When Spencer Reid first met Remy LeBeau, he had no idea just how important this young man would become to him.

The eighteen year old mutant was a student at Caltech University, working on his second doctorate. Engineering, this time. He already had one in Mathematics. This was his first year, however, that he had a real place of his own to come back to. Spencer had been in college since he was fourteen years old, having graduated high school at twelve, and because of his age he'd been forced to room with someone in the school dorms who would act as a sort of 'big brother' role. It was the college's way of trying to make sure that the young genius was kept safe while at their school. During the weekdays he stayed in the dorm with his approved roommate and for the weekends he went home to visit his mother in Las Vegas. It was a system that worked for all parties involved and one that Spencer could easily accept so long as it meant he could get the education he wanted.

His brother Alex—half-brother, really, and the middle child—had offered to come and stay around California for a while, maybe get his own apartment and have Spencer come and stay with him. But Spencer wasn't that much of a glutton for punishment. He and Alex loved one another, there was no denying that, but if they had to live together there was a very good chance that someone would end up blowing up their home in one argument or another. Their oldest brother, Scott, had been the first to point that out, saving Spencer from having to come up with a way to politely tell Alex 'No, thank you'.

However, now that Spencer was eighteen, he had a place of his own not far from campus. A place where he could come home, alone, every night, without a roommate or countless other people partying nearby. Just a simple, basic apartment, full of only his things, set up the way that he liked it. It wasn't much but it was his and that was what was important. Not to mention, he was free to come home and relax in ways he never could in the dorm. In his own place he didn't have to constantly keep his contacts in or opt for sunglasses to hide his multicolored eyes. He didn't have to constantly refrain from playing with the electricity that his mutation allowed him to control, or hide his reactions when the shields he used for his empathy were a bit low. He was just free to be himself and it was wonderful. For the first time ever he was free to just be himself.

The night he met Remy, he was driving home from the library when something strong hit against his mental shields. So strong he actually jerked the wheel a little and almost ended up being hit by another car. It was sheer luck that he managed to pull himself over to the side of the road without serious incident. Shutting off his car, he froze in his seat and clenched down his hands on the wheel while he sent his focus outwards. That had been a mix that he knew a little too well. One that spelled trouble. It only took him a second to find it again. It was…there! Anger, disgust, rage, excitement, coming from multiple people, all of it surrounding one small ball of pain.

Spencer was out of his car and moving without even having to think about it. He followed the emotional signatures as they led him down a nearby alley and toward the back of an abandoned building. This close, he knew more. Knew that there were six others here, not counting the one that was now on the ground. Six people who, as he drew in closer, he could hear were shouting obscenities at their victim—a victim that their insults implied was a mutant. Great. Just, great. One thing Spencer couldn't stand was these groups of mutant haters that felt they had the right to go around assaulting innocent mutants just because they were different. It wasn't any better than those that went after someone for skin color, or for their sexuality.

He drew in a careful breath and pushed his nerves down as far as he could make them go. There was no time to build some great big plan. Not with the pain he could feel. But there was a reason that Spencer had gone to college at fourteen. There were very few in the world who had a mind like his, or that could work at the speed his did. He ran through the most likely outcomes of various scenarios before deciding that maybe this was one of those times that he should take a leaf out of Alex's books instead of Scott's. A big plan wasn't the right bet here. A great big show of force, however, might be perfect.

It was as easy as breathing for Spencer to call the electrical power he could feel all around him. He drew it down into his hands, gathered it there, and then took a step around the corner and right into the chaos. He didn't allow himself to hesitate. "Hey!" he shouted. Then he thrust one hand out and flung power, sending a ball of blue electrical energy crashing down to the ground right behind the group. They all jumped back, more than a few shouts and curses filling the air. Spencer thrust out his other hand and sent the next blast, landing it close without getting close enough to hit the guy still lying on the ground.

Spencer opened his mouth to tell them to back the hell off, only to snap it back shut again as he watched this tough group of guys turn tail and run. Surprised, he stood there for a moment and just stared. Well. That hadn't been what he'd been expecting. He'd thought for sure they'd fight back.

