldn’t have been fraternizing at that time anyway.” More chuckles from the crowd. “I’m not gonna say much more,” he said, smirking at the hoots and smattering of applause that greeted the statement. “Only because, knowing Spencer, you’ll probably be back here for another 15 or 20 of these things.”
Cheers met that statement as Rossi lifted his glass in a toast. “To Spencer,” he called, turning toward Reid with a proud smile. “Congratulations, Babe!”
“Hear! Hear!” the group voiced their approval, and Reid beamed at his partner. The sound of clinking glasses and bottles filled the backyard.
Equally embarrassed and delighted, Spencer toasted with Rossi, who leaned in and kissed Spencer’s mouth after they’d both taken a drink. Delight outweighed embarrassment at the public display, and Reid smiled at Rossi as if they were sharing a secret.
Rossi watch Spencer surveying the line of people piling their plates with food, pouring drinks and looking for places to sit and eat. His eyes were shining, and he hugged himself, bouncing on his heels in a show of childlike happiness.
Rossi told himself the stinging in his eyes was smoke from the grill, so he gruffly cleared his throat and shut the lid.
==================================================================
Having picked up the last of the trash in the back yard, Rossi found Spencer in the kitchen, washing the wine glasses by hand. Their division of labor from the start had been Rossi cooked (on the rare occasion when dinner wasn’t ordered in or eaten out) and Reid washed up. Where Rossi cooked by touch and taste, Reid cleaned with precision. He appreciated a repetitious task that had a beginning, middle and end, and Rossi enjoyed watching him, so they often had their most meaningful discussions over a sink full of dishes.
Tonight, though, there were no deep discussions to be had, just a comfortable rehash of the day’s event.
“I think Emily made a date with Ann Calhoun’s brother,” Reid said.
“Isn’t he, like, a Mountie in Canada or something?” Rossi said. He was sitting on the kitchen counter, nursing his last beer of the night.
Reid shook his head with a surprised laugh. “He’s with the US Forest Service here in town. How in the world did you get Mountie from that?”
Rossi laughed too. “I don’t know. Forest-outdoors-horse-Mountie. There’s a trajectory.”
“I’m reminded why you have to take such copious case notes.”
Rossi pushed at Reid’s hip with his foot for the insult. “So if Emily’s booked a date out of this, I guess Derek’s not in hot water anymore?”
“I don’t know,” Reid said. “It doesn’t exactly negate the broken verbal contract, does it?” He concentrated on a stubborn stain on the lip of the glass he was washing. “Still, it does seem like a one-time only kind of thing. How could Morgan know his friend was going to announce she’s leaving for a job in another state?”
“Guess we’ll have to wait ‘til after Emily’s first date for the final verdict,” Rossi said. “Looks like you and Kevin managed to remain civil. No blows over Spaceship Troopers.”
Reid wrinkled his nose. “Starbase Alpha,” he corrected. “You should remember the name--we watch it every week.”
“If you say so,” Rossi answered.
“We didn’t really get into it,” Reid continued. “You’d think Garcia and Kevin had never seen a baby before. Henry’s great and all, but I don’t think applause is the appropriate response whenever he spits up. He’s going to form an affirmative association between regurgitation and social acceptance.”
Rossi pondered the idea for a beat. “JJ and Will seem pretty grounded, though. I think he’ll be okay.”
“All the same, I think I’ll pass on holding him after he eats.”
“I like Laurie,” Rossi said. “She’s funny. Lightens Hotch up in spite of himself.”
Reid nodded his agreement. “She told me her brother skipped the second grade,” he said. “She said she was mad at first because instead of two grades between them there was just one, but she got over it.” Reid placed a glass in the drying rack and began washing another. “I think she’s putting a pool in at her house,” he said. “She sure did ask a lot of questions about them.”
“You think?” Rossi said, but the grin on his face made Reid suspicious.
“What?” he demanded.
Rossi laughed and shook his head. “Nothin’,” he said, but explained anyway. “She thought you were really good looking, and she was teasing Hotch about making you her pool boy.”
“Yeah right,” Reid scoffed.
Rossi cocked his head. “You don’t think you’d make a good pool boy?” he asked, pointedly refusing to address the ridiculous idea that Reid might not actually be good looking.
“It would probably be a pay cut,” Reid said, correctly reading the obstinate look on Rossi’s face.
“Stress-free, though.”
“Would you come with me?” Reid asked, smiling at the glass in his hand that he was rinsing.
“Too old,” Rossi said with a forlorn sigh.
“Then I’ll stay with the BAU too,” Reid said quietly.
Rossi supposed that was fodder for a serious conversation another day. Reid could pursue just about any career he wanted-the list growing longer with every degree he tossed on the pile. Dave never wanted Reid to feel tied to the BAU because he didn’t realize all of the other options out there-and he sure as hell didn’t want Reid staying at the BAU for him. Besides, maybe he was too old to be a pool boy but he wasn’t too damn old to be kept. If Reid wanted to pursue another career somewhere else, Rossi would gladly tag along.
Reid neatly folded the dish rag and dried his hands before moving to stand in front of Rossi as he sat on the counter. Reid gently parted Rossi’s legs and slid gracefully between them, his hands resting lightly on Rossi’s thighs. “Thank you for today,” he said softly.
“You’re welcome,” Rossi answered, just as softly.
Reid ducked his head, diffidently drawing shapes on Rossi’s thighs with his fingers. “I’ve never had a toast in my honor before.” There was a small, private smile on his face as he spoke.
Rossi lifted Reid’s chin so he had to meet his eyes. “Consider it the first of many,” Rossi promised, leaning in to kiss him. “Every time I looked over at you today, you had the most beautiful smile on your face,” Rossi said.
Reid nuzzled at Rossi’s neck. “My Rossi years are very happy,” he said.
Rossi grinned. “Good thing they’re going to last ad infinitum.” He felt it on his neck when Reid’s smile widened, followed by several soft kisses.
