#combefere's journal

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BAU Team Plays DnD

This an idea I had while playing DnD with my siblings and some friends last week. There’s another for Among Us coming along. 

Introducing the team to Dungeons and Dragons was the combined efforts of Reid and Garcia. They were very excited at the idea and were more than willing to help the others make their characters.

Garcia is well versed in DnD Beyond while Spencer uses the photocopier in the office to make more character sheets.

Rossi, JJ, and Morgan get help from Garcia with DnD Beyond. 

Emily and Hotch decide to get help from Spencer using the player books. 

Spencer hints that the books he bought were among some of the first purchases he made upon joining the FBI.

Spencer is DM.

Garcia, Hotch, and Emily read the four pages of Session Zero he actually typed up.

Garcia and Reid do voices for their characters

JJ and Hotch do too. They’re parents. They can’t tell a story and not do voices.

Everyone but Morgan and Rossi refer and address each other as their characters’ names

They try to at first but keep getting mixed up and give up.

The Jack, Henry, and Michael are set up in a different room playing video or board games with snacks of their own

They’re curious about the DnD game and it’s Henry that eventually asks Spencer about the game when the doctor is babysitting him and Michael at some point.

He writes a mini campaign to play with the three boys when he babysits them

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Age Doesn’t Mean Much

Summary: Five times the BAU remembered Reid’s younger than them plus one time they were violently reminded he’s not a child. 

Spoiler/Trigger Warning: The entire ending of the second season’s 15th episode: Revelations. 

Dr. Spencer Reid was merely 21 when SSA Jason Gideon convinced him to join the BAU. With the exception of Aaron Hotchner (who had also read the young doctor’s file) the team wasn’t sure how to feel about the inexperienced man. 

Other than giving a pointer or two to a professor lecturing on a cold case, Reid had no experience working in the field. The others figured that was why the poor kid pushed himself so hard: to prove himself. 

Right after the first case, Elle stopped talking down to him. Half way through the same case, Morgan decided he’d taken the doctor under his wing. JJ was the first of Hotch’s subordinates to warm up to Reid. Their friendship was an awkward one for a couple of days. To an outsider, it looked as though a childhood friend was trying to help the other through a bout of amnesia. 

Though the team never again questioned Reid’s ability on the field, there were times when they were suddenly reminded of Reid’s age. 

1: Trying to Balance on a Curb While Walking

Hotch lost count of how many times Jack would walk on the curb, one foot in the front of the other, both arms outstretched for extra balance. Almost always, one of Jack’s hands would be firmly holding one of his father’s. SSA Hotchner almost laughed at himself when he nearly held Reid’s hand on instinct. 

Reid and Hotch were walking alone to get lunch for the unit while between cases back home. They’d been walking side-by-side while Reid babbled happily about the last book he finished. Hotch contently listened, his mind occasionally wondering. 

Hotch’s mind was pulled back to reality from one of its wonderings when his hand had brushed against Reid’s. The doctor’s hand quickly formed into a fist as he concentrated on his balance, his lips pressed tightly together. While Jack had his arms stretched straight out, Reid held his at more of a slant. 

One thing Hotch quickly noticed, and was surprised the scientifically minded doctor missed, was that Reid’s ever present satchel was throwing him off balance. 

“Reid.”

“Hm?”

“Let me hold onto your bag.” Hotch held his hand out to take the leather bag.

“Why?” Reid’s foot touched down on the road as he lost balance now that he was doing more with his brain than focussing on his footing. 

“It's a hypothesis.” Hotch smirked but Reid missed it, not taking his eyes off his sneakers. 

Carefully, as not to fall, Reid removed his satchel and held it out, blindly, for Hotch to take. The older agent held it by the shorted of the two handles as he continued to walk alongside Reid. 

Hotch chuckled to himself upon seeing the look on Reid’s face. The young doctor was looking at his feet, almost in awe. He hadn’t needed to touch down since Hotch took the bag half a block back. 

Once he walked two blocks on the curb- without losing balance- Reid was content and took his bag back, putting it back over his shoulder so the pouch of it bounced against the opposite hip.

“Did you know the position of an object’s center of gravity affects its stability? The higher the center of gravity is, the easier it is for the object to fall. That’s why a small boat- like a kayak or canoe- is less likely to tip if the occupants are seated lower in the boat. 

“Textbooks usually demonstrate this with either a bus and or two cars of different heights and lengths…” 

2: Mismatched Socks

One of the first things Emily Prentiss noticed about Reid were his mismatched socks. Of course, the other BAU members noticed it too, but they never questioned it. It’s just part of who Reid was. Curiosity got the better of SSA Prentiss. 

“Reid?” 

The doctor looked up from his case file. “Yeah?”

“Why do you never wear matched socks?” She looked down at Reid’s ankles and he followed her gaze. One lavender sock, one pink with blue stripes. 

“My uh- When I was a kid, my mom would tell me it was bad luck to wear matching socks.” Reid pulled the lavender sock back up to where it should be. 

“That doesn’t sound like something that could be scientifically verified.” A slight smirk spread across Emily’s face. 

Reid huffed slightly. “The night I was taken by Tobias… It was the first time I wore matching socks in five years. Burgundy with orange stripes.” Reid blinked heavily, clenching his eyes shut. “I don’t wear socks if they match.” He paused again. “Besides, matching socks are boring. Some people say socks should be a shade darker than their pants or a shade lighter than the shoes- Hotch does the former.

“Also, 82% of men in my age bracket wear mismatched socks at least once a week because we keep losing one of a pair. And a family of four- on average- loses 60 socks a year.” 

3: Playing With Jell-O

Reid loved Jell-O. No-one was really sure why, but didn’t ask, either. Everyone had their favorite dessert, so maybe Jell-O was just his? He liked cake, sure, but he didn’t eat it nearly as often as he ate Jell-O. 

On jet rides back home, no-one ever knew what conversations were bound to come up. This week’s was what the team was going to do with a three day weekend and morphed into best desserts. 

“What about you, Reid?” Prentiss drew Reid from his train of thought.

“Hm?”

“You like Jell-O, don’t you, Pretty Boy?” Morgan checked.

“Yeah.”

“Not even Henry likes Jell-O,” JJ smiled at the thought of her young son. 

“It doesn’t have much of a taste,” Rossi added. 

“I think that’s part of why I like it, actually.” Reid fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. 

“Because it tastes like watered down Kool-Aid?” Rossi frowned.

“Yeah. All the other foods are so strong and Jell-O’s not. It’s cool, but not cold, and it’s fun to play with.”

A ghost of a smile danced across Hotch’s face. “Jack likes playing with it. He gets sad when I don’t buy finger Jell-O on accident.” 

“That’s the only kind I buy.” Reid nodded. “The red is my least favorite- It takes like Red 40.” 

“What is your favorite kind, then?” Rossi couldn’t help but ask. 

“Pineapple. Minimal amounts of dyes and you can see through it.”

“No numbers about Jell-O?” Prentiss challenged with a grin.

JJ, Hotch, and Morgan all smiled while Rossi teasily groaned. The groan got a smile from Reid too. 

“Actually, in the US, the Jell-O brand is recognized- by name and product- by 99% of the populous.” Spencer chortled. “That means that if you got a group of 100 people together, only one person would have no idea what Jell-O is.”  

4: Doodles on Everything

Dr. Spencer Reid didn’t always carry his leather satchel with him. Hotch more or less ordered him to get a notebook he could keep in a pocket. The unit chief didn’t care if Reid drew on his arms. The unit chief cared when Reid jotted down notions or points for the running case.

Garcia loved Reid’s little doodles and had a decently sized collection. She referred to him as a “chronic doodler”. The analysis tech found it almost funny that someone as brilliant and talented as Reid had so little artistic skill outside of his geographic profiling maps. 

Reid knew full well that Garcia collected his doodles. After a particularly stressful case- which always resulted in more doodles, Reid would sign and dare the flip book page before tearing it out and leaving it in Garcia’s bunker. 

There were times when Reid would doodle on his arm rather than the flip book simple because it was more convenient. That didn’t mean Garcia didn’t see those ones. No, no, no. These ones, Reid would take pictures of and send to Garcia when a case was getting to her.

Morgan talked to Garcia more than anyone else on a case. Whether or not Penelope voiced her unease, Morgan- ever the profiler- could tell. He’d have Reid a certain look and the younger man would send Garcia texts of his doodles- evenly spaced- throughout the case. If he did the math and found he didn’t have enough, nothing stopped him from drawing a couple more. 

Hotch and Gideon thought of the times their sons would draw a picture or make them a card when they had a bad day at work. Morgan was reminded of the beaded bracelets his sisters used to make him when he was injured in football or his team lost a game. 

The one hitch with their theory? Garcia was the one person who got to keep the drawings. Not even Reid kept them. She knew this fact and gloated about it to the team whenever she got a new one. All of her computer screens in her bunker had a different doodle as the screen saver. 

5: Dependent on the Team

For the most part, the BAU stuck to themselves after hours if they weren’t going out for drinks. Reid was the one exception and the rest of the team found they didn’t mind. 

JJ was the first one he texted. The message was a simple worded question: How can you tell the difference between romantic feelings and transference? The gentle blonde took it upon herself to explain to the doctor that he’d know when he was in love because how being near the person or even just thinking about them made him feel. 

The media liaison assumed she’d never really see the person Reid texted her about that Sunday evening. She was a little less than shocked to see the light in the young doctor’s eyes shift when Morgan wandered into the bullpen Monday morning.  

A month passed before JJ got a message along the lines of the one she was expecting: Reid asking for advice on how to ask someone out. How to better the wording, how to keep from straying off the point. 

The next day, he texted Elle about flowers: I have a date next weekend. Are flowers too forward?

Elle smiled down at her phone, at Reid’s innocence. She told him that flowers were a nice and caring gesture, but that he’d want to be careful with what flowers he got because different flowers sent different messages. 

This was the first of this Reid was hearing. He thanked Elle and thought more. Hotch was married. He must know a decent amount about flowers and such romantic ideas, right? So he texted Hotch: Do you know anything about flower symbolism? Elle says flowers have different messages to them.

Hotch chuckled, getting Haley’s attention.

“What’s so funny?”

“Do you remember Dr. Spencer Reid?” Hotch looked at the blonde. 

“He’s the shy, Autistic boy, right?” Haley glanced up from feeding Jack.

“Yeah. He’s nervous about an upcoming date and texted to see if I know anything about flowers.” Hotch’s thumb was dancing across the flip-phone’s buttons.

“What are you telling him?”

“That roses have the highest chance of getting him in his date’s bed. Pink camellias and carnations are signs of love and longing; ivy means friendship.” Hotch typed this by naming the flowers, placing an equal sign, and the meaning. 

“Do you know who his date is?”

“Not as far as Reid and his date are concerned.”

So yes, he did.

Friday morning- the morning before his date- Reid sat by himself on the jet ride home, trying to read a book he brought. He couldn’t focus on it for the life of him. He’d been staring at the same page for then minutes. He jumped a little when Gideon sat down across from him.

“What has you so nervous?”

“Noth-” Reid stopped short. That wasn’t the right word; the date meant everything to him. “I uh… I have a date tomorrow evening and I’m worried, I guess. I’ve never actually been on a date, but I really like this person.”

“Okay. So what about it has you worked up?” Gideon’s eyes were gentle and fatherly.

Reid thought about how to answer the question. “We’ve been friends for a while and I don’t- I don’t want to mess up so badly that he doesn’t want to be friends-” Reid froze, his eyes wide. “G-Gideon, I-”

“There’s nothing wrong.” The older man squeezed the younger’s shoulder. “If your friend know you as well as you know him, I think it’s safe to say he’s not too worried about the friendship failing. Sometimes, Reid, you have to take a leap of faith.”

