Ficlet: Comfort of Knowledge | PG | 1350 words
Title: Comfort of Knowledge - A Criminal Minds/Supernatural crossover
Pairings: Reid/Ethan, Sam/Dean, JJ/Will
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1350
Summary: Reid can only go one place for comfort, perhaps only one person.
Warnings: Episode coda (of sorts) for Criminal Minds 4.07 and general spoilers for Supernatural, specifically the Knowledge of Dead Secrets 'verse.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, and any (and all) errors relative to the canons spoken of herein are mine and mine alone.
Author's Notes: This is future-fic for the 'verse created in Knowledge of Dead Secrets. I'm playing fast and loose with this season of Criminal Minds; this universe takes for granted several things that did not happen in canon. It helps to be familiar with Recognition of Knowledge.
--
In the aftermath, Reid doesn't even have to ask. Rossi tells him to go, tells him that he'll clear it over with their new team leader. Morgan's standing right there, arms crossed on his chest, and he's nodding along with Rossi. Reid doesn't argue; he hasn't felt any loyalty to the director's pick, a guy with an attitude and something to prove. Reid gets a flight out of Las Vegas, waves Rossi and Morgan off at the security checkpoint. They look worried but he can't bring himself to tell them he'll be all right.
He boards a plane heading to New Orleans and sleeps the whole way.
--
Ethan raises an eyebrow when he opens the door and sees Reid standing there. He doesn't say anything, just steps to the side. Reid walks in, lets Ethan close the door, drops his bag to one side while Ethan's switching on a light, hanging up Reid's coat, putting the bag near the steps to be taken up later. When Ethan opens his arms, Reid collapses into them, fists his hands in Ethan's shirt.
Reid buries his face in Ethan's shoulder, feels arms wrap around him like they're the only thing keeping him upright. To some extent, they are.
"It's okay," Ethan murmurs.
Reid knows what Ethan really means but he can't cry. He wants to, so badly, but he can't. His eyes are dry and he stays in Ethan's arms until he's stopped shaking.
--
The first day is quiet. Dean stops over with a crockpot overloaded with jambalaya early in the afternoon; Reid is in the living room, huddled up under a blanket and not paying attention to the television. He can hear Ethan murmuring, hears Dean say something back about Marianne, blinks when Dean leans around the corner and waves.
"Good to see you," Dean says. His smile is bright, wide. His teeth gleam.
Reid tries to give Dean a smile in return, feels like he's failed. Dean's eyes narrow, the slightest bit, but he doesn't say anything, just nods and disappears back around the corner. Dean whispers something to Ethan, loud enough for Reid to hear that they're talking but not loud enough to discern individual words, then leaves.
--
JJ stops by the second day. Ethan's on his way out the door -- he's taken two days off work and can't miss any more -- but he lets her in and lays a kiss on the top of Reid's hair before he leaves. JJ raises an eyebrow at the gesture of affection and sits down across from Reid. She's heavily pregnant but her cheeks are glowing. It's been a while since Reid has seen her looking this vibrantly alive and happy.
"You usually call before you come down," she says. Reid feels his muscles tighten, tense. JJ must see it happening because her smile flickers and shrinks. "Oh, Spencer. Not that I. I didn't mean." She stops, takes a breath and tilts her head. "It's a surprise to see you. A good surprise. That's all."
"You look good," Reid says. He can feel his heart pounding. He blinks, furiously, as if his body thinks there should be something caught in his eyes. Reid reaches up, wipes. Nothing. "How's Will?"
JJ ducks her head but Reid can still see the smile as it grows back. "He's good. We're good. Thinking about having the baby shower next month since we can't really put it off any more." She laughs. "He wants to have the shower right before I pop, like maybe I'll go into labor an hour before and we won't have to go through with it. I told him we're having one, either way. I promised Emily and Penelope invitations." She pauses, adds, "I wasn't sure if you'd want one as well but we'd love to have you."
Reid waits for her to look at him before he asks, "You would?" She frowns, puzzled, shakes her head once as if she doesn't understand. "Will doesn't like me very much, JJ."
"He likes you just fine, Spencer," she says. Her words come out too quick to be true.
"He thinks I've been tainted," Reid replies. He tries not to sound resentful, tries not to sound as if he thinks Will's being ridiculous, but he can't help it. Dean threatened his life the first time Reid met him, yes, but they've grown closer since, and Sam. Reid stops there, doesn't want to let that train of thought continue. He's had practice at stopping it before, finds it easier when he's not in New Orleans but does well enough down here.
JJ gets out of the chair, sits next to Reid on the sofa and places her hand on his knee. "I've already told him he's being an idiot about it but you know what cops are like. He thinks he's right and won't listen to reason. But I know that Sam and Dean are wonderful and if you want to come to the baby shower, I'd love to have you. I want you there, Spencer."