A groan from the guy on the ground reminded him of why he'd come over here. Spencer dropped the energy away from his hands and scrambled quickly forward, dropping down to his knees beside the guy that he could now clearly see was bleeding. The guy was also trying to push his way up off the ground. Spencer reached out, hands hesitating over him for fear of finding someplace and hurting him. "Woah, woah, just hang on a second there, mister. You've been hurt pretty badly. Let me call an ambulance for you."

"Non!" The man spat the word out in a voice that was deep and hoarse, and thick with some kind of accent. "Non. No hospital. Gambit don't need no hospital."

Spencer wished he could say he was surprised by that declaration. But, really, few mutants liked to go to hospitals. Going there was like a crappy lottery. You had no idea if you'd get someone who actually cared or some asshole who felt like mutants were the scum of the earth, or maybe someone in between. There was no way that he could just let this guy go, though. Spencer ran assessing eyes over him and what he found had him wincing. Most of the guy was covered up by a trench coat, but there blood on the ground under him as he tried to raise up, and there was blood and bruising already showing on his face, though it did nothing to hide the red and black eyes that must've marked him as a mutant to those mutant haters. Dirt matted the auburn hair around his head.

The man stumbled a little in his efforts to move and Spencer just barely managed to catch him and keep him from face planting on the ground. Spencer made a split second decision and firmed his grip around the guy. "Okay, mister, I can't just leave you here. My apartment is nearby and my car's just out by the road. Let's get you up there and get you cleaned up."

He could hear a low mumble from this guy that might've been meant to be words. Whatever he said was too mumbled for Spencer to catch, though. Still, it must not have been a protest, because the guy didn't fight him as Spencer drew him up to his feet, grunting only a little under his weight. Getting under the guy's arm, Spencer slid one arm around his waist and grasped at the wrist that hung over his shoulder. Then he started the slow walk back to his car. They didn't talk on their way there; the only sounds from his companion were low hisses and cut off groans.

They were almost there when Spencer felt the guy's weight start to get heavier. One look at his face had Spencer wanting to curse. He only had one option and he quickly gathered some nearby electricity, converting it into a safe to touch blue energy that he used much like TK to wrap around the guy and support him in just enough time for the guy to slump down into unconsciousness.

Thank God they were close to his car. Between his hands and his energy, Spencer quickly got him into the backseat and then he was hurrying around the car to get into the driver's seat. There was a moment of hesitation when he thought about just driving him to the hospital; what if he had some serious internal damage? But it was only a moment's thought. Spencer wasn't going to force anyone to go to a hospital if they didn't want to. Especially a mutant with eyes like Spencer had seen on this man. Spencer snuck a glance in his rearview mirror and then sighed as he started his car and put it in gear. "Scott would kill me for this." He mumbled to himself. Pulling out into traffic, he pointed his car towards home.

Getting the man out of his car and into the apartment took more use of his powers than his muscles. Spencer was tall and slender, not exactly the weight lifting type, and this guy was lean but he was still heavy. Spencer was just damn grateful that no one came out as he hauled the guy up into his place. Once he got behind closed doors, it was much easier. He let go with his hands and just used his powers instead, lifting him up and carrying him in. He set him down briefly so that he could get the pull-out couch opened and a sheet laid out and then he put the guy on top of it.

Spencer pulled the guy's jacket off first, draping it over the arm on the couch, and then left him lying there to go and grab some towels and the first aid kit. There was no time for embarrassment or anything like that as he set to work cleaning and treating what he could. He started on his face, cleaning away the blood, even cleaning away the dirt from his hair as best as he could. The face he uncovered underneath the blood and dirt was less bruised than he'd expected, and quite a bit more handsome. High cheekbones, full lips, just a hint of stubble on his face that gave him a sort of rugged look. Quit that, he scolded himself, dabbing at the cut over the man's left eyebrow. He is injured and you're supposed to be helping him, not leering at him.

That was easier said than done. His touch stayed professional as he stripped the man out of his dirty shirt and pants to clean up what he found underneath. There was a cut along the guy's right side that, thankfully, didn't need stitches. He cleaned it up and closed it with some butterfly tape over the thicker parts of it. As he did, he very deliberately tried not to think about the firm muscles underneath his hand, or all the tanned skin that his cleaning had exposed. The man was lean and fit, with the build of a fighter. Muscled without being too muscled.

