Title: Outside the Box
Author: Writing2Death
Beta: Magi's Merlin, who deserves a metal. Really.
Pairing: Hotch/Reid, preslash
Word Count: 2,390 words
Rating: G
Warnings: Um, you might actually start foaming fluff at the mouth. Just saying.
Summary: Who in their right mind would ask Spencer Reid to babysit?
For the prompt: Reid teaching Jack math. And the additional prompts: pillow, light switch, coffee, slippers, tie.
Notes: This was written for Wren Hightower, because at the time she was dying a very slow death called studying for statistics. So she asked for a studying fic and this is what evolved from that. This really borders on Gen, rather than Hotch/Reid, but there's definitely some feelings in there... somewhere.
Tattletale Dice can be found here: http:/ /www. ehow .com/list_6134605_math-magic-tricks-kids .html - Remember to remove the spaces.
On another note, this has been sitting on my computer for two and a bit months because I'm unsure of it's quality and I'm just extremely nervous to post in this fandom in general. It's so far from what I usually write. I'm pretty sure I'm going to get some weird looks from the people who have me on their author alerts... But! I love Criminal Minds, and I think the fandom is in a little bit of an uproar over last night's episode so I decided to finally post this as my contribution to ... having more fic. Doesn't really fix my dissatisfaction with the episode (or the sixth season in general) but one can never have too much fic.
I'm going to shut up now and let you read the fic. Have fun. Enjoy. If it's horrible, I'm so sorry. *heart*
Outside the Box
Teaching = helping someone else learn. L. D. Fink.
When Jack makes his way down the stairs, tugging his little teddy bear behind him, Reid feels a little bit like his heart is possibly about to explode. Not because the sight is 'ridiculously cute', as Garcia had put it once or twice, but because who in their right mind would ask Spencer Reid to babysit? It's a good question that might be worth pondering at some point or another. Really, it is.
He's still standing at the door with his shoes on, reciting in his head all the ways that his heart will not explode. The statistics on that for him in this situation are what amount to zero. He's trying to decide if this is a good thing or not (because his heart exploding is bound to be less painful than whatever this night might have in store) when Hotch presses the paper with emergency numbers on it into his hand.
"You'll be fine," Hotch says (his face is, of course, as impassive as ever) when he sees the terrified look Reid knows he's wearing. "You were fine when JJ asked you, right?"
Yes, he thinks, but Henry was a baby and Jack is – decidedly not. He also wonders when he became the team's go-to person for babysitting. What happened to the 'Reid-effect'?
Instead of saying these things, Reid forces himself to smile. He suspects Hotch sees straight through it because Hotch sees straight through everything.
"I'll be fine," he says, watching Jack peek out from behind Hotch's legs. Hotch gives him that stare he knew was coming from the moment he walked in the door. "I will," he insists.
"There's fresh coffee in the kitchen," Hotch says instead, always knowing when to change the subject, "and if you really need to contact me, you know how. Try Jessica first, she'll probably be easier to get a hold of –"
Reid feels his face actually stretch into a smile, "and you've written down all his emergency contacts including his doctor and Garcia and JJ - even though I obviously know their numbers –" Reid cuts himself off with a grin. "I know I'm definitely the last resort for this but –"
Hotch's facial expression doesn't exactly change but he does sigh.
There's a small silence in which Reid goes over the reasons (for at least the hundredth time) why Jack's aunt, or JJ, or Garcia, or Prentiss, or anyone, really, but him can't be here tonight. Because it's obvious why JJ would ask him to babysit Henry – it's either him or Garcia and usually it's Garcia but she was busy with Kevin sometimes so…
Hotch is nodding at him and gripping his shoulder for a moment (that's entirely too brief and he fights very hard to squash that thought because it is so not appropriate in any way, shape, or form, ever) and then hugging Jack and then Reid is left alone.
And, yes, he is very fond of melodrama, thank-you very much.
"So…" Reid says, placing his shoes on the mat. When he straightens up, Jack is still staring at him. Reid clears his throat and proceeds to wave nervously. Immediately he feels stupid and stops himself from making any other hand gestures. There seems to be a positive correlation between the extent of his nervousness or how excited he is and how much he moves his hands. It's led to things being broken in the past.