+One: “I choose...Aaron Hotchner.”

“Choose, and prove you’ll do God’s will.”

“No.”

Click. “Choose.”

“I won’t do it.”

Click. “Choose.”

“I...I choose...Aaron Hotchner. He’s a classic narcissist. He thinks he’s better than everyone else on the team. Genesis 23:4, “Let him not deceive himself and trust in emptiness, vanity, falseness, and futility, for these shall be his recompense.” 

Bang. Raphael took a bullet from Tobais’ pocket and held it up, showing it to Reid. “For God’s will.”

Morgan’s heart shattered at seeing his boyfriend crouched over the body of his captor and tormentor. The side of Reid’s head was coated in dry blood, he was avoiding putting weight on his sock-less foot.

Reid limped his way over to Hotch and hesitantly put a hand on his superior’s arm as though he wasn’t sure the man was there. The young man quickly and tightly hugged Hotch.

“I knew you’d understand.”

JJ was the next to hug Reid, the doctor losing his balance slightly and the liaison easily caught him. 

“I am so sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

The second JJ let go of Reid, Morgan stepped forward and pulled Reid into as tight of a hug as he dared. He needed to feel his boyfriend in his arms but he’d seen the same video as everyone else and didn’t want to hurt him more. 

Prentiss was shocked and looked at JJ with wide eyes when Morgan kissed Reid and the doctor eagerly reciprocated. The blonde just smiled.

*****

@stxrryspencer​ @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese​ @the-need-for-reid-speed​ 

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The Little Things

Summary: Derek knew fully well that moving in with Spencer was going to bring around some changes. Dr. Spencer Reid was different and Derek loved him for it. There were little quirks that the doctor showed at work and some Derek was still learning. So there must be some at home.

And a special thanks, of course, to @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese​ for helping me compile this list!

1. Alphabetizing Movies by Title

“Pretty Boy?” Derek was crouched down in front of their TV looking for their movie while Spencer did the dishes. The latter hadn’t seen Happy Gilmore and Derek couldn’t let that stand. 

“Yeah?” Spencer called from the kitchen. 

“I can’t find it?”

“What?” Spencer stepped away from the sink and went to the living room. Water dripped from his fingertips. “The movies are alphabetical. It’s between Hamlet and Ice Age.” He went to Derek’s side and gestured to the movie. “I was going to order them by director, but Hotch said most people don’t know directors very well. Which is a shame because J.J. Abrams destroyed Star Trek but Guy Riche-” 

Derek pressed a kiss to Spencer’s lips with a fond smile. Spencer blinked. 

“Sorry,” the doctor blushed. 

Derek just chuckled. “You know you’re adorable, right, Pretty Boy?” 

“You may have mentioned it a time or two,” Spencer laughed. 

“You can tell me all about directors later,” Derek promised. “I know a bit about the mainstream guys, but not a whole lot.”

“All you really need to know is that J.J. Abrams kills anything he touches and Peter Jackson doesn’t get as much attention as he should.”

*****

2. Morning Rituals

One thing that Derek very quickly learned about Spencer was that he 

had a specifically timed morning ritual when not on a case. And that if it was broken or disturbed, the whole rest of the day would go down hill like a train on greased tracks. 

He woke up at 6:17, was in the shower by 6:25, eating breakfast by 7:00, his bed made by 7:30, and shoes on his feet by 7:32. The last half hour before they left at 8:00 was free game. 

The first morning in their new place was the roughest. Spencer went 

about his usual morning, but Derek didn’t usually wake up until 7:45 because he took less time to get ready and ate in the car. So when Spencer finished breakfast and went back to their room to make the bed but Derek was still asleep… He paced for the next fifteen minutes and his head nearly went through the ceiling when Derek’s alarm went off. 

Spencer almost had a panic attack as he fumbled his way through making their bed and cramming his feet into his shoes. Needless to say, the extra half hour was spent- in vain- trying to calm the doctor down. None of the rest of the day lined up properly and Spencer was on edge and fidgety. Hotch even had to gently remind him to focus a few more times than the usual redirection of infodumps. 

That was the first and only time Derek didn’t follow Spencer’s morning routine. He found the same day that Spencer had a much simpler night ritual: Snack (sometimes) at 10:10, teeth brushed by 10:25, in bed by 10:35, reading until (supposed to be) 11:18, and then lights out. This routine was much more flexible and relaxed.

Derek found waking up and going to bed at the same time every day made the former much easier. He also found that Spencer reading to him most nights- no matter the book or topic- was very relaxing. And of course there were nights when Derek read to Spencer.

*****

3. Sugary Coffee

Derek took a sip of coffee from his travel cup and whistled. “Think I got yours, Pretty Boy. There’s enough sugar in this to hype up a six year old’s birthday party.” 

Spencer braced himself and took a sip of the coffee in his own cup. He was pleasantly relieved when the bitterly sharp taste expected never came. “I-I put sugar in both of them. I wasn’t thinking,” he said sheepishly. 

Derek shrugged. “You know what they say: I’ll try anything once.” He chuckled. “I’ll just brush my teeth for an extra three minutes.” 

Spencer scoffed as he got into the passenger seat of Derek’s car. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll like it. You don’t get the caffeine drop when the eight hour half-life is over.” 

“Is that why you put so much sugar in coffee?” Derek raised an eyebrow, thinking he already knew the answer. 

“And coffee tastes like battery acid. I’d rather drink vinegar than black coffee.” Spencer shuddered. 

Derek chuckled but didn’t say anything else as he pulled onto the street.

*****

4. Cuddly Sleeper

Even though Spencer wasn’t huge on PDA like Derek was, he sure was a cuddly guy. The second the door closed, he was a six foot koala. That included in bed- but usually not until after he was asleep. 

Some nights, Spencer would fall asleep reading. So Derek would take his book, close it, gently remove Spencer’s glasses, and turn out the lamp. Nine times out of ten, Spencer was curled up against his side before Derek was asleep himself. 

At first, Derek found himself wondering why Spencer wasn’t nestled against him before sleep took him. But after a while, it sunk in that the doctor unwound by reading. 

The look on Spencer’s face when he curled into Derek’s side always sent the older man over the moon. The absolute peace on the doctor’s face. One night, Derek almost woke Spencer up laughing. Derek rolled over to out the lamp and Spencer had gripped Derek’s arm tighter and whined in his sleep. Derek then had to assure his boyfriend- in soft whispers as to not actually wake him up- that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

Spencer never thought to question why his book and glasses were gone when he woke up.

*****

5. Leaves Books Everywhere

Anyone who had a 30 second conversation with Spencer- anyone who glanced at Spencer- could tell the man read more than he did anything else. 

Derek picked up the doctor’s satchel once and was moderately surprised the slim man hadn’t dislocated his shoulder with how heavy the bag was. But Spencer didn’t only keep books in his bag. No. They were all over the place. 

Their bedroom, the craft room where Derek made floor plans for his renovations, the kitchen, the dining room, the living room. Even both bathrooms and the basement. 

When the two first moved in together, Derek debated building an extension onto the living room for a library. He still debated it from time to time (just in case). But as time wore on, Derek grew to appreciate the countless (if seemingly random) books around the house. 

Spencer would read when Derek was working on floorplans, so Derek would read when Spencer worked on an academic paper or consult. 

“What’re you reading?” Spencer asked one night, finally looking up from his notebook. He was writing an essay on how handwriting analysis could help catch a serial killer and/or rapist. 

“I don’t even know,” Derek chortled. “Uh..” he looked at the cover, “it’s Introduction to Law by Joanne Banker and Yvonne Ekern.” 

“Oh! Hotch loaned that to me yesterday,” Spencer noted. “I should get that back to him soon.” 

Derek just shook his head. “You know, Pretty Boy, I didn’t read this much in college.”

Spencer smiled. “See? Maybe there’s a good side to not spending thousands of dollars on building a library,” he teased.

6. The Nightlight

In the bedroom, in the outlet closest to the door was a nightlight. But not just any night light. This nightlight made the move in the front pocket of Spencer’s satchel. 

“So what’s the story behind this platypus, Pretty Boy?” Derek had to ask one night as Spencer turned it on. “Because you’ve had this since before we were dating.” 

“My uh- my mom’s went on a sort of field trip with her hospital a couple years ago. It was on one of her good days. She saw this in the aquarium’s gift shop and bought it for me.”

“That’s pretty cute,” Derek encouraged. He knew Spencer didn’t open up about his mom often so Derek tried to learn everything he could about the woman during the rare occurrences. 

“We named him,” Spencer laughed. “Alfred Nicholas Brian Reid.” He giggled. “I just… He helps.”

*****

+1. Bleeding/Infected Hangnails

Spencer usually had something to stim or fidget with. A strip of paper, a pen or pencil to twirl, a shirt with a loose thread, something. On the off chance that he didn’t, the doctor somehow decided that his fingers were good enough. If Spencer didn’t have a hangnail, he’d start one. 

This was the one and only thing about Doctor Spencer Reid that Derek Morgan hated. He could see the minute flinch when Spencer held a utensil wrong and it pressed on the swollen skin. He heard the soft hiss when Spencer got tomato or orange juice in the broken skin. 

What Derek hated even more than that was when the hangnail would get infected. The skin around the nail or turn a greenish-yellow and harden. Which, in turn, gave Spencer another thing to pick at. 

“Pretty Boy, you gotta stop,” Derek sighed. He’d gone into a convenience store to get them something other than coffee- but tastier than water- to drink. While inside, he bought a box of Band-Aids and a tube of anti-bacterial cream. 

Spencer snapped out of his daze. “What?”

“Picking at your nails.” To prove his point, Derek took Spencer’s hand in his to show him, as well as to stop his current picking. “I know you’re worried about the case, Baby, but we’ll catch the son of a bitch and put his ass behind bars like we always do. You gotta stop destroying your hands.”

“I didn’t realize I was,” he admitted. 

“I know,” Derek said softly. He applied the cream and a Band-Aid to each finger that needed it (five in total between both hands). “We just gotta get you a couple of those fidget cubes Garcia has.”

Tag List: @mayonnaiseismycomfortfood​

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Punchline Takes a Hit (PT 1)

Summary: Hotch tells the team a joke for Jack and Spencer doesn’t get it right away. When he finally does, his ridiculous laughter awakens feelings Morgan didn’t know he had. 

Hotch came out of his office and entered the bullpen. “I almost forgot that Jack told me a joke this morning and wanted me to tell it to you all. What has two butts and kills people?” 

Elle and Morgan looked at each other, running possible answers through their minds. Hitman; no. Sadist; no. 

“An assassin,” Hotch chuckled. 

Morgan and Elle laughed. “Where’d he hear that?” Morgan wondered. 

“Someone at school heard it from their brother,” Hotch shrugged. “He was proud that he got me with it.” 

The three looked at Reid who was still contemplating the joke. His brow was furrowed, his eyes seemingly staring at the floor but not focussing. Assassin?

“Reid?” Hotch questioned. 

“I-I don’t…” he shook his head with a frown.

“You’ll figure it out,” Morgan reassured. “A hint: don’t overthink it.” 

Hotch chuckled again at the perplexed look on the youngest agent’s face and went back to his office. 

Reid got a fresh cup of coffee and sat back down. On a scrap of paper, he wrote the joke’s question and the punchline under it. Writing out the punchline was what got the joke through to him. 

The young doctor clamped a hand over his mouth, giggling. His eyes were clenched shut as he laughed. The two co-workers sitting around him shared a look. 

“You good, Pretty Boy?” Morgan chortled. 

“You just got the joke, didn’t you?” Elle sighed. 