It took almost twenty minutes for Spencer to get him completely cleaned and bandaged. The man had butterfly tape over his left eyebrow, some on the cut on his stomach, a few band aids here and there, and an ace wrap around one ankle. The rest looked to be mostly bruising. Nothing felt broken, not even his ribs, but he'd be in pain for a little while. Once Spencer was done, he dressed the man in an old pair of sweats that Alex had left here and then tucked a blanket around him. Then he gathered up his clothes and stuck them in the wash so they'd hopefully be clean by the time the man woke up.

Scott and Alex would freak out if they knew Spencer had a strange, unconscious man lying in his apartment. As he tossed the clothes into his compact washer in the hall closet, the young genius snorted a little to himself. 'Freak out' was putting it mildly. Those two took overprotective to a whole new level. But what was he supposed to have done? Just left the guy there? No way! He couldn't do that. The man was hurt and he'd needed help. There was no way Spencer could've walked away.

Once the clothes were running through the wash, Spencer ran back down to his car and gathered up his book bag. Then he brought his things upstairs and set himself up in his bedroom to finish a bit of studying while he waited to put the clothes into the dryer. Finals were coming up in a few weeks and he needed to be ready for them. Handsome stranger or no handsome stranger, he needed to get some studying time in. So, extending his empathy just enough to tell him if his guest woke up, Spencer turned the rest of his attention onto his books and tried to focus on the facts and numbers in front of him and not the finely sculpted body and gorgeous eyes of the man lying just down the hall.

The smell of coffee and bacon was what woke Spencer. Or, mostly the coffee. Coffee was about the only thing that could pull him out of any slumber. He was already sitting up before his brain really registered the desire to move. His back ached and his eyes felt gritty. Rubbing at them, he blinked a few times until he could see well enough to look around him. Books and notebooks were spread out around him on the bed, some of the pages crumpled. Must've fallen asleep while studying. It wasn't the first time he'd done it and he doubted it would be the last.

He drew in a breath and caught the scent of coffee again and a little happy sound slid free. Coffee. That was enough to get him moving. He almost fell out of bed in his efforts to get up but managed to catch himself on the bedpost.

Spencer was halfway to the kitchen before his brain woke up enough for him to realize that he shouldn't be smelling coffee at all. He lived alone.

Quickening his steps, he turned round the corner at the end of the hall and then stopped and froze at the sight that met him.

There, standing in his kitchen in just a pair of sweatpants, was the single most gorgeous man that Spencer had ever woken up to. A small part of his brain kicked into gear and remembered the man he'd brought back here and cleaned up yesterday. The rest of him was too busy focusing on the play of muscles over the man's back and in his shoulders as he cooked what smelled like bacon. The guy bent over to throw something into the trash underneath the sink and Spencer almost groaned at the view it gave him.

He must've made some sound, embarrassing as that was, because the man turned is head as he straightened back up, and oh man, it wasn't fair that someone that gorgeous should have such an amazing smile, too! It warmed his face and wrinkled up the corners of his eyes and, dammit, Spencer did not have the mental capabilities to deal with this without coffee in his system. He could already feel his cheeks heating up in a bright blush that seemed to just delight his guest even more. "Bonjour, mon ami." The man greeted him in a voice thick and heavy with the sound of the south. "I hope y' don't mind me makin' m'self at home here. Y' had de stuff f' bacon and eggs in y'r fridge an I figured breakfast was de least I could do to say merci."

Spencer wanted to tell him that it wasn't necessary or that he'd been glad to help or plenty of other things that might've made him sound at least somewhat like a normal, functioning human being. Instead, he opened his mouth and all he could manage was a mumbled "Coffee" that sounded a little too close to a whimper for his liking.

Humor lit up those devilish eyes, the red irises glowing a bit against the black background in a way that sent a pleasurable little chill down Spencer's spine, and the guy's smile grew. "Ah, y'r one of dem types, eh? Well don't y' worry none, I got a pot freshly brewed right on over here." As he spoke, he turned and grabbed one of the mugs out of the cupboard and set it down by the pot. The promise of that cup was the only thing that gave Spencer the ability to come closer to his half-dressed guest. He was absurdly grateful that he didn't trip over his feet or anything on the way over. It didn't help that the man watched him with a little smirk the whole time.

