Who can catch the Andrea Gibson reference? I couldn't resist it :)
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"Derek?"
Derek's head snapped up and toward him. Spencer watched surprise wash across his face. "Spencer?"
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The blonde lady at the desk beside him looked between them. "You guys know each other?"
She asked this at the exact moment Derek asks, "What are you doing here, kid?" He stood and stepped forward.
Spencer grinned and, without considering it, hugged Derek fiercely. "It's been a long time," Derek said after a moment, pulling back to look at Spencer. "You grew up."
Spencer shrugged. "So did you."
Something seemed to click for Derek at that second. "Wait, wait. You're the new kid that Gideon's all happy about?"
"I… suppose I am?"
"Does someone want to enlighten the rest of us?" the lady at the desk said.
Derek grinned. "When he was, what, five?" Spencer nodded. "Five, this kid showed up on my doorstep in the middle of the night. Lost in the middle of the South Side of Chicago, no idea how he got there. Stayed three days, then vanished. Few months later, there he was again. Kid showed up at our place maybe 10 times in the span of three years, then I never saw him again." Derek turned to Spencer. "What ever happened with that?
"My parents got better at keeping track of me?"
Laughing, Derek clapped him on the shoulder. As he did, Spencer watched the blonde's eyes travel from that hand to Spencer's. Spencer gave her one short head shake. She nodded, and that was that.
Spencer loved working with profilers already.
"Did you live in Chicago as well, then?" a dark haired man asked.
Spencer grinned a bit. "Nope. I lived in Vegas."
Watching Derek's jaw drop was really quite satisfying.
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It turned out that of the team — which consisted of Gideon, their Unit Chief, JJ Jareau, the media liaison who had been first to speak that morning, Aaron Hotchner, the other man he'd met, Derek Morgan, and now Spencer — all had thread-sight, except for Derek.
It also turned out that Gideon had talked about him. Endlessly.
Spencer got to train by immersion, because three minutes after he walked into the bullpen, Gideon came out of his office and called out, "Briefing room. Now."
An hour into his first shift and he'd already left the state. Reid could tell this was going to be an interesting position. They wound up in Kansas (and what are the chances of seeing anything but corn in Kansas?) chasing after a serial killer with no perceptible type and a rapidly mounting body count.
It was… hard. Harder than he thought it would be, somehow. Maybe because seeing the body count climb meant they weren't doing their jobs well enough.
Three days later, back in Quantico, as they disembarked the plane, Derek clapped a hand on his shoulder and said, "Let me get you a drink, kid. Talk about things that are not this job."
Spencer looked up and saw Gideon looking at him with concern. Gideon nodded slowly, giving Spencer the impression that if Derek hadn't asked, Gideon was going to ask him to do something as well. He shifted his gaze back to Derek and smiled faintly.
"That sounds like a good plan at this point."
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While Morgan drank a beer and Reid sipped at whatever Morgan had put in front of him — after asking if he was even 21, which was only mildly exasperating at this point — Morgan told him about Northwestern, about studying law and trying to play football, at first. After graduation, he'd worked in Chicago PD on the West Side for a few years before joining the FBI Academy — at which he'd done far better than Spencer in just about everything that didn't involve books.
He didn't talk about anything that happened before Spencer started showing up at his door, didn't talk about whatever had made his thread go dark, didn't talk about the threads at all.
He talked about Desi, Sarah, his Mama. He didn't ask Spencer about his family. He looked like he wanted to, but Derek was smart and he was a profiler. He figured if a five year-old had made it all the way across the country and stayed a while, there were probably some sensitive areas there. So he didn't prod.
That, more than anything else could've, made Spencer smile at him.
He looked like he wanted to ask how and why a five year old made it from Vegas to Chicago… but he didn't. He asked Spencer about school, about the FBI academy and safe things.
And after that he drove Spencer home, joking easily the whole way, teasing Spencer gently about his lack of car.
Spencer couldn't really help the way he smiled when he said goodnight.
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JJ was the first one to corner him alone. Her ponytail bounced behind her as she strode into the break room where Spencer was pouring sugar into his coffee. Her smile was broad and genuine.
"How are you, Spence?" she asked easily. Spencer could't help the small startle. He'd never really been given a nickname before.
"I'm, um, I'm good, JJ, thanks. You?" He glanced down at her hand out of habit. Her thread was pulsing slowly — she hadn't met her threadmate yet.
"I'm good," she said as she filled her own cup off coffee, adding only a single pack of creamer. She laughed as Spencer continued to pour sugar into his own cup.