"What were you doing before I got here?" Reid decides to ask. It seems like a safe question. Especially since he has only a vague idea of what normal six year olds did at five in the evening. "Have you eaten?"
Jack shakes his head and brings his teddy bear closer to his chest. "Can we have KD?" he asks suddenly. "Please?"
"I think I can probably manage that," Reid says. He can't help but look around as he follows Jack into the kitchen. Everything's neat and tidy and it doesn't surprise him in the least. Then again, Hotch has never really surprised anyone. He doesn't know if anyone ever really surprises Hotch, either. He's glad that Hotch will probably never see his apartment because he's not really sure he likes the comparison.
He sets his messenger bag down next to the kitchen table and Jack seems happy to settle into a seat and start colouring (apparently what he was doing before he went upstairs, if the pile of paper and crayons is any indication). Reid's not sure if he's supposed to be making conversation so he rummages for a pot and the box of macaroni and boils the water. Jack doesn't really seem afraid of talking so if he's not talking, he must be comfortable with the silence too.
Reid silently congratulates himself on not having fallen back on talking too much about things no one cares about. Of course, that doesn't stop him from thinking it.
Jack's picture is very colourful (which he cannot help but thinking is a good thing, even if he tries his very best to block that thought out). He doesn't know if he would describe the colours as necessarily pleasing together. But they obviously please Jack. Humans can perceive over 2.8 million different hues, after all, and colour harmony can depend on age, gender, culture, and social differences. Virtually, there are limitless possibilities. Colour harmony formulae are fundamentally unsound but despite this there are theorists that have formulas anyway.
He tells himself to shut up.
"What do you usually do now?" Reid asks, placing their bowls in the sink.
Jack pouts instantly and looks away. "Homework, for Monday," he mumbles.
"Oh," Reid says. He's pretty sure he's never had that reaction to homework before. Then again, he can't remember ever spending a great deal of time on homework when he was six, either. It was always pretty easy to finish quickly. "Do you… need help?"
Jack shakes his head and drags his backpack from where it's sitting in the corner over to the table. He starts taking out worksheets. Reid can see addition problems on them.
Reid makes himself a cup of coffee that Hotch had left (thank God, because coffee is wonderful and good and warm and – he could probably go on about it for quite a while), and watches as Jack slowly starts filling in the blank spaces.
When Jack keeps glancing at him before he answers a question, Reid gets the impression he's making him nervous so he looks down. "Does your dad usually help you with that?" he asks lightly.
Jack sighs dramatically and Reid forces himself not to smile. "I don't like math," he confesses quietly, drawing something small on the corner of his paper.
"Why not?" Reid asks.
Jack pouts, "Because it's hard."
"You don't understand?" Reid asks, pulling his chair and coffee closer to where Jack has his worksheet.
"Kinda," he answers. "You take two numbers and you put them together."
Reid knows he didn't learn addition the normal way. It feels like it's something he always knew – but a lot of things are like that for him. He bites his lip.
"So, two plus five?" he tries.
Jack looks at him with wide eyes.
"Do you know where to start?" Reid asks, wondering if ihe/i knows where to start. There was a reason he was never the best TA when he was getting his PhDs. He holds up his fingers, two on one hand, and all five on the other. "It's putting two numbers together, right? So if I have five fingers on this hand," he wiggles them, "and two on this hand, and I bring them together –" Reid brings his hands together so that they're joined at the inside of his wrist, "how many fingers am I holding up in total?"
"Seven?" Jack asks in a small voice and Reid grins widely.
"If you finish that sheet, I can show you a math magic trick."
"A magic trick?" Jack repeats. "Promise?"
Reid nods happily because math and magic are two of his favourite things (even though he has a lot of favourite things, like the colour green, and his polka-dotted tie, and magic tricks).
If in his excitement, he accidently manages to send his coffee cup flying - well, at least the mug isn't broken.
Jack laughs out loud when Reid guesses the right answer for the third time. Tattletale Dice - fun and educational, with the bonus of working with addition and subtraction. Reid has to show Jack the steps of the trick three times before he's satisfied ("And if I practice, I can do the trick for Daddy, right? Right?").
