Archive of Our Own

1.       Gideon - 2000

For once Jason Gideon hadn‘t complained when Strauss told him to lead this year’s recruitment circuit. No, Gideon was almost looking forward to it. Young, impressionable minds, an opportunity to represent what mattered most to him and his team, and a hint of hope. Why? Because on the long list of universities to hit up and lecture at one had captured his attention rather quickly: CalTech.

His son had started his undergrad degree in Engineering and Applied Sciences at the prestigious university only a few months ago and Gideon hadn’t yet had a chance to visit him. It had been almost a year since they last saw each other, four months since the last phone call. He missed Stephen, even if his son wouldn’t believe him should he try to tell him just that.

Gideon was well aware that his relationship with his son wasn’t the best due to long hours at work and a commitment to the job that could only be described as adulterous, but he was trying . That had to count for something, right?

Surely, Stephen would welcome a surprise visit from his dad, a chance to reconnect – they could get lunch together and talk about everything and anything.

(Everything besides Melli and the impending divorce, or Gideon’s disappointment in Stephen’s choice of career, or Stephen’s disappointment in Gideon’s parenting)

It had been easy enough for the seasoned profiler to find Stephen’s dorm room, a sly smile at the aging secretary in the CalTech administration office and a bit of charm in the face of the young RA enough to open most doors.

Every door except the one he was faced with now.

The entrance to Stephen’s dorm room was covered in stickers, Superman and Batman staring back at him as Gideon tried to gather enough courage to raise his fist and knock. Maybe he should have called ahead? It was easier staring down an Unsub and arguing in favour of a deranged serial killer, than it was to raise his hand and step towards an uncertain future. A future containing his son. It might sound dramatic, but Gideon could feel the world narrow down. There was only the musty smell of old carpeting, the cheery sounds of dorm life a few hallways away, and the peeling smile of Superman as he promised to safe Metropolis once more.

He took a deep breath, centring himself, his knuckles brushing against the worn-down wood just in time to recognize the muffled sounds coming from his son’s room, the noise previously only one voice in the great canopy of student living.

Moans.

Someone – probably his son – was moaning in pleasure.

Gideon took great pride in his ability to remain calm even as the world burned down around him, but just this once he wished he could turn back time. His hope that maybe Stephen hadn’t heard his tentative knock was crushed in a heartbeat, the startled cursing coming from the other side of the door rather damning.

As was the second voice joining the familiar cadence of his son.

There was another man in the room with Stephen.

His son was not only fooling around at 11am on a Thursday, he was having a homosexual encounter to boot.

This was probably not how Stephen had hoped his coming out would go. This was not how Gideon had hoped he’d find out.

Gideon took a polite step back from the door, only moments before it was pulled open by a strange young man. As a by-product of his profession, Gideon was a master at assessing a situation – and a stranger – in the fraction of a second, and this was no different. Their eyes met for little more than a moment before the man was gone, hurrying down the hallway with looping uneven steps as if to hide a rather obvious erection – and the embarrassed blush creeping up his neck.

Thin, young, barely eighteen if even that, unkempt long-ish hair, and deep bruises underneath his brown eyes. Nervous disposition, not very athletic, and yet… Gideon was pretty sure he’d seen a stroke a genius in the fleeing stranger.

But this mystery wasn’t the reason he was here – there were more important things contained in this particular dorm room; his son for example.

Turning around to see Stephen fix his belt, Gideon tried to smooth over any discontent before it could grow big and ugly, “I see you’ve taken to college life quite well. Can’t say I blame you”.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m in town for a lecture and I thought I’d surprise my son by buying him a proper lunch. How long has it been since you’ve eaten more than instant ramen and fried eggs?”

Stephen rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile on his lips – invisible to anyone without a trained eye. His son hadn’t changed at all since the last time they saw each other, and yet he seemed like a completely different person. His hair was longer, his jaw sharper, and his room smelled like teenage boy and sex.

“I could go for a steak. Or two.” Stephen finally amended; his posture standoffish in a way Gideon had grown used to years ago.

“Great! I have three hours before I must be at the lecture hall – and I hope I haven’t offended your friend?”

Gideon made sure to keep judgement from his voice.

“Nah, I’m going to call Spencer later. This isn’t the first time someone- uh… you know what? Forget it. Buy me lunch. Bore me to death with your work tales. Whatever.”