Reid finally managed to swallow his mouthful of coffee and burst out laughing. He nodded in answer to Elle’s question. Hotch could hear Reid’s laughter from his office and couldn’t help laugh. The young genius could pinpoint where the unsub lived based on his handwriting in moments yet it took minutes for him to understand a simple quip. 

Elle spared Morgan a look, her smile softening when she noticed a different light behind the man’s eyes as he watched Reid trying to contain his laughter. 

After a few moments, Reid managed to calm himself but was left with the hiccups. Everytime Reid hiccupped, Morgan would chuckle. At first, she thought it amusing. Now though? Five minutes later? It was driving her insane. 

The brunette ventured into the breakroom and thrust a cold bottle of water into Reid’s hands when she came back.

*****

JJ and Reid were talking in the breakroom later in the afternoon. 

“Did you hear the joke Hotch told earlier?” Reid giggled at the thought of the joke.

“No. What was it?” JJ grinned at her child-like friend.

Reid managed to tell the joke- a smile constantly on his face and through giggles. 

“Want some Tums for those butterflies, lover-boy?” Elle teased suddenly, making Morgan jump. 

“Jesus, Elle!” Morgan hissed from where he sat at his desk. 

“You’re gonna talk to him, right?”

“I talk to him all the time,” Morgan shrugged, trying to dismiss the woman’s teasing. 

Elle gave him an incredulous look. 

“I- No. Not about this.”

“Why not? There’s nothing in the books saying agents can’t date.” Elle crossed her arms over her chest, tapping the toe of her shoe waiting for an answer. 

“I...It’s not a smart move.” 

“Not a smart move?” Elle scoffed. “It’s one of the smartest moves you could make.”

“What move?” Reid wondered as he and JJ appeared in the doorway. 

“Pulling his head out of his ass long enough to breath,” Elle covered, ignoring  Morgan’s galre. 

Reid’s brow furrowed again in confusion, but he dismissed it and headed back to his desk to finish the consult he was working on. 

“Butterflies?” JJ looked between the two profilers with a knowing smirk. 

“Does everyone know?” Morgan threw his arms up. 

“I’m not a profiler and I know, so probably.” JJ shrugged. 

Morgan glanced at Reid with wide eyes, silently asking the two women if Reid might know as well. The women glanced at Reid. “No,” they answered at the same time. 

“I’ll give Garcia a heads up that you’re gonna want to talk to her for date ideas.” JJ beamed and left with a bounce in her step.

*****

“Pretty Boy.” Morgan caught Reid’s elbow as the younger agent pressed the down button for the elevator. 

Spencer looked at Morgan with widened eyes, shock evident in them. “Yeah?” 

“Wanna get some coffee that’s supposed to be sweet without rotting your teeth?” Morgan offered. “My treat.” 

“Oh. Sure,” Reid smiled. “The coffee they have here isn’t good enough?” he teased. 

“Do you see the ability to steam milk?” Morgan smirked. 

“Fair point. But if you want frothy milk, it’s not hard to do. I mean, you could buy a hand-held frother- they don’t cost much. Or if you have a jar- like a canning jar- then you fill it a third of the way and shake it like crazy until the milk doubles in size. It only takes about a minute, actually,” Reid explained. 

As the two got into the elevator, Reid missed the thumbs up JJ and Garcia were sending Morgan’s way with wide smiles. 

“You don’t usually drink coffee after four unless we have a case. What changed?” Reid’s question pulled Morgan’s wandering mind back to the present. 

“Uh...it’s just one of those cooler fall days, you know? Gets ya in the mood for warmer drinks.” 

“Have you had spiced cider?” Reid asked, excitement in his eyes. “My favorite coffee house only has it from October first to December 31.” 

“You never really struck me as a cider kinda guy,” Morgan noted. 

“It has to be real cider. The stuff they sell at the store isn’t worth the money. It’s just over priced, juice made from crab apples- not really crab apples, but it’s sour enough to be. It has to be real cider,” Reid explained. 

“If you like cider so much, have you had hard cider?” 

“I don’t drink,” Reid shook his head. “I like the usage of my frontal lobe and liver too much. Not to mention what it does to your kidneys and blood- Alcohol is just back for you. Some people swear that a glass of red wine is good for at the end of the day, but more current studies are finding that it’s not because it kicks your liver into hyper drive right before you lay down to go to bed so it actually keeps you up.” 

Morgan chuckled at Reid’s info-dumping. A lot of people found it annoying, but Morgan saw the truth behind it. The more the kid trusted you, the more he info-dumped. He wasn’t huge on physical touch from others- he, JJ, and Garcia were working on that- so he showed he cared by sharing his infinite knowledge with you. 

“Sorry.” Reid tugged the cuffs of his cardigan over his palms and fisted his hands. “I was rambling.” 

“It’s all good. I knew people thought wine could help disease- my aunt swears by it- but I didn’t know they were disproving it. I’ll have to send her some of those sources of yours, huh?” 

“I can forward them to you tomorrow,” Reid nodded.

*****

Reid got up from their table to get them refills. They’d been chatting and working on a jigsaw puzzle at the back of the coffee house. Morgan sent a quick text to JJ. 

“I don’t think he knows I asked him out.” 

JJ giggled as she replied. “So tell him you asked out. You know Spence. You have to be painfully clear.” 

Reid sat back on the couch, handing Morgan one of the cups of spiced cider. “Do we have a case?” 

“Nah. Just JJ texting to see what’s up,” Morgan shrugged. He couldn’t help but admire Spencer. The younger man went right back to the puzzle, the awkward air floating miles above his head.

**********

@mayonnaiseismycomfortfood​ @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese​

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The Hands of a Doctor

Summary: A character study of Reid via his hands through Morgan’s eyes. 

Trigger Warnings: None

Piano-player hands. That’s how his mom would describe the doctor’s hands. But as far as Morgan knew, Reid didn’t play piano. Or any instrument. Just because the doctor didn’t play piano didn’t mean there weren’t uses for such talented hands. 

Morgan couldn’t help but watch Reid’s hands as he wrote. He’d never seen anyone else hold a pencil how he did. The pencil was a bit shorter now. The length of a pen now. His thumb rested under the green and yellow metal holding the heavily used errasser. The tip of the pencil was balanced between his middle and ring fingers. 

The hand he wasn’t holding the pencil with would occasionally reach up to tuck the strand of hair behind his left ear when it slid down in front of his eyes. The same hand would return to the bottom left corner of the page. 

Morgan looked away when Reid’s head shot up and he pushed the mass of his hair back, the pencil over his thumb and pinky but under his three fingers. The doctor tapped the spacebar on his keyboard before his eyes danced over the screen and he went back to the notes. 

*****

It wasn’t uncommon for Reid to get coffee for himself and whoever he was sent to do his part with. Reid and Morgan were sometimes sent to check out a victim’s home together. It was very rare Morgan was instructed to stay back with Reid to work on the victimology. It was usually JJ or Prentiss who stayed and helped the doctor. 

Yet, like JJ and Prentiss told Morgan, Reid strolled into the room where they’d be working with a folder under one arm, two to-go cups of coffee on top of eachother in the other hand. 

Reid’s left hand was stretched so he could walk without worrying about dropping either cup. The doctor stopped next to Morgan and slowly extended his hand. “Top one’s yours.” 

“Thanks, Pretty Boy.” Morgan carefully took the top cup, but Reid didn’t seem worried. His pinky and ring finger tightened around the bottom of the cup, the flesh under his weirdly short fingernails going white from the pressure. 

The doctor took a sip of his own coffee before placing it on the table and turning to the dry erase board.

“Reid?” Morgan watched the younger man uncap the Expo marker. The doctor hummed as he started on the map for his geographical profile. “Why are your nails so short, man?”

Reid shrugged and went back to the board. “I chew my nails. Nervous tic I picked up at 15. I never really give them the chance to get long enough to trim.”

“You ever wanna stop?” Morgan sat himself on the table, watching Reid work.

“It’s not hurting me,” Reid dismissed. “If it was, I’d redirect.”

Morgan wasn’t 100% sure what that meant- redirect. He figured it was something to do with the Autistic stims Reid felt he had to mask that Hotch told him about. But Hotch wasn’t the only one who put the pieces together and did their homework.

*****

The odd little sculptures- if one could call them that- was another thing. Morgan couldn’t stop himself from watching Reid make them. The young doctor would sit in the back, quietly, during their group debates and make odd figures with whatever was laying around. If he didn’t have anything in his pockets, then he’d play with his handcuffs. 

Playing with his handcuffs was something Hotch tried talking to Spencer about. “They’re to help us apprehend an unsub, not reverse engineer.” That talk happened after the second time Spencer locked his left wrist in the cuff. 

The first time, he tried picking it without drawing attention to himself. After three minutes of pretending not to notice, Morgan unlocked the cuff and patted the heavily blushing doctor twice on the head without a word.

But the sculptures Reid made… He’d give them- randomly- to members of the team. Garcia had two in her collection of happiness reminders. Hotch had three in various places around his office. JJ had two, Elle had one or two, Gideon had two or three. Morgan himself four: two on his desk, and the other two were in his apartment. 

*****

Reid holding a gun was something of a foreign concept and one Morgan had mixed feelings about. The older SSA knew Reid could use one. Everyone in the BAU knew that. They’d seen how deadly the doctor’s aim was when it needed to be. First with Dowd, then again with Hankle. 

Reid was careful: he held the pistol with steady hands, and his hands were unwavering as they took aim. Even with the pain (mental and physical) of being kicked by Hotch as he yelled; even with the pain of beatings and drugs in his veins, Reid’s aim was deadly. 

But that was Dr. Spencer Reid. One person- one kid- being so different while being the same person. Author and essayist; coffee guzzling, Autistic, and superstitious, profiler, sculptor, and doctor.

**********

@chaoticgremlinwholikescheese​ @stxrryspencer​ @the-need-for-reid-speed​ @prettyboy-reid​ @reidecorating​

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Possible Story Idea. Take a vote.

Were I to write an alternative ending for Dead Poets Society in which Neil Perry doesn’t die, how many of your would read it? 

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Reid’s Allergies

This was an idea @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese​ and I came up with. The summary is exactly what it says on the tin. Let me know what you think and don’t be afraid to make a request. Also! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for any or all fandoms. 

Side note: The raw honey remedy Rossi gives Reid isn’t nonsense. My uncle was a holistic nutritionist and taught my sisters and I this trick. 

No-one in the BAU was shocked to learn the young Dr. Reid had horrible seasonal allergies. Upon his first year at the BAU, the Unit Chief, Aaron Hotchner, thought the poor boy was ill. 

The youngest agent continuously had a tissue, wrapped around his forefinger, pressed under his nose whenever he had to look down. Reid sniffled almost constantly and sneezed every few minutes. After the third sneezing fit, Hotch decided enough was enough. 

“Reid,” he called from the rail above the bullpen, “my office, please.”

Reid was up on his feet, going to his boss’s office and sat when gestured to. He sneezed and wiped his nose with the tissue. “What’s up?”

“You can stay home when you’re ill, Reid. That’s why you have sick days,” Hotch explained. Gideon had joked about them having to tell Reid about what a vacation was, but he didn’t think he’d need to tell the boy about sick days. 

Reid shook his head. “I’m not-” he sneezed, “sick. It’s just allergies. My meds just haven’t kicked in yet.” The doctor sniffled. “It only takes about a week for antihistamines to work their way into the system.”

“When did you start taking them?” Hotch studied Reid. 

“Monday.” 

It was Wednesday. “Reid, go home. Catch up on sleep.” 

“Hotch, I’m really-” sneeze, “-okay.”

The unit chief sighed. “That wasn’t a question. Go get some rest; play tomorrow by ear. If you aren’t as snuffly, come on back.”

Reid grabbed his satchel and begrudgingly waved to Morgan on his way out.