Reid pulled back and just looked at Rossi for a moment; his face serious but untroubled. He traced Rossi’s lips with a finger and said, “I wish… I wish I had the words to tell you… how you… how you make me feel.”
“You do,” Rossi said. “I know.”
Reid shook his head. “It’s so big… so much.” He worked his mouth, trying to articulate his feelings, then just shrugged helplessly. “Everything,” he said finally.
The thought would have sounded unfinished to anyone else-barely started, even. But Rossi’s whole body felt flushed with heat as he smiled and kissed his lover and rested his forehead against Spencer’s. There was only warmth and sincerity in his reply. “Me too.”
Reid placed a gentle kiss on the corner of Rossi’s mouth. “Take me to bed,” he whispered,
“Yes,” Rossi answered, kissing him soundly back. “Yes.” He slid off the counter, carefully backing Spencer toward the bedroom.
It was a familiar path they traveled, and they kept kissing until Reid was backed into a wall with a thud. “Why aren’t we better at this?” he asked, laughing breathlessly.
“Mmm, we’re perfect,” Rossi said. “Perfect, perfect, perfect.”
They carefully maneuvered the rest of the way to the bedroom, Reid laughing again when the back of his knees hit the bed, and Rossi pushed him the rest of the way down. Spencer’s breath caught at the end of his laugh and he flushed at whatever it was he saw in Rossi’s eyes. Rossi had never seen anything so beautiful.
“I love you,” Spencer said.
“I love you, too,” Dave answered.
There was nothing else to say for awhile, but somewhere, in the back of Rossi’s mind, a personal soundtrack whispered to him.
So big.
So much.
Everything.
#
Author: myrna1_2_3
Pairing: Rossi/Reid
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Reid receives a degree
Word count: ~7,500
"Oh, but you’re lovely."
Jerome Kern
Seated at the breakfast table, their breakfast table, for the first time in 12 days, David Rossi realized that a black cup of coffee, a piece of whole wheat toast and the Sunday New York Times was just about as close to heaven as he’d been in quite some time.
A “hmmm” from his lover, sitting across the table opening their piled up-mail, made him amend his list. Perhaps last night he’d been slightly closer to heaven. The thought made him grin and the grin became a lusty chuckle which made Reid shoot him a curious glance.
“What are you reading?” Rossi asked, nodding toward the letter in Reid’s hand. He recognized the Georgetown letterhead and pursed his lips. “Is there something you need to tell me about your studies, young man?” he droned.
Spencer lifted an eyebrow at him. “You’re the one who freaks out whenever Jerry Fowler’s mom asks you how that lovely son of yours is doing,” he reminded him.
With a glare, Rossi snatched the letter from him and made a production of reading it aloud. “Yadda yadda yadda, pleased to inform you…completed the credit hours necessary … conferring upon you … Bachelor of Arts in Philosophy. Hey, this is great!” Rossi re-read the letter, but couldn’t find the information he was looking for. “When’s the graduation ceremony?”
“I don’t know,” Reid answered.
“You don’t know?” Rossi repeated. “What do you mean, you don’t know.”
“I mean that I am not in possession of the answer you seek.”
“You’re so literal,” Rossi said, tossing the letter back toward Reid and returning his attention to his newspaper. “And yet, whenever I tell you to suck my dick, nothing happens.”
“Only if you say it at a time or place where it would be improper to comply,” Reid replied.
“And you are nothing if not a proper young man.”
Without lifting his head, Reid shifted his eyes to Rossi. He relaxed with a shy smile at the warmth in Rossi’s gaze. “It’s very charming,” Rossi assured him.
Reid lifted his chin and said haughtily, “Goethe said a man's manners are a mirror in which he shows his portrait.”
Rossi smiled sweetly at his lover. “Suck my dick.”
Reid pursed his lips around a smile and replied archly, “I am disinclined.”
Rossi grinned and folded the paper to begin the crossword puzzle. Nothing ventured, as they say. “So you must be an old hat at this graduation thing,” he said. “Are we gonna go or skip the ceremony?”
“What do you mean?” Reid said.
Rossi looked up at him. “It’s not every day you get a degree conferred upon you.” He shrugged and added, “More like every other day, but if you want to go to the graduation ceremony, I’m game…”
Reid had long since lost the shameful demeanor that used to greet Rossi’s questions about Reid’s “pre-Rossi” years, but any time they discussed it, Reid’s first move was to reach out for Rossi. Something else Rossi found charming. “I don’t think so,” he said, his hand on Rossi’s arm. “I was at my high school graduation because the paper wanted to take pictures. I didn’t want to go-it’s not like my mom could come, and I was nothing but glad to be done with that place, but the principal came to my house and gave me clothes to wear, and it was just easier to go, I guess.” He shrugged and licked his lips. “I had pictures taken with the Cal Tech president when I got my first undergrad degrees, but no one made me go to the ceremony. After that it wasn’t much news anymore, so I didn’t go.”
Rossi nodded and ducked his head for a second. His graduations-both high school and college-had ushered in a week of parties. Of course, the joke in his family was that a successful trip to the grocery store was reason enough for a celebration. Both of his graduations had been attended by mom, dad, grand parents, aunts, uncles, brothers, cousins, neighbors. There was always room at the table for one more when they were celebrating; that was his family’s motto. (Also when they were mourning or, really, just feeling neutral about something).
Rossi sat up straight and made a snap decision. “Well seeing as this is the first graduation of your Rossi years, we’re going to have a party,” he said.
“Dinner at Dragonfly?” Spencer hazard to guess, eyebrows raised at such a bold idea.
“That’s not a party!” Rossi said. “I mean, we buy a ton of booze and a ton of food and fill the back yard with people to celebrate.”
“But I can’t think of anyone else who cares about my getting another degree,” Spencer said, brows now furrowed in consternation.
