(Untitled)

[youwereameteor]

Jim hasn't left the hut. Reid's stuff's everywhere; ties draped over the back of a chair, shoes in the corner, a neat stack of notebooks on the desk. Maybe Reid never really decided to live there, but the evidence that he did is all over the place. Jim tries not to look at any of it. He lies in fresh sheets, the old ones stripped the night of

Comments

[percevalian]

It was nearly 2 by the time Reid finally dragged himself out of bed, regret and a wicked headache both trying to keep him there. Before he even finished his shower he'd determined that he'd need to go to Jim's sooner rather than later. He doesn't remember much about the night before, but he can recall Jim's startled face much more clearly than he'd like.

It takes awhile to work up the nerve to actually go, though.

He's clean but weary when he finally knocks against Jim's door, a ball of uncertainty and gut-wrenching sadness. Knowing this was coming really doesn't make it any easier to bear.

[youwereameteor]

Jim rolls out of bed and, for a moment, he just sits there. He knows that knock. Nobody else he knows knocks like that, like Reid still occasionally knocks, even though there's easily as much stuff here belong to him as there is of Jim's.

It takes Jim a long time to get up off the bed and then he can't quite bring himself to open the door.

"It's open."

[percevalian]

When Reid steps inside, he stays by the door, intensely uncomfortable in his own skin and hands shoved deep into his pockets. An expert on psychology he may be, but he's always run into trouble when he tries to diagnose a situation he's too close to.

He doesn't at all know what to say, but he makes himself find words.

"Do you want to sleep with her?" he asks, ducked down with his shoulders curled up like he's steeling himself. He finally lifts his gaze to Jim. "Uhura, I mean. Actually, I guess whether you actually have is a better question, since I know you've always wanted to."

[youwereameteor]

He sits down on the bed again, suddenly, hands between his knees and it's a long time before he can actually look at Reid, and it's not so much his broken heart. Suddenly, it feels like he can't even see straight.

"I didn't fuck her," he says, quietly, and it's through sheer force of will that his voice stays quiet. "I didn't fuck anybody but you."