---

When Reid went back to work the next morning- very early morning seeing as they had a case, he was still just as stuffy-nosed as before. Hotch very nearly sent the boy home. 

Reid was comparing handwriting samples when his nose started to run. He was about to run the cuff of his shirt under his nose when there was suddenly a tissue in his hand. 

He looked at Morgan, who was slipping a plastic sleeve of tissues into his pocket, for a few seconds before he sneezed into this tissue. From then on, Morgan made it a habit to carry tissues with him in case the kid might need them.

II

JJ was in Quantico with Garcia while the rest of the BAU was off helping police in Montana with a missing person’s case. Garcia usually preferred tea after 3:30 in the afternoon. Whenever she started up her electric kettle, she always offered whoever was within earshot if they wanted tea, too. That day, it happened to be JJ.

“I’m going to rinse out my mug. The second drawer to the left- the bottom one- is full of tea. Take your pick.” Garcia ducked out of the room.  

The Tech Analysis wasn’t kidding when she said the drawer was full of tea. Earl Gray, mint, Lady Gray, a couple of herbal seasonal teas. And a sinus relief tea. 

Garcia re-entered her office only to find a rather concerned JJ. 

“Are you coming down with something, Garcia?” the blonde inquired. 

“What? No.” Realization dawned on her when she saw the Yugi box in the Media Liaison’s hand. “Oh! That’s for Reid when his allergies act out. When his allergies are bad, I cut him off after two cups of coffee, but he can have as much Gateriad, water, and tea- herbal tea- as his little doctoral heart desires.

III

When Reid came to work sniffly and red-eyed, Prentiss felt worry for the young doctor. Why didn’t he stay home if he was feeling so poorly?

Garcia came bustling in next and Emily caught up with her. “Hey, Garcia? Does Reid look kinda ill to you?”

“Watery eyes? Sniffling every five seconds?” Garcia was already headed back to her bunker, determination in her step. 

“Yeah…”

The blonde shook her head. “He’s early this year.” 

“What?” Emily followed after her. 

“His allergies are awful. They’re always worse in the fall.” Garcia turned on her electric kettle and got a Dr. Who mug from her tea drawer. 

“Does he take meds for it?” Emily wondered. “My allergies were bad in college and I took an over the counter pill; they were manageable.” 

“No,” Garcia sighed. “He used to, but now he won’t take anything that isn’t prescription and he refuses to go to the hospital unless Hotch makes him- and allergies aren’t deadly or contagious, there’s nothing Hotch can do. Anyway, we help our good doctor teas and endless tissues. Morgan always has tissues for him and JJ has tea in her go-bag.”

---

When Emily went to the store after work, she was sure to buy tissues in the plastic sleeves. She was loaded with the little things. Her blazer pocket, pants pocket, purse, go-bag, and the glove box of her car. 

So Reid was shocked when, the next day when they were at a crime scene, he sneezed and there was a tissue in front of his face when he opened his eyes and the hand wasn’t Morgan’s.

“Oh. Thanks.” He took the tissue and Emily merely nodded.

IV

Rossi had been on the team for a few weeks before he witnessed one of Spencer’s allergy bouts. He couldn’t help but pity the young man. After all, he’d had godforsaken seasonal allergies when he was a teen. 

One day, Reid stepped into the bullpen and saw a jar of honey on his desk- comb and all. Beside the jaw was a note in Rossi’s neat scrawl. It read: Eat half an inch of honey comb twice a day, use the honey in tea or on food. Give two weeks and you’ll never suffer from allergies again. -David Rossi.

Reid smiled to himself and picked up the jar. He opened it and broke off the suggested amount, squishing it lightly between his forefinger and thumb, debating if he’d be able to stomach the texture. He came to the conclusion that never having to deal with allergies again- even the possibility of it- was worth an off-putting texture. 

Morgan was the first to notice the youngest agent stopped putting half a cup of sugar in his coffee and instead opted for three tablespoons of honey. “Trying a new flavor, Pretty Boy?” Morgan asked when he spotted Reid putting the jar of honey back in his desk drawer. 

“It’s a home remedy suggestion from a friend. The honey’s sweeter, so it takes less- to mention the health benefits. Honey has four properties that kill bacteria and because this jar I have is wild honey, it has trace amounts of pollen. That’s why it might help my allergies- it’s like an edible vaccine.”

Tag list: @mayonnaiseismycomfortfood​

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The One Time Reid Didn’t Know What Anything Meant

“My cousin sent me a game for my birthday.” Elle held up a black and white, rectangular box. “I thought it might be a fun cool down.”

“What’s the game?” Hotch looked up from his case file. 

“Cards Against Humanity,” Reid read, leaning forward to see the writing better. “A horrible game for horrible people.”

“It’s a fun play, Hotch,” Morgan vowed.

“It really is,” JJ grinned, a rare glint in her blue eyes. “Should be interesting with Spence playing.” 

“How do you play?” Reid’s brow furrowed. “Can I read the instructions?” 

“Have you ever played Apples to Apples?” Morgan asked while Elle opened the boc and got the instruction pamphlet for Reid. 

“Never heard of it.” Reid opened the pamphlet, his eyes flying over the words at a seemingly impossible speed. “Seems easy enough.” He handed the glassy paper back to Elle. 

Elle and JJ already set to shuffling the cards. Hotch closed his file and moved to sit with the others. Placing a hand on Morgan’s forearm, Reid turned to the back of the jet where Gideon sat, wrapped up in his own mind.

“Gideon?”

“Hm.” The eldest member of the BAU looked to the youngest. 

“Are you playing?”

“That’s alright,” Gideon gently dismissed. “I’ll stick to chess.”

Reid frowned but nodded and turned back to the table where Elle was now dealing the cards.

“I felt, so Hotch starts.” Elle read through her cards as everyone did the same.

“Wait.” Reid’s frown was deeper now. “What’s a flesh-”

“Woah. Woah. Show me. Pretty Boy,” Morgan interrupted his boyfriend. He read the card Reid held out to him. “You really don’t know what this is?” 

“Should I? It has light in. It’s not- I didn’t read anything about this at MIT.” Reid combed the back of his mind for the information but came up blank. 

Elle, JJ, and even Hotch shared a look. Reid saw it but didn’t understand what it meant. Morgan sighed but leaned over and whispered the meaning in the younger profiler’s ear, whose frown deepened with every word. 

“Why does-”

“You don’t wanna know.” Morgan shook his head. 

Hotch wondered, very briefly, if he should put a stop to the game for the youngest’s sake. Reid was 24… He’d seen worse in the field. The kid would be fine…

“Okay.” Hotch drew a black prompt card and read, “Here is the church, here is the steeple. Open the doors and there is…”

*****

“Should we really be letting Morgan judge?” Elle asked when it was the man in question’s turn to read a black card, his hand already on the pile. 

“Why not?” Reid held out another card- the one he just drew- for Morgan to see. 

“Are you saying I’d cheat?” Morgan scoffed and whispered the meaning of the new card in Reid’s ear. “Might be fun.

Reid looked at Morgan like he was insane and quickly shook his head, turning back to his cards. The interaction drew a small smile across Hotch’s face.

JJ giggled at Reid basically sitting in Morgan’s lap so the latter could see the younger’s cards. Reid wasn’t huge on PDA- unlike Morgan who’d get away with as much of it as possible if Reid was more comfortable with it. This was as close as the two had gotten in a while. 

“Hotch, tie break,” Morgan prompted. 

Aaron considered for a few seconds. “We’ll let you judge first the next time we play.”

Morgan’s only reply was a petty huff- good naturedly. 

A look of realization suddenly crossed Reid’s face.

“What is it?” Hotch didn’t know whether to be concerned or entertained. 

“Thanks to my Eidetic memory, these words will be seared to the inside of my brain until I die.” Reid’s confusion grew as his teammates laughed around him, even Gideon was chuckling in the back. 

“You’ll be okay, Reid,” Elle promised.

*****

By the time the group had ten minutes left until the landing, Hotch was the only one playing who wasn’t whispering. Elle and JJ had taken to giggling over how cute the two dating profilers were. Some of the cards had Reid scoffing and giggling until Morgan whispered something that made him blush if he hadn’t been blushing already. Hotch wondered if Reid was lightheaded at any point from all the blood going to his face. 

“You really knew so few of these cards, Reid?” Elle didn’t try to hide her smile. 

“I didn’t have a normal college experience,” Reid pointed out. “I didn’t have a lot of friends to play this sort of game with.” He laid down his white answer card. “And I don’t read a lot of modern books…”

“Wait, wait. Have you seen the movie Accepted?” Morgan asked quickly.

“I love that movie!” JJ gushed. 

“I don’t know what they’re talking about, either, Reid,” Hotch reassured. 

Reid adjusted how he was sitting and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear to hide the slight flutter of his index and middle fingers against each other. 

“Elle, you're judge,” Morgan reminded.   

You really know so few of these cards, Reid? Elle’s voice played over in his head and it took every ounce of will in his body to stop his leg from bouncing a mile a minute. 

The others ignored- or rather pretended not to see- the nervous tics of their team’s youngest member and redirected the attention of the game from him.

*****

That night, Spencer and Derek laid in bed, the younger wrapped safely in the darker’s arms. Spencer knew Derek was awake and Derek knew Spencer’s thoughts were keeping him up. 

Derek snuggled closer to Spencer, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, then where his shoulder met his neck, and lastly where his neck met his chin. The latter two placements made the doctor squirm slightly and the SSA smirk. 

“What’s that brain of yours thinking, Pretty Boy?”

“Was I annoying today?” Spencer rolled over in Derek’s arms so they were facing each other, their noses almost touching. 

“What makes you think you were annoying?” It was Derek’s turn to frown. 

“Just, I-I always… I kept-”

“Take your time,” Derek chuckled. 

“I kept asking what every other card meant. Everyone else knew what they meant.” Spencer’s fingers started fidgeting with the hem of his tank top.

“You’re allowed to know stuff, ya know? Just because everyone says you’re a computer doesn’t mean you are. I mean, look at how many times a day we ask you for facts or statistics.” 

“But that stuff matters. It’s saved people.” 

“And you really think playing that game didn’t matter?” Derek kissed Spencer’s forehead. “Playing the game was fun. De-stressing and having fun is just as important as the job. At the very least, it was an excuse to sit really close to you in front of the team without you being jumpy.” 

Spencer blushed and Derek chortled. “Didn’t occur to you before now, did it?” Derek knew it hadn’t, but he had to tease his boyfriend. “You are too damn cute for your own good when you blush.” 

Spencer nuzzled his nose against Derek’s neck, hiding his face and making the darker skinned man chuckle again. 

“Feeling better, Pretty Boy?” Derek gently ran his hand through Spencer’s hair, twirling a strand around the tip of his index finger. The touches to Spencer’s hair were soft- breathes- because of how sensitive  the doctor’s scalp was. 

“Much. Thank you.” His voice was muffled. 

“Think you can sleep now?”

The answer to Derek’s question came in the form of a tickling nod and Spencer snuggling closer.

**********

Special thanks to: @stxrryspencer​ @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese​ @prettyboy-reid​ and @reidecorating​

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something a little angsty at the begining and then pure fluff how do it sounds? :) for which character do you write for ? from both night at the museum 1 and 2

I haven’t thought about individual characters. If there’s someone I left off the list and you’re curious about them, just let me know.

Ahkmenrah

Larry

Teddy Roosevelt 

Sacajawea

Amelia Earhart

Octavius 

Jedidiah 

I can attempt Ahmenrah 

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Hanahaki

Fandom: Merlin

Ship: Gwaine/Percival

This short one-shot was part of a deal I made with @dollophead-merlin​. I’m proud of all your hard work, and I hope you enjoy this, my friend! 