“They’ll care about the booze and food, and since they’re here, they might as well care about your new degree.”
“I don’t know,” Reid said, nervously licking his lips, as if Rossi were suggesting they take up mountain climbing or lion taming.
Rossi smiled at him, reaching over for Reid’s hand. “Nothing overwhelming,” he promised. He supposed he could drop the idea, but he wanted Reid to celebrate-to be celebrated. “We’ll have a cook-out,” Rossi said. “Give me a chance to use that ‘monstrosity of a grill’ you’re so fond of criticizing.”
“Who will you invite?” Reid asked, moving now from nervous to curious.
“We’ll start with the Bureau…”
“I hardly know anyone outside of the BAU!” Reid squawked. “Outside of our team even!”
“Again with the literal,” Rossi sighed, eyes toward heaven. “We’ll invite the team,” he clarified. “Give us a chance to eyeball Hotch’s new friend.”
“You think Hotch will bring her?” Reid asked. “Morgan hardly ever brings a date, and Emily said after we all went to that Mexican restaurant that she’s not bringing anyone ever again.”
“My pointing out that her date was gay did not make him gay,” Rossi said, clearly tired of defending himself on this issue.
Reid just shrugged. “I guess we can mark a spot for ‘And Guest,’” he said. “Garcia and Kevin will come together,” he said. “He’s been insufferable about the fourth season of Starbase Alpha , and he’s so totally wrong about the commander of the army. General Beytron is not half-cyborg, but try reasoning with him about it! And there is no way Garcia’s buying it, because we went through the first three seasons totally on the same page, but now that they’re dating she’s conveniently forgotten that we saw Beytron bleeding-red--in Season 3, Episode 8!” He looked beseechingly at Rossi, as if he might be able to explain such lunacy.
“That’s the spirit,” Rossi said. He had no idea what the hell Reid was talking about. “We’ll invite the Muellers, the Fowlers and the Calhouns…”
“But I just wave at them when I’m getting the mail,” Reid said uneasily.
“You have a party, you invite the neighbors,” Rossi said. “That way no one calls the cops when things get out of hand.”
Reid thought about that for a moment, obviously unsure if Rossi was serious. “Jerry Fowler’s mom is 86 years old,” he said.
Rossi couldn’t tell if he was saying it was improbable she would cause enough trouble to rouse the police or if he was pointing out that it would be unsafe for her to attend a party where there was a potential for police involvement. “We’ll keep an eye on her,” Rossi said, figuring the response worked regardless of Reid’s point.
“Are you going to wear an apron that says “Kiss the Cook”?”
“Sometimes I get the impression that everything you’ve learned has come from an ‘80s sitcom.”
Reid shrugged, conceding the point, but only slightly. “Just things like never invite two dates to the same prom and don’t turn your house into a bed & breakfast when your parents go out of town.”
============================================================
The BAU team was predictably enthusiastic about the idea of a barbecue, and Rossi enjoyed the points he earned for being the ever-thoughtful partner. Never mind that the idea of a party was somewhat agitating to the fair Dr. Reid.
Morgan in particular was pleased at the idea. He’d been the hardest one for Rossi to win over when he first took up with Reid, which was ironic given the fact that Rossi credited Morgan with changing the course of his relationship with the young man.
Reid had been confounding to Rossi from the moment they met. One day he looked like a refugee from a Goodwill store circa 1965; another day he was so drop-dead gorgeous Rossi found himself staring at him all day long trying to fathom the difference from the day before. One day it looked like Reid had gone weeks without a meal and even longer without a good night’s sleep, another day he looked like some Michelangelo representation of beauty. And that was just his physical appearance. Reid’s intellect was both staggering and off-putting-barely believable and yet the entire team blindly accepted everything he said with such equanimity that at first Rossi thought they were setting him up as the butt of some joke. But no sooner had Rossi come to terms with (grown accustomed to?) Reid’s unsettling memory than he began to question the way the team seemed to coddle him.
It was nothing overt, and yet to the profiler in Rossi it spoke volumes. Reid had obviously been pushed and pulled through the normal Bureau vetting process. Rossi knew enough of that through discussions with Aaron long before he returned to the Job. But if they were going to bend and break an overabundance of rules to get Reid where he was, it was even more important that he be given no special breaks now that he was there.
Rossi and Aaron had tussled over it privately more than once-small things to be sure-Reid’s absence from a victims empathy seminar; the way the team hovered around Reid during a case where the unsub filmed his crime on a webcam and then publicly posted it on the internet. The sheltering behavior always seemed arbitrary to Rossi; and ultimately damaging and unprofessional for Reid.
Rossi understood later that as Reid’s supervisor, Hotch couldn’t fill in the blanks for him, so it eventually fell to Morgan. That seemed fitting somehow. Though he and Reid were fairly close in age, Morgan seemed more paternal to Reid, though a teasing older brother sometimes surfaced.
One day, after a rather public disagreement between Rossi and Hotch over Reid’s involvement-or lack thereof-in an upcoming seminar involving the veracity of multiple personality disorder, Morgan took Rossi to lunch.
A disgruntled Rossi had walked with Morgan to a sit-down restaurant near the office; Rossi glowering at being subjected to what he was sure would be an hour-long defense of Reid; Morgan uncharacteristically anxious.
Morgan had said little on the way to the restaurant, and it wasn’t until they’d ordered that he was ready to talk. He’d spun a water glass between his fingers for a moment, then without preamble said, “Reid was the agent in Georgia.”
It was common knowledge that an agent of the BAU had been held hostage during the case the year before. Anyone who’d been on board at the time surely knew who that agent was, but baldly asking about something like that after the fact was taboo, and Rossi knew that the information would eventually come to him one way or the other. It had never crossed his mind that the agent might have been Reid; that the agent might have been one under Hotch’s command. And reviewing behaviors he’d considered curious at the time, Rossi realized it wasn’t that Hotch and the others had taken pains to conceal the truth; Rossi simply hadn’t allowed for the possibility.
