Title: Discovering Dr. Reid
Author: Sam
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Gideon/Reid (pre-slash)
Rating: FRC - nothing bad, not even a curse word
Warnings: Nope, not a one.
Summary: Reid is caught in a rainstorm and Gideon gets his first look at Reid's apartment.
A/N: Implied crossover with CSI - squint and you might actually see it. ;-)
A/N 2: Ok I received a batch of Lotus Blossom and Plum candles yesterday (along with a box of Teakwood and Cardamom) and this is where the bunny came from. I swear he stowed away in the UPS box and bit me when I opened it...

***

"Morgan was right, you do look like a drowned rat."

"Morgan really needs to get a new shtick,"  Spencer muttered irritated  and a
bit under his breath, climbing the old, polished wooden stairs to the  second
floor of his building.  "That one's getting old enough to order a  plot, be
given last rites and buried."

Gideon chuckled behind him as the younger man navigated the lock to his 
apartment and preceded him inside.  There he moved to place the handful of  mail
retrieved from a box in the lobby onto a small door-side table for later 
perusal, dropping the ever-present satchel he carried down beside the door and 
trying valiantly not to drip all over the hardwood floor.  He really needed  a
rug here.

At least the early summer downpour had struck fairly close to the old 
brownstone that Spencer called home.  And more importantly, at least to  Gideon, had
waited until Gideon was in the car before opening up and drenching  the
younger man who hadn't been so lucky.  Despite being only a foot or so  away from
the car, Spencer had been soaked in seconds; trousers and white dress  shirt
sticking to him like a second skin.  The dark tie he wore just looked  plain
uncomfortable and his shoes squelched when he walked.

"Would you care for anything?"  Clearly torn between being a good host  and
getting out of those wet clothes as soon as possible, Spencer stood halfway 
between the door and the kitchen, frowning.   

"Go change Reid,"  he told him kindly. Waving him away, Gideon  announced in
a firm tone,   "I'm sure I can find and raid the fridge  on my own."

"If you're sure..."  That earned him something between a smile and a  frown
and Jason couldn't help but remind him, deadpan,  "Drowned rat,  Reid."

*That* earned him a scowl and a muttered,  "so not funny" as Spencer  trudged
off down the hall, presumably to his bedroom where he could shower and 
change.

Shaking his head in fond amusement, Gideon tore his gaze from the  retreating
back and went in search of a glass of water.  As if they hadn't  had enough
water already.

His thirst quenched and the glass placed upside down in the otherwise empty 
sink he realized this was the first time he had been in Reid's apartment, and,
as such, was an insight into the younger man not to be wasted.  He was 
curious.  Just what kind of man was Spencer Reid away from the  office?

Well, the kitchen itself appeared to be fairly ordinary; nothing new or 
state of the art; nothing so old as to be falling apart.  Clean and bright, 
brickwork and false tile linoleum accented by whites, creams and pale  butterscotch
with only an abstract geometric design in red and brown on the lone 
dishtowel. 

Still it was clear Spencer didn't spend much time preparing elaborate meals 
in here.  No excess of pots and pans for one.  A couple of takeout  menus
attached to the refrigerator for another.  Clearly Reid had other  thoughts on his
mind than another degree, this time in the culinary arts.   But then, why
would he?  Jason wasn't aware of too many young bachelors who  found spending
hours in the kitchen as enjoyable as oh, say, a root canal. 

Back in the tidy living area, Gideon noted the warm tones in caramel and  tan
of the walls, taking in the medium wood furniture that gave the otherwise 
crowded space a sense of comfort rather than closing in on him.  Accents of 
brown and darker tan, littered with the occasional pop of red in a pillow here 
and there.  The only surprising thing in this room of practical furniture  was
the cream-colored leather sofa.  On closer examination, the *expensive* 
cream-colored leather sofa and one in very good condition.  Not normally  something
the older profiler would have associated with his modest young  colleague. 
Interesting.