Summary:  Hanahaki: A fictional disease causing someone suffering from unrequited love to cough up flower petals as their lungs grow flowers. If the love is unreturned for long enough, the flowers make breathing impossible.

Percival didn’t get sick often, but when he did, the illness usually had him laid up in bed for as long as two weeks. This time was a little different. So when he stumbled into Gaius’s chambers with a hacking cough, Merlin grew worried. 

“Are you okay?” Merlin rushed up from the table where he was sitting and the gentle giant to sit down on the patients’ cot. 

“I can’t-” Percival broke out coughing again. When the coughing subsided, the knight opened his hand and frowned at the flower petal in his palm. “What…”

“I’ll find Gaius,” Merlin offered. “He’ll know what’s wrong and what to do. I’ll be back soon.” He patted the man’s shoulder and tore out of the room at a dead sprint.

*****

Gaius sat back from listening to Percival’s breathing with a furrowed brow and a frown. 

“What is it?” Merlin asked. 

“It’s a very rare disease,” Gaius sighed. “Hanahaki, they call it. There’s only one cure for it, and it isn’t always a guarantee.” 

“Well what is it?” Merlin asked. “I’ll-”

“You can’t.” Percival hung his head. 

“What are you talking about?” Merlin looked between the two. “What does Hanahaki do?” 

“It causes flowers to grow in the lungs until the love isn’t unrequited anymore,” Gaius answered when Percival didn’t open his mouth. “The only one who can stop the disease is the one who’s love Percival’s heart desires.”

“That’s why the cure isn’t guaranteed… But-but you’re in love with Gwaine, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Percival whispered. 

“But he loves you as well- I know he does. He can cure you.” 

“He doesn’t, Merlin,” Percival offered a small smile. “You’ve seen the way he flirts with women. He’d have no interest in someone like me.” 

“Flirting is just words,” Merlin protested. 

“You musn't say a word of this to him, Merlin,” the knight begged. “He’ll blame himself and my death is not something he needs on his conscience.”

*****

A week went by and Percival’s breathing became shallower by the day. There wasn’t an hour when the man wasn’t light headed from lack of oxygen. He found himself wishing he had the strength to pick up a knife and end everything rather than slowly wasting away. He wasn’t even coughing anymore. 

Each member of the round table would come to Gaius’s chambers and visit with the man daily. Arthur would come and pray for him to get better, Gwaine would swear at the sight of his best friend so ill. But Gwaine was determined to find a cure for his friend. He had been told the story about Merlin’s life having been saved from a poison with a simple- yet rare flower. If he had to go to the ends of the Earth for some herb, he’d do it.

*****

“It’s not that kind of illness.” Merlin shook his head while polishing Arthur’s sword in the armory. “There is a cure, but it’s said to be an unlikely one.” 

“Well what is?” Gwaine threw the dagger he was sharpening on the  floor, making Merlin jump- almost cutting his hand on the blade in his own hands. “Merlin, please. If you know it, tell me. I have to try something. My best friend is dying and I can’t sit by and watch any longer when there’s something I could be doing.” 

“He requested I not you. If the cure doesn’t work, he doesn’t want you to feel guilty.”

“Then at least I tried and I didn’t let my friend die without a chance.”

Merlin sighed, running a hand through his hair. The long haired knight had a solid point. Even if the cure wasn’t within reach, Gwaine deserved to know and Percival deserved the chance. 

And so, with a gentle tone and deliberate word choices, Merlin told Gwaine the truth. How someone falls ill to the disease, how and why it kills, how it can be cured. As Merlin finished the explanation, as though the fates aligned, Gwen burst through the door.  

“Gwen-”

“It’s Percival. Gaius says he’ll be dead within the hour.” 

Merlin and Gwaine bolted up and followed Gwen out of the armoury and back to Gaius’s chambers. When they entered the room, Gwaine sat on the side of Percival’s cot and took the other man’s larger hand in his own, holding it tightly. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Gwaine begged, tears threatening to spill. “You oaf. Why didn’t you say a word of this to me?”

All Percival could do was shake his head, and even that simple action seemed to cause him pain in some manner. His breaths were now short wheezes that could be heard from across without straining one’s ears. 

Gwaine rested his forehead on Percival’s. “Don’t go,” he whispered. “I do love you. I do. Just don’t leave me. Please.” 

Percival’s breathing slowed and quieted. Everyone in the room knew what was coming. The slow rise and fall of Percival’s chest stopped and a feral sob tore from Gwaine’s throat and the sound was the tipping point of Gwen’s tears. 

“Go dtí go mbuailfimid le chéile arís, is féidir le Dia tú a shealbhú i pailme a lámh,” Merlin whispered with his eyes closed and head bowed. Percival had been raised by Druids; Merlin thought the blessing was fitting for the gentle man. 

In a final attempt to do something for the man, Gwaine pressed his lips to Percival’s. He needed his best friend alive. He loved the man and didn’t want to see him go. There was so much good for the man to do in the world. He couldn’t be taken so young. Not after everything he’d been through to get to where he was. 

As Gwaine pulled away, all hope lost, Percival took a deep, gasping breath. The painful wheezing was gone, the soft fluttering sound left too. He opened his eyes and looked at Gwaine with shock and confusion. 

“It worked!” Gwaine sobbed. He cupped Percival’s face in his hands and kissed the man again, deeper this time. Percival didn’t waste a second in returning the kiss. 

“How did you know?” Percival asked, still catching his breath from being days without it.   

“A little bird told me,” was the only answer Gwaine gave. “I begged him to- he was hesitant but I got it out of him. I need to try whatever the cure was. I love you and seeing you go so slowly- so painfully- It couldn’t be the end.” 

“You love me?” Percival asked. 

“Would you be alive if I didn’t?” Gwaine asked. “You should have told me.” 

“I didn’t think you were…” 

“You can be attracted to both, Percy. But attraction isn’t the same as love. I flirted so often to hide. My cowardice nearly cost you your life- It did cost you your life.”

“Yet your love brought me back,” Percival smiled. “That takes bravery I didn’t have.” 

“Didn’t?” 

“I don’t want to hide anymore.” 

“Then we won’t,” Gwaine vowed. “Arthur’s Camelot is different. Merlin’s not hiding anymore...Arthur’s engaged to Gwen...I don’t think he’ll deny us the same right.” 

The king had been standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe unnoticed since the two kissed and now made his presence known. “I won’t. I’ll write the law tonight.” 

“Which means I’ll be writing it and he’ll stamp it,” Merlin pointed out, drawing laughs from the room. 

“There are going to be more changes to come. I can only make the changes if the need is brought to my attention,��� Arthur said. “Don’t worry. Pick the day and it shall be done.”

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Truth be Splashed

Summary: It’s all fun and games until Shane starts screaming when splashed with holy water. 

For how much Shane hated, even feared, holy water, he was always relieved to see Ryan with his dinky little squirt gun. He had no idea if it worked on ghosts but it sure as hell worked on demons. He tested that himself and it was something he never wanted to feel again.

When they were getting ready for a shoot, Shane didn’t touch the container the holy water was in. If it was in the squirt gun, he’d hold it by the holster to hand it to his boyfriend. The holy water in a water bottle was a little harder to get around, but he managed. 

Ryan was a smart guy. Shane knew that full well. The shorter man could have his silly moments like anyone else, but Ryan was easily one of the smartest people he’d met his whole life-- and that was saying something.

“Shane?” Ryan called from the living room. Shane was in the kitchen making dinner while Ryan found something for them to watch.

“Yeah?”

“What you ever seen Constantine?” 

“Uh...no. I read the graphic novel it’s based off of in college, though. Hellblazer, I think?” Shane kept working on their spaghetti.

“Was anything in it accurate?” 

“You’d have to tell me, Ry. You know more about demons and that sort of stuff than I do. I just read it because it was by the same guy that wrote V for Vendetta.” Shane turned away from the stove when he heard Ryan coming closer to him.

Ryan cupped Shane’s face in his hands, looking into the taller man’s eyes. The same brown eyes he’d fallen in love with a year ago. 

“You oka-” Shane let out a scream when Ryan took a plastic water bottle from his back pocket and splashed him in the face with the holy water inside it. He doubled over and moaned into his hands. After a minute or so, he was panting. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Ryan demanded.

“Ryan, wai-” Shane screamed again when the holy water was splashed on him again. “I’m Shane. You don’t understand-” again he screamed, his eyes turning black. 

“How long have you been possessing my boyfriend, you demon fuck?”

“Longer than you’ve been alive, kid.” Shane’s smooth voice was replaced with one low and gravelly. The stark difference coming from Shane’s mouth made Ryan take a step back. 

“Wha-”

“You know what they say: war is hell. This poor kid’s laying in no-man’s land, his lungs turning to mush in his chest. I wanna stay outta hell… 19 year-old, fresh outta high school, doesn’t want to die… I jump in him and watch his life unfold like a movie. Pretty sweet setup.”

Ryan terrified. No-man’s land? He vaguely remembered the term from high school but Junior year was too far back. Shane talked about no-man’s land when they watched All Quiet on the Western Front. The space between the trenches. 

“Shane died in World War One?”

“Almost. It’s my...he’d say ‘mojo’ keeping everything in his skinny-ass body moving.”

The black eyes flickered and the brown was back. Shane was back. 

“Ryan, please. I can explain better than he can.” Shane’s eyes were filled with pain because of the holy water and fear of what Ryan was going to do. His eyes hesitantly looked to the plastic water bottle. 

“Then do it. What the fuck is going on?”

Shane trembled slightly at the anger in Ryan’s voice. “I was in WW1, you got that right. I was drafted two months after I graduated. We were in the trenches. Cold, soaking wet, out of food, and crawling with rats, flees, lice, and who knows what else.

“Some German who stumbled his way through no-man’s land gassed us. It sinks so we were supposed to go to higher ground. I moved too fast, got outta the trench before it started sinking and I forgot my mask in the trench.

“The demon, Therpen, found me. Everything hurts when you get mustard gassed. It hurts to breathe, it hurts to blink. I just wanted to die but Therpen said if he possessed me, it would keep him out of hell and stop my pain, so I said yes. I just wanted the pain to stop.”

“But the last year…”

“That’s not Therpen. That’s me. Therpen doesn’t control me, Ry. He’s just along for the ride and keeps my body going. I do love you. I promise I do.”

Ryan had to think. His boyfriend was possessed by a demon and he should have died a little over 100 years ago. What the hell was he supposed to do with this? His boyfriend was possessed by a demon and older than his great-grandfather. 

“Please. Say something.” Shane pleaded. 

“You really- everything over the last year has nothing to do with…”

“No, no. Nothing at all. My love for you, Ryan, is genuinely something I feel. Demons don’t feel emotions.”

Ryan contemplated for a moment. This Therpen had nothing to do with their relationship aside from the fact that he was Shane’s personal generator.

“I...love you too. Just-just, why didn’t you tell me about this?” Ryan capped the holy water and put the bottle back in his back pocket.

“I didn’t want to scare you. I don’t like seeing you scared, Little Guy.”

Ryan took another step back and Shane felt his heart clench. “The whole time...the whole two years I’ve known you. After all the shit you’ve given me for trying to find proof of the supernatural and there’s been a fucking demon has giving you life support for 100 years?” Ryan clenched his hands into fists and resists the urge to splash him with the holy water. 

“That’s how it worked; playing...devil’s advocate for lack of a better phrase.” 

“You never once could have mentioned that you didn’t think I was crazy? Damn, Shane.” Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose. “I just- I’m not scared of you. I’m just fucking pissed. All this time and you never fucking trusted me.”

“I do trust you. That isn’t why I never told you.” Shane’s tone of voice became softer. “You get so scared so easily. I’m sorry.”