Hell, even hearing the truth bluntly stated, Rossi could barely comprehend it.
He would remember it later with renewed appreciation for the complexity of the human psyche. He’d heard Morgan’s words, and despite the fact that Morgan would never joke about something like that; would never purposefully lie about something like that; despite the fact that Morgan had participated in the case; despite all of that, Rossi was utterly certain that Morgan was mistaken.
“No, that’s not…” and even now Rossi wasn’t sure what he’d intended to say. That’s not right? That’s not possible? That’s not what I want the truth to be?
Morgan hadn’t waited for Rossi to complete his thought, just leaned closer to him and kept talking. “And those fucking stories that a recording of it was found after the fact are bullshit. Fucker was streaming it live.”
“You saw what was happening to him?”
Morgan had nodded. “Not everything. Enough. At one point, toward the end, the guy holds up a .45 in one hand, a bullet in the other, shoves the bullet in the chamber and then spins it. The gun’s almost touching Reid’s forehead and the fucker says, ‘Pick one of your teammates to die.’ Reid says kill me. Guy says no, you pick one. Reid says no. Click. The chamber advances a round. Guy tells him again, pick someone to die. Reid says no. Click. Tells him one more time to choose someone. Reid says, I won’t. Click. Bullet’s in the chamber now, Reid can see it-that’s how close the barrel is. So he names Hotch, gives a bunch of BS reasons why, then quotes a line from the Bible, gives the chapter and verse. Hotch figures out that the kid is sending him a message, looks up the Bible verse, and sure enough, it’s not what Reid had said out loud; damn if he wasn’t telling us where the hell he was bein’ held.”
“Jesus,” Rossi had said, lunch forgotten in front of him.
Morgan had shook his head-obviously he still couldn’t quite believe it either. “And after all that? Kid’s been drugged up full of shit; smacked around; the asshole took a fuckin’ wooden board to his bare foot; he’d had a seizure, gone in to cardiac arrest, was given CPR, has the trigger of a gun pulled in his face at point-blank range not once, but four God damned times. And after all that, you know what? He saved his own ass. The fuckin’ psycho has him digging his own grave, and Reid manages to get his hands on the gun-only one bullet in it, remember-and save himself. Here comes the cavalry ridin’ in to save the day and the kid’s just… waitin’ for us.”
Rossi had realized he was still shaking his head no, even after Morgan had stopped talking to stare down at his glass, letting the memories play out. “Why the hell is he still here?” Rossi had wondered allowed. “He’s got a boatload of degrees, right? Doctorates. He could be teaching, doin’ research, runnin’ some…”
Now Morgan was shaking his head. “No, man, you gotta understand, the kid has nothin’ but us and the Job. His mom’s schizophrenic, been committed since he was old enough to sign the papers to lock her in. I don’t know what the deal is with his father, just that he’s not around. There’s no siblings, no aunts, no uncles, no old neighbors, no family friends. There’s us and this job.”
“Christ,” Rossi had swiped at his mouth, trying to fathom it all.
“No one would tell you the kid wasn’t shaky for awhile, all right? He went off the rails a bit, but we weren’t turnin’ a blind eye. He got himself straight; got his head back together; he’s a hundred percent-every last one of us believes that.“ Morgan had leaned in again, arms on the table. “Dave, I just… I want you to understand that it’s our issues you’re seein’ play out here, not some reaction to mistakes Reid’s made in the past or some… lack of confidence in his abilities. He’s proven himself far beyond what anyone should ever have to. I guess the rest of us are tired of him havin’ to, you know?”
“Jesus,” Rossi had said, shaking his head. “I feel like I owe the kid an apology, but that’s about me isn’t it? What the hell good does that do him?”
Morgan had smiled, relieved that Rossi got where he was coming from. “Nah, just give him a little attention,” he said. “Let him quote a few more of your books back at you. Ask him a couple of questions. He’s pretty easy once you tiptoe close enough.”
Morgan probably thought twice about those words later.
Rossi had sighed, still having a hard time grasping what he’d learned. “I have a feeling the closer you get to Spencer Reid, the more you have to revise what you think you know,” he said.
Morgan had waved him away as Rossi reached for his wallet. He’d tossed a couple of twenties down on the table and grinned at him. “Ain’t that the truth. Hey, ask Hotch to tell you about that hostage situation we had at a hospital with an LDSK.”
Rossi had snorted. Okay, Morgan would pull his leg about that. “Yeah right. He gonna tell me that it was Reid who pegged the shooter between the eyes?”
Morgan gave a decisive nod as he slid his wallet in his back pocket. “Damn straight he did.”
It was a month before Rossi had the nerve to verify the story. Of course, he was sleeping with Reid by then, and hardly had to ask to know that it was true.
Rossi enjoyed a friendly relationship with Morgan now, though Derek still periodically summoned Rossi out to lunch for a man-to-man talk when he felt it necessary. If Rossi were the more foolish man of his youth, it would irritate him, he supposed. As it was, he reacted with a mix of amusement and resignation. Hell, it always meant a free lunch and the opportunity to torture Morgan with unwanted details about his sex life.
“I don’t get you, man,” Morgan had said, shaking his head at Rossi the last time a lunch had been arranged.
“Yeah, I’m a mystery,” Rossi had said around a gigantic mouthful of cheeseburger. Since he’d managed to spend close to $100 at one of Morgan’s lunchtime lectures, the restaurant picks had been decidedly lowbrow.
“No, I mean it. Reid’s out there careless as a uniform his first day in the field, and you waltz through it all like it was a day at the beach. Why?”
Rossi swallowed a couple of french fries and sat back in his chair, wiping the grease from his fingers. “Derek, it’s the oldest reason in the book. Sex.”
“What?”