Books, of course; no surprise there, either in the staggering diversity or 
the sheer number of volumes to be found.  Books and journals and heavy  tomes
lined three of the four walls on sturdy shelves in a clean, organized  jumble
that somehow left plenty of wall space for the occasional black and white 
photograph. 

Jason stepped closer to admire those.  One, of what looked to be the 
brightly lit nightscape city of Las Vegas set against the sunset backdrop of the 
desert, was quite clearly taken by a professional photographer.  Despite  being
devoid of color, there was enough shape and contrast, both in the natural 
landscape as well as in the city itself that color didn't matter.  In fact,  color
might have only detracted from the overall clean edge of the  composition. 

A second shot was also outdoors though less easily recognizable; merely a 
lake, trees and the bright white of puffy, fair weather clouds contrasting 
against the gray of what had to have been an intensely blue sky.  Lake  Meade or
somewhere similar perhaps.  This one seemed to have been taken by  the same
hand that had captured the first.  Spencer himself?  Or  someone else.  Possible;
he didn't have enough information to hazard a  guess, one way or the other. 

There were a few more casual shots framed about and Gideon abandoned the 
larger 8X10s to wander over to those, picking each up in turn, fingering the 
simple silver frames before placing each back in their spot. 

...Spencer smiling broadly and holding onto another young man with wild 
spiky hair and a devilishly mischievous expression...

...Spencer obviously caught off guard and about to turn, talking to another 
man, a bit older than the first.  This one had dark hair as to be almost 
black, cut short, and square, chiseled features that easily carried the wide, 
welcoming grin...

...A second, closer shot taken just after that one; this time Spencer was 
facing the camera with an equally wide, welcoming smile and one arm slung over 
the other's bare, leanly muscled shoulders...

Jason smiled, a small twist of the lips conveying the mixed feelings he had 
about that.  On the one hand it was so good to see evidence of a happy,  open
Reid; easy and comfortable in his surroundings and the people he was  with. 
On the other, those people weren't his team and Spencer hadn't quite  yet
gotten to that point here in Virginia.

Well, in time.  Jason would see that the younger man had all he could 
possibly need in order to make himself a home here with hi...them.  A home  with
them. 

Turning away from the photos, Jason's eyes skimmed the myriad of volumes of 
poetry, history and psychology that were to be found.  There were also  books
on math, physics and - of all things - art, sculpture and metalwork. 

A good sized canvas painting done in reds, gold and indigos hung over a 
television all but hidden beneath more shelves and Gideon couldn't help but 
wonder, given the discovered resource material, if Reid might not be the artist 
behind the broad, abstract lines and arching swirls.  The piece looked to  be
exploratory; an experiment in bold color and random grace.  Another  glimpse
into the hidden depths of Doctor Spencer Reid? 

Gideon could see that.  Spencer standing over a blank white canvas,  paints
lined up on a side table, horsehair brush held in one hand, easel in the 
other; his teeth worrying his bottom lip as he frowned in concentration...

Further on, folded neatly over the back of the lone chair, was a tightly 
crocheted blanket; obviously old, well-worn and well cared for.  Tasteful  blocks
of chocolate, caramel and cream, the soft, pale blues were the only  colors
out of harmony in this room of warm tones.  A darker blue pillow lay  at the
base of the afghan in the seat, also out of place.  An effort to  draw a
cherished bit of his past into the rest of his life, perhaps?

Gideon brushed his fingers over the hand knitted heirloom, pleased to note 
that the thick cotton material was as soft as it looked.  Silky really, it 
would feel good against bare skin stretched out underneath, in front of a fire 
on a cold winter's night.  He could imagine the firelight, warm heat and 
pressure on his skin, bathing Spencer in flickering light of red and 
gold...highlighting the fair skin and high cheekbones against the darkness that  was the
world outside...

The buzzer sounded, deep and shrill, startling Gideon out of his  musings. 
Drawing him guiltily back, reminding him of the fact that the  very young man
he was daydreaming, fantasizing about was no more than a room or  so away.

