Fandom Snowflake Challenge, Day 9
Dear lord, this week. I am desperately glad it's over.
Fandom Snowflake details here.
Day 9: In your own space, create a fanwork. A drabble, a ficlet, or an icon, art or meta or a rec list. A picspam. Something. Leave a comment in this post saying you did it. Include a link to your post if you feel comfortable doing so.
I've been promising raisintorte I'd attempt Reid/Prentiss forever. So here's a ficlet.
Title: By and By
Author: wojelah
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Reid/Prentiss
A/N: For raisintorte, who really, really wanted it.
The thing is, it creeps up on her. It's Reid. He's everyone's kid brother. He does science experiments and gets excited at birthday hats and despite Morgan's best efforts, still hasn't really learned how to talk to girls. He's Reid. The fact that he has those slender, lovely hands - that he has a shock of hair that her hands itch to touch - that when he focuses, really focuses on her, she can feel the intensity of it against her skin - those facts shouldn't matter. He's just Reid.
The thing is, she can talk to him. Really talk. About work, about cases, sure. But also about Vonnegut, and McCaffrey, and Doctor Who, and she doesn't have to hide it or shrug it off or diminish it. She can just geek at him. And maybe sometimes she tells him a little more than she'd bargained for.
The thing is, he talks to her. Really talks. And that's it's own honor, actually, because Spencer Reid is everyone's kid brother, but there's a lot going on in that tremendous brain of his, and he doesn't trust easily, or often. Neither does she. Maybe that's why he tells her things. Maybe that's why it leaves her floored, every time. Not the things he tells her. Those only matter because they're important to him, and he's... important. To her. But the fact that he tells her. The price of that trust is dearer than rubies.
The thing is, she didn't have a choice. She had to go, and she couldn't tell him. He can't bluff - not as well as he thinks he can. Any slip-up puts her whole team - her whole family - back in danger. She's done that once. It got her killed. She's already watched him die - or nearly so - once. She won't do it again. Won't allow her past to do that to any of them. Ever. She has to leave, and she can't tell him, and she knows exactly how much that's going to hurt him. "I promise you, we had no choice," she tells him, but he won't meet her eyes, not really. Later, at home, she lies in bed, staring at the ceiling.
The thing is, it might be okay after all. Because he's angry, and he'sright to be. But he's also Reid, and she knows that cooped up in that head, alongside that sweeping intelligence, is a measure of compassion that takes her breath away. "Sorry I'm late," he says, and his smile's genuine. Later, after a little too much wine, his hand lingers on hers and he wraps her in a hug than leaves her breathless. But it's the sweet, awkward kiss to her cheek that steals her breath and offers her hope in return.
Fandom Snowflake details here.
Day 9: In your own space, create a fanwork. A drabble, a ficlet, or an icon, art or meta or a rec list. A picspam. Something. Leave a comment in this post saying you did it. Include a link to your post if you feel comfortable doing so.
I've been promising raisintorte I'd attempt Reid/Prentiss forever. So here's a ficlet.
Title: By and By
Author: wojelah
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Reid/Prentiss
A/N: For raisintorte, who really, really wanted it.
The thing is, it creeps up on her. It's Reid. He's everyone's kid brother. He does science experiments and gets excited at birthday hats and despite Morgan's best efforts, still hasn't really learned how to talk to girls. He's Reid. The fact that he has those slender, lovely hands - that he has a shock of hair that her hands itch to touch - that when he focuses, really focuses on her, she can feel the intensity of it against her skin - those facts shouldn't matter. He's just Reid.
The thing is, she can talk to him. Really talk. About work, about cases, sure. But also about Vonnegut, and McCaffrey, and Doctor Who, and she doesn't have to hide it or shrug it off or diminish it. She can just geek at him. And maybe sometimes she tells him a little more than she'd bargained for.
The thing is, he talks to her. Really talks. And that's it's own honor, actually, because Spencer Reid is everyone's kid brother, but there's a lot going on in that tremendous brain of his, and he doesn't trust easily, or often. Neither does she. Maybe that's why he tells her things. Maybe that's why it leaves her floored, every time. Not the things he tells her. Those only matter because they're important to him, and he's... important. To her. But the fact that he tells her. The price of that trust is dearer than rubies.
The thing is, she didn't have a choice. She had to go, and she couldn't tell him. He can't bluff - not as well as he thinks he can. Any slip-up puts her whole team - her whole family - back in danger. She's done that once. It got her killed. She's already watched him die - or nearly so - once. She won't do it again. Won't allow her past to do that to any of them. Ever. She has to leave, and she can't tell him, and she knows exactly how much that's going to hurt him. "I promise you, we had no choice," she tells him, but he won't meet her eyes, not really. Later, at home, she lies in bed, staring at the ceiling.
The thing is, it might be okay after all. Because he's angry, and he'sright to be. But he's also Reid, and she knows that cooped up in that head, alongside that sweeping intelligence, is a measure of compassion that takes her breath away. "Sorry I'm late," he says, and his smile's genuine. Later, after a little too much wine, his hand lingers on hers and he wraps her in a hug than leaves her breathless. But it's the sweet, awkward kiss to her cheek that steals her breath and offers her hope in return.