Title: Figured It Out
By: nebula99
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Rating: FRAO/NC-17
Type: Slash
Pairing: Hotch/Reid
Permission to Archive: Yes
Author’s note: spoilers for Amplification. . Sequel to "Broken"
Summary: After the fight.

***

*Figured it Out *

*I know what I said, and it’s over.
I know what I want, and it’s you.
It’s you.
It’s you.*
Teddy Thompson, “Don’t know what I was thinking”


“Trouble in paradise, Aaron?” Rossi turned from the golf bag, putter in his hand.

Hotch frowned at him, his grip tightening on his club. “What do you mean?”

Rossi’s eyebrows lifted. “We’ve played seven holes and I’ve won all of them. You haven’t holed one putt. And you’ve been giving your cell phone that old death glower when you think I’m not looking.” He reached out and touched Hotch’s arm. “Did you and Reid have a fight?”

“How did you-“ started Hotch, before pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. “Never mind.” He swung the putter slowly back and forth over his feet. “Yes,” he said. “We had a fight. A huge one. It’s over, finished.”

Rossi looked serious and stepped sideways into Hotch’s eye line. “The Aaron Hotchner I know doesn’t give up so easy. Do you mean to tell me you guys had one fight and now you’ve broken up? How bad was it?”

Hotch couldn’t look at Rossi. He turned his head away and dropped his voice. “I nearly hit him, Dave.”

“Nearly?”

“Yeah,” replied Hotch. “Nearly.” He paused and sighed heavily. “I got so mad with him – it was scary.”

“What’d he say to you?”

Hotch pressed his lips together tightly and shook his head. “He told me that the job meant more to me than him. I guess he pushed my buttons pretty hard.”

Rossi’s voice was light and gentle. “That’s what happens when two people know each other very well – they know how to aim it just where it hurts.”

“That’s no excuse for me losing my temper like that though,” said Hotch. “You should have seen his face – he was scared of me.” Hotch ran his fingers through his hair. “I really blew it.”

“Are you sure?” asked Rossi. “Have you talked to him?”

Hotch turned to look at Rossi, a faint flicker of amusement on his face. “Are you giving me relationship advice, Dave?”

Rossi chuckled. “I only know about what <i>doesn’t</i> work. But you two seemed very happy together – are you sure there isn’t a way of mending this?”

“I don’t know,” said Hotch sadly. “I guess one of the major downsides of being in a relationship with another man is that neither of you is any good at talking about your feelings.”

Rossi snorted at this. “Go and see him, and then at least you’ll know you tried.”

Hotch considered for a moment and then nodded. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could say anything, his cellphone rang. “JJ?” he said, immediately businesslike.

After a short conversation, he turned to Rossi, his face grim. “We have a case,” said Hotch. “And it’s a bad one.” His voice dropped. “Anthrax.”

***

Hotch felt the nausea rise in his throat as he walked away from Dr. Nichols’ house. Reid was right, of course he was right, but it didn’t make the fact that he was trapped in a room where the air he breathed was poisonous any easier to take.

He walked quickly, purposefully, reaching his car without once looking back. Reid wasn’t panicking, he was being professional enough to stay focused – now all he had to do was the same. They were going to get Reid out of there, along with a cure, and any other outcome to this case was unthinkable.

As Hotch put the key into the ignition, his cell phone buzzed. Pulling it out of his pocket, he saw that there was a message from Reid. Clumsy in his attempt to open it as quickly as possible, Hotch nearly dropped his phone. He muttered as he caught it with one hand and lifted it to up to read the message.

Two words. <i>I’m sorry</i>.

Hotch stared at the bright blue screen. <i>I’m sorry</i>. Sorry for being in danger? Sorry for locking the door? Sorry for messing up (although he hadn’t)? Sorry for the fight?

