TITLE: Foxtrot Whiskey Bravo

AUTHOR: Kuria Dalmatia

PAIRING: Reid/Elle

RATING: FRM/R

See Chapter 1 disclaimers, author's notes, etc.

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It's not Reid who is flustered around Elle. It's Elle who is flustered around Reid. In a room full of profilers, it is as close to Hell as one can get because they're all trying to figure out just what happened.

It annoys the crap out of her, because it isn't the first time she's gotten drunk and propositioned a male colleague. It is the first time she's been turned down, which is in one way insulting but in another, something Reid would totally do. She remembers his firm lips on hers, dexterous tongue in her mouth, and the delicious weight of his erection against her palm.

Reid turned her down because it was the right thing to do, not what he probably wanted to do. At least, that's what Elle repeats to herself so the sting of rejection isn't so sharp. Elle knows how to act around a colleague she has "Friends with Benefits" status. She has no clue how to act around Reid.

Morgan is the first to approach, cornering her in the kitchen and asking if her hangover is as bad as his. Oddly, it isn't. After she says as much, he quickly follows up with, "So what's up with you and Reid?"

She shoves the carafe back on the burner just a little too hard, which is all the answer Morgan really needs. His grin grows wide, he sidles up to her, his tone is deviously friendly. As much as Morgan may give Reid all kinds of shit about things, Morgan plays the role of Big Brother well. "What did you do last night?"

Elle delivers her best glare, which makes him scoot back a few inches. "He took me home. Just like he took you home."

"And?"

"And nothing, Morgan," she snaps.

"Oh, there's something there, girl," he waggles his finger at her. "And I'm gonna find out what." He takes a step back and there's an oddly pitched squeak. They both turn and find Reid standing there, holding a paper cup half full of coffee in one hand and a lid in the other. Morgan's smile grows even more friendly as he slides an arm around Reid's shoulder. "Pret-ty Boy." His greeting is warm, jovial. "What happened last night? Elle's blushing like a schoolgirl around you."

Reid's eyes bug out in cartoonish fashion. Elle's brain fills in the "ooga ooga" sound from her days of watching Looney Tunes reruns. Before she can snarl at Morgan to back off, Reid opens his mouth. "I took her home, like I took you, Garcia and JJ home. I went inside with Elle, just like I did for everyone else."

Elle begins to let out a sigh of relief because of the way Reid phrased it, but he continues.

"The only thing I did different was I took her to bed…" he trails off as Morgan's eyebrows rise sharply in disbelief. Reid then turns bright red, as if realizing the connotations of what he just said, but instead of shutting up like a normal guy who just implied he had sex with his coworker, Reid desperately tries to explain. "I mean, I took her to her bedroom and put her in bed, but we didn't…I didn't…I mean…It's not like we…ah…there was no coitus involved."

Elle smacks her palm to her forehead, because as well as she knows Reid, she knows that this isn't one of his little verbal sleight-of-hand tricks. It's too earnest, too honest to be something like that.

"Coitus?" There's no mistaking the admonishment in Gideon's tone.

Elle looks over Reid's shoulder to find both Gideon and Hotch there. "Oh God," she mutters to herself because just fucking great, Dad and Mom know. Reid whirls around and his coffee cup drops promptly from his hand. It hits the floor and the tan liquid douses Hotch's perfectly polished black shoes and his primly pressed dress trousers. Reid makes a horrified sound as he immediately grabs a huge stack of napkins and drops to his knees, apologizing profusely to Hotch as he mops up the coffee.

Gideon is staring at Morgan and Elle, and both of them drop their chins to their chests, guilty. It's annoying as hell that he has that particular power over both of them.

"Reid," Hotch says using his full command tone; the younger agent instantly freezes, his mouth snapping shut. He's the only one who has that effect on Reid. The only one. While Gideon holds the title of unit chief, Elle figured out within her first week on the team that Hotch really runs the show. Hotch's voice softens as he tacks on, "It's fine."

Reid stutters out "Sorry" a few more times before Hotch reaches down and tugs on Reid's shoulder for him to stand. Reid complies, hands full of dripping napkins and a coffee cup. Hotch motions for him to dump it in the trash and he does. With a nod, Hotch dismisses Reid and the younger agent scurries out of the kitchen, presumably to the restroom to wash his hands.

Hotch fixes Elle and Morgan with a stare and Elle feels like she's in the principal's office back in high school. Hotch's voice is low, firm. "I don't want to know what happened." He pauses. "Don't let it happen again."

"Yes, sir," Elle says in unison with Morgan.

Two days later, they're on the jet to New York City to hunt down a vigilante and teasing Reid about never having been to the Big Apple before. Elle remembers the conversation she had with Reid over that first coffee and smiles to herself. They're going because of an UnSub, not because of her funeral, which is a really dark and dismal thought, but it's a weird little victory she savors.