Reid looks down. Her fingers are swollen but they still look delicate, fragile. He wonders if his mother's hands ever looked like that. Reid shudders, can't help it, and JJ lifts her hand, looks at him with confusion written all over her face, enough to read like her expressions are novels.
"Sorry," he says. "It was. The case was tough."
JJ lets her hand fall back onto Reid's knee. "Tell me," she says, earnest, trying to coax him into speaking. Reid doesn't know what she had to do to get away from Will, if she lied to him or left without telling him where she was going, if he's at work and just doesn't know that she's out in the heart of the French Quarter talking to someone associated with the leaders of the vodou tradition. Reid doesn't think Will would like to know the truth.
"It's all right," Reid finally says. "I'm not exactly sure what to say about it."
They sit in silence for an hour before JJ leaves.
--
On the third day, Sam lets himself in while Ethan's out tracking down some beignets. Reid is in the kitchen making tea and doesn't hear the door. He doesn't need to.
The kettle whistles; he lifts it off the stove, turns the burner off, pours water into his mug. He feels Sam's presence when Sam stands at the entrance to the kitchen, the way Sam seems to exude an aura so electric it crackles through the air like lightning. Reid doesn't doubt himself. He knows he isn't imagining Sam being here.
"Tea?" Reid asks, without looking, taking down another mug before Sam has a chance to answer. He likes having something to do with his hands when Sam's around.
"Please," Sam says. He sounds as if he has all the time in the world and nothing better to do than wait for tea. Ethan won't ask, probably doesn't really want to know, and as comfortable with one another as they've grown, something about the way Reid showed up this time has Ethan on edge. JJ was tense, waiting, looked it and sounded it both. Sam, though. Sam's different. Sam's always been different.
Reid gets the tea ready, finally turns around and lets his eyes meet Sam's for a split-second before giving them permission to slide to the side, holding out the mug like a peace offering. "Here," Reid says. He feels too large, clumsy the way a child is, not settled, no spatial awareness.
Sam takes the mug, blows across the surface and sips, wincing at the heat. He doesn't say anything except, "Thank you."
There's no pressure, no weight of expectation. Reid puts his mug down before he drops it, all tension bleeding out of his muscles until he's almost ready to collapse. He blinks, misses it as Sam sets his own mug down, reaches out and steadies Reid with one hand, firm and strong as he holds Reid's elbow.
"Sometimes," Sam says, "we can't do anything except keep going."
For the first time in a week, for what feels like the first time in years, Reid cries.
Pairings: Reid/Ethan, Sam/Dean, JJ/Will
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1350
Summary: Reid can only go one place for comfort, perhaps only one person.
Warnings: Episode coda (of sorts) for Criminal Minds 4.07 and general spoilers for Supernatural, specifically the Knowledge of Dead Secrets 'verse.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, and any (and all) errors relative to the canons spoken of herein are mine and mine alone.
Author's Notes: This is future-fic for the 'verse created in Knowledge of Dead Secrets. I'm playing fast and loose with this season of Criminal Minds; this universe takes for granted several things that did not happen in canon. It helps to be familiar with Recognition of Knowledge.
--
In the aftermath, Reid doesn't even have to ask. Rossi tells him to go, tells him that he'll clear it over with their new team leader. Morgan's standing right there, arms crossed on his chest, and he's nodding along with Rossi. Reid doesn't argue; he hasn't felt any loyalty to the director's pick, a guy with an attitude and something to prove. Reid gets a flight out of Las Vegas, waves Rossi and Morgan off at the security checkpoint. They look worried but he can't bring himself to tell them he'll be all right.
He boards a plane heading to New Orleans and sleeps the whole way.
--
Ethan raises an eyebrow when he opens the door and sees Reid standing there. He doesn't say anything, just steps to the side. Reid walks in, lets Ethan close the door, drops his bag to one side while Ethan's switching on a light, hanging up Reid's coat, putting the bag near the steps to be taken up later. When Ethan opens his arms, Reid collapses into them, fists his hands in Ethan's shirt.
Reid buries his face in Ethan's shoulder, feels arms wrap around him like they're the only thing keeping him upright. To some extent, they are.
"It's okay," Ethan murmurs.
Reid knows what Ethan really means but he can't cry. He wants to, so badly, but he can't. His eyes are dry and he stays in Ethan's arms until he's stopped shaking.
--
The first day is quiet. Dean stops over with a crockpot overloaded with jambalaya early in the afternoon; Reid is in the living room, huddled up under a blanket and not paying attention to the television. He can hear Ethan murmuring, hears Dean say something back about Marianne, blinks when Dean leans around the corner and waves.
"Good to see you," Dean says. His smile is bright, wide. His teeth gleam.