Gideon let Stephen lead the way, ignoring the embarrassment colouring his son’s cheeks, as he got another chance at being a dad. It didn’t always work out, and they both knew another case could come in at any moment, cutting their time short, but for the first time in over a year Gideon had made the right choice when it came to Stephen, when it came to being a father. It was one of his biggest assets as an agent: accepting things as they came, be it a fascinating psychopathology or a never-before-seen fetish, stand-offish LEOs or discontent within the team.

And today that included his son and his homosexual tendencies.

A surprisingly amicable lunch later Gideon stood in front of a hundred fawning students pressed together in the too small 135 Gates-Thomas Auditorium, telling them about the BAU and the work they did catching serial offenders, only to recognize one of the faces in the crowd. Deathly pale with wide brown eyes, Gideon would be hard pressed not to recognize him, even if their eyes had only met for a moment hours before. His son’s lover – Spencer Stephen had called him, right? – stared back at him from the midst of over-eager, underqualified post-grads. Gideon knew he wasn’t imagining the sweat staining the young man’s curtain-patterned shirt, just as he wasn’t imagining the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

Gideon was the one who broke eye contact first, turning his focus back to his lecture and the student body at large “Now, arsonists profile differently from other serial offenders. Even though many of them fall into the dark triad , most of them never escalate to manslaughter or murder. Which is why they rarely get caught-“

Once his lecture was finished, Gideon barely considered a different approach before he decided to reach out to his son’s friend , stopping the nervous creature before it could scuttle out of the hall following the mass exodus of students.

“Hello, my name is Jason Gideon. I’d like a word.”

“Uh, I know- I mean, I know your name is Jason Gideon because I just sat here and listened to your lecture. Fascinating work, by the way. Co-founder of the BSU with Max Ryan and David Rossi, right? I’ve read their books, always wondered why you didn’t publish one as well. Not that you have to publish a book to be a well-respected profiler, of course. I don’t just know your name because I’m sleeping with your son. Oh god, I said that out loud, didn’t I? Please ignore me. It was nice meeting you! Bye-“

Before Spencer could once again try and escape, Gideon touched him lightly on the shoulder, aware that the boy would react aversely to anything even slightly more assertive. His touch stopped Spencer in his tracks.

“Yes?”

“What’s your name, son?”

“Uh- um, Dr. Spencer Reid, sir.“

“Doctor?“

“Um, yes, I, uh, have PhDs in mathematics and chemistry. Currently finishing my master’s degree in engineering and my bachelor’s in psychology.”

Gideon considered the kid, apparently a genius if what he said was true, and realized that he was looking at great, unrealized potential. It no longer mattered that Spencer was Stephen’s partner, no, the endless possibilities in front of him existed completely divorced from his son.

“Spencer, have you ever thought about joining the FBI?”

Gideon had a great feeling about this.

1.5. Intermission - 2007

New Orleans was a special kind of city, one that turned geniuses stupid, and lonely men desperate for companionship. 

Reid had spent the past week on Ethan’s couch, throwing up in misery as his body rid itself from the poison Reid himself had administered. And what had he done once his stomach settled and the cravings stilled into cruel needles haunting his every waking thought instead of acid-hot knives searing his gut? 

He’d gone out and gotten stupidly drunk.

Alcohol wasn’t his vice, and the bar he ended up in was brightly lit and annoyingly lively. It was something to drown out his own failings, without falling back into the same snakepit he had just crawled out of.

At least this time when he went back to a stranger’s hotel room, he was sober - well, sober enough, by his standards. Three drinks didn’t inhabit his ability to have a fun night, and the stranger’s large hands felt nice when they ghosted over his overheated body.

Now, five hours later, hungover, and suffering the aftereffects of too little sleep and a body fighting off lingering sickness, Reid finally took the time to turn around and inspect the man he had chosen as his companion to stave off, well, everything. 

Strong, big, dark hair and even darker eyes - a handsome man, but not the kind of guy Reid usually went for.

“Hey…”

“Hey.”

A beat of silence. Then, “Uh, sorry, but… what’s your name? I don’t think I caught it last night.”

At least Reid could always trust himself to be incredibly awkward.

“Emanuel Garcia. My friends call me Manny.”

“Doctor Spencer Reid. My friends call me… Reid.”

“I know. You told me.”

“Oh.”

Spencer blushed, the matter made worse by his own nakedness which he was so starkly aware of. But Manny only smiled - they both knew this was a one time thing, a chance meeting. A good, but brief, connection. Once the door fell closed behind Reid, he would never hear from Manny again.

“It was… fun.”

“I’ll put it on my resume.” Manny joked, one hand resting on his bare stomach, the other one drawing lines on Spencer’s back. “Time for a repeat performance?”