Rossi shrugged, as if the reason was completely beyond his control. “Sex,” he repeated. “I come down on Spencer about this kind of thing, and he’ll stop having sex with me. I don’t want him to stop having sex with me. And since you and I are doin’ the dishy girlfriend thing here, I might as well tell you, quite frankly, I’d like him to have even more sex with me than we’re currently having, because he does this thing with his tongue…”
“All right, all right, that’s enough,” Morgan said
Rossi shrugged again, but relaxed his posture, signaling to Morgan he’d be serious now. “Look, there’s a reason-a good reason-that agents who are personally involved shouldn’t work together. Don’t think Spencer and I both haven’t given a lot of thought to it. But… I don’t know, enough rules have been broken for Spencer to be where he is that maybe one more won’t make a difference. Maybe I’m just too fucking selfish to see it any other way. Besides, Hotch is here as his supervisor to chew his ass for bein’ an idiot; you’re here as his peer to chew his ass for bein’ an idiot…”
“And you?” Morgan asked.
Rossi’s shit-eating grin was enough to tell Morgan he shouldn’t have asked. He was already making a face as Rossi said, “I’m here to do something else entirely to his ass, although come to think of it…”
“Dave, Jesus!”
Rossi laughed and held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I’ll behave,” he said.
Yeah, right, said Morgan’s look.
“Morgan, the way this team works; specifically, the way this team works with Spencer is the main reason he and I can work together and be together. Don’t think for a minute that I don’t know that or appreciate it because I do; probably more than you’ll ever know. But for me and Spencer, the goal here on the Job is that our being together affect it only to the extent that bein’ in a good place with someone you love makes you better at what you do, all right?”
Morgan looked more revolted than when Rossi was going on about sex. “So, you’re off to write greeting cards if this profiling thing doesn’t work out?”
“Hey, don’t knock my skillful prose ‘til you take a gander at the projection TV it bought.”
Morgan shook his head in disappointment at Rossi. “How come whenever I’m lookin’ out for my man Reid, you gotta rub my nose in the projection TV? That’s cruel, man.”
Rossi shrugged. “You get squirrelly whenever the subject is sex. If we can’t talk electronics the only thing left is the Carrera GT I test drove last week.”
“Dude, seriously. That’s just heartless.”
==================================================================
The day of their barbecue dawned with a favorable weather forecast and an anxious Spencer, certain they were making a mistake.
Rossi kept him busy enough in the morning--making a final run to the grocery and liquor stores, setting up the back yard, walking the dog.
After applying a dry rub to the ribs and putting them back in the fridge, Rossi came out to the family room, intending to make some notes for the book he had just started.
Spencer was just standing there in the middle of the room. “What if nobody comes?” he said, gnawing on his bottom lip.
“We’ll be eating ribs for months,” Rossi said, unconcerned.
“We shouldn’t have bought so much food,” Reid worried.
“Babe, look at it this way--who wouldn’t want to spend an afternoon with me?”
“I’m going to put some of the stuff in the freezer,” Reid said, heading for the kitchen.
Laughing, Rossi grabbed his wrist to keep him from going too far. “Would you relax? Spencer, you handle the most extraordinary things without blinking an eye, but regular, every-day crap gets you up in arms.”
“The ordinary is what’s extraordinary to me,” Reid said with a self-deprecating shrug.
Rossi chuckled. “Spoken like a man with a degree in Philosophy,” he said. He pulled Reid down on his lap and held him tightly around the chest until he quit struggling to get up. “It’s a beautiful day, and we have good friends coming over to enjoy a few drinks and what will be the best ribs they’ve ever had in their entire lives. I want you to have fun, okay?”
“Okay,” Reid said, sounding more determined than resigned, which Rossi appreciated. Spencer leaned back against him so he could kiss Rossi’s cheek. “Just for the record? The most fun is when it’s just you and me.” He yelped when Rossi flipped him over on his back and laid down on top of him.
“Believe me, I know,” Rossi said. “Seems cruel not to dole us out a bit to the rest of the universe, don’t you think?”
Reid laughed. “You didn’t feel that way when that nice DA asked us to go to lunch the other day.”
“He wasn’t asking us to go anywhere. He was asking you. And he was an asshole.”
“How could you tell? We’d only known him for a couple of hours.”
“There is a reason the words preeminent profiler describe me whenever I am introduced somewhere.”
“Because you write the introductions,” Reid said, yelping again when Rossi poked him in the ribs.
The doorbell rang and Rossi glared at his lover. “This timing is very suspect,” he said.
“Indeed,” Reid said.
Rossi snorted and planted a wet, noisy kiss on Reid’s cheek, laughing when he grimaced and shoved Rossi off of him.
While Reid took Muchie to one of the back bedrooms, Rossi opened the door to find the majority of the BAU arriving together. Emily, Garcia and Kevin were on the doorstep along with JJ, Will and Henry and what looked like two week’s worth of baby supplies. Rossi barely kept from making the clichéd joke asking how long they were planning to stay.
Will pretty much made the joke for him. “Am I gonna scare you if I tell you this is just the first load?” he drawled, earning a smirk from JJ.
“It is kind of ridiculous,” she agreed, coming in and setting down the largest bag so the rest of the group could get through the door. “But it’s a nightmare when you’re out somewhere and you’re missing something you really need.”
Emily said, “What’s the big deal? All he needs are diapers and a boo…”
“Hey, hey, hey,” JJ said, pointing to the men in the room. “Mixed company.”
“Oops, I forgot,” Emily said. “Delicate sensibilities.”
Reid stuck his head around the corner and was greeted with a chorus of cheers for the new graduate. JJ, Emily and Garcia hugged Reid, who as usual reacted as if he were in imminent physical danger. Will heartily shook his hand--more wincing on Reid’s part-and Kevin offered a friendly one-armed hug.
“Come on, let’s head out back where the drinks are,” Rossi said, ushering them through the kitchen out on to the deck.