When JJ offers to take Reid around, Elle almost scoffs. JJ may be an amazing media liaison, but Barney's and Il Cantinori? So…boring. She promises herself that if they have a few hours, she'll make sure Reid sees the places he'll enjoy going to. She says something about spending a few days at home because that's what's expected, but Home for her is her father's old precinct and the family of her best friend. Not her mother's home. Never her mother's home.

The case ends with Hotch shooting the UnSub. It's a justified shot but she can tell Reid is unsettled, as if Hotch's star is now a little less bright. It doesn't make sense; just four months ago, Reid killed Dowd. So why the change? Reid wasn't in the room when Hotch took the shot either, so there shouldn't be any horror over that. She's curious but won't ask him outright.

She's not surprised when he turns up on her doorstep at nearly midnight the evening they get home. "I couldn't sleep," he tells her and there's something in his eyes that makes her pull him inside and hug him fiercely.

He's slow to reciprocate but when he finally does, his grip is tight. She almost can't breathe. His confession is a whispered, "I close my eyes and I see him."

Him. Phillip Dowd. Elle strokes his back. She doesn't say anything because, really, what is there to say? I know the feeling. Sometimes, I see Uncle Ronaldo standing over me with his pants unzipped and asking me if I'd like to suck his lollipop.

Reid's voice is quiet, hoarse. "Did you know about Iowa?"

She lets him go but he seems reluctant to release her. When he finally does, she waits until Reid meets her gaze. "What about Iowa?"

"Hotch."

Whoa.

It's not the type of conversation one has by the front door. Elle tugs on his sleeve and leads him over to the couch. He sits and she settles next to him, hand on his forearm, trying to reassure him with her touch. She keeps her voice low, soft. "What about Iowa and Hotch?"

So Reid explains the sparse details of the case and then wonders aloud if Hotch took the opportunity to mete out justice with Marvin Doyle because, "A jury wouldn't convict him."

It's a chilling story. Elle tucks her feet under her as she mulls it over. No wonder Hotch lost a little shine today. She looks at Reid's profile, the downturn of his lips. The sadness in his eyes. "I haven't been on the team that long," she tells him, "but Hotch is too…well, Hotch to do that." She knows that it's probably not what he wants to hear, or maybe it is. She can't really explain why she believes that about Hotch either. Elle searches for words yet comes up blank, so she says, "As far as the jury? You don't know that, Reid."

"You said yourself how many rapists walked during your sex crimes days," he fires back.

"Rapists and killers are two different animals," Elle replies. "Yes, the jury would have been sympathetic. Yes, the sentencing would have been lighter, but Doyle wasn't going to get off easily. His murders were brutal." She squeezes his arm harder. "For Hotch to cross that line? It would have to be very, very personal."

She watches as Reid chews his lip and then his shoulders slump. "I guess."

Elle's tempted to say, I know, implying that the only way Aaron Hotchner will willingly go that far is if some scumbag threatened the man's family. It may even take outright murder. Instead, she sets her head on his shoulder and they sit quietly.

She's not sure how long they stay like that, but then Reid breaks the silence. "Is it…ah…okay, if I…ah…" He gestures a little and then his hand falls back to his lap. "May I stay?"

"Of course."

"I swear I won't tell anyone," he promises. "That last time? When we were all out together? I didn't mean…"

"I'm the one who jumped your bones," she interrupts. "And I never apologized for it. I'm sorry. You should bring me up on charges of sexual harassment."

Reid glances over, eyebrow raised. "I didn't mind."

Elle pulls back and looks him. He's now staring at the bookcase and there's a definite blush on his cheeks. "Your drunk coworker gropes your ass and you don't mind," she says.

Reid's lips tip up into a smile. "My drunk, sexy coworker gropes my cock," he corrects and she gapes at his use of the word. He continues, "She tells me she wants to have sex with me, and tries to get me into her bed. A beautiful coworker whom guys like me will never have a shot with." He pauses. "I didn't mind."

She narrows her eyes and then tests her theory: "Didn't, don't or wouldn't?"

His smile grows wider. He turns to face her. "Are you drunk?"

"No."

"Then I don't mind."

And really, that's all it takes.

Elle crawls onto Reid's lap and begins kissing him. Maybe it's because she wants confirmation that he really is talented and that her imagination isn't romanticizing the encounter. Maybe it's because he rejected her the first time and she wants to show him the mistake he made. Maybe it's because she knows there is a hell of a lot more to Reid than people expect and she wants to dive in to what makes the man tick. Maybe because sex is one of those things that make the bad stuff go away for awhile.

When he slides his hands around her body, one tangling in her hair and the other cupping her ass, Elle knows that Reid's no stranger to sex. She rolls her hips and he moans into her mouth. Their movements aren't frantic; they're not desperately fucking away the demons like Elle has done so many times before. It's exploratory. It's respectful.

It feels good.