“I need time to think.” Ryan dropped the holy water on the kitchen table and grabbed his jacket.

“Wait, wait. Ry-”

The door slammed. 

*****

Ryan came back two hours later. Two bowls of now cold noodles sat on the kitchen table. Shane slept in what must have been an uncomfortable ball on the couch. The younger man sighed with a shake of his head. He took the blanket from the back of the couch and laid it over Shane. He made his way to the kitchen to get a glass of water. 

Shane stirred on the couch and his sleep clouded eyes donned confusion when he noticed the blanket on him. Finally, he looked up and saw Ryan. “You came back.”

“Yeah.” Ryan scratched the back of his neck.

Shane stood and folded the blanket, draping it back over the couch. “Any decisions or is the jury still out?” 

Ryan thought about how to word his next question. “This demon, Sherpin or whatever, doesn’t impact your choices? It just keeps you alive?” 

“It just keeps me alive.” Shane confirmed. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Big Guy.” 

Shane felt instant relief at Ryan’s words. He wanted nothing more than to kiss the younger man, but he wasn’t sure how Ryan would react at this moment. 

“Are you hungry?” Ryan questioned. 

“I’m good.” Shane shrugged. 

Ryan cocked his head to the side, doubting the man’s words. 

“I’m kinda hungry.”

Ryan chuckled and put the bowls in the microwave. Shane got them something to drink.

“Ryan?”

“Hm?”

“You know how we don’t get a lot of activity in the demon episodes of unsolved?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s uh, that’s because of me and Therpen. I don’t want to risk you getting hurt or scared so Therpen shows himself when you aren’t looking and scares them off.” Shane was shocked when Ryan started laughing.  

“After learning my boyfriend is being possessed by a demon, I don’t think anything you say can surprise me anymore.”

“How do you… How did you even figure it out? I never said anything. I was so careful.” 

Ryan scratched the back of his head as the microwave went off. “I was uh, I was tagged in someone’s fanart on Twitter. You know how some fans ‘think’ you’re a demon? Splashing you was supposed to make you laugh, not scream. I had no fucking idea.”

It was Shane’s turn to laugh. “Can I see the fanart?”

Ryan’s cheeks turned red and Shane smirked. “It can’t be worse than anything we’ve done.”

“I’ll DM it to you.”

*****

That night, they laid in bed and Shane was careful not to move too much. Ryan rolled onto his side and looked at Shane through the darkness.

“What are you doing, Shane?” Ryan asked. “Did I hurt you?”

“Ry, you didn’t know-”

“I did after the first time.” Ryan sat up and turned on the lamp. “I-”

“Me screaming wasn’t the reaction you were expecting.” Shane sat up. “It’s okay. I’m not in pain and you came back, so everything’s okay.”

Ryan scooted closer to Shane and Shane reached over him to turn off the lamp again. As soon as they laid down again, Ryan curled into Shane’s side and the taller man didn’t waste a second in wrapping his arms around the shorter man. It didn’t take long for them to fall asleep.

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Talk Sweet to Me

Summary: Morgan and Reid think they’re being clever about hiding their relationship until Morgan answers Reid’s phone when Garcia calls. Elle, Hotch, JJ, and Gideon also know about their “secrete” relationship. Elle challenges JJ to a bet and Hotch decides to join in. 

Trigger Warning: Panic Attack

There were times- disliked times- when the long, hard cases went back-to-back. The special agents were in their respective houses for only a few hours before Hotch had Garcia calling everyone back into the office. 

The shrill ring of what Morgan thought to be his phone pade both him and the sleeping doctor moan. “Derek,” Spencer whined.

Derek sighed and picked up the phone, flipping it open and holding it to his ear. “Yeah?” 

“You aren’t my Junior G-Man,” came Garcia’s voice. 

Derek’s eyes snapped open and he shot up, nearly launching a confused and spooked Spencer to the floor. The doctor would have tumbled to the floor if he hadn’t managed to grab Derek’s leg with one hand and a handful of his shirt with the other. 

“Garcia-”

“Morgan, what- or who- you do off the clock and out of the office is none of my business.” Garcia was grinning behind the phone. “As long as Reid’s with you, bring him along. There’s a new case.”  

“You won’t tell anyone?” Morgan all but breathed. Spencer shot him a confused look, his fist still clenched around the hem of Derek’s shirt, his bony knuckles resting on the other man’s stomach. 

“I’ll make you a deal, Sugar: I won’t tell anyone if you tell me everything.” Garcia’s grin morphed into a smirk. 

Morgan sighed. “Deal.” They both hung up.

“Garcia knows?” Spencer’s amber eyes were worried. 

“Yeah. I thought… I thought it was my phone.” Derek wrapped his arms around Spencer and drew him close so the slender doctor was more or less sitting in his lap. “She won’t tell anyone, Baby. We know Garcia. We’ll get sisterly teasing, but she won’t make things hard for us and she won’t let anyone else give us a hard time, either.” 

*****

Hotch constantly wondered why the team always tried hiding things from each other. There was no point. Did they have a pact about not profiling each other? Yes. Did that mean they could turn off the part of their brains that kept them working in the BAU? Hell no. That wasn’t something that could be turned off and back on. 

Everyone knew there was something between Morgan and Reid. No-one questioned it. As their boss, Hotchner didn’t care what they did in their down time as long as it didn’t impact their work. As their friend, Hotch hoped they were both happy. 

Morgan wasn’t as snappy after he and Reid started dating. He wasn’t always itching to break the spine of every unsub or more than annoying neighbor of a victim. He was more playful without the underlying self-doubt. 

Reid started smiling more around the time when the edge of Morgan’s temper dulled. He was a little more self-confident- albeit still uneasy when talking to larger crowds. But everyone pieced the truth together in due time. 

Elle had told Reid he wasn’t getting anywhere because he never asked anyone out. The one time he worked up the courage to ask someone out- but doesn’t say who- Reid asks her if flowers are too much. He bought Morgan flowers anyway. 

Before asking Morgan out, Reid shyly asked JJ to help him with the wording. Would a coffee shop be too casual but a quiet, dimly lit restaurant be too much? JJ answered every curious question with a smile and reassured the man at every eyebrow furrow. 

Hotch smiled one of rare smiles when he got three texts from Reid: two were pictures of a tie and the third was a question of which he liked better. The blue. 

The rest of the puzzle pieces fell into place when Morgan came into work- after Reid, as always- with his normal boots shined and rubbing his hand down Reid’s back instead of ruffling his hair.

The only one who didn’t see the interaction was Garcia. She was the one missing the sweeping glances of Morgan’s dark eyes checking a room for Reid’s face after a raid or a checking the lanky doctor for injury after being separated.

*****

“You know what, JJ?” Elle got the quickly passing blonde’s attention. Thinking twice, she held up her forefinger. “Reid.” Nothing. “Spencer?” The doctor still didn’t look up from his papers, scribbling away with a pencil with a partially straightened paper clip coming out of the almost exhausted eraser. 

The women looked at each other and giggled.

“What’s up, Elle?” 

“You know about Morgan and Reid, right?”

“I’m not a profiler, but yeah.” JJ nossed. “Why?”

“We all know Reid isn’t going to say anything; he’s too shy to admit he can feel anything not pertaining to work. Morgan won’t; he’s too personal. So let’s make a bet: when one of them is going to slip.”

Hotch chose that time to enter the bullpen. “Garcia’s going to slip first.”

“What makes you see that?” Both women looked to their boss, but Elle was the one to speak. 

“Garcia knows everything about all of us; she’s closest to Morgan and reads Reid as easily as she reads her codes,” Hotch explained. “You’re discussing a bet about Reid’s relationship while he’s right there?”

The trio looked to the youngest team member who looked up after a couple of moments of feeling six eyes on him. “What?” 

“Nevermind, Spence,” JJ dismissed. 

Reid shook his head and turned back to his papers. 

“Are you in, Hotch?” Elle smirked. 

“How much?” Hotch’s eyes danced between the two women. 

“$20?” JJ suggested. 

Elle shrugged. “Works for me.”

“Making a free 40 dollars doesn’t sound bad.” Hotch’s scarce smile appeared on his lips. “$20 on Garcia slipping.” 

“$20 on Reid feeling bad about not saying anything,” JJ decided.

“Morgan’s going to slip up and grab his ass at the wrong time.” Elle paused. “Should we see if Gideon wants in?” 

Hotch debated for a few seconds but shook his head. “He doesn’t care for games of chance.”

*****

Two weeks went by without a sign from either boyfriend. Well, they got confirmation that Hotch’s bet wasn’t impossible. More than twice, Reid came back from Garcia’s office with pink cheeks. 

The two weeks passed and the BAU found themselves in the midwest, working on a string of serial killings. Reid stayed behind in the PD to finish one of his maps while the rest of the team was going around the second crime scene. Elle, JJ, Morgan, and Hotch stood in wait for work from Reid or Garcia; Gideon worked on getting a little extra info from the head detective. 

Morgan’s phone rang and he flipped it open, putting it on speaker. “Talk to me.” 

“How’s your favorite doctor doing?” Came Garcia’s voice over the line. “I texted him but he hasn’t answered me, yet.” 

Morgan froze, his eyes widened, and all color left his face. 

“Damn it,” Elle huffed. Both she and JJ reached for their wallets. 

On the other line, back in Virginia, Garcia hadn’t breathed since she first heard Elle’s voice. “Oh God! I didn’t know I was- Derek, I’m so-” Garcia stopped. “Wait… You all knew?” 

“Of course we knew, Garcia.” JJ begrudgingly handed Hotch the $20 he was due, Elle following suit. 

“They were trying to hide something from trained and seasoned profilers,” Elle pointed out. 

“And I got $40 out of it,” Hotch chimed in.

“You were betting on how we’d tell you?” Morgan glanced between the three. 

“We’ll explain later,” Hotch dismissed.

“But what you need to know now- and what I’ll tell Spence- is that we don’t care who you love. You’re still Morgan; he’s still Reid,” JJ promised. 

“What’ve you got, Garcia?” Elle brought the team back to the present.

*****

Three days later, the team was back home. JJ couldn’t stop herself from snapping a picture of Reid and Morgan who had fallen asleep leaning against each other on the plane. 

Morgan hadn’t been able to tell Reid the team knew. Reid had told Morgan about his time in high school and college. How if he wasn’t bullied for his brain, then he was being bullied for being gay. The young doctor would panic. But he needed and deserved to know. 

Spencer came back from the store to the smells of something that was on the 

border of burning. “Derek?”

“Kitchen!”

“What are you cooking?” Spencer put the contents of the shopping bags away while Derek all but fluttered around the kitchen. 

“Dinner.”

“But you never cook.” Spencer cocked his head. “Do you want help?”

“Nope. No, I handle chilli.” Derek stirred the pot with the hand and turned the burner under diced potatoes off with the other. 

“Okay.” Spencer turned to leave the kitchen but stopped and turned back to his boyfriend. “What happened?” 

“What?” 

“You haven’t looked at me since I came in; your voice is tight, sentences clipp-”

“Kid-”

“I know. I know we’re not supposed to profile each other. I just… You aren’t the only one acting differently. JJ and Elle aren’t… What isn’t everyone telling me? Is someone sick?” 

“No, Baby, no. Everyone’s fine.” Derek took the chilli off the heat of the burner. 

“Then what’s wrong?” Spencer wrapped his arms tightly around his middle 

just as Derek looked to him. 

“No…” Derek sighed and crossed the small apartment to sit up the couch and held his arms out to Spencer. “Pretty Boy, come here.” 

Spencer immediately complied but didn’t let go of himself as he snuggled up against Derek’s side.