A few neighbors came around to the back yard and let themselves through the fence and Rossi had to chuckle as Garcia took over hostess duties for a tongue-tied Reid. “Degree number six-Philosophy--can you believe it?” Garcia was saying to Ann and Rodger Calhoun and another man he didn’t recognize. He guessed it was Ann’s brother given the family resemblance.
Morgan soon walked in, an arm thrown casually around the shoulder of a woman Rossi hadn't seen before. Rossi didn’t understand the stormy look that crossed Emily’s face at the sight.
Happy to escape his current situation, Reid scurried over to greet Morgan and was promptly yanked into a bear hug and slapped on the back which might actually have caused some physical pain. Morgan introduced his date as Carla-no last name provided, Rossi noted.
While a curious Garcia and JJ traded small talk with Carla, Prentiss glared at Derek. “Damn it, Morgan!” she hissed. “You said you weren’t bringing a date!”
“She told me last night she’s moving to Boston!” Derek whispered back.
“So, coming with you today is a parting gift?” Emily asked.
Morgan shrugged his confirmation, and Emily almost sprained an eye she rolled hers so hard. “We were havin’ a good time last night,” Derek continued, “And it just happened…”
“God, you sound like my college roommate every Saturday morning for the entire three years we roomed together,” Emily groused. “As the last two devoutly single members of the team, we had a pact!”
Garcia leaned over to Emily and said, “One of Reid and Rossi’s neighbors brought their brother. Single, appropriate age range, full head of hair.”
Emily huffed in irritation, but said, “How tall?”
“Taller than Rossi, shorter than Reid,” Garcia reported. “He’s over there drinking a beer by the dogwood.”
Emily craned her neck and took a fortifying breath. “All right, I’m on it,” she said and with a final glare at Morgan, headed out to the back yard.
“I owe you, Baby Girl,” Derek said.
“Already added to the tab, Rico Suave,” Garcia said.
Morgan grabbed his date’s elbow and nodded toward the house. “Come on, Carla, you have got to see the entertainment set up downstairs. I gotta warn you though, I get emotional every time I see it. I’ll might cry a little.”
Rossi laughed. “I know a guy with a PhD in Engineering who can help you set something up at your place,” he told Morgan.
Morgan shook his head. “It’s not the designer I need, it’s someone who’s written enough best-sellers to finance the operation.”
“Good luck with that,” Rossi said, giving him a helpful shove toward the door.
Rossi was just loading the ribs onto the grill when Hotch and his date walked out through the back door. Rossi waived his spatula at the two of them and they headed over.
“Welcome, welcome,” Rossi said. He wiped his hand on a towel and held it out to Hotch’s date. “Dave Rossi,” he said.
Hotch’s date shook Rossi’s hand. “I’m Laurie McLean,” she said. “So nice to meet you. I’m a big fan of your books,” she said. She was about Hotch’s age, tall and athletic-looking-Rossi guessed she was a runner. Hotch was wearing a smile Rossi would have characterized as goofy, no matter how stridently Hotch would deny it.
“Well how nice that Hotch is seeing a woman of taste and distinction,” Rossi said.
“But sadly not much class,” Laurie said. “I’ve got a couple of books in the car for you to sign. Sorry if that’s really gauche.”
“It is never gauche to feed Dave’s ego,” Hotch said. “Those of us who have to work with him may not forgive you, but he won’t mind a bit.”
“There’s always time and place for a little graciousness,” Rossi answered Laurie with a superior sniff, as though Hotch hadn’t even spoken.
“Thank you,” Laurie said. “So where’s the guest of honor?” she asked with interest, and Rossi recognized in her the curiosity of one who’d been told of Reid’s unusual intellect.
Hotch looked around and spotted Spencer in an animated conversation with Garcia and Kevin. “There he is, in the navy shirt.”
Laurie followed the direction of Hotch’s nod. “No, I’m sorry,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “That’s not possible.” Rossi lifted a brow in question, but Hotch looked just as confused. Laurie explained, “No god is going to make someone off-the-charts brilliant and then wrap it in a package that looks like that.”
“Jesus would,” Hotch said with over-the-top smugness that made Laurie laugh.
“Well, get ready to hire a new agent because that man is destined to be my pool boy.”
Rossi just grinned proudly and contentedly basted the ribs.
Hotch didn’t seem concerned as he brushed some non-existent lint from his shirt. “You don’t have a pool.”
Laurie shrugged at such an easily overcome objection. “I’ll get one.”
“You live in a town house,” Hotch reasonably pointed out.
“I’ll move.”
“In this real estate market?”
She narrowed her eyes at Hotch. “Why are you throwing road blocks in the way of my destiny?”
Hotch sounded resigned. “Jealousy, I guess.”
“You’ve had years to make him your pool boy and suddenly when I want him, you do too?”
“In my defense, it’s only in the last year that he’s moved beyond a stereotypical façade…”
“Year and a half,” Rossi mildly corrected as he tossed his empty beer bottle and retrieved another.
“So what are the odds I can get Dr. Reid to sit on my lap and talk to me for a little bit?” Laurie asked brightly.
“Very slim,” Hotch estimated.
“You’re his boss, make him.”
Hotch smiled politely at Rossi. “Have I mentioned that Laurie is the Associate Director of Employment Practices for the ACLU?”
Laurie sighed in dramatic disappointment. “When we started seeing one another it was with the understanding that I would benefit from your gross abuses of power.”
“I told you, I only use my powers for good,” Hotch insisted.
“And it would be really, really good if Spencer sat on my lap and told me about his day.”
Rossi nudged his friend with his beer bottle. “I have to say--and this is experience talking-Laurie is absolutely right about that.”
“Have you ever noticed that you have no objections when women have designs on your boyfriend, but let some random guy give him a second look, and you…”
“Designs on?” Rossi echoed. “What are we-in a Harlequin romance novel?”
“Oh, he’s coming over!” Laurie hissed excitedly. “Look busy!”