"You're thread-sensitve, aren't you?" she asked suddenly. "Gideon said something about it in passing. I've heard of it, but… I mean, how much can you tell? You glanced at my hand when you asked how I was; can you tell that just from my thread?"
Spencer shrugged. "Not really. I mean… all I can tell from most people's threads is the nature of their relationship with their threaded. Which, in a lot of cases, can sort of tell me how they're feeling? I don't really know how to explain it because there aren't really scientific or mathematical explanations — I can just tell, you know? I can tell you haven't met your threaded yet and I can tell Agent Hotchner is blissfully happy with his even though he doesn't show it and I…" He stopped.
Though JJ may have been a media liaison, she had worked with profilers, and she was sharp. "You said that that was all you could tell by most threads — what's the exception?"
Spencer flushed, looking down. "I… That is, I can tell a lot more from my own."
He looked up at her, but she was still smiling at him gently.
"Like what?"
He shrugged. "Like… everything. Like I can tell when he gets hurt or sad or when he feels proud or victorious or… whatever. I can tell. I can feel it."
"You love him, don't you?"
"I don't. Yet. I don't know him well enough. But I could. So easily." He couldn't help the small flush that spread across his cheeks as he ducked his head.
"That's not the best idea."
"I know."
"I don't know if you do, completely. Morgan likes women and one-night-stands. He is not going to be an easy person to love."
"I know that. I never asked for it to be easy. But it'll be worth it."
She shook her head, dropping the topic. "Is it weird to know that other people don't see what you see?"
"It's… It's weird to know that he doesn't. That he doesn't see anything at all, that he doesn't even know. I… I feel a bit guilty about that, sometimes."
"Wait, you haven't even told him?"
"I… um. No?"
"Spencer! Why not? I figured you just didn't want me to because you wanted to!"
"I do. I will. Eventually."
"Eventually?"
"Look, I… You know I met him when he was a kid? Well, him mom told me not to mention it. Said Derek doesn't trust the threads, for reasons I don't know. Just… She told me to be his friend, first. That's what I'm doing."
JJ looked at him and shook her head. "All right, Spence. Just… be careful."
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Next, Gideon called him into his office. This was, perhaps, more intimidating than it was intended to be.
When Spencer entered the office, Gideon was doing paperwork. He nodded to the chair across from his desk without looking up. Apprehensive, Spencer sat.
After a moment and a half, Gideon looked up, putting his pen down.
"Dr. Reid."
"Sir."
Gideon tilted his head slightly.
"You and Derek…"
He paused, and Spencer couldn't help but apprehensively fill the silence. "I'm sorry. I honestly didn't know he worked in this department and—"
Gideon interrupted him. "I realize that. It doesn't matter. I just wanted to tell you not to let it get in the way of your job."
Spencer shook his head furiously. "Of course not, sir."
Gideon looked at him, staring intensely. "That means no stupid heroics if he's in danger, either."
Spencer blinked. He was slightly embarrassed to admit that the thought honestly hadn't crossed his mind.
What would he do if he knew Derek was in danger?
That question did not have the answer Gideon wanted it to have.
"I… sir." Spencer wasn't sure what he was trying to say. But Gideon is a profiler for a reason.
"Try to keep it to a minimum, at least," he acquiesced.
That, Spencer can agree to. "I will."
Gideon nodded sharply, which Spencer took to mean he is dismissed.
As he opened the door, he heard Gideon sigh behind him.
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Garcia made an entrance. As Reid would soon learn, she had a tendency to always make an entrance. It was just a part of her.
In this case, she waltzed into the bullpen, looked at Reid and Derek, and squealed. "Awww, you guys are threaded and you work together! That is so adorable!"
Hotch gave the dark haired girl a sharp look. Spencer couldn't help the look of panic that crossed his face. Derek looked confused, until he looked at Spencer and his eyes went wide, then narrow. After a moment, he stood up and stalked out of the room.
Spencer closed his eyes and took a deep breath in. Garcia looked crestfallen. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to ruin anything!"
Spencer was not in the mood to deal with one more person in his bullpen, one more person in his life, one more obstacle to navigate and try not to offend on a regular basis. He just shook his head and shot a pleading look at Hotch and Gideon.
Hotch looked a bit upset, but still, both men nodded. Reid nodded gratefully in return and leapt up, chasing after Derek.
Judging by the direction Derek had gone, Reid guessed where he would be in one attempt. There was a small balcony on their floor, just enough for two people, facing over the rolling hills of Virginia. Derek loved to be outside — when he couldn't be tearing things apart or building them, his third choice was always fresh air.
Derek heard Spencer's footsteps behind him, but he didn't turn around.