According to Reid's watch, it's quarter to seven. "Ah, bedtime's at eight thirty, right Jack?" he asks, even though he knows it is. It says so on the list Hotch pressed into his hand earlier.
Jack nods, still looking at the dice.
"Is there anything you need to do right now? Anything you want to do?" Reid asks, hoping that there is because he's at a loss of what to suggest.
"Can we watch a movie?" Jack asks.
Reid sighs in relief. "How about you get into your pajamas and then you can pick one out?"
Jack takes off running and Reid finds himself calling out, "Don't run up the stairs!" Jack freezes half way up, looking sheepish, and continues more slowly.
Reid thinks Jack might have just taken two years off his life. He can't imagine (and there is really very little he can't imagine) being a parent. The stress alone…
When Jack comes back downstairs, he's carrying his teddy bear (who, he explained very nicely to Reid was called Mr. Bear and had always been called Mr. Bear, ever since he could remember). He's wearing pajamas with some sort of cartoon on them and slippers with what looks like an astronaut figure.
"Do you know what you want to watch?" Reid asks, glancing at his watch. There's lots of time. It's still only seven.
"Yeah," Jack says, smiling and handing Reid the movie case off the shelf. "Toy Story," he beams.
Reid can see the same characters on the case as on Jack's PJs. He wonders if he was supposed to know about this movie, like the Twilight comment, or if this was one of those things that only parents know. He supposes it doesn't really matter because he's going to know about it in the next hour anyway.
Jack falls asleep sometime during the movie, curled up around Mr. Bear. He'd spent the whole first half of the movie explaining it to Reid in great detail but around twenty minutes ago, he got quieter and eventually dropped off.
It's interesting, he thinks, how completely different people can be as children than they are when they grow up. He wonders if Jack will grow up to be like Hotch and this leads him to wondering if Hotch was a lot like Jack when he was a child. He lets his mouth twist into a smile imagining it.
He doesn't know if you can really put people into boxes, like with the colours, or your house reflecting your personality, or who you'll grow up to be. No one would have ever said he would grow up to be an FBI field agent, if you had asked them when he was twelve and just finishing high school.
But then again – aren't they the ones who construct the boxes in the first place?
The grey area in psychology is frustrating, and somewhere in the back of his mind, not ever being able to be forgotten, is Gideon telling him to think outside the box during a chess game. That seems like a really long time ago now.
He wakes Jack up quietly and Jack rubs at his eyes tiredly.
"You fell asleep," Reid says, smiling a little.
"Okay," Jack says, which doesn't really make sense but that's all right. He climbs the stairs toward his bedroom and Reid follows him behind and watches him hide under the covers from the doorframe.
"… You'll be okay?" he asks.
There isn't any answer so Reid assumes he's fallen back asleep. He flicks the light off, noticing that there's a nightlight in the corner and smiles. Downstairs, he pulls the book he brought with him out of his bag and folds his legs comfortably under him on the couch. He figures if he forces himself to read slowly, he should be okay until Hotch comes home – which should be soon.
The next thing he knows, he's being woken up by a whispering voice somewhere to his left.
"- we can't wake him up."
What?
Jack is sitting there with Mr. Bear on his lap, talking to him under his breath. Reid sighs – he fell asleep. "Jack?" he asks, rubbing the tiredness off his face. "Why are you up?"
Jack looks up at him, his eyes huge. "It was really dark in there."
Reid blinks because he knows a little something about being afraid of the dark. Jack has his pillow shoved against the arm of the couch and is slowly inching the throw off the back. Reid wonders exactly how much trouble this is going to get him in with Hotch.
This is the sight that Aaron Hotchner arrives home to: Jack is curled in the corner of the couch in a pile of blankets with his pillow and his bear, and Spencer Reid is sitting on the other end, with his head tipped back and some kind of really complicated looking textbook open on his lap. He's not surprised.
(When Reid finally gets home the next morning – it turns out he spent the night on Hotch's couch and now his back really hurts – he thinks about the colours again, and about how he likes how Hotch looks without his tie on, and about the way Hotch places his hand on the small of his back when he's trying to guide him. Maybe colours that don't necessarily go together can still go together. Harmony is flexible, after all. And the possibilities are infinite.)
Much learning does not teach understanding. Heraclitus.