“You made it!” Reid said happily to Hotch. He stopped just behind Rossi, more than an arm’s length back so he wouldn’t have to make any decisions regarding a hand-shake, one-armed hug or anything else on the greeting spectrum.
“We did,” Hotch said. “Congratulations on the new degree.” He placed his hand on Laurie’s back and introduced her to Reid. “Spencer Reid, Laurie McLean.”
Spencer did offer his hand to Laurie, eyes bulging when Laurie pushed his hand away and embraced him. “Oh come on now, it’s your party,” she said. “Congratulations.”
“Um, thank you. Thanks. Um, thanks,” Reid said, shooting confused, flustered looks between Hotch and Rossi, both of whom seemed inordinately interested in the beer labels on the bottles they held.
“So Hotch said this is something like degree number 15? Amazing!”
Reid’s brows furrowed. “Just the sixth,” he said, looking curiously at Hotch for having so gravely misrepresented the number.
“Oh, only six?” Laurie said, copying Reid’s look to Hotch. “Still, that’s kind of impressive,” she said.
Reid looked like he might suspect Laurie was joking, but Rossi knew he wasn’t going to say anything, lest he be wrong. “I waylaid Laurie on her way to a glass of wine,” Rossi said, one hand casually rubbing Reid’s back. “Why don’t you show her the way?”
“So, tell me everything you know about cleaning pools,” Laurie said as they walked toward the drink table.
Reid looked puzzled. “Well, I can tell you the chemical components of the pool water, but I’m afraid I don’t know much about the actual cleaning of them.”
Rossi watched Reid and Laurie for a beat before asking Hotch, “She gonna be okay with him?”
“No,” Hotch answered in all certainty and without a moment’s deliberation.
Rossi laughed. “All right, go rescue her.”
“Oh, it’s not Laurie who’ll need to be rescued,” Hotch said taking a pull on his beer.
Rossi looked back over and nodded in understanding. “He got pissed at us about the detective in Orlando,” Rossi reminded him.
“I still don’t understand why was he angry at us,” Hotch said, and Rossi had to remind himself that Aaron Hotchner did not whine. “It’s not our fault Detective Archer kept trying to … what did she call it again?”
“Touch his naughty bits.”
“Right, right.” Aaron took another sip of his beer. “Why was he mad at us?”
Rossi shrugged, and it was obvious he was quoting Reid when he answered. “He says we knew her intentions were less than honorable and that for purposes known only to ourselves we conspired on multiple occasions to leave him alone with her.”
“He really thought the purposes were known only to ourselves?”
“That is his contention.”
The idea was so outrageous, it was necessary for Hotch to clarify. “Even after we flew home with the insufferable trio of Morgan, Prentiss and JJ, he thought the purposes were known only to you and me?”
Rossi shrugged. “Whaddaya gonna do?”
Hotch chuckled. “He’s grown so much when it comes to his social interactions, I forget that he’s still so…”
“Retarded?” Rossi offered.
Hotch smirked at him. “I was going to say naïve.”
“There’s naïve and then there’s not understanding what a 48 year old woman means when she keeps finding one reason after another to grind her ass against your dick. Sometimes that kid needs special classes.”
“I keep expecting his association with you to propel him completely from naïve to jaded in one fell swoop.”
“It’s not for lack of trying, but I’m not a miracle worker,” Rossi said as he turned the ribs. “At least his naughty bits are safe with Laurie.”
Hotch made a scoffing noise. “What makes you think that?” he asked.
Rossi looked at Laurie and Reid, then looked at Hotch. He stared at the ribs with pursed lips until sighing in resignation. He shoved the spatula at Hotch and grumbled, “Watch the ribs.”
=================================================================
When the ribs were finished and piled high on trays ready to be served, Rossi called for attention. Standing a step behind Rossi, Spencer reached nervously for his sleeve, touched it and let his hand drop.
“Thanks for comin’ everybody and helping us celebrate,” Rossi said. “I wasn’t fortunate enough to be there when Spencer got his first college degree… Or his second. His first doctorate, his second, the third…” The crowd laughed as Spencer blushed and ducked his head. “That’s probably a good thing,” Rossi continued. “Because, uh, the underage graduate and I shouldn’t have been fraternizing at that time anyway.” More chuckles from the crowd. “I’m not gonna say much more,” he said, smirking at the hoots and smattering of applause that greeted the statement. “Only because, knowing Spencer, you’ll probably be back here for another 15 or 20 of these things.”
Cheers met that statement as Rossi lifted his glass in a toast. “To Spencer,” he called, turning toward Reid with a proud smile. “Congratulations, Babe!”
“Hear! Hear!” the group voiced their approval, and Reid beamed at his partner. The sound of clinking glasses and bottles filled the backyard.
Equally embarrassed and delighted, Spencer toasted with Rossi, who leaned in and kissed Spencer’s mouth after they’d both taken a drink. Delight outweighed embarrassment at the public display, and Reid smiled at Rossi as if they were sharing a secret.
Rossi watch Spencer surveying the line of people piling their plates with food, pouring drinks and looking for places to sit and eat. His eyes were shining, and he hugged himself, bouncing on his heels in a show of childlike happiness.
Rossi told himself the stinging in his eyes was smoke from the grill, so he gruffly cleared his throat and shut the lid.
==================================================================
Having picked up the last of the trash in the back yard, Rossi found Spencer in the kitchen, washing the wine glasses by hand. Their division of labor from the start had been Rossi cooked (on the rare occasion when dinner wasn’t ordered in or eaten out) and Reid washed up. Where Rossi cooked by touch and taste, Reid cleaned with precision. He appreciated a repetitious task that had a beginning, middle and end, and Rossi enjoyed watching him, so they often had their most meaningful discussions over a sink full of dishes.
Tonight, though, there were no deep discussions to be had, just a comfortable rehash of the day’s event.