Hotch ran a finger lightly over the screen, tracing the letters. The glass felt icy under his touch – too cold. He wanted to run his fingers over Reid’s warm skin – trace the contours of his face and store the memory in his hands. Instead there was hard, unforgiving glass between them and Hotch was reminded that he might never touch Reid’s face again.

Never touch him.

The thought made him shudder and Hotch brought his fist to his mouth as he heaved suddenly and tasted vomit. He spent a minute composing himself and then replaced the phone in his pocket and started the engine. There was nothing more he could do here.

***

As soon as Reid heard the words come out of his mouth, he tried to correct himself. Again there was a string of nonsensical syllables. His eyes widened with panic – it was already in his brain. It was sweeping through his body, destroying everything in its wake.

Doctor Kimura was trying her best to hide her concern. He saw the fear flash across her face at the same time as he realised what was happening to him, to be replaced by an approximation of a smile. She was trying her best to remain calm and he was grateful that she didn’t lie. There was no point in telling him he was going to be fine – he wasn’t.

The cough and the struggle to breathe rapidly took over. He stopped thinking about the aphasia and focused only on the battle to get air into his lungs.

His world diminished to just the effort to breathe. He registered movement but paid it no attention. There were voices and other sounds but he didn’t listen to then. He was drowning, suffocating. He needed air.

His hands twisted into claws and he grabbed at the air around him, trying to pull it into his starving lungs. There was a mask over his face and he tried to push it off.

He needed to breathe.

His vision was blurred and the sounds around him were being drowned out by the rushing in his ears. There was something pushing down on his face and he scrabbled at it, desperately trying to remove it. It was suffocating him.

His body thrashed as it struggled for air. Then his vision faded and he lost consciousness.

***

Fortunately Morgan didn’t stay too long when he visited and Reid dozed off again shortly after he left. When he woke up, there was a young blonde nurse standing next to his bed, making notes on his chart.

She beamed at him as he opened his eyes. “Hi Doctor Reid,” she said, “I’m Lindy. I’m just doing your observations. How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” Reid replied, his voice raspy. He coughed and cleared his throat. “Can I see my chart? What drugs have I had?”

“Doctor Kimura noted that you have an opiate allergy, so we have put that on your record.” She smiled at him. “You can get a medic-alert bracelet for that now – it might be a good idea.”

Reid looked confused for a moment and then realised what Doctor Kimura had done, and nodded at the nurse. He took the chart from her and scanned the lists of medication, checking to see what had been done to him.

“I had Propofol? Was I intubated?”

Lindy smiled at him with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “Yes you were.” She leaned over and pointed out the information on the chart. “You were in severe respiratory distress in the ER, so they did a rapid sequence intubation with a sedative and a paralytic. Is your throat giving you any trouble now?”

Reid shook his head immediately. “I’m fine,” he replied. He saw Lindy frown at him and glanced away.

“Patients often are uncomfortable after intubation. I can get you some Tylenol.”

“No. Thank you,” replied Reid. His hands twisted in the bed clothes and he kept his gaze resolutely down.

Lindy paused and then said. “Okay, it’s up to you. I will warn you though – the other patients have been experiencing stomach cramps as a side effect of the antidote and you had a much larger dose, without the antispasmodic. If you need something for the pain, just press the buzzer.”

Reid nodded and then took the cup of water Lindy was holding out for him.

Around five minutes after Lindy left, with unfortunate timing, the stomach cramps started. Reid tried breathing through them at first, but deep breathing just seemed to bring on a coughing fit. He twisted onto his side, moving as much as the tubes would let him and brought his knees up as another wave of pain washed through him.

Reid closed his eyes, trying not to make a sound, riding out the pain as best he could. When it stopped, he opened them again, surprised to see Hotch sitting beside the bed.

They hadn’t spoken since that brief discussion with Reid trapped inside the house and Reid wasn’t sure if Hotch had received the text message he’d sent. He rolled onto his back and managed to sit up a little – at least he could try to look in control of himself.

