Detour [FanFic]
Title: Detour
Author: Tooks
Pairing: Reid/Lila
Rating: FRT
Summary: After an attack from The Reaper Reid finds himself on a slight detour with a beautiful woman
Notes: This is the eighth piece in the Noir AU which I'm calling "Living For the Night" thanks to let_it_linger21. Again, first person (this time from Reid's POV), dark, gritty, and a little naughtiness. And, yes, the title is a real film noir title...again.
I open my eyes slowly. Even that hurts. But it doesn’t hurt as much as breathing does. If I had to guess I’d say at least two of my ribs are broken, that’s not my major concern though. It’s the stab wound to my stomach that I force my hand over and into to try and curb the bleeding. I should get up. I need to get up. Grabbing part of the dumpster for stability I pull myself to my feet and try to look around. At night, without my glasses, I’m blind as a bat…which really aren’t as blind as one would think with their sonar but I don’t have that. I hear the door open behind me and pray to whatever the hell is above watching this crummy world that it’s not Officer Foyet back for another round. The click of heels on pavement tell me I’m lucky for the moment.
“Oh my god,” a soft, female, voice calls out as the clicks come faster and closer to me, “what happened?!”
“Guess,” I snap a little, not in the mood for dumb questions as my strength drains from my gut.
She doesn’t reply, just runs off. Great, I get help and then piss her off. I’m a fucking genius. ...But that’s not what happens. What happens is I go down and wake up on steel counter in the club’s kitchen my shirt opened and some guy standing over me.
“Don’t move,” he tells me.
I don’t have much of a choice honestly; I can barely keep my eyes open as is. “Mother fuck!” I scream when I feel a harsh, hot, stream of water hit my wound. Irrigation. There’s cursing in muffled voices above me and a pretty blond stuffs a dish cloth in my mouth before the water hits again and my muscles go stiff as I scream into the rag.
***
Next time I wake up I’m in the back of a car driven by that blond from the kitchen. I groan and almost throw up, but keep it together.
“You’re awake,” the woman notes as her eyes meet mine through her rearview mirror, “Good, we should be there any minute now.”
“Where?”
“My place.”
“I’m supposed to stay at the club.”
The woman laughs, “Yeah, well, that’s not going to happen. Rossi isn’t exactly fond of having stabbing victims hanging out and bleeding all over his floors. Scares off the customers and all.”
“My boss is…”
“Aaron Hotchner, I know. He told me you were going to be around the club and that I should keep an eye on you.”
“Great,” I mutter. I only vaguely remember Hotch mentioning a dancer that could get me anything I needed at the club, but that’s not what this feels like at the moment. What it feels like is my new boss set up some cocktail waitress to babysit my ass and the worst part is...turns out I needed it!
“When I saw you go off with The Reaper I knew something bad was going down.” I give a confused look at the moniker but don’t get a chance to ask as my stomach twists with the turning of the car and she continues, “Anyway I’ll call Hotch and let him know where you are, don’t worry,”
“Perfect.” Can’t imagine how fast he’s gonna fire me after he hears about this.
“I’m Lila Archer, by the way. I know Hoch, he’s helped me out a few times.”
“But you…” I grab the seat from pain as I cough some, “you, uh, work for Rossi?”
“At his club, sure.” The blond pulls up to a little house, stops the car, and then turns back to me with a smile, “he pays the best and a girl’s gotta pay the rent, doesn’t she?”
I close my eyes to prevent dizziness as I slowly sit up, “Whatever you say.”
“Thing’s aren’t simple in life, Spence, especially not in this town.”
The nickname catches me so off guard I don’t reply. I stay mute as she gets out and goes to help me get from the car to inside her home. Once inside though I insist on getting myself to her couch to lay on as she calls Hotch’s office and tells Garcia that I’m with her. She lies and tells Garcia everything’s fine. When done she goes to stand over me, “How’s it feel to survive The Reaper?”
“Excuse me?”
She goes to sit on the armrest nearest my head. If I wanted I could look right up her shirt. “Officer Foyet,” she clarifies with a smile and leans over me some so that now I’m thinking she wants me to look up her shirt, “On the streets he’s known as The Reaper.”
“I can imagine why.”
A tiny bell ring of a laugh escapes the blond beauty’s lips before she moves on, “Need something for the pain?”