The guy waited until Spencer had his cup prepared and had taken the first, bracing drink before he tried to talk to him again. He stood at the stove, looking so at home in Spencer's kitchen like he'd been here and cooked a thousand times before. Tongs in one hand, he cocked his hip against the counter so that he could both watch the bacon and look at Spencer at the same time. Not even the bruises, which stood out in bright color on his skin today, could detract from his appearance. "So, I owe y' a hell of a thanks f' savin' m' ass last night. Y' scared de hell outta dem connards." Shifting, he extended one arm, holding his empty hand out towards Spencer, and his smile turned charming. "M' name's Remy. Remy LeBeau. An anyt'ing I can do to say thanks, y' jus' name it."

Spencer's brain stalled for a second and he ended ups standing there and staring like some idiot. It took just a beat too long for his brain to kick into gear enough to remind him that he should reach out and shake the guy's hand in return. "Oh! I'm, ah, I'm Spencer. Reid. Spencer Reid." Flushing, he adjusted his mug, moving it to one hand so he could reach out and quickly shake Remy's hand. The minute their hands touched, a jolt ran up Spencer's arm and sparks of blues and pinks and purples danced over their joined hands.

The two jerked their hands back and Spencer stared down in surprise at his palm, which was still tingling, and then up to Remy who was watching him with an expression just as surprised as Spencer's. "Dat wasn't mine." Remy said slowly, pulling his hand back. He cocked an eyebrow at Spencer and his surprise seemed to melt away to amusement. "Judgin' by de sparks in y'r eyes dat y'r bangs was hidin' b'fore, I'm guessing dose sparks was y'rs?"

"They've never done that before." Not once had his energy ever responded like that to anyone. Worry hit and Spencer clenched both hands around his mug as his eyes shot to Remy's face. "It didn't hurt you, did it?"

Remy shook his head quickly. "Non, cher, don't worry. Jus' a tingle, dat's all. Didn't hurt a bit."

"I don't know what happened. I've never had my energy react that way."

"Maybe it was reacting to m' charge." Holding up the hand with the tongs, Remy held it there for a minute until the tongs started to glow a faint pink color. "I can charge anyt'ing dat aint alive an turn it into a bomb." He smirked at the way Spencer's eyes darted over to the tongs. Slowly, the pink glow faded. "Don't worry, cher. Aint gonna blow up y'r kitchen, me. Mais, maybe our charges just liked one another, oui?"

"It's a possibility." One he would have to think on later, when he felt more awake and alert.

Amused, Remy nodded. Then he switched the topic entirely. His smile grew into a smirk and turned just a bit devious. "Y' got any idea where a po' soul might find his clothes?"

Spencer couldn't help the immediate blush that stained his cheeks. "I, ah, I put them in the wash last night. They were pretty marked up."

Amused eyes drifted down to the sweats that Remy was wearing and then back up to Spencer. "An y' even dressed me in sweats afterwards. Aint y' just sweet."

"I thought you might be more comfortable." Spencer said. He was blushing even hotter now and the way the Cajun was smirking at him wasn't helping in the least. As always, when Spencer got nervous, he began to babble, the words just pouring out of him. "I was just trying to check you for any further injuries and treat what I found, that's all, I promise. I thought that while you rested and healed I could see about getting your clothes as clean as possible. They should be done by now and you can have them back, really."

Remy winked at him. "Aint in no hurry, me." He turned his attention back to the bacon on the stove, which smelled just about perfect, and gestured with his free hand towards the table. "Why don't y' go on an sit down, cher? Let me get y' some breakfast."

"You don't have to."

"It's de least I can do." Remy said, tossing him a smile.