“We’ve known Garcia’s known about us for a while now. The rest of the team knows too.” Derek spoke faster when he felt Spencer flinch and stiffen. “They don’t care, Spencer, they don’t. When Garcia slipped on the phone and confirmed what they thought, JJ told me they don’t care who we love and that we’re still us.” 

Spencer’s head was already busy coming up with the worst possible scenarios. He was losing his job- Derek was demoted- JJ didn’t want to be his friend anymore. 

“Spencer?” Derek hugged the younger man tightly, squeezing him, knowing tight pressure helped to calm him down; ground him. “Breathe, Baby Boy, breathe. We’re okay.” 

The doctor mutely nodded, but continued shaking. His lips were moving quickly but Derek couldn’t make anything out. He hugged Spencer a little tighter, kissing the top of his head. 

“Come back to me, Spencer. Nothin’s gonna change. I promise.”

*****

When Spencer woke up, he was swaddled in a blanket, laying on Derek’s chest. He blinked at the light of the TV and breathed in deeply, nuzzling his nose against Derek’s neck. The older man looked down and brushed a strand of Spencer’s hair from his forehead with the ghosts of a touch.

“Feelin’ better?” 

“I...I uh.” Spencer paused, clenching his eyes shut before trying again. “I didn’t mean to panic.” 

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Derek kissed Spencer’s head. “Did you hear what I was saying?” The SSA’s voice was gentle and patient. 

“Bits and pieces.” 

Derek sat up, the motion bringing the securely wrapped Spencer with him. Only once sitting up did it occur to Spencer that the blanket he was swaddled in was the weighted blanket from their bed. 

“You okay to talk about this?” 

“Yeah.” 

“The team knew for a while. We knew Garcia was aware because of when I answered your phone at three in the morning. The rest of the team pieced things together. They had a bet going on how they’d find out from us.” 

“Who won?” Spencer cleared his throat when his voice wobbled.

Derek chuckled. “Hotch. Garcia asked how my ‘favorite doctor’ was when she didn’t know she was on speaker.”

“That’s how we know we’re okay,” Spencer nodded. 

“That’s how we know we’re okay. Our boss was in on the bet, no-one went 

screaming to Strauss. Nothing changes since that call in Ohio and nothing’s going to change, Pretty Boy.” 

A calm, steady, and warm silence passed over the couple. “Do you want me to show you how to make a real chilli?” Spencer teased an offer.

**********

@chaoticgremlinwholikescheese​ @stxrryspencer​ @prettyboy-reid​ @reidecorating​ @the-need-for-reid-speed​ 

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Fight With Yourself and Your Thoughts in the Night

Request: “My thought was he’d turn into an actual white wolf and is knocked out by the spell. When he wakes up, he’s been locked into a small cage along with Jaskier. The bad guys think that Geralt will end up killing Jaskier, but instead Wolf!Geralt treats him like a pack member, or basically like he always does. Eventually, they escape and either wears off or they go to Yennefer to have her remove it.” 

When Jaskier came to, the first thing he noticed was that something soft and warm was pressed against his side. The second thing he noticed was that wherever he was was much too small for him and the soft creature beside him. 

The creature whimpered and Jaskier jumped, hitting his head off of what could only be a cage. He pressed slowly raised his hand to see how high this cage was. He wouldn’t be able to sit up from his crouched position on his knees and elbows. Accepting he was trapped in his cage with the creature, he finally looked over and his eyes landed on a snow-white wolf. 

The bard’s heart went cold for a few moments. The wolf began to sniff him and started nudging at Jaskier’s arms like it was trying to get a look at his sides.

Scrutinizing the wolf, Jaskier was hit with a wave of realization. “Geralt?” Jaskier asked, holding his hand out to the wolf. The wolf placed his paw in Jaskier’s hand. “Any idea where we are?” The wolf whimpered. A large iron door opened and a man with a greatsword strapped to his back walked in with a vial in his hand. “Good to see you’re awake, bard,” the man said. He held the vial up. “Do you know what this is?” 

“No.” 

“Don’t test me, boy.” The bandit’s voice was low and gruff. 

“I’ve seen Geralt take them but I have no idea what they are or what they do. Honest.” Jaskier shrugged.

“One of my men took a sip and died on the spot. I take you’re going to want this.” The man walked closer to the cage and put the vial close enough to the cage that Jaskier could reach through the cage for it. 

“Why would I want this if it killed someone?” Jaskier raised a brow. 

“The wolf’s going to get hungry before long. You can’t expect the slimy cur not to turn to you for food when that happens. Witchers are more beastly than the fucking wolves that hunt in the highlands. You can either let the heartless fuck-”

“You nicked us from the highlands, didn’t you?” Jaskier cocked his head. “Shouldn’t you be in a cage too, then?” 

“Watch your mouth you little shit!” The bandit bellowed. 

“What’re you going to do about it? Honestly? You don’t have the guts to kill me yourself so you’re going to make someone you bewitched do it for you? You’re more cowardly than me,” Jaskier laughed. 

The man withdrew the keys from his belt and walked to the cage with a scowl. He unlocked it and the second the door was opened, Jaskier lunged and caught the man around the waist, holding him to the ground. The wolf wasted no time in slashing the man’s throat with his claws. 

“Geralt.” Jaskier tried for the wolf’s attention. “Geralt.” He patted the wolf’s head. “Would drinking your potion undo the spell? I don’t know what-” The bard stopped talking when the wolf whimpered and barked. “Alright. Let’s give it a go, hm?” 

Jaskier picked up the bottle and though it took them a couple of tries, Geralt did swallow the potion. Suddenly, there was a bright flash of light and Geralt was kneeling before Jaskier with black eyes and blackened veins around his eyes. 

“It worked,” Jaskeir grinned. 

Geralt hummed and stood. Jaskier, whose legs had been bent for so long, had a harder time standing. The Witcher figured it was just as well. He’d have to slaughter their way out, his potion was ramping him up. He heaved a deep breath and turned to Jaskier. 

“I don’t want you seeing what I’m about to do.” 

“What are you-”

In one fluid motion, Geralt steadied Jaskier against his chest and cast Somne. The bard’s head lulled back on his shoulder as the man promptly fell asleep. He eased Jaskier down so he was laying on the floor. 

The Witcher turned to the door and blasted it down with Aard. The first man to raise alarm was easily killed by his own sword once Geralt got it out of his hands. Some of the men ran while others were foolish enough to attack him. 

Geralt never went more than a couple of feet away from the iron door. He needed to keep Jaskier safe. The men that chose to attack were killed in front of the door while a few took a bit of coercion.

Once Jaskier’s heartbeat was the only one Geralt could hear, he went back to the room with the cage and scooped Jaskier into his arms to carry him out of the ramshackle cave.

*****

Jaskier’s head was pillowed by Geralt’s travelling cloak. He could tell that by the scent: dead leaves, pine needles, woodsmoke, and a slight tint of something he probably didn’t want to know. His head felt weirdly full yet light. Like someone packed his head full of clouds. 

Geralt was drying his hair, the river water flowing a little redder as it passed him. Roach, on the other hand, was grazing on grass. 

Jaskier sat up and he was now at an angle to see the water flowing past Geralt. The last words Geralt said to him floated through his mind. I don’t want you seeing what I’m about to do. 

What exactly had he done? They were outside so Geralt had clearly gotten them out. But how? Was the Witcher himself-

Jaskier yelped when Roach nudged his head. 

“Head hurt?” Geralt didn’t look up from drying his hair. The usually silver strands were closer to steel when wet, but clean of blood. 

“...No.” Jaskier rubbed his eyes. His head didn’t hurt but that didn’t mean it felt normal, either. “What, uh...what happened, Geralt?” 

“We got out.”

“I see that . But how did we get out?” Jaskier stood, bracing himself against Roach’s side when he stumbled. The bard rubbed Roach’s side for a few seconds in thanks. 

“I knocked the door out, gathered our things, and carried you out. Whatever they knocked you out with had a worse effect than we thought.”   

Jaskier narrowed his eyes at Geralt’s back. The Witcher was always skimpy with the details, but the bard could always tell when Geralt was tiptoeing around a specific detail. 

Accepting he wouldn’t know the whole truth until Geralt was ready to tell him, Jaskier joined Geralt by the banks of the river, sitting beside the Witcher, humming absentmindedly. 

“I’m not scared of you. You can’t scare me. I thought you would have learned that by now.” Jaskier ran his hands through his hair. “You saved my life...again. Which is why you can’t scare me.” 

“You saw my eyes, Jaskier.”

“I did. But I also see them no. The guilty fear. You’re a good person, Geralt. You don’t fight unless there’s no other option. There was a literal cage they locked us in. I might not know how to help you fight, but I know- I think- how to lessen your guilt. To lessen your guilt, my friend, you need reassurances to drown out whatever nastiness your silly brain is spoon-feeding you.” 

Geralt grunted and finally sat up fully, dropping the towel in his lap. “Why are you doing this?”

“Everyone’s always putting you down and you need someone in your corner. Maybe I should write another ballad about you, hm? What do you say to that, Geralt? About the...the sobbing mother who thought her son was dead.” Jaskier snapped his fingers. “Yes! And how we watched their joyous reunion!” 

Geralt was only sort of listening at this point. Now that this idea was in Jaskier’s head, the bard was going to write it whether the Witcher wanted it or not. Which meant he’d be hearing all about it for the next couple of weeks. 

“Thank you.” Geralt cut Jaskier off mid-sentence. 

“Hm? For what?” Jaskier blinked. 

“Not...fuck.”

Jaskier got the message. “Nothing’s changed; there’s nothing to react to. You’ll always be you. The scary-looking man who smiled when a young girl gave him a flower to thank him for saving her brother.

“Yes, you being a Witcher does have some dark and sadder days- such as today. But even my being a bard has its darker and sadder days- like the day I met Valdo Marx. Now if you’ve ever seen a monster in human skin, it’s that flaming compost heap.” 

Geralt grunted out a laugh and Jaskier beamed. 

“Could you… Do you remember anything from while you were under the spell?” The bard’s hand was fidgeting. 

“No. We were swarmed by bandits, one of them was a mage, a bright light, then I’m kneeling next to you with blood on my hand.” 

Jaskier nodded slowly. “Sometime after I woke up, a man came in and gave me one of your potions saying I was going to want it before long because one of his men died after taking a single sip. I got the keys from the man and got us out of the cage, you drank the potion, and then I woke up here.” 

“I put you to sleep.” Geralt wouldn’t meet Jaskier’s eyes. 

“You got us out alive,” Jaskier pointed out. “Besides, I should be thanking you. That was the most soundly I’ve slept in days.” 

Geralt shook his head but said nothing else. 

“Come on.” Jaskier took Geralt by the hand and tugged him up to his feet. “If you don’t comb your hair you’re not going to be able to.”

*****

Before midnight, Jaskier had curled up in his bedroll a safe distance from the fire but close enough that the flames kept him warm. 

Geralt lay on Jaskier’s other side so if anything were to try to get at Jaskier it would have to go through him first. As he lay there, the bard’s words drifted in and out of his mind. The words of his peacefully sleeping bard. 

Jaskier never lied to him. He’d dance around an answer if he was embarrassed, but he never lied. Eventually, the bard would go on and tell Geralt the whole answer because he felt bad about not really answering. 

When it came to his love life, Jaskier possessed questionable morals- just like any other bard he’d ever crossed paths with. Unlike most freelancers, Jaskier willingly helped anyone and everyone he could without a thought of payment with a smile. 

If someone so kind, selfless, and trusting as Jaskier would place his life in Geralt’s hands, maybe he wasn’t as evil as he thought. He could try trusting himself as Jaskier did. Or at least a little more. 

The Witcher rolled over, facing Jaskier, and focussed on that bard’s heartbeat. The sound lulled him to sleep by ensuring Jaskier was alive and well.