“I’ll be fine,” I go to shift and the pain rips through me like lightening, “well…uh…maybe some brandy if you have it.”
“I do,” Lila stands up and goes to fix my drink before returning, “anything else, Spence?” As she asks she come around to kneel before me on the couch, passing the glass of liquor to me, “Man who survives a stabbing ought to have anything he desires.”
What I desire is to sit like a normal person, but that doesn’t happen. I have to stretch out not to pinch and pull awkwardly at the stitching of my gash as I get up to take the glass from Lila and sip from it. I take a larger than normal amount into my mouth and hold it there about before swallowing and enjoying the burn. “What are you doing?” I ask as Lila goes to remove my Chuck’s revealing the mismatched socks I’m wearing…I always lose one of each pair in the laundry somehow so stopped bothering to try and match them.
“Helping you get comfortable,” Lila answers simply before smiling up at me, “Come on, Spence, relax. Live a little, even.”
I can’t help but give a small laugh, “I’ve been in this town less then a week and feel like I’ve lived a decade.”
“They say you haven’t really lived in this town until you’ve had one of it’s women,” she counters.
I take another sip of brandy and laugh again until she goes for the belt on my pants. “You don’t need to do that,” I tell her as I place a hand over hers, “and I don’t think I’d, uh, be up for it. I mean, uh…I…I would, literally, but not…you know…” I give an awkward smile unsure how to dig myself out of the verbal hole I’ve dug for myself.
“I know,” Lila smiles before going to undo my belt and fly anyway, “but you got blood all over your pants and, unless you want them ruined, I should wash them before the blood dries and sinks into the fabric.”
“Oh.” It sounded like a load of crock but I haven’t the will to argue over it at the moment. And what man in his right mind argues to keep his clothes on in front of a beautiful woman? I wince as I lift my hips just enough for her to slip the pants off.
“Nice boxers,” she comments with a wink as she stands up before adding, “Gimme your shirt, I’ll wash that too.”
I obey.
“I’ll be right back,” she tells me before walking out of the room leaving me in nothing but my boxers. Not exactly the way I saw this day playing out, that’s for sure. Thank god her house is heated.
I take the alone time to examine the bandages covering my chest and the bloodied one over my stomach. The rest of me is already turning shades of black, blue, green, and yellow and I can feel the dried blood caking in my hair. I start to pull of the dark red bandage over my wound when I hear her walking back in. “I need to change this bandage,” I mutter to myself, or her, or both.
Lila doesn’t say a word, just heads back out only to return a moment later with what looks like a home made first aid kit and a bottle of vodka. She goes to kneel at my feet like before, “I can do it.”
“You don’t have to.”
“No, I don’t,” Lila agree before taking my hands in hers and setting them to my sides before going to the bandage, “but I can and I will.” She begins to gently pull the current bandage off, “It’s not like it’s my first time playing nurse, Dr Reid.” She smirks up at me as she tugs the last bit of the bandage off. To get the excess blood off she pours vodka straight from the bottle over the area before opening gauze and dabbing much of my sore skin dry.
“I, uh, don’t think it’s bleeding anymore,” I comment. Obviously a good sign.
“It isn’t,” Lila confirms as she places a new bandage over the wound, covering the area with tape. Then she presses her lips over the area.
I give a soft groan as a shot of pain mixes with the pleasure. I look down, see the near perfect imprint of red lips on the white tape, and then smile as I look into the blond’s eyes. Maybe I’d been in too much pain, or focusing too much of just surviving, but now I can see that devious little glint in her eyes. She wasn’t hardened by the city like Ms Prentiss seemed to be but she wasn’t some fresh faced damsel either. Still… “I’m not sure I, uh, have the energy or strength to…you know…do anything.”
“Who said you had to do anything, Spencer?”
"The night is hot as hell. I'm in a lousy room in a lousy part of a lousy town. I'm staring at a goddess, she's telling me she wants me. I'm not going to waste one more second wondering how I've gotten so lucky...She smells like angels oughta smell. The perfect woman. The goddess." ~ Marv, Sin City
Next Section:
Night Moves
Previous Sections:
Nightgale's Welcome Me
On Dangerous Ground
Safe Passage
The Big Scare
The Third Man
The Stallion: Part 1
The Stallion: Part 2
Trouble is My Business
Author: Tooks
Pairing: Reid/Lila
Rating: FRT
Summary: After an attack from The Reaper Reid finds himself on a slight detour with a beautiful woman
Notes: This is the eighth piece in the Noir AU which I'm calling "Living For the Night" thanks to let_it_linger21. Again, first person (this time from Reid's POV), dark, gritty, and a little naughtiness. And, yes, the title is a real film noir title...again.