“How are you feeling?” asked Hotch, looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself. He clasped his hands together and hunched his shoulders in a stark contrast to his usual image of control.

“I’m okay,” replied Reid, his voice cracking. “I’ve felt better, but it’s not bad.”

Hotch nodded. “I brought you some books, and some candy,” he said, gesturing at a bag on the floor. “Reeses cups.”

Reid looked at him, knowing there was so much they could have said to each other, but being unable to say any of it. The overwhelming emotion he felt in connection to Hotch right now was sorrow and this wasn’t the time to talk about that. “Thank you,” he said instead.

Just then, he was ambushed by another cramping pain. He gasped involuntarily and his hands twisted in the bed clothes as he curled up in response to the pain.

“Spencer – what’s wrong?” Hotch’s voice was gentle with concern.

“I’m fine,” hissed Reid, bracing himself against another wave of pain. “Just . . . cramps.” Unable to stop himself, he let out a choked noise. "<i>Hurts</i>."

“I’ll get the nurse,” said Hotch, turning to press the buzzer before Reid could say anything to stop him.

Reid was grimacing and exhaling hard when Lindy came hurrying back in. He concentrated on the sweeping pains as Hotch and Lindy talked over him, unable to do anything but focus on his body.

Then Hotch came into view, crouched by the side of the bed in Reid’s eyeline. “Spencer – Lindy can give you some pain meds.”

Reid shook his head and let out a faint groan. “Don’t  . . . want,” he managed to say.

“Doctor Reid, I can bring you some Toradol,” said Lindy, taking his hand, “It’s an NSAID - quite safe.”

Reid closed his eyes, making a faint whimpering sound and twisting his body as another cramp tore through him. He didn’t want the meds – painkillers could be just as addictive – but he also didn’t think he could bear this for much longer.

“Let me help you,” said Lindy, stroking his hand. “You need to be able to rest properly and you can’t do that while you’re in this much pain.”

Her voice was soothing and encouraging and eventually Reid opened his eyes to look at her, and nodded.

He looked away as the needle pierced his skin, holding his breath as the plunger pushed the drugs slowly – slowly, slowly - into his bloodstream. It was far too familiar a feeling.

“Should take effect in about thirty minutes,” said Lindy with a smile. “Would you like your friend to stay?”

Reid couldn’t look at Hotch. He nodded and whispered, “Yes,” before turning away to cope with another spasm of pain.

Reid kept his body turned away from Hotch, but he felt Hotch take his hand, covering it with his own. For the next thirty minutes, until the Toradol finally eased the pain, he squeezed hard on Hotch’s hand with each wave of misery. Neither of them spoke; the room was silent save the beeps and hisses of machines. Yet despite the pain, despite the setting, and despite the sadness hanging over both them, Reid felt a peace that Hotch was there. He cared enough to come and he cared enough to stay – that had to mean something.

***

Sitting in his car outside the hospital, Hotch grimaced as his phone rang and Rossi’s name came up on the caller display. “Dave,” he said with a sigh.

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s in a lot of pain and he looks like hell,” replied Hotch, “But he’s recovering.” He paused and his voice dropped. “I thought we’d lost him back there.”

“It was a bad one alright,” agreed Rossi. “But Reid’s tougher than he looks – you know that. How’d he take you visiting?”

“He didn’t yell at me, if that’s what you mean,” said Hotch, feeling suddenly drained. “The antidote has some nasty side effects and he was in too much pain to say anything much. I just sat with him a while.”

“You should talk to him, when he’s feeling better. You two can sort this out.”

Hotch couldn’t agree – he’d already done and said too much to be forgiven. “I don’t think so, Dave. I lost control – I’ve never gotten that mad with Haley, or with Jack. I don’t like that side of myself and I think I should just stay away from Spencer. I couldn’t stand it if I hurt him."

There was a loud tut from the other end of the phone. “Giving up? C’mon, I know you better than that. I also know you are going to tear yourself apart if you lose him without at least trying. Let him get out of the hospital and then go talk to him.”

