A/N: This is my second time participating in the Chit Chat Authors challenge. I was given the pairing of Reid and Garcia and my candy was Junior Mint. This perhaps may be more angsty then the person choosing the prompt may have liked. It didn't go quite as I planned but I do hope that everyone enjoys it nonetheless! : )
Disclaimer: I don't own CM or the characters. I would love to own Reid wearing nothing but a sweater vest and his mismatched argyle socks. Apparently my telling him that frightened him off. Go figure.
-"Once Loved, Twice Lost"-
Spencer Reid paused awkwardly at the open door that led into the lioness' den. He leaned his tall frame against the door post, shoving his hands in the front pockets of his dark dress slacks. He shook his freshly cut and styled locks out of his eyes, a mere habit that he had acquired over the past year of letting his usual unruly locks grow out. Sad hazel eyes scanned the room quickly before settling on the spot before him, that strangely enough brought him amusement. The very thing he anticipated and sought after.
A small chuckle escaped him as he took in the sight. His favorite tech analyst and close friend had forgone her specially designed chair with bedazzled wheels, and was found, instead, on her hands and knees on the steely gray carpet. Her teal and purple paisley covered derriere, which clashed and yet oddly enough complemented her black and white argyle leggings, stuck out from beneath her desk of mass destruction.
He cleared his throat and softly called her name, in hopes of not startling her, "Garcia, what are you doing?"
His genuine concern now futile, as she bumped her head beneath the desk, uttering a Garcia-esque expletive, 'fudge' to be exact, with all the venom of a genuine obscenity. She crawled from beneath the space, briefly smiling at her visitor before pressing a bejeweled ivory hand on her desk and hoisting herself up. She wobbled slightly on her lemon yellow pumps before settling herself in her throne, whipping it around a few times to effectively face him. She plopped a bright orange bag, covered with smiling skeletons on her lap and grinned sheepishly up at him before signaling that he close the door, to which he obliged.
"You scared me sweet-cheeks!" she admonished sternly while hugging the mysterious bag to her bosom.
"What were you doing?" he asked, slightly bemused at her antics and grateful for the much needed distraction.
"Shhh! Not so loud McNosy! I was..." she mumbled barely audible excuses as she dropped her head down, her dark burgundy tresses equipped with bouncy,butterfly hair-clips, effectively covering her face.
"I'm sorry, what was that Garcia?" he asked as he pressed his frame against the closed door his lips pursed out and brow slightly furrowed.
"I was raiding my Halloween stash," she sighed in defeat, raising her head and flashing him a bright smile that made his heart flutter."I promised myself I'd cut back on the sugar but I was craving some chocolaty goodness and seeing hot stuff wasn't enough!" she exhaled, a hint of guilt flashed across her face.
"Hmm. Did you know that the candy collected in just that one night could last the average household up to a year?"
She raised a meticulously arched brow as her voice took on a conspiratorial tone. "Junior Mint for my favorite junior g-man?" she asked as she extricated a tiny white box filled with chocolate and gooey mint goodness and waved it at the young agent, wiggling her eyebrows.
Reid shook his head noncommittally and crossed his arms before him protectively. He stared down at his feet and ran his toe across a snag in the carpet.
"What's bugging you muffin? Did someone die?" she chuckled softly, her smile faltering at his response.
Reid's jaw had tensed, his soft puppy dog eyes, tore away from her concerned ones and he proceeded to study the floor beneath him. She cursed herself, it was a joke that she rarely made at work, given the life and death situations her "babies" found themselves in every single day. She leaned back in her chair, her hand finding it's way to her chest, as she struggled to regulate her now erratic breathing. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she studied her friend. "Spe-spencer?" she stuttered, bracing herself for a response.
He bit his lower lip and shook his head rapidly ashamed that he had startled her to such a degree. "No one here" he said firmly,solemnly, watching as she visibly relaxed before him and hearing as her breathing and seemingly her heart rate steadied.
"Oh.." she gasped, letting the word hang in the air between them. Patiently waiting for him to say more.
He pushed himself off the door with his foot and shifted his weight from one foot to the other before slowly walking across the room and leaning against the Goddess' desk, his hip resting against it as he faced her. "My father," he responded simply, some distance and disconnection in his voice.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly as she reached out and gave his hand a light squeeze. She looked into his hazel eyes, with pure sincerity.
He shrugged,"It's a natural occurrence in the Circle of Life, Garcia. Did you know that the average life span of an ancient Egyptian male was 30? Particularly if he was poor, and most ancient Egyptians would have been, by the standards of our socioeconomic system, deemed lower-middle class."