I open my eyes slowly. Even that hurts. But it doesn’t hurt as much as breathing does. If I had to guess I’d say at least two of my ribs are broken, that’s not my major concern though. It’s the stab wound to my stomach that I force my hand over and into to try and curb the bleeding. I should get up. I need to get up. Grabbing part of the dumpster for stability I pull myself to my feet and try to look around. At night, without my glasses, I’m blind as a bat…which really aren’t as blind as one would think with their sonar but I don’t have that. I hear the door open behind me and pray to whatever the hell is above watching this crummy world that it’s not Officer Foyet back for another round. The click of heels on pavement tell me I’m lucky for the moment.
“Oh my god,” a soft, female, voice calls out as the clicks come faster and closer to me, “what happened?!”
“Guess,” I snap a little, not in the mood for dumb questions as my strength drains from my gut.
She doesn’t reply, just runs off. Great, I get help and then piss her off. I’m a fucking genius. ...But that’s not what happens. What happens is I go down and wake up on steel counter in the club’s kitchen my shirt opened and some guy standing over me.
“Don’t move,” he tells me.
I don’t have much of a choice honestly; I can barely keep my eyes open as is. “Mother fuck!” I scream when I feel a harsh, hot, stream of water hit my wound. Irrigation. There’s cursing in muffled voices above me and a pretty blond stuffs a dish cloth in my mouth before the water hits again and my muscles go stiff as I scream into the rag.
***
Next time I wake up I’m in the back of a car driven by that blond from the kitchen. I groan and almost throw up, but keep it together.
“You’re awake,” the woman notes as her eyes meet mine through her rearview mirror, “Good, we should be there any minute now.”
“Where?”
“My place.”
“I’m supposed to stay at the club.”
The woman laughs, “Yeah, well, that’s not going to happen. Rossi isn’t exactly fond of having stabbing victims hanging out and bleeding all over his floors. Scares off the customers and all.”
“My boss is…”
“Aaron Hotchner, I know. He told me you were going to be around the club and that I should keep an eye on you.”
“Great,” I mutter. I only vaguely remember Hotch mentioning a dancer that could get me anything I needed at the club, but that’s not what this feels like at the moment. What it feels like is my new boss set up some cocktail waitress to babysit my ass and the worst part is...turns out I needed it!
“When I saw you go off with The Reaper I knew something bad was going down.” I give a confused look at the moniker but don’t get a chance to ask as my stomach twists with the turning of the car and she continues, “Anyway I’ll call Hotch and let him know where you are, don’t worry,”
“Perfect.” Can’t imagine how fast he’s gonna fire me after he hears about this.
“I’m Lila Archer, by the way. I know Hoch, he’s helped me out a few times.”
“But you…” I grab the seat from pain as I cough some, “you, uh, work for Rossi?”
“At his club, sure.” The blond pulls up to a little house, stops the car, and then turns back to me with a smile, “he pays the best and a girl’s gotta pay the rent, doesn’t she?”
I close my eyes to prevent dizziness as I slowly sit up, “Whatever you say.”
“Thing’s aren’t simple in life, Spence, especially not in this town.”
The nickname catches me so off guard I don’t reply. I stay mute as she gets out and goes to help me get from the car to inside her home. Once inside though I insist on getting myself to her couch to lay on as she calls Hotch’s office and tells Garcia that I’m with her. She lies and tells Garcia everything’s fine. When done she goes to stand over me, “How’s it feel to survive The Reaper?”
“Excuse me?”
She goes to sit on the armrest nearest my head. If I wanted I could look right up her shirt. “Officer Foyet,” she clarifies with a smile and leans over me some so that now I’m thinking she wants me to look up her shirt, “On the streets he’s known as The Reaper.”
“I can imagine why.”
A tiny bell ring of a laugh escapes the blond beauty’s lips before she moves on, “Need something for the pain?”