Hotch thought for a moment and then nodded. “I’ll think about it, Dave,” he said, “Just give me a little time.”

“Okay,” said Rossi gently, “But if you wait too long, I’ll kick you - hard. By the way, will Reid want any more of us to visit?”

“I don’t think so,” said Hotch, “He hates looking and feeling vulnerable and the fewer people that see him in a hospital bed, the better. He’d appreciate a card or a gift, but he won’t want lots of visitors.”

“You know him best,” replied Rossi.

As he ended the call, Hotch found himself nodding. He <i>did</i> know Reid – which meant he knew how much he had hurt him. He didn’t deserve Reid’s forgiveness and he doubted he’d get it anyway. Reid had had his trust betrayed too many times before by other people - Hotch knew what this had done to him.

But while he suspected that the chasm between them was too wide to be bridged, he was going to take Dave’s advice. Reid meant too much to him to not at least apologise properly for the mess he had made.

***

Hotch felt a faint rush of relief go through him as Reid opened the door to his apartment. He had called earlier and although Reid had sounded surprised that he wanted to visit, he hadn’t refused.

Reid invited him in, and Hotch stood awkwardly, hands unconsciously on his hips, preparing himself to speak. He wanted to say something profound, but instead asked a basic question. “How are you feeling?”

Reid shrugged. “I’m still pretty tired and the cough is going to stick around, but I’m okay.”

“Good,” nodded Hotch. “That’s good.” He paused and looked around the apartment, still nodding. “You did well.”

Reid frowned at him, looking confused. “Um, thank you,” he said. “Do you want to sit down?” He gestured at the couch.

Hotch shook his head. “No, thank you,” he replied. There was an awkward silence before he spoke again. Reid was looking at him – patient, expectant – and Hotch cleared his throat several times before he could bring himself to speak.

“I’m sorry, Spencer,” said Hotch, looking Reid in the eye. “I’m sorry for losing control like that last time I was here. It was unforgivable.” He sighed. “I hope you can accept the apology and-“ He paused a moment. “And I wish that things had worked out differently between us. I can promise that this won’t affect our working relationship.”

Hotch stopped talking and rubbed a hand over his face before adding, “I really am sorry”.

Reid didn’t answer him at first. He just stood and stared at Hotch, clenching and unclenching his fists. Finally he spoke, his voice cracking with emotion. “So that’s it?” he said, “We’re through?”

“Spencer – you told me to get out!” Hotch almost laughed in surprise at how unexpected Reid’s comment had been. But there was nothing funny here.

“I was upset,” retorted Reid. “Of course I told you to get out. I wanted you to go.” He was still staring at Hotch.

Hotch frowned at him, struggling to fully understand what was going on. They had had a horrendous fight, Hotch had nearly hit him and Reid had thrown him out. How had he missed them not breaking up? “I don’t understand,” he said, almost wringing his hands. He had assumed that Reid would never even forgive him, let alone want to continue to have a relationship.

Reid ran a hand quickly through his hair, almost pulling at it. “I don’t want to break up,” he said, raising his voice. “I just . . . I just don’t.” He almost flung his arms around himself, turning away from Hotch. “I don’t want to lose . . . this, lose you.”

Hotch blinked. The distress was obvious in Reid’s voice, his posture and he wanted nothing more than to comfort him. But surely he had lost that right? “Spencer?” he asked, daring to take a half step towards him.

All of a sudden, Reid turned, still hugging himself, shifting from foot to foot with nerves. “Aaron, please,” he said, “You were an asshole and I was an asshole. Please – can’t we just . . . “ He looked wide-eyed at Hotch, his expression almost pleading. “I’ve lost enough.”

“I didn’t expect this,” confessed Hotch, “I thought you wanted me gone.”

Reid just shook his head, worrying at his bottom lip.