"Spencer-" she started, concern evident in her every breath.
"Could you do something for me?" he interrupted her suddenly, his jaw clenching as he swallowed nervously.
"Anything, sweet-pea,"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~o~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Reid slouched forward in his seat. Balancing himself on the bar stool had become quite a chore after a handful of beers had worked themselves into his system. His latest one went untouched, resting on the little white napkin with the hotel's emblem ingrained in it. He rested his elbows on the smooth wooden surface of the bar. Cupping his chin with his hand as he fiddled with the napkin and rehashed the day's events, though not in the drunken haze that he had hoped for.
He stood eerily still in his dark suit, jaw clenched, veins pulsating in his forehead as tiny beads of sweat poured down his face. The Vegas humidity was nearly unbearable. He held his mother firmly as she rested against his shoulder, tears spilling down her cheeks. He knew he would have to support her, be there to make sure that she didn't fall apart, slip into a manic state that required some form of sedation, or worst yet, slip into a depressive one that required a great deal of monitoring. He had to be her rock, her strength, it was a role he took on early in his life. He stared at the casket and instantly was reminded of why that was. He loved his father, he truly did, but he did not respect the man. He couldn't fathom an individual walking away from their family, it was an absurd notion. True, in a purely scientific way of thinking he could himself argue in favor of his father walking away from them, as perhaps a "survival of the fittest" type of situation, self preservation on his part, but trying to sell that to his 8 year old inner-self was a lost cause. His father abandoned them, abandoned him. He left him with a responsibility far beyond what any child, even an inquisitive, exceptionally intelligent child such as himself, should ever endure. Being left was a pivotal moment in his life, and finding out years later that his father lived ten minutes away the entire time, and kept tabs on him did nothing to quell his hurt and anger, in fact it only fueled it. He clenched his fists reflexively as the range of emotions took over, each positive word being spoken at the Eulogy by the priest and friends of his father that he hadn't known, were like little daggers to his heart. He was broken out of his reverie by a comforting squeeze. Garcia...
He clumsily brought his beer to his lips and took a quick sip before placing it back in it's place. Yeah, Garcia. He knew she would never object to accompanying him to his father's funeral. She was a great friend, by far one of the best and only friends that he'd ever had in his short life. She loved and accepted him and all of his quirks and his infinite knowledge, not once being intimidated nor being adverse to his incessant ramblings and spouts of statistics and facts. She was the first female he had become friends with, not that she nor any of his other colleagues had ever known such a fact. She and Morgan were his first real friends and he always felt bonded to them in inexplicable ways as a result. Their friendship had evolved over the years. They shared life altering moments. A natural progression of such life altering moments would be an evolution of friendship. It was human nature. She, by far, seen him at his most vulnerable and shared those moments with him when none of his other colleagues had. She watched all the footage upon his being captured by Tobias;she watched every second of his torture more times than either of them could care to count, much less mention. She scribed every last second of the verbal letter he wrote to his mother, when once again he feared for his life, tears in her eyes the entire time. She filed the letter away and neither of them spoke of it again but it brought them closer than ever. She was the one he spent the most time with, when his injured leg put him on the proverbial sidelines for a couple of months, after being shot. She took care of him and fussed over him and their bond continued to blossom. She was the one he held, in some childlike gesture of offering comfort however gauche the execution of such physical contact may have been for him, after their friend left. She was akin to him on a personal front. They both had troubled moments in their lives, both recruited to the F.B.I in their own ways, both awkward and eccentric in their own right, both eliciting the protective nature of their colleagues, the most seemingly innocent in the group, the young babies of their proverbial family. They were on a spectrum all their own, unlike those of their friends, and in retrospect it connected them in ways beyond comprehension and discussion.
"Cupcake?" a porcelain hand with violet tinted fingernails waved in front of his face, accompanied by a whistle.
"Huh? Oh, sorry Garcia." Reid sputtered as he blinked a few times and lazily turned his attention to the tech kitten.
"It's okay sweetie," she said quietly as she patted his hand and gave him a tight smile, concern evident behind the zebra striped frame perched on her nose. She turned to sip her fruity concoction, with all of its elaborate and decorative fixings.
"Thought you fell in," he attempted to lighten the mood with a joke about her time spent commandeering an available stall in the nearest ladies room. It must have worked since she flashed him a smile.
"It was a brawl, but yours truly muscled her way in without so much as a scratch," she quirked her eyebrow and grinned.
