Title: FWB
Author: nebula99
Fandom: Shadow Unit/Criminal Minds crossover
Rating: FRM (language mainly)
Type: Slash (although Brady and Gray are a canon couple)
Pairing: Brady/Reid, Brady/Gray
Summary: It's not exactly a booty call.
Author's note: All of these characters belong to other people and were not harmed in the writing of this fanfic. Beta read by the ever supportive slash_girl, all remaining mistakes are mine. Spoilers for Season 2 of Shadow Unit and Season 4 of Criminal Minds.

***

Daniel Brady's phone buzzes and he grabs for it, assuming that it's Gray. He'll be running late, and this time Brady will get to say that it doesn't matter. Then he'll take a longer, more luxurious shower and enjoy not having to rush.


Brady flips open his phone and frowns. He hasn't seen this caller ID for a while. He licks his lips and brings the phone to his ear. "Hey Spencer," he says.


"Hi," says the voice on the other end. It sounds raspy, tired. "I just got back from Vegas."


Brady frowns, confused. "I thought that case got wrapped up a couple of days ago? You guys were looking into abductions of five year olds, right?" He pulls off his tie and undoes the top two buttons on his shirt.


"It was," replies Reid, "I stayed on for a couple of days." He pauses. "It was, um, family stuff. A case involving my dad."


Brady lets out a breath. Oh. No wonder the other teams hadn't gotten any information on that one. He responds to the tension in Reid's voice and replies without thinking. "Bad day?"

"Pretty bad," Reid replies, and Brady can hear the catch in his voice. They haven't spoken for weeks - haven't needed to - but he knows what Reid is asking for.


It's a code. Not one that either of them deliberately came up with, but one that evolved to fit the situation. Bad day? followed by Pretty bad to be followed by an evening of bruise-inducing, sweaty, expletive-ridden sex. Fucking their way to some form of catharsis.


Brady runs a hand through his hair. He can't follow on with the next line because he's got plans. He curses his automatic response earlier and clenches a fist as he tries to think of a way to let Reid down gently.


There is silence for a moment and Brady can hear Reid's harsh breathing at the other end of the line. His phone bleeps loudly, telling him he has a message, but he doesn't look at the screen. He knows that Reid is on the edge, needing a night of bare skin on bare skin, bodies sliding and colliding against each other, glistening with sweat, and spit, and come.


But Brady can't give him that now and his lack of response has rejected Reid already.


"Are you working?" Reid sounds surprised, as well he might. Brady would have told him straight away if he was.


"No, I'm not," Brady says and he can't bring himself to say it out loud. Not to Reid; not to Spencer. Not to the skinny kid who arrived on his doorstep in early June, after Texas, and who didn't even ask how bad his day had been. He already knew and that's why he locked the door behind him and propelled Brady into the bedroom, kissing him so hard he left bruises. They had fucked all night and then Reid had lain next to him, holding onto him as Brady stared, unspeaking, at the ceiling.


Brady had done the same for him after Georgia. And after West Bune, and Chula Vista.


"Listen, Spencer," says Brady, trying to cushion the blow with his voice, "I can't. I'm seeing someone."


"Oh," comes the reply, a shocked sound rather than a word. "Oh." Reid is silent then and Brady can almost hear him processing what that means. "Are you guys, um, serious?"


C'mon now, Danny, are you? "I don't know," he says and he honestly doesn't. "We've been seeing each other for a while."


"And you're on a date with him tonight?"


Brady pauses. There's no way of making this sound better. "Yeah."


Reid doesn't ask any more questions and Brady doesn't offer any more information. The silence wells up, pushing out into the room and any minute now it's going to settle, solidify. If he doesn't speak soon, it's going to choke the life out of this connection.


"His name's Gray. He works for the State Department." In his effort to keep the lines of communication open, Brady is starting to babble. "He's a great guy - I think you'd like him. You should come over for dinner some time." Brady squeezes his eyes shut and swallows a groan as he drops down onto the bed. He can't believe he just said that.


He hears Reid swallow on the other end of the line. "That's great," he says and the effort is audible. "Have fun." Brady expects him to hang up, but Reid is still there, still breathing rapidly, his hand moving slowly on the plastic of the phone.


"Spencer - I don't have to go tonight," says Brady - and he means it. Gray would understand. "If you need to talk, we could get a beer, or-"


"It's okay," interrupts Reid, his voice brittle with fake cheer. "Really, I'm fine." He pauses and Brady hears him suck in a breath. "I'll see you around sometime."


Brady nods and refrains from pushing the issue. Reid needs to extricate himself with minimal loss of dignity and while Brady is pretty sure he does need to talk, if nothing else, he's not going to force the issue. Getting dumped as a fuckbuddy, or a friend-with-benefits, for a more permanent fixture has gotta hurt and he cares enough about Reid to give him the space he needs.


"Take care, Spencer," he says and holds his breath as Reid hangs up. Reid wouldn't have called unless he needed to and that bothers him. Brady sits for a moment, struggling to reassure himself that Reid will be fine - he's got good people around him, people who care about him. Brady lets his head drop into his hands - yeah Danny, that's why he calls you to fuck him into oblivion when it all hurts too much.


Brady had needed Reid just as much until he met Gray. He had found release - and comfort - in the surprisingly strong arms of Spencer Reid. But Gray gave him something else, and despite all that the team had dealt with over the past few months, he hadn't experienced that urge to drown the shouting with noisy, abandoned, totally naked sex.


Brady looks at his phone - the message is from Gray. "Running late, I'll meet you at 8." He smiles and then guiltily stops. He wonders for a moment why he never made any move towards this kind of domesticity with Reid - and why Reid never did with him? He guesses that it was just too raw to be translated into the gentle warmth he shares with Gray.


Standing up, Brady strips off his shirt and tosses the phone onto the bed. Reid's a survivor and he'll call him in a few days, just to say "hi." Just to let him know that someone out there is listening.

***