The buzzer rang again and this time Gideon was focused enough to realize it 
was the lobby buzzer from downstairs.  Figuring Reid was still in the  shower,
Gideon took a deep breath and pressed the button.  "Yes?"

"Package delivery for a Spencer Reid?"

Thinking for only a moment, Gideon ordered, "Send it up."  Crossing  the
short hall to the back bedroom, Gideon knocked lightly on the partially  cracked
door, sticking his head in to call out,  "Reid you have a  package."

"Thanks."  Reid's voice called out from the bathroom,  "Could you  sign for
that?  I'll be out in a second..."

"Sure."

Opening the door, Gideon took the clipboard and signed his own name, saying 
nothing at the strange look that turned knowing at finding a strange man in
what  was supposed to be another man's apartment.  Trading pen for package,
Jason  still said nothing as the delivery man left, taking the stairs down two at
a  time.

Holding the plain brown cardboard box, Gideon cut a careful line through  the
tape on two sides and down the top, removing two flat, sharply smelling 
boxes in pale blue.  Partylight - candles? 

Another thing he wouldn't necessarily have associated with Reid.  A  more
thorough glance around the living room turned up nothing in the way of 
additional candles, of any kind.

His curiosity peaked, he read along the edge of the box, finding the  scent. 
"Lotus blossom and plum?"

"To me it smells like tea leaves and perfume.  It reminds me of my  mother." 
Newly dressed in clean, dry clothes, wet hair combed back for  now, Spencer
joined him with a sad smile he didn't bother to hide.  Gideon  was caught by
it, feeling his own heart ache with sharp melancholy of the memory  before the
smile grew and became something happier.  Something more. "The  way she would
hover over me at the kitchen table, checking over my homework and  brewing
afternoon tea.  Reminding me that coffee was the devil's brew and  that all good
college professors worth their tenure drank tea."

"How old were you?"

"Mm seven, I think."

"You burn one when you're missing her."  Gideon felt his own smile  grow in
response to Reid's, unreasoningly grateful that the younger man could  still
find something good from his memories of his mother, gone from him now as 
assuredly as if she had died years ago.  He was aware that Reid would fly  back to
Nevada whenever their hectic schedules allowed him the chance; a visit  to a
woman who rarely knew he was there.  The days following such visits  always saw
Reid unhappy and out of sorts.

Of course he burned them; they reminded him of his mother, alive and whole 
at a time when Reid was a young boy, surrounded by the love and support of a 
caring parent.  Schizophrenia was such a sneaky, sadistic disease.   Robbing
not only its victim of life, but stealing also from those loved ones  around
them.

For once not knowing what to say, Gideon offered what little he could, 
pitifully aware that it could never be enough.  "I didn't mean to  pry."

"It's no problem,"  Spencer denied and Gideon could see that it truly 
wasn't.  "Just don't tell Morgan, "  he asked with a heavy sigh.   "I'll never hear
the end of it."

"I won't,"  he promised.  It was the least he could do.

A wry, barely there flicker of acknowledgement was all he got before Reid 
took the large box from Gideon, clearly changing the subject.  "Just let me  put
this away and we can head back to the office."

"Ok."  Spoken softly Gideon nodded his acceptance, watching with a  keen eye
as Spencer once again moved down the hallway out of sight.   Letting the
moment go.  He didn't have a choice, really.  Reid rarely  gave up much of himself
and such intimate glimpses of the man outside of the  office were to be
treasured.  Not rushed or taken in any way.  It was  enough that he let Gideon see
them, fleeting and bright as they were.  And  Gideon was already feeling a bit
guilty, having taken his snooping search around  Spencer's private home life
and using the small bits and pieces he had found to  further fuel his fantasies
about the young man.

The problem was that those bits and pieces were becoming necessary;  vital. 
As addictive to him as any narcotic out there and Jason was very afraid he was
so far beyond being hooked that he wouldn't know where to begin to break
free. 

Or if he should even try.


end