"My unresolved abandonment issues, may have had me taking your unusually long absence a bit personal," he smirked at her, oblivious to how her own smile faltered."In response, I may have consumed an excessive amount of beer," he clumsily waved his hand at the beer mugs that had accumulated since her absence. "Do you know how many different types of beer there are in the United States alone?" he inquired as he tried to straighten himself up and nearly keeled over.
"You're drunk," she whispered in surprised.
"You're exceptionally beautiful in an unconventional way," he observed at random, as one side of his mouth turned up in a half grin.
"You're drunk," she repeated with a frown."Why don't we get you upstairs," she said quietly, her heart breaking for her friend.
She slid off of her bar stool gracefully and dug through her purse, fishing out a wad of cash and sliding it across the bar. She turned to face her colleague, grabbing his hands with both of hers and pulling him to his feet. She snaked her arm around his slim waist and glared up at him with the ferocity of a panther, until he acquiesced and slung his arm around her shoulders.
"Actually..." he paused in contemplation, before deciding to continue. "I'm not entirely inebriated. Sufficiently buzzed, would be a more accurate term," he rambled as they weaved through the crowd of tourists and guests and slipped into the nearest elevator.
They both fell silent for the rest of the elevator ride. She sighed in relief as the ding signaled their floor, and she struggled to tow the tall man out of opened doors. She huffed silently then stole a glance in Reid's direction as she assessed his behavior while staggering down the hall. The slight weight of his tall frame slowing her pace considerably. His jaw was clenched again, eyes slightly unfocused in that faraway manner, lips pursed, and brow furrowed. He was thinking about his father again. She had noticed it during the funeral, noticed it while they dropped his mother off at her home so she could rest, it was the same look he had in her office when he shared the news. She bit her lower lip, worrying for him again.
She inserted the room key and the door clicked open, as she and Reid nearly stumbled inside. He broke away from her hold and staggered toward the twin bed, kicking his black dress shoes off and flopping onto the bed, not bothering to pull back the navy blue comforter. He clicked on the lamp, letting the dim light flood the room, and he placed his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. Garcia sighed, throwing her friend a sympathetic look before reaching for the doorknob.
"I don't miss him," Reid whispered, with an undeterred clarity that practically contradicted his slightly buzzed state.
She turned to face him again, her hand slipping from the doorknob as she padded across the room in three strides, watching her pumps skitter across the floor as she flopped down beside him on the bed.
"That's okay," she responded quietly as she turned her head to face him. She watched the shadows dance across his face from the occasional flicker of the light, and his chest rise and fall as he continued to stare at the ceiling.
"That's it?That's all you're going to say?" he questioned, no malice or anger in his voice. He was genuinely curious.
"We can't all be as verbose as you, gumdrop" she joked, not knowing herself, how to respond to the question.
A smirk spread across his face as he rolled on his side to face her. "Thank you," he muttered quietly, shy in that childlike way that was quintessentially Reid.
Her eyebrows pulled together in confusion," For what kid?"
"For being here. For being...you." He watched as she gave him a tight smile, bewilderment still lingering on her face. "I knew you'd understand...understand why I feel the way I feel about my father. I knew you wouldn't push me one way or another. You'd just be supportive, be...you," he smiled at her, one of his awkward smiles, so quick that if she'd have blinked she may have missed it altogether.
The recognition washed over her and she nodded at him. "Because my father left me too."
It was something else that they shared in common. Something that none of the others had experienced. Prior to losing her mother and stepfather in a car accident, she had to deal with losing her biological father as well. Except he didn't pass away at the time, he merely walked out. She heard some years later that he had died and yet she couldn't find it in her heart to care. It was out of character for her to not be compassionate, to be so callous, but the little bit of bitterness that she held in her scarred but pure heart was solely due to being abandoned. It took years for her to actually feel the confidence that she projected, and years spent around the profilers clued her into why that was. She had shared the experience with Reid before, shortly after he reunited with his own father. None of the others could fully understand his resentment towards the man, they all had fathers who played a steady role in their lives in some shape or fashion. She had made an attempt or two at easing his hurt and pain by informing him of how invested his father seemed to be in keeping track of him, but she understood why knowing that didn't make much of a difference.
"I wanted to feel something, guilt, sadness, a number of emotions synonymous with typical emotions one feels at such a tragic occasion..." he sighed and fiddled with the fringe on the pillow he was propped on before continuing." But at the most all I feel is anger, and at the least, indifference. Anger because the bastard left me...again. Indifference because despite that fact, I can't bring myself to care that he's actually gone. It makes me seem like a horrible person."
