The family way
Fandom: Criminal minds.
Parings: Reed / Morgan. Others mentioned.
Word count: 995
Author's Note: This is my first CM Fanfic, and also my first time writing in the second person. Please be nice.
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.
Most people's families consist of a couple parents, or something resembling them, and a smattering of cousins to round things out. It's not the fact that you have two fathers that makes you different, it's who they are, what they do, the family they brought you into. You've always known your family was different. Closer in some ways than those of your friends, but definitely different. Some might argue worse, some better, but you just think it's a different arrangement. From the day they brought you home, you were introduced to everyone. You grew up with them, went to them when you couldn't go to your fathers. They've all shaped who you are in some way, hell, you're name is Jennifer Lenore Reed-Morgan, for the love of all things. Even if you don't remember them all, you've heard enough stories to figure out what part they play in the big picture.
Gideon's the father, keeping them in line, telling them what to do, where to go, and when.
Hotch is the eldest son, the man of the house when dad's not home.
JJ's the next in line, mothering them when they don't have one.
Prentiss is the middle child, every bit of that independent streak present.
Garcia is the youngest sister, the perfect blend of smart and sassy.
El's the wayward cousin they took in when her parents couldn't handle her anymore.
And lastly, we've got Rossi, the uncle who finally came along to take control.
Ever since you were a little girl, your favourite story has always been how your fathers met and fell in love. Over the years, they've told you some of it, subtly changing details, filtering things and colouring in the lines with various shades of truth and appropriateness. It isn't until you're sixteen and you've gotten your heart broken for the first time that you hear the whole thing, from start to finish, no fairytale embellishments colouring the words. You come home, unconcerned by the fact that you weren't expected until later, or the fact that since he told you it was over you can't seem to stop crying. All you want to do is lock yourself in your room until the hurt goes away. You stomp threw the door, slam it dramatically behind you, then, because you realize this is childish, resist the urge to kick your boots off and leave them where they fall. Instead, you take a deep breath, just like pop taught you, try to find your center and calmly remove your boots and put them on the mat by the door. You try to make a beeline for your bedroom, but of course, Dad's suddenly in your path, concern shining in his eyes. You don't know where he came from, and frankly, you couldn't care less, but you can tell he knows something is wrong. He pulls you against him as he calls out.
"Derrick?" You notice how much is lacing that single word. It's full of worry, fear and you think even a little anger, controlled though it maybe. Then pop is there, equally if not more concerned. He wraps his arms around both of you and the three of you sway for a long quiet moment.
"What happened, Sweetness?" You notice absently that you've managed to stop crying. Pulling out of their embrace, you head for the couch, thankful when they bookend you. Taking a deep breath, you explain how the date started out fine, but then, just after dessert, he tells you that it's over. You ask if it was something you did, something you said, but he says no, he's met someone else and besides, he felt the relationship had run its course, anyways. Pop smiles when you tell him you threw your drink on him before storming out.
"Love sucks." You say, with less bitterness than you think the moment requires. Before either of them can reply, the doorbell rings and you pull it open to find your aunts Penelope and Emily. You wonder what they're doing there, hoping neither of your fathers texted them. They take one look at you before pulling you into a hug. They are two of the strongest women you know and you're glad to have them in your life, especially when you're feeling like this. When you all return to the living room, you're relieved to notice your fathers look as surprised as you felt at seeing them.
"We were in the neighbourhood." Aunt Emily shrugs in reply to the unasked question. After all, it's not uncommon for family members to drop in unannounced. Figuring you're fathers will tell them if you don't, you rehash your night. With out thinking, your aunt Emily's hand strays to her gun and strokes it. It makes you smile slightly.
"Just before you got here, Jellybean said love sucks." Dad tosses out once you're finished. Aunt Penelope frowns slightly.
"I know it can feel that way, sweetie. But look at it this way. Every Mr. Wrong gets you closer to Mr. Right." You know she's telling you the truth, but right now you just want to be miserable.
"This mood calls for ice cream." Pop announces suddenly and before you can protest, he's heading for the kitchen. You snuggle closer to dad on the couch, feeling cold without him. He rubs your back soothingly.
"I know, princess, I know. This too shall pass." And he kisses the top of your head. When pop returns with the ice cream, you sit up again.
"How'd you know dad was the one?" you find yourself asking. You think you ask because on some level, you're still looking for reassurance that love, doesn't in fact, suck. The wrest of the night is spent retelling stories and sharing memories, and when you finally head to your room, you think Monday at school will actually be bearable and it's all thanks to your family, uniquely shaped though it may be.