Letting his head drop for a moment, Hotch gave a sigh. He didn’t deserve to be taken back without having to crawl through flaming broken glass. He had suffered a nearly catastrophic loss of control and if Reid had wanted to yell at him for the next twenty four hours straight, it still wouldn’t be enough.

Hotch lifted his head as Reid moved close enough to take his hand. “Aaron?” asked Reid, nerves betrayed in his voice, “Do you really want to break up with me?”

Hotch moved to cup Reid’s face with his hands. “Spencer,” he said earnestly, “I love you. But that doesn’t change the fact that I lost my temper with you and I could have hit you.”

Reid kept eye contact with Hotch as he moved to cover his hands with his own. “But you didn’t,” he reminded him gently. “Yeah, you got pretty mad but if I recall correctly, I was pretty mad myself. I over-reacted and I said some stuff that I shouldn’t have. Please – can we start over?”

Hotch had to resist the urge to smile at the pleading expression on Reid’s face. “We need to talk about all of this,” he said. “There’s some-“

Reid interrupted him by placing a finger on his lips. “Shh,” he whispered. “Not now.” He moved closer to press his body against Hotch as he slid his arms around him. “Just want you to hold me,” he murmured.

Hotch nuzzled into Reid’s hair, taking a breath and inhaling the scent of him. He breathed in deeply, smelling apple shampoo and cinnamon, moving his hands to gently comb through Reid’s soft hair. There had been awful hours when he thought he might never do this again. “I thought I was going to lose you,” he said. “I thought you might not make it.”

He felt Reid nodding against him. “Me too,” he said before lifting his head to look at Hotch. “Kiss me?” he asked.

Hotch’s lips quirked as he began to enjoy the moment before complying with Reid’s request. Then a memory of the past few days flooded his brain and he couldn’t smile. His face deadly serious, he pressed his lips against Reid’s and kissed him hard. Mouth open, he pushed and moved, capturing Reid’s tongue, filling his mouth, forcing him backwards with the pressure. Hotch kept on moving, claiming Reid’s mouth for his own, his hands moving to hold him as he walked him firmly to the wall where he pushed again, pressing Reid against the cool painted surface,.

The kisses grew in intensity, Hotch working one thigh in between Reid’s spread legs as he moved against him, unable to move away from his lips. The enforced separation had served to show him - <i>oh so brutally</i> - what he could have lost and now that he had his lover back in his arms, he could hardly bear to stop touching him, stop kissing him.

Reid seemed to echo the sentiment, his hands running all over Hotch’s back, grabbing and pulling him closer. He tugged Hotch’s shirt out of his pants and his fingers traced patterns all over his naked back.

Hotch dragged his mouth away from Reid’s, decorating his jaw and throat with wet, needy kisses. The faint moans Reid was making as Hotch kissed his way across his neck were making him harder and as Hotch pressed his body against that of his lover, he could feel Reid’s arousal through his pants. Hotch moved to the side of Reid’s neck and nipped at the tender flesh, being rewarded with another moan. He was desperate to be closer to Reid – to feel the warmth of his naked flesh.

Nimble fingers undid his belt and as Reid opened his zipper, Hotch grabbed his shoulders and shuddered. Reid’s fingers were so close to his dick now. He gasped as Reid pushed his pants and underwear down and then gently stroked his cock. “Condoms?” asked Hotch in a tremulous voice.

“Bedroom,” came the breathless response as Reid twisted to move to the other room.

Hotch looked at him and shook his head. “Want you <i>now</i>,” he said, “Here.” He reached down and cupped Reid’s dick through his thin pants, closing his eyes as Reid responded by cupping Hotch’s ass with his hands and grinding his hips against him.

There was a soft groan, which made Hotch press harder against Reid’s cock. He lifted his hand slightly and then pressed again, continuing to kiss and bite gently at his lover’s neck as he repeated the same movement over and over, releasing the pressure and then pushing again.