"The Goddess does not befriend horrible people," she hissed in mock anger, before smirking and brushing his hair out of his face. "And you know there isn't a playbook for proper emotions. I know that rational brain of yours has great difficulty wrapping your head around a concept that can't be scientifically proven or have some sort of answer, but sweetie, in life,in love, with feelings...there are no set answers," she waved her arms about in a flourish, smacking him in the face in the process. "Oops"
Her giggling was contagious and he couldn't help but find himself joining in. The sound surprising and delighting him as he once again was reminded of why he chose the likes of Penelope Garcia to be his support. She was bright and bubbly and optimistic and her infinite light, and goodness was magnetic, causing those around her to gravitate to her, especially in their time of need. She made any and every horrible situation somehow bearable, and with a job like theirs, that made her essential. She was in a way, the keeper of their sanity... and she didn't even realize it. It was no wonder he wanted to stay so close to her, suck in all of her exuberance and her positive aura. Before he knew it he leaned in, his lips suppressing her giggling as they pressed against hers. She didn't fight it. She merely obliged,her lips working with his until his rational mind kicked in and he pulled away quickly.
His cheeks flushed and he averted his eyes, unable to meet hers, as the embarrassment took over. He cleared his throat a few times before uttering multiple apologies and distancing himself from her as much as he could on the tiny twin bed. "I'm s-so sorry, Garcia"
To his surprise she smiled at him and squeezed his hand in reassurance. " No worries, sugarlips, you're a surprisingly good kisser,"
"Ohh noo," he groaned, going from embarrassed and mortified, to fearing for his life."Kevin is going to kill me! And Morgan! And Rossi!Hotch! I'll never be able to live this down!" he buried his head in his hands.
"Well than, we won't tell them that you, my junior gigolo, tried to put the moves on me," she chuckled as she nudged him with her body, scooting closer to him. Her fishnet clad feet entangling with his mismatched argyle clad feet.
"You promise?" he asked with a hint of fear that she found near hysterical.
"I won't tell a soul," she replied with a glint of mischief in her eye that did nothing to suppress his fear of bodily harm. She snaked her arm around his neck and drew him close to her, his head resting on her bountiful bosom. She ignored his protests and squirming."After my aunt's funeral, I got drunk off tequila, slept with the preacher's son, cried for an hour, and drowned the rest of my sorrows in a hunk of decadent triple chocolate cake," her chest rose and fell as she sighed at the memory. His face planted firmly against her chest, went along for the ride.
"Ummm Garcia, I appreciate the sentiment, but the imagery invoked by the last few statements accompanied by our current position...may constitute my saying...that was entirely way too much information," Reid murmured, his voice muffled from being smushed so close to her.
"Hey, you kissed me buddy. That means somewhere in your subconscious you don't mind the imagery that may go along with whatever drunken lewd thoughts are circulating through that head of yours!" she quipped, as she rested her cheek to his head.
"Ummm..." he sighed nervously, the heat from his cheeks burning the exposed skin of her neck and cleavage. She tried to muffle her laughter, but her body shook, and the little dangly hairclips in her hair scraped against the headboard from the action. He cleared his throat in an effort to clear the tension, that only he seemed to have been experiencing, trying to ignore her awareness of his not so innocent thoughts."You aren't going to let me go are you?"
"Nope" she grinned. "You're too adorable mon cherie!"
He sighed in mock defeat, not wanting to admit to himself that he actually enjoyed the position he found himself in. He snuggled closer, stopping as his head hit some odd shaped object protruding from her bra. "Umm, I know this isn't exactly my area of expertise but I don't think they're supposed to feel this way," he murmured as he rubbed his head back and forth against the unspecified object over her breasts.
She smacked the side of his head and narrowed her eyes at him for his frisky motions. She ignored his protests of pain and reached into her bra, pulling out a small white box. She grinned a sheepish grin, an innocent inflection covering the guilt in her voice as she squeaked "Junior Mints for my junior g-man?"
"Some hiding place," he muttered softly, his fingers grasping the box from her hand.
She smirked as she heard the bemused disgust in his voice. She opened her mouth to speak, but the small snores that escaped from his lips, stopped her. She hugged him closer to her and stroked his hair with one hand as she reached over to turn the lamp off with the other.
"More for me then,"she whispered into the darkness, expertly extricating the box out of his grasp and popping a couple of the mint goodness into her mouth. She continued to stroke Spencer's hair, burying her face into it and murmuring, "Sleep well, angel. Sleep well."
~~~~~~o~~~~~~
If I may, I'd also like to take the time to dedicate this piece to a friend of mine. Sometime before my posting this I received the news that she lost her ongoing battle with Breast Cancer.I love you forever and always. I'll take with me every piece of advice you ever gave me. Rest in Peace A.R.