Solace
Summery: In which Reid finds himself...with a little help from Hotch and Rossi. *evil grin*
A/N: Well, I figured that since I can't get Hotch and Rossi out of my head, I'd just throw Reid in with them. *waggles eyebrows* There's some OC, but only to set things up. Hope you like! R&R?
Disclaimer: Sometimes in the wee hours of the morning, I feel so close, as though I could reach out and touch them, but, alas, I own them not.
Part One
Natalie stood in the shower and let the hot water rinse away the shampoo, stress, and sweat of the day. Sometimes she felt like Murphy's Law was a prophecy of her life. This had been one of those days. She closed her eyes and savored the force of the water on her tired shoulders, losing herself in the sounds of the Pink Floyd album she'd put on shuffle.
"Hey there, sexy," a voice behind her growled, and suddenly there were hands on her waist. Natalie screamed, high pitched and primal. In the same instant, she wrapped her long fingers around a metal can of shaving cream, whirled around, and brought it down on the offender's head as hard as she could. He stumbled back and fell on the floor, bleeding from a gash on his forehead.
As Natalie's vision cleared, she could make out the sweater vest, the blond curls, the mismatched socks...
"Oh my God, Spencer!" she squealed, wrapping a towel around herself and quickly clamoring out of the tub. She cradled her boyfriend's to examine the wound as he tried to push her away and stand.
"Who else would it be," he grumbled. "Anyone have a key that I don't know about?" Natalie shook her head and pouted as she pressed a towel to Spencer's head.
"You're going to need stitches, Spencer. You shouldn't sneak up on girls with PTSD."
"I didn't sneak! I tripped over a pile of books and stumbled into the stove on the way in. I actually made a lot of noise!" Natalie wrinkled her nose and furrowed her brow the way she always did when she was trying to process what was going on.
"I guess I didn't hear you over Syd Barrett. Come on. We've got to get you to the ER."
"I brought Chinese!" Spencer protested as the girl darted into the bedroom to get get dressed.
"We'll take it with us!" she called out. Spencer braced himself on the counter and watched drops of blood drip into the sink and swirl down the drain. He glared at the mirror. His favourite pink paisley button down was ruined.
Why me? he thought to himself morosely.
"Damn, Reid! You look like hell! What happened to you?" Reid sighed as he set his messenger bag next to his desk and turned to address his co-worker, Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan.
"Natalie gave me a key a few days ago so I decided to surprise her last night with Chinese and a movie, but I startled her and she bashed me over the head with a can of shaving cream. I had to get seven stitches." Morgan shook his head.
"Only you. Did you get any make-up nookie?" he asked, smirking and wiggling his eyebrows. Reid's unamused glare was the only answer.
"Oh come on, man. You been with this chick for almost a year and you still haven't done the deed? That doesn't make any sense... Unless..." Morgan's eyes widened.
"Natalie is suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. She is not ready," Spencer answered. Derek didn't hear him.
"Unless... You don't like girls." He turned big eyes on Spencer asking himself how he could have missed it. He broke into a wide grin.
"Spencer Reid, are you gay?" Spencer squeaked and sputtered and choked on his coffee. He was saved by a rather serious-looking man in a suit and tie clearing his throat loudly.
"Conference room," the man said. He scanned Reid, finally meeting his eyes with an unvoiced question. Reid gave a barely perceptible nod – I'm okay – and followed the other two agents into the conference room.
Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner, my hero, Reid thought to himself and chuckled.