[readyourimgaines]

Punchline Takes a Hit: PT2

Summary: Spencer debates the difference of love and transference. With some help from a couple of friends, he finally gets the courage to ask out his crush. 

JJ could tell from the second she laid eyes on Reid that something was off. She couldn’t tell if something bad happened, or if he was just thinking. Either way, the blonde figured that talking would do the young doctor some good. 

“Hey, Spence.” JJ approached the younger man. “Everything okay?” 

He looked up from his paperwork with a blank face but conflicted eyes. “Yeah. Why?” 

“You just seem a little quiet today. Are you sure everything’s going alright?” JJ cocked her head a little but made sure to keep her voice gentle. 

Oftentimes, one had to over express themselves for Reid to get their gestures. He had no problems reading potential unsubs or the families of victims, yet he couldn’t read his friends well. If something was wrong, he could tell immediately, he could tell they were happy because they were smiling and laughing. Just about anything else, though? Annoyance, anger, confusion, contentment, curiousness? He couldn’t tell. 

Reid started tugging firmly- not hard enough to hurt- on the hair at the nape of his neck. JJ noticed first as she was passing through the bullpen on her way to Hotch’s office with an armload of files. She quickly placed the files on Hotch’s desk and left before the man had a chance to say thank you. 

JJ placed her hands gently on Reid’s shoulder. “Spence? Let’s go talk, okay?” She helped the young doctor out of his seat and led him to her office. “You okay?” 

“Just...overthinking.” Spencer’s hand was still tugging at his hair and JJ found herself wondering if he even knew he was doing it. 

“Okay,” JJ nodded slowly. She handed Reid a pencil and a rubber band from her desk with one hand, easing Spencer’s hand from his hair with the other. “Is your mom okay?” she guessed.

“Fine.” Spencer took a deep breath and shakily released it. He started muttering under his breath and JJ frowned. 

“What?” 

“Transference happens when someone redirects their feelings or-or a desire for someone to an unrelated third party,” Reid recited. “Freud believed it happened more often when stemming from one’s childhood. But that doesn’t make- it can’t-” 

“Spence, Spence. Slow down. We can figure this out. Why do you think you’re transferring your feelings onto a third party?” JJ eased Reid to sit in her desk chair and he immediately started moving the swivel chair in semi-circles. 

“I have to be. He’s not even-” Spencer stopped and shook his head. 

“Who?” JJ tried to pry. 

“Morgan.”

“Morgan’s bi,” JJ offered. “Do you have feelings for Morgan?” 

“I can’t,” Spencer shook his head frantically. The sound that came out of his throat when the rubber band snapped against his hand was nearly a whimper.

“Why not?” JJ cocked her head and sat on the corner of her over-cluttered desk. “Spence, it’s okay to develop feelings for people- especially someone you work with and see everyday.”    

“Not Morgan. He wasn’t trying to be romantic. He was just being a friend. Friends hang out after work. You and I aren’t dating and we go to the movies all the time.”

“Right,” JJ nodded. “Have you tried talking to Morgan about this?” 

“No. I can’t. It would mess everything up,” Spencer stopped spinning the chair. “It’s just transference. I think I like him because he was kind and yesterday was close to what a date is supposed to be.” 

“Are you sure it wasn’t a date?” JJ proposed. 

“It wasn’t. He would have told me.” 

“How did he ask you?” JJ’s brows furrowed together. 

Spencer’s eyes gained a distant look. “Pretty Boy? Yeah? Wanna get some coffee that’s supposed to be sweet without rotting your teeth? My treat. Oh. Sure. The coffee they have here isn’t good enough? Do you see the ability to steam mil-” 

“Wait, wait,” JJ stopped Reid from continuing the rest of the conservation. “Morgan offering to pay was the indication of it being a date.” 

It was Reid’s turn to frown. “How is that an indication of a date? That’s such an everyday thing- he pays for my coffee all the time.” His eyes widened. “Have we been on dates before I didn’t know?” 

“No, no, Spence, he specified that this time was his treat. It wasn’t a convenience where we were on a case and you both needed coffee. This was going out of the way after work instead of going home.” 

“I didn’t know… This isn’t transference?” Spencer’s brown eyes finally met JJ’s. 

“No. You two like each other. There’s nothing being transferred.” JJ wore a small, encouraging smile.

*****

Elle was a little more than confused when she got a text from Reid that night. It was pretty rare for the young man to contact anyone outside of work seeing he had such a strong dislike towards technology. 

The text read: Are flowers too much for a first date?

Elle shook her head with a soft smile. Boys, she thought with a sigh. Regardless, she answered the poor boy’s text. You have to be careful with roses. They mean different things. Roses are too strong. 

Roses are too strong? Reid frowned and texted Hotch instead. He was married; he’d know about flower meanings, right? 

Hotch chuckled as he answered his phone. What’s so funny?” Haley asked. 

“Do you remember Dr. Spencer Reid?” Hotch looked at the blonde. 

“He’s the shy, Autistic boy, right?” She looked up from feeding Jack.

“Yeah. He just texted me, ‘do you know anything about flower symbolism? Elle says flowers have different messages’.” Hotch’s thumb danced across the flip-phone’s buttons. 

“What are you telling him?”

“That roses have the highest chance of getting him into his date’s bed. Pink camellias and carnations are signs of love and longing; ferns represent new beginnings.” Hotch typed the names of the flowers, placing an equals sign before the meaning. 

“Do you know who his date is?”

“SSA Hotchner does not.” 

So yes he did.

*****

Once Reid bought the flowers, he got into a cab and headed for Morgan’s. He knocked on the door, flowers in hand. His heart was hammering in his chest while he waited, jumping at the sudden barking of Clooney.  It had slipped his mind that Morgan had a dog.

Morgan opened the door, a little shocked to see Reid with a bouquet of flowers. “What’s up, Pretty Boy?” 

“I-I…” Reid’s heart was suddenly in his throat and he gulped. “I talked to JJ and I didn’t know yesterday was supposed to date.” the young doctor paused. “I didn’t- I haven’t been on a date before. I didn’t know that-”

“Spencer, Spencer. Slow down. It’s okay. Why don’t you come in?” Morgan opened the door a little wider led Reid in with a gentle hand on his forearm. Reid followed inside and Morgan closed the door behind them. 

Clooney was sitting on the couch, completely ignoring the men without a care in the world. 

“I wanted to ask you out on a real date- one that I know is a date. JJ said flowers were a nice gesture.” 

Morgan chuckled and took the flowers from Reid when the latter offered them. “You’re sure this is something you’re okay, Spencer?”

“You aren’t pressuring me; this isn’t transference. I genuinely have feelings for you,” Spencer nodded, not breaking eye contact. 

The solid, unwavering eye contact was the note that assured Morgan he was serious. Spencer hated eye contact. It made him squirm and stutter. Spencer only ever made eye contact for longer than a split second when he was sure of a detail in a profile or he was info-dumping and the person he was talking to was honestly engaging back. 

“Alright, Pretty Boy,” Morgan nodded with a smile. “We’ll go on a real date. We’ll think of something.” The man was already formulating ideas for the date. Somewhere that wasn’t too bright or loud, somewhere that didn’t serve spicy food. It narrowed things down some. 

“I-I know I’m not an easy person. I just...something’s good,” he tried to explain. “I don’t... “ he stopped and took a deep breath.

“You ain’t gotta know, man. Sometimes, ya just gotta go with it.” 

“Just gotta go with it,” Reid repeated with a smile.

**********

@mayonnaiseismycomfortfood​ @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese​

[readyourimgaines]

I have a question. I’m writing whump and I need some more whump ideas. Basically person a/b are kidnapped and person b is used to get at person a. Any ideas?

Let's see...

A is asked questions and B is punished if they lied.

A knows information B doesn't so B is beaten until A gives up the info

The kidnapper kidnapped for revenge and so beats B because they know it's going to hurt A all that much more.

Infection stories are well liked

This os the first kind of ask I've ever gotten! I am so honored that you ask me. I hope these help I'll be sure to post more if I can think of more.

[readyourimgaines]

Shyan: Morning Cuddles

I will admit the ending is kind of cheesy, but I still sort of feel like it’s something Shane would use to “flirt”. @tony-andonuts​

It wasn’t uncommon for Ryan and Shane to sleep in a haunted place. They did it more than they didn’t. Only a handful of times would they sleep in different rooms. The two almost always slept in the same room. This was one of those times.

Ryan could sometimes fall asleep when snuggled up beside Shane. So there they lay in the two sleeping bags with zipped together. Same as every night at home, they whispered back and forth, facing each other. The night camera would pick up a giggle every now and again. 

Eventually, Shane drifted off to sleep. He’d tried to stay up knowing Ryan got scared easily. Ryan hugged Shane closer and scooted further up the sleeping bag so he could tuck the half-giant’s head under his chin. No that he was completely swaddled in Ryan’s arms, Shane promptly fell asleep.

*****

It wasn’t until around 4:00 in the morning when Ryan fell asleep, Shane’s head still tucked under his chin. Yet when he woke up three hours later, his head was pillowed by Shane’s shoulder. 

Slowly, the younger of the two tried getting up and Shane emitted a noise somewhere between a hum and a grunt in protest.

“Shane,” Ryan giggled. He was half sitting up when the man in question wrapped his lanky arms around his waist. “We gotta-”

“It’s cold. Come back.” Shane tried slithering further into the sleeping bags, his arms still around Ryan.

Ryan burst into giggles and caught himself on his forearms when Shane tugged him down into the double sleeping bag.

Shane was awake by this point, but that didn’t mean he was going to give up easily on his cuddles. Besides, Ryan wasn’t scared anymore. 

Still grinning, Ryan brushed Shane’s hair from his eyes, looking down at the much taller man. “We’ve gotta finish up the episode, Big Guy.”

Shane huffed a teasing sigh. “Fine.” He unwound his arms from around Ryan and pushed himself to sit up.”We should start bringing portable coffee machines or something.” 

“You mean a percolator?” Ryan scoffed. 

Shane’s throat made a noise of indifference as he started rolling up their sleeping bag. “We are gonna stop for coffee, right?”

“Duh.” Ryan began packing up some of their cameras, putting his go-pro harness back on.

“Ready to leave this house behind us?” Shane stood, the rolled up sleeping bag pushed (or punched) into its too-small carry bag.

“Fuck yes.”

*****

Shane sat at his desk next to Ryan, editing the video for the next episode of Ruining History when Hannah walked by their desks with a grin. “This week’s episode, you guys, is fucking adorable.”

“What?” Shane looked up, moving his headphones from the top of his head to rest around his neck.

“You haven’t seen the new episode?” Hannah smirked. 

“No…” Shane glanced at Ryan from the corner of his eyes. 

Hannah’s smirk morphed back into a grin. “The Skeptic Believers are gonna go crazy.” And with that, she walked away. 

“You didn’t cut that out?” Shane opened a YouTube tab and his fingers flew across his keyboard. Ryan’s face was a warm shade of pink. 

“I cut most of it out.”

Shane skipped to the end of the video and stopped when there were almost three minutes left. The morning clip, which was usually Shane half sitting up with eyes hardly opened. This video’s morning clip started with Ryan trying to sit up, Shane pulling him back down. Their giggles and dialogue was fully vocal. 

Shane wore a grin as he turned to face Ryan. “Do you know what you’ve done, Ry? You get so many tags on Instagram and Twitter. You’re going to be tagged in so much fan art.”

Ryan wheezed before chortling. “You do realize you’re going to be tagged in a bunch, too, right?”

“Yes. Some of them are actually kinda cute. Most are creepy--but some are good.” Shane shifted, uncrossing his lanky legs. “Don’t worry, Little Guy. The fanart isn’t as cute as you are.”