The bacon was quickly served and eggs were brought out from where they'd been being kept warm under a paper towel in the microwave. Soon enough, the two men were sitting across from one another at Spencer's table, and it was oddly comfortable for him. The food was delicious and Remy was easy company. He didn't have a problem talking, even about yesterday's events. When Spencer shyly asked him "Do you mind me asking what happened yesterday?" there was no real hesitation or discomfort on Remy's part when he answered. "F' once, it wasn't cause of anyt'ing I actually did." He said, serving some eggs onto his plate. "Jus' a group of mutant haters dat saw me talking wit' another mutant. I got de teen outta dere an would've held m' own, mais one of de connards got in a lucky shot to m' head and knocked me down. De rest, as dey say, was history."

"At least the damage wasn't too bad." Spencer reassured him.

"Oh, oui, not dat bad." One of Remy's hands brushed across his chest, long fingers sliding down and to the cut on his stomach, and Spencer did not shiver or picture what it might feel like to have those fingers trailing over his own skin that way, or how it would feel to trail his fingers against that muscular chest. He tried not to shiver and deliberately turned his eyes down towards his mug. He took another drink and then looked around, trying to look anywhere but at the man sitting at his table. His eyes just happened to pass over the clock and he almost didn't notice what it said. Then his eyes jerked back to it and went wide with shock and dismay. Was that really the time? "Oh, crap, crap!" Spencer shoved back from the table and quickly shoved up to his feet, almost tripping as his legs tangled in his chair.

Remy tensed and later on Spencer would think about how battle ready the Cajun had been. He'd gone from relaxed to alert and ready to fight in the blink of an eye. "What is it?"

"I'm late!" Spencer moaned. "I can't believe my alarm didn't go off earlier! I'm late!" He took off down the hall, completely ignoring the husky laughter behind him, and he hurriedly gathered up everything he needed in his room. He had fifteen minutes to get to class and the drive would take almost that long. As quick as he could, he shoved his books and notebooks into his backpack.

Five minutes later he emerged from his bedroom in a fresh change of clothes and with his contacts in, yanking his messenger bag up and over his head and settling it onto his shoulder. To his surprise, he found Remy standing there leaning against the wall that separated the living area from the dining room and kitchen, Spencer to-go coffee cup in his hand. He held it out Spencer's direction. "Here, cher. Figured y' might need dis."

"You're wonderful." Spencer swore. He grabbed the cup and took a quick drink, his brain much more alert now than it'd been before. A look around and he made a quick decision. "Feel free to help yourself to my shower while I'm gone, or anything else you might need. You're more than welcome to stay and rest and give your body a chance to heal if you wish. If you have to leave, your clothes are in the dryer in the hall closet." There was more he wanted to say, that he wanted to do. He really wanted to stay here and get to know this handsome, charming stranger who smiled so warmly at him and made his toes curl with just a look, but he was running late and with the scholarships he was on, Spencer couldn't afford to mess up anything.

"Y'd just trust a stranger in y'r place?" Remy asked, arching an eyebrow. "Aint y' afraid of having y'r stuff stolen?"

Spencer shrugged one shoulder. "I don't really have much here anyways, and if you feel the need to steal it, you obviously need it more than I do."

The way that Remy was looking at him had Spencer shifting a little. The man looked like he was slightly amazed by Spencer's words. "Y'r not like most people, cher."

"Thank you."

He really wished he could keep talking, but he had to go, and he had to go now if he wanted to have any hopes of making it close to the time he needed to be there. "I'm sorry, I've really got to go."

Remy walked over to the door with him, snagging keys off the wall hanger and handing them to Spencer right at the door. It was a strangely domestic scene and it threw Spencer off with how nice it all seemed. That left him feeling a bit awkward as he grabbed his sweater. When he turned around from the coat rack, he found Remy standing with the door open, that smile still on his lips. "Merci f' all y'r help, Spencer." He reached out when Spencer got close and stunned the genius completely by reaching out and cupping his face and pulling him in for a quick kiss, just a press of lips and a swipe of his tongue over the seam of Spencer's lips, and then Remy was pulling back and grinning, his hand slipping down to Spencer's shoulder to propel him out of his own home. "Drive safe!"

The door shut behind him with a snap and Spencer stood frozen, bemused. What the hell had just happened here? His lips still tingled and he unconsciously licked at them.

He didn't even notice his smile as he set off down towards his car.

This is going to be a three part thing, as of right now, so don't be expecting a great long story lol