"It's true," he said flatly. It wasn't a question, but still, Spencer answered.
"Yes,' he murmured softly.
Derek still didn't turn. "It makes sense, really. You didn't end up Chicago on accident. Not then."
Spencer shook his head before remembering that Derek couldn't see him. "No. I didn't. I… your thread went dark. Darker than I'd ever seen it, darker than I'd seen anyone's. And I tried to tell my parents but they wouldn't listen. So I ran away for a while, because I wanted to help. However I could."
"How much?" Derek asked. The question was quiet, almost lost in the Virginia wind.
"How much what?"
"How much of this is because of some damn thread on my finger? I know… I know the beginning was. But, God, Spencer… Is this what all of this is about? Are you here, doing this job, because you're chasing some legend?"
"No."
Derek finally turned around, leaned against the balcony railing, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
"How much?"
"I… don't know, exactly. The beginning. I sought you out when your thread went dark, you know that. I knew you were hurting. But… Derek, I was five. I wasn't expecting a fairytale. I stayed for you, partly because you were my threaded and partly because you were a twelve year old boy who let a five year old trail you at school. You were a twelve year old boy who taught a five year old how to play basketball. I found you because of a thread, but I stayed for you."
"And this? This job."
Spencer closed his eyes. "I followed you at first, in the papers. I knew more about Northwestern football than anyone would believe. But when you dropped out of the papers because of your injury… I didn't go looking. I knew you were happy, Derek. You were happy and purposeful and so was I and we didn't need to change that.
"I didn't know you were FBI. I wasn't even sure I wanted to be. I just knew I needed something more than a fourth, fifth PhD. I'd grown bored. I'm here because of Gideon, I'm here because I want to help people. I'm not here because of you."
Derek exhales and it sounds like relief. "Good." He pauses, and then, "Why… Why didn't you tell me? Not then, I get why you didn't tell me then. I was a kid, you were too. I wouldn't have taken it well. But… why didn't you tell me now, Spencer?" He looks at Spencer and his face is open and wounded and it tears Spencer in half.
"I'm sorry," he says first. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I did mean to, eventually, but it just… When I was a kid, your mom told me you hated the threads. Hated everything they stood for. So I didn't… I didn't want you to hate me, Derek." Spencer knew he was wearing his heart on his face, but he didn't care. Not right now. This was more important than pride, more important than anything.
Derek sighs. "I did hate them. I… do. My father was killed because a man robbed a bank for the woman on the other end of his thread — a woman he didn't even love. He just thought he was supposed to. People use the threads to justify the things they do, as though they're no stronger than a stupid little string on their finger."
"People are wrong. Look, I know people think the threads are supposed to mean your perfect significant other or whatever, but they're not quite right. If you really look at all the legends behind them — the threads show you the other half of your soul. That doesn't have to mean… It doesn't have to mean anything, really. It just means you will fit."
"Spencer-"
"Please, Derek, let me finish or I'll never get this all out."
Derek nods.
"The threads don't mean you'll be perfect — we know that, with our jobs. How many times have we had to arrest a thread-mate? Too many. But they mean that the potential is there. Which, really, is where most people go wrong, because they expect the threads to mean that everything is going to be perfect and–" Morgan coughs and Reid flushes, ducking his head. "I'm getting off topic. Anyway… Look, I guess what I'm trying to say is I don't want anything from you, Derek. I just… want you, here, in my life, not hating me. I was happy without you knowing because I don't need anything more than right now."
After a moment, Derek asked, "Are you done?"
Reid nodded.
"Look, kid. The fact is, I don't think life works like the fairytales, where thread-mates meet each other and live happily ever after. I think life is a place where thread-mates love each other and kill each other and some little red thread shouldn't be justification for either of those things."
Reid can't help the smile spreading across his face. "I get it, Derek. I do. Trust me, I know best of all that threads don't mean a happily ever after."
Derek takes a step forward, crossing the threshold that Spencer never did. "But if it takes a pretty red thread on my finger for someone to tell us that we're being idiots and dancing around each other, then… well, then that's what it takes."
Spencer gapes at him, not entirely sure he's understanding correctly.
Derek quickly answers that question by stepping forward once more, curling a hand around Spencer's neck. The angle is wrong, Spencer too frozen to lean down at all, Derek forced to push up a bit, but then Derek's lips are touching his and it's weird and Spencer's brain won't shut up, analyzing Derek's words and the places where he needs chapstick and the exact number of minutes it's been since he's brushed his teeth until Derek pulls back just a bit, says, "Shut up. You're thinking too loudly," and presses their lips together again.
And Spencer's brain goes mercifully, miraculously silent.