Drabble: Stand Up & Bow - Criminal Minds, Reid + Morgan, PG (Gen)
Just something short I wrote at comment_fic today for this prompt related to the word 'Blood':
AO3
There isn't much else he can do, so he makes jokes - ill-conceived and not very funny, but he's hardly a comedian and under the circumstances he thinks he can be forgiven. He's not aiming at making Reid laugh, anyhow - he just wants to keep Reid awake and speaking to him, so Derek says, "You're supposed to wear this stuff on the inside, kid."
"I- I never know... how to accessorize," Reid jokes back weakly.
Derek has to swallow, swallow hard to deal with that. Spencer Reid, all of twenty-seven years old, covered in his own blood and completely calm, humoring Derek and his corny jokes in order to keep them both distracted, is just about the most heartbreaking thing Derek's ever seen.
"Yeah, well, this accessory's kind of important, so pay attention," Derek says. He's got both his hands pressed to Reid's most severe wound (of course he does; it'd take a small army - or that fucking slow-assed paramedic - to get him to stop) but Reid's hands are there too. Beneath Derek's. Although, at this point, Derek really can't be sure if Reid is actually pressing against the wound, struggling to stem the bloodflow as Derek is, or if his hands are simply caught beneath Derek's own. Derek can't risk pulling back enough to find out, but he imagines he feels less tension in Reid's muscles, where they touch, and that can't be good.
"Hey! Hey, Pretty Boy, keep talking. You know, there's not all that much you aren't already an expert on... So I kinda want to keep this conversation going."
Reid takes too long to respond... Eyes unfocused when they meet Derek's wide, desperate gaze, but they do meet, and Reid does respond. "N- Not... Not good at ig- ignoring bullet wounds..." he manages to get out.
Derek clings to Spencer's still, slippery hands, pressing down with all his might, and screams again for the EMTs. "That's one skill I'm hoping you don't get any more practice with after today, kid," Derek says, his voice becoming hoarse. "No more getting shot for you. I can only take so much."
It's going to haunt Derek for a while that the last thing Reid says, blood bubbling up lightly on his pale lips, is "S- sorry" before he passes out, heedless to Derek's yelling and pleading.
The EMTs arrive just in time, and Reid recovers, but Derek never really forgets the sight of Spencer painted blood red - of the floor beneath them, the walls around them, Derek's own clothes covered with Reid's bloodsplatter.
"Don't quit your day job," Reid laughs, when Derek asks if he remembers the last thing they talked about before everything went dark. And Derek just smirks, laughs along with everyone else, but he thinks to himself:
'Sometimes I'm tempted, kid. Sometimes I'm really tempted.'
[end.]
AO3
There isn't much else he can do, so he makes jokes - ill-conceived and not very funny, but he's hardly a comedian and under the circumstances he thinks he can be forgiven. He's not aiming at making Reid laugh, anyhow - he just wants to keep Reid awake and speaking to him, so Derek says, "You're supposed to wear this stuff on the inside, kid."
"I- I never know... how to accessorize," Reid jokes back weakly.
Derek has to swallow, swallow hard to deal with that. Spencer Reid, all of twenty-seven years old, covered in his own blood and completely calm, humoring Derek and his corny jokes in order to keep them both distracted, is just about the most heartbreaking thing Derek's ever seen.
"Yeah, well, this accessory's kind of important, so pay attention," Derek says. He's got both his hands pressed to Reid's most severe wound (of course he does; it'd take a small army - or that fucking slow-assed paramedic - to get him to stop) but Reid's hands are there too. Beneath Derek's. Although, at this point, Derek really can't be sure if Reid is actually pressing against the wound, struggling to stem the bloodflow as Derek is, or if his hands are simply caught beneath Derek's own. Derek can't risk pulling back enough to find out, but he imagines he feels less tension in Reid's muscles, where they touch, and that can't be good.
"Hey! Hey, Pretty Boy, keep talking. You know, there's not all that much you aren't already an expert on... So I kinda want to keep this conversation going."
Reid takes too long to respond... Eyes unfocused when they meet Derek's wide, desperate gaze, but they do meet, and Reid does respond. "N- Not... Not good at ig- ignoring bullet wounds..." he manages to get out.
Derek clings to Spencer's still, slippery hands, pressing down with all his might, and screams again for the EMTs. "That's one skill I'm hoping you don't get any more practice with after today, kid," Derek says, his voice becoming hoarse. "No more getting shot for you. I can only take so much."
It's going to haunt Derek for a while that the last thing Reid says, blood bubbling up lightly on his pale lips, is "S- sorry" before he passes out, heedless to Derek's yelling and pleading.
The EMTs arrive just in time, and Reid recovers, but Derek never really forgets the sight of Spencer painted blood red - of the floor beneath them, the walls around them, Derek's own clothes covered with Reid's bloodsplatter.
"Don't quit your day job," Reid laughs, when Derek asks if he remembers the last thing they talked about before everything went dark. And Derek just smirks, laughs along with everyone else, but he thinks to himself:
'Sometimes I'm tempted, kid. Sometimes I'm really tempted.'
[end.]