Reid tries to give Dean a smile in return, feels like he's failed. Dean's eyes narrow, the slightest bit, but he doesn't say anything, just nods and disappears back around the corner. Dean whispers something to Ethan, loud enough for Reid to hear that they're talking but not loud enough to discern individual words, then leaves.
--
JJ stops by the second day. Ethan's on his way out the door -- he's taken two days off work and can't miss any more -- but he lets her in and lays a kiss on the top of Reid's hair before he leaves. JJ raises an eyebrow at the gesture of affection and sits down across from Reid. She's heavily pregnant but her cheeks are glowing. It's been a while since Reid has seen her looking this vibrantly alive and happy.
"You usually call before you come down," she says. Reid feels his muscles tighten, tense. JJ must see it happening because her smile flickers and shrinks. "Oh, Spencer. Not that I. I didn't mean." She stops, takes a breath and tilts her head. "It's a surprise to see you. A good surprise. That's all."
"You look good," Reid says. He can feel his heart pounding. He blinks, furiously, as if his body thinks there should be something caught in his eyes. Reid reaches up, wipes. Nothing. "How's Will?"
JJ ducks her head but Reid can still see the smile as it grows back. "He's good. We're good. Thinking about having the baby shower next month since we can't really put it off any more." She laughs. "He wants to have the shower right before I pop, like maybe I'll go into labor an hour before and we won't have to go through with it. I told him we're having one, either way. I promised Emily and Penelope invitations." She pauses, adds, "I wasn't sure if you'd want one as well but we'd love to have you."
Reid waits for her to look at him before he asks, "You would?" She frowns, puzzled, shakes her head once as if she doesn't understand. "Will doesn't like me very much, JJ."
"He likes you just fine, Spencer," she says. Her words come out too quick to be true.
"He thinks I've been tainted," Reid replies. He tries not to sound resentful, tries not to sound as if he thinks Will's being ridiculous, but he can't help it. Dean threatened his life the first time Reid met him, yes, but they've grown closer since, and Sam. Reid stops there, doesn't want to let that train of thought continue. He's had practice at stopping it before, finds it easier when he's not in New Orleans but does well enough down here.
JJ gets out of the chair, sits next to Reid on the sofa and places her hand on his knee. "I've already told him he's being an idiot about it but you know what cops are like. He thinks he's right and won't listen to reason. But I know that Sam and Dean are wonderful and if you want to come to the baby shower, I'd love to have you. I want you there, Spencer."
Reid looks down. Her fingers are swollen but they still look delicate, fragile. He wonders if his mother's hands ever looked like that. Reid shudders, can't help it, and JJ lifts her hand, looks at him with confusion written all over her face, enough to read like her expressions are novels.
"Sorry," he says. "It was. The case was tough."
JJ lets her hand fall back onto Reid's knee. "Tell me," she says, earnest, trying to coax him into speaking. Reid doesn't know what she had to do to get away from Will, if she lied to him or left without telling him where she was going, if he's at work and just doesn't know that she's out in the heart of the French Quarter talking to someone associated with the leaders of the vodou tradition. Reid doesn't think Will would like to know the truth.
"It's all right," Reid finally says. "I'm not exactly sure what to say about it."
They sit in silence for an hour before JJ leaves.
--
On the third day, Sam lets himself in while Ethan's out tracking down some beignets. Reid is in the kitchen making tea and doesn't hear the door. He doesn't need to.
The kettle whistles; he lifts it off the stove, turns the burner off, pours water into his mug. He feels Sam's presence when Sam stands at the entrance to the kitchen, the way Sam seems to exude an aura so electric it crackles through the air like lightning. Reid doesn't doubt himself. He knows he isn't imagining Sam being here.
"Tea?" Reid asks, without looking, taking down another mug before Sam has a chance to answer. He likes having something to do with his hands when Sam's around.
"Please," Sam says. He sounds as if he has all the time in the world and nothing better to do than wait for tea. Ethan won't ask, probably doesn't really want to know, and as comfortable with one another as they've grown, something about the way Reid showed up this time has Ethan on edge. JJ was tense, waiting, looked it and sounded it both. Sam, though. Sam's different. Sam's always been different.
Reid gets the tea ready, finally turns around and lets his eyes meet Sam's for a split-second before giving them permission to slide to the side, holding out the mug like a peace offering. "Here," Reid says. He feels too large, clumsy the way a child is, not settled, no spatial awareness.
Sam takes the mug, blows across the surface and sips, wincing at the heat. He doesn't say anything except, "Thank you."
There's no pressure, no weight of expectation. Reid puts his mug down before he drops it, all tension bleeding out of his muscles until he's almost ready to collapse. He blinks, misses it as Sam sets his own mug down, reaches out and steadies Reid with one hand, firm and strong as he holds Reid's elbow.
"Sometimes," Sam says, "we can't do anything except keep going."
For the first time in a week, for what feels like the first time in years, Reid cries.