“I’ll be fine,” I go to shift and the pain rips through me like lightening, “well…uh…maybe some brandy if you have it.”
“I do,” Lila stands up and goes to fix my drink before returning, “anything else, Spence?” As she asks she come around to kneel before me on the couch, passing the glass of liquor to me, “Man who survives a stabbing ought to have anything he desires.”
What I desire is to sit like a normal person, but that doesn’t happen. I have to stretch out not to pinch and pull awkwardly at the stitching of my gash as I get up to take the glass from Lila and sip from it. I take a larger than normal amount into my mouth and hold it there about before swallowing and enjoying the burn. “What are you doing?” I ask as Lila goes to remove my Chuck’s revealing the mismatched socks I’m wearing…I always lose one of each pair in the laundry somehow so stopped bothering to try and match them.
“Helping you get comfortable,” Lila answers simply before smiling up at me, “Come on, Spence, relax. Live a little, even.”
I can’t help but give a small laugh, “I’ve been in this town less then a week and feel like I’ve lived a decade.”
“They say you haven’t really lived in this town until you’ve had one of it’s women,” she counters.
I take another sip of brandy and laugh again until she goes for the belt on my pants. “You don’t need to do that,” I tell her as I place a hand over hers, “and I don’t think I’d, uh, be up for it. I mean, uh…I…I would, literally, but not…you know…” I give an awkward smile unsure how to dig myself out of the verbal hole I’ve dug for myself.
“I know,” Lila smiles before going to undo my belt and fly anyway, “but you got blood all over your pants and, unless you want them ruined, I should wash them before the blood dries and sinks into the fabric.”
“Oh.” It sounded like a load of crock but I haven’t the will to argue over it at the moment. And what man in his right mind argues to keep his clothes on in front of a beautiful woman? I wince as I lift my hips just enough for her to slip the pants off.
“Nice boxers,” she comments with a wink as she stands up before adding, “Gimme your shirt, I’ll wash that too.”
I obey.
“I’ll be right back,” she tells me before walking out of the room leaving me in nothing but my boxers. Not exactly the way I saw this day playing out, that’s for sure. Thank god her house is heated.
I take the alone time to examine the bandages covering my chest and the bloodied one over my stomach. The rest of me is already turning shades of black, blue, green, and yellow and I can feel the dried blood caking in my hair. I start to pull of the dark red bandage over my wound when I hear her walking back in. “I need to change this bandage,” I mutter to myself, or her, or both.
Lila doesn’t say a word, just heads back out only to return a moment later with what looks like a home made first aid kit and a bottle of vodka. She goes to kneel at my feet like before, “I can do it.”
“You don’t have to.”
“No, I don’t,” Lila agree before taking my hands in hers and setting them to my sides before going to the bandage, “but I can and I will.” She begins to gently pull the current bandage off, “It’s not like it’s my first time playing nurse, Dr Reid.” She smirks up at me as she tugs the last bit of the bandage off. To get the excess blood off she pours vodka straight from the bottle over the area before opening gauze and dabbing much of my sore skin dry.
“I, uh, don’t think it’s bleeding anymore,” I comment. Obviously a good sign.
“It isn’t,” Lila confirms as she places a new bandage over the wound, covering the area with tape. Then she presses her lips over the area.
I give a soft groan as a shot of pain mixes with the pleasure. I look down, see the near perfect imprint of red lips on the white tape, and then smile as I look into the blond’s eyes. Maybe I’d been in too much pain, or focusing too much of just surviving, but now I can see that devious little glint in her eyes. She wasn’t hardened by the city like Ms Prentiss seemed to be but she wasn’t some fresh faced damsel either. Still… “I’m not sure I, uh, have the energy or strength to…you know…do anything.”
“Who said you had to do anything, Spencer?”
"The night is hot as hell. I'm in a lousy room in a lousy part of a lousy town. I'm staring at a goddess, she's telling me she wants me. I'm not going to waste one more second wondering how I've gotten so lucky...She smells like angels oughta smell. The perfect woman. The goddess." ~ Marv, Sin City
Next Section:
Night Moves
Previous Sections:
Nightgale's Welcome Me
On Dangerous Ground
Safe Passage
The Big Scare
The Third Man
The Stallion: Part 1
The Stallion: Part 2
Trouble is My Business