“I think Emily made a date with Ann Calhoun’s brother,” Reid said.
“Isn’t he, like, a Mountie in Canada or something?” Rossi said. He was sitting on the kitchen counter, nursing his last beer of the night.
Reid shook his head with a surprised laugh. “He’s with the US Forest Service here in town. How in the world did you get Mountie from that?”
Rossi laughed too. “I don’t know. Forest-outdoors-horse-Mountie. There’s a trajectory.”
“I’m reminded why you have to take such copious case notes.”
Rossi pushed at Reid’s hip with his foot for the insult. “So if Emily’s booked a date out of this, I guess Derek’s not in hot water anymore?”
“I don’t know,” Reid said. “It doesn’t exactly negate the broken verbal contract, does it?” He concentrated on a stubborn stain on the lip of the glass he was washing. “Still, it does seem like a one-time only kind of thing. How could Morgan know his friend was going to announce she’s leaving for a job in another state?”
“Guess we’ll have to wait ‘til after Emily’s first date for the final verdict,” Rossi said. “Looks like you and Kevin managed to remain civil. No blows over Spaceship Troopers.”
Reid wrinkled his nose. “Starbase Alpha,” he corrected. “You should remember the name--we watch it every week.”
“If you say so,” Rossi answered.
“We didn’t really get into it,” Reid continued. “You’d think Garcia and Kevin had never seen a baby before. Henry’s great and all, but I don’t think applause is the appropriate response whenever he spits up. He’s going to form an affirmative association between regurgitation and social acceptance.”
Rossi pondered the idea for a beat. “JJ and Will seem pretty grounded, though. I think he’ll be okay.”
“All the same, I think I’ll pass on holding him after he eats.”
“I like Laurie,” Rossi said. “She’s funny. Lightens Hotch up in spite of himself.”
Reid nodded his agreement. “She told me her brother skipped the second grade,” he said. “She said she was mad at first because instead of two grades between them there was just one, but she got over it.” Reid placed a glass in the drying rack and began washing another. “I think she’s putting a pool in at her house,” he said. “She sure did ask a lot of questions about them.”
“You think?” Rossi said, but the grin on his face made Reid suspicious.
“What?” he demanded.
Rossi laughed and shook his head. “Nothin’,” he said, but explained anyway. “She thought you were really good looking, and she was teasing Hotch about making you her pool boy.”
“Yeah right,” Reid scoffed.
Rossi cocked his head. “You don’t think you’d make a good pool boy?” he asked, pointedly refusing to address the ridiculous idea that Reid might not actually be good looking.
“It would probably be a pay cut,” Reid said, correctly reading the obstinate look on Rossi’s face.
“Stress-free, though.”
“Would you come with me?” Reid asked, smiling at the glass in his hand that he was rinsing.
“Too old,” Rossi said with a forlorn sigh.
“Then I’ll stay with the BAU too,” Reid said quietly.
Rossi supposed that was fodder for a serious conversation another day. Reid could pursue just about any career he wanted-the list growing longer with every degree he tossed on the pile. Dave never wanted Reid to feel tied to the BAU because he didn’t realize all of the other options out there-and he sure as hell didn’t want Reid staying at the BAU for him. Besides, maybe he was too old to be a pool boy but he wasn’t too damn old to be kept. If Reid wanted to pursue another career somewhere else, Rossi would gladly tag along.
Reid neatly folded the dish rag and dried his hands before moving to stand in front of Rossi as he sat on the counter. Reid gently parted Rossi’s legs and slid gracefully between them, his hands resting lightly on Rossi’s thighs. “Thank you for today,” he said softly.
“You’re welcome,” Rossi answered, just as softly.
Reid ducked his head, diffidently drawing shapes on Rossi’s thighs with his fingers. “I’ve never had a toast in my honor before.” There was a small, private smile on his face as he spoke.
Rossi lifted Reid’s chin so he had to meet his eyes. “Consider it the first of many,” Rossi promised, leaning in to kiss him. “Every time I looked over at you today, you had the most beautiful smile on your face,” Rossi said.
Reid nuzzled at Rossi’s neck. “My Rossi years are very happy,” he said.
Rossi grinned. “Good thing they’re going to last ad infinitum.” He felt it on his neck when Reid’s smile widened, followed by several soft kisses.
Reid pulled back and just looked at Rossi for a moment; his face serious but untroubled. He traced Rossi’s lips with a finger and said, “I wish… I wish I had the words to tell you… how you… how you make me feel.”
“You do,” Rossi said. “I know.”
Reid shook his head. “It’s so big… so much.” He worked his mouth, trying to articulate his feelings, then just shrugged helplessly. “Everything,” he said finally.
The thought would have sounded unfinished to anyone else-barely started, even. But Rossi’s whole body felt flushed with heat as he smiled and kissed his lover and rested his forehead against Spencer’s. There was only warmth and sincerity in his reply. “Me too.”
Reid placed a gentle kiss on the corner of Rossi’s mouth. “Take me to bed,” he whispered,
“Yes,” Rossi answered, kissing him soundly back. “Yes.” He slid off the counter, carefully backing Spencer toward the bedroom.
It was a familiar path they traveled, and they kept kissing until Reid was backed into a wall with a thud. “Why aren’t we better at this?” he asked, laughing breathlessly.
“Mmm, we’re perfect,” Rossi said. “Perfect, perfect, perfect.”
They carefully maneuvered the rest of the way to the bedroom, Reid laughing again when the back of his knees hit the bed, and Rossi pushed him the rest of the way down. Spencer’s breath caught at the end of his laugh and he flushed at whatever it was he saw in Rossi’s eyes. Rossi had never seen anything so beautiful.
“I love you,” Spencer said.
“I love you, too,” Dave answered.
There was nothing else to say for awhile, but somewhere, in the back of Rossi’s mind, a personal soundtrack whispered to him.
So big.
So much.
Everything.
#