One hand ghosts up her side while the other moves down her throat and to the buttons of her blouse. She manages to get out a 'yes' because Reid can do amazing things with his tongue and she's wet just thinking about what he could do with her clit. She grinds against him harder and he responds by bucking up and then squeezing her breast.

A flash of lights through the picture window reminds Elle that anyone on the street can see them going at it on her couch. Her neighbors are gossipy, so she gets to her feet and tugs him to his. "Bedroom." It comes out as an order but she doesn't care. She saunters toward it, knowing Reid will follow. She turns once she's beside her bed. Her hands are at her sides. Reid stands in the doorway, erection straining against his khakis. It takes two tries for her to say, "Undress me."

He does, and like they were on the couch, it's slow and sensual, his lips following his fingers. By the time he has her bra off, her nipples are rock hard and her breath is in short bursts. When he pulls her sweats down, she's yanking at his sweater vest and demanding he take it off. She wants to do the same slow tease for him, but her impatience wins. Reid kneels as he takes his sweater and shirt off. He's not scrawny, but lean like a swimmer. He kisses the tops of her thighs and when he places his lips on the crotch of her panties, she cries out and threads her fingers into his hair.

She's not quite sure how he does it, getting her on her back in her bed with the covers pulled down. Her panties are around one ankle and somehow, he's now naked except for his socks. He's tasting her and teasing her. She demands he go faster but he refuses. He gets her close to orgasm and then stops.

Elle nearly screams.

He shimmies up, his hard cock pressing against her side, and he asks, "I'd like to…"

She wraps her fingers around his dick and begins stoking, effectively cutting off his words. He bucks into her hand, his forehead pressed to her shoulder. He chants her name softly. Elle stares at his face, his expression so different from what she's accustomed to seeing. "Do you want to fuck me?"

"Yes, yes," he says.

Elle reaches for her nightstand drawer and it takes several tries for her to yank it open and fish out a condom. She hands it to him and spreads her legs.

"It's better if you're on your knees," Reid whispers. "Please."

Surely it's the way he asks that has her rolling over and on to her haunches. He slips behind her and lifts her carefully. It takes a few tries for him to line up his cock; she's not sure who is shaking more. When Reid finally gets the angle right, Elle sinks back and damn, it's been far too long since she's had sex. He's patient. He remains still as she adjusts to him and when she finally says, "Okay," he kisses her shoulder and begins to thrust slowly in to her.

It's then that one of his hands cups her left breast and his right hand glides along the top of her thigh and then over her clit. He swipes his fingertips over her a few times, eliciting a shiver. She's not expecting him to say, "Show me what feels good."

None of her previous lovers has ever asked and she wonders how many women Reid has done this for. It makes her arch her back, place her hand over his, and move his fingers so that they're rubbing just right as he's fucking her. After a few moments, he's shaking her hand away and takes over.

Elle has never thought of Spencer Reid as a dominant for anything.

She now knows that, when in bed, he's the one in charge. She decides she wouldn't want it any other way.

He swiftly works her back to edge of an orgasm, but this time, instead of stopping, he pushes her over the edge. Elle doesn't scream, but she wants to. It's like her entire body is on fire when it hits. She trembles and gasps and shudders. She begs, "Harder, harder" because she wants him to come while she's still tingling.

Reid shifts a little, then cups both her breasts with his hands. He presses his face next to hers, his breathing erratic as he chants her name. His pace quickens. She knows he's close so she encourages him. She tells him how good he is. How amazing it is. How it's the best ever because every other man she's been with thrives on praise in bed. Reid surprises her by pressing his fingers briefly to her lips before moving so they're rubbing her clit again. Another jolt zips through her system and he reduces her to babbling his name as he effortlessly works her to a second orgasm.

This time when it hits, she wails and then he drives even harder in to her. Finally his whole body goes still briefly, his grip tightens on her breast and it's like she can feel every one of his muscles hurtling through the climax. He pumps his hips a few more times before he stops. Reid nuzzles her neck, murmuring 'thank you' so earnestly that it nearly brings tears to her eyes.

They stay like that, her on his lap, her back pressed to his front, as they catch their breaths. She feels his dick softening inside her and it's a really strange feeling when it just slides out. Wordlessly, they clean themselves up and then tangle together in the bed.

To say she's completely blown away by his skill is an understatement. It's yet another facet to him, another secret he's shared with her. And to think, "I said I was going to make a man out of you," she murmurs, embarrassed that she said such a thing to him. "You've made a woman out of me."

She's expecting a lecture on genetics and chromosomes, but instead Reid laughs a little and pulls her closer. "I read a lot."

"You? Read porn?"

"Erotica," he corrects primly. "And I am also well-versed in human anatomy."

Elle chuckles at the distinction and goes on, "So I'm one big experiment."

"No." Reid's hands drift down, one settling on her hip. "You're my friend."

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