With every press of Hotch’s palm against his dick, Reid’s hips circled and twisted and he moaned as he tried to keep contact with the warmth of Hotch’s palm. “More,” he gasped, one hand curled around Hotch’s neck and the other grasping Hotch’s ass.

Hotch kept on with the rhythmic movement, feeling Reid’s cock twitch under his hand. With his other hand, he grasped Reid’s shoulder, keeping him flat against the wall.

He needed to touch Reid, needed to feel him here and alive and wanting him. Hotch slid his hand down across Reid’s chest to rest over his heart, wanting the reassurance of knowing it was still beating. Reid was panting and hearing the sounds of his breath moving in and out of his mouth was ridiculously erotic. Just knowing Reid was alive and okay was enough to send the blood racing to Hotch’s cock.

Reid’s moans were rising in pitch, a tell tale sign that he was close. Hotch pulled his pants open with a rough tug and shoved the cloth down, freeing Reid’s cock. Hotch thrust against him, feeling a jolt as their cocks rubbed together. He wanted to hold Reid tighter, to feel his skin all over but that would have to wait. Right now, he needed to come.

Hotch shifted and wrapped his fingers around both of their cocks, stroking them hard and fast together. Droplets of fluid leaked and lubricated the movement and Hotch kept on rubbing as Reid whimpered and thrust into his palm. Then Hotch pressed his open mouth hard against Reid’s, feeling the vibrations against his tongue as Reid stiffened and then cried out into his mouth. Almost immediately, Hotch was coming too, his hips working as he came all over his hand.

There were no words, only harsh panting as Hotch moved to bury his face in Reid’s neck. Both men kept on moving against each other, the aftershocks of orgasm still shooting through their bodies.

Hotch smiled as he heard the little humming groans that Reid always made after sex. He lifted his head and kissed him gently on the lips. “I missed you,” he said softly.

Reid nodded. “Me too,” he replied, reaching up to stroke Hotch’s cheek. “I’m sorry we fought.”

“Yeah,” said Hotch, “I’m sorry too.” He reached into his pocket to grab a handkerchief and quickly cleaned them both up. Then he kicked off his shoes and pants, smirking as he stood back to let Reid do the same.

Reid took his hand and led him through to the bedroom, pulling him down on top of the covers for an embrace. “I was scared, Aaron,” he said, snuggling against him, “I thought that was it.”

Hotch nodded. “I wish I could have stayed with you,” he said.

Reid swallowed. “The aphasia was the worst part.” He paused. “Actually, neologistic aphasia is a symptom of schizophrenia – did you know that?”

Shaking his head, Hotch said, “No, I didn’t.” He waited for Reid to continue, not wanting to push him.

“I didn’t write it down,” said Reid, “I know what caused it.” He worried at his bottom lip for a moment, looking away from Hotch and stroking a hand up and down his arm. “I have to monitor myself,” he said. “At least if I know, if I suspect what’s happening, then I have a chance of making plans. I know how this goes, Aaron, I’ve been there. My mom didn’t have anyone watching her until I was older and there’s no-one watching me. I have to do it myself.”

Hotch nodded at him, letting his breath sigh out before pulling Reid closer against him. “I get that – and I’m here for you,” he said. “And I’m sorry for losing my temper like that with you.”

“It’s okay,” replied Reid, still caressing Hotch’s arm. “You need to get mad sometimes. We all do.”

He yawned and then smiled up at Hotch. “Sorry, I’m still pretty tired.”

Hotch planted a gentle kiss on his forehead and then sat up, quickly stripping his shirt and tie off. Then he took Reid’s hands and pulled him kindly into an upright position before helping him finish undressing. He pulled back the covers and settled himself down on the pillows, lifting his arm to let Reid crawl into his embrace. “C’mon,” he said, “We can take a nap.”

As Reid nodded and then closed his eyes, Hotch heard his cell phone beep from the other room. The message tone was Rossi’s. Hotch smiled and cuddled Reid closer – his lack of response would tell Rossi everything he needed to know.


end