And that was that.

2.   Derek - 2007

Derek Morgan loved both his sisters dearly, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t regularly annoyed by their antics. If anything, it seemed to be a prerequisite.

“Now, please, Desi, explain to me again why I should spend my first free weekend in a month going to a jazz bar with you and your friends here in DC? Why you’ve been in DC so often these past few months anyway?”

The mountain of paperwork keeping him from starting his weekend wasn’t growing any smaller. Then again, once he was finished, he’d be free to go, his work phone turned off for the next fifty-two hours. Reid’s pile on the desk next to him was almost completely gone, the younger profiler making his way through the files with frightening focus.

Hey, maybe Morgan could slip a file or two into Reid’s pile without the other man noticing?

“Derek, don’t be a spoilsport! I want you to meet my friends – hey, I might even have a special someone to introduce you to. Just say you’ll make it and I’ll stop bothering you, okay?”

Derek could hear the pout in Desiree’s voice, his defences breaking down quickly. Younger sisters, man. Derek had never learned how to say no to them.

“Okay. But you owe me, yeah? You’re paying for my first two drinks at least, you hear me.”

“Sure, Mr. Hotshot FBI Agent. See you!”

The call ended before Morgan had a chance to counter something no-doubt clever and scathing – it was always like this with Desiree. Sarah was the one member of the Morgan family with any common sense, but she was busy finishing her business degree in Michigan. So now Derek was stuck with Desiree who thought sky diving sounded like fun and competing in martial arts tournaments was a relaxing hobby. At least her job as a museum’s curator didn’t usually end with her in danger – small mercies.

(not that Derek had any leg to stand on, considering his choice of career – but that’s what Big Brother privileges were for)

With a sigh – and the first tendrils of a tension headache building behind his temples – Derek went back to work. Reid hadn’t even looked up once during Morgan’s phone call, his hands flying over the cheap government issue paper as if he was being chased. Slowly, as if not to disturb this fragile peace, Morgan reached for three of his files before slipping them across the small space separating his desk from Reid’s.

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t put your files on my pile.”

Reid still wasn’t looking at him.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Morgan said, offering his most disarming smile.

“Cut it out. Don’t do it – I won’t finish your paperwork for you.”

“But why? You usually don’t mind.”

And it was true – ever since Reid realized his co-workers slipped him the occasional extra file, it had been an unspoken agreement between them to let it slide. Reid only ever wanted payment in the form of extra coffee or science journals. It wasn’t as if he hated the extra paperwork.

So, what made this different?

“Have you considered-“ Reid finally looked up from the consultation he was working on, one strand of his regulation-violating haircut sticking to his cheek, “that I might have plans this weekend? I’m busy. I want to get out of here just as quickly as you do.”

Morgan allowed himself to break the unspoken, often ignored “no inter-team profiling” rule as he looked at Reid. Gideon had left four months ago, and Morgan knew it had been the hardest on his younger colleague. It had been seven months since that thing nobody talked about. But, no, while Reid was fidgeting it wasn’t anything like the shakes of withdrawal or the thrumming nervousness of acute cravings – if anything, Reid looked deceptively happy.

“I’m not high.” Reid interrupted Morgan’s silent musings. “But thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I didn’t-“

“ Sure .”

Morgan leaned back in his chair with a sigh, if only to escape the intensity of Reid’s eyes. He didn’t want to fight, and secrets turned Reid standoffish. Whatever it was Reid was hiding from him, Morgan did believe his co-worker when he said it wasn’t anything illegal.

“Well then, I hope you have a relaxing weekend.”

“What?” Now it was Reid’s turn to be dumbfounded.

“You’re right. I didn’t consider your plans for the weekend. Finish your paperwork and go and have fun. I’ll be a couple of hours behind you.”

Reid stared at him for a couple of seconds, probably profiling him in turn, before shrugging and getting back to work. Morgan did much the same, not even bothering to hide his smile when Reid mumbled a silent “thanks” before taking his leather purse to leave.

They’d all grown up a lot over the last couple of years.

Jazz music had never been Morgan’s style, but Desiree had fallen in love with the voices of Louis Armstrong, Nat King Cole, Sarah Vaughan, and Alice Coltrane long before she could talk. As such, Morgan had developed an ear for good jazz almost against his will.

Entering Le Chanteur half an hour after the agreed upon time, he could immediately place the band currently playing a cover of Fly Me To The Moon as above average. Scanning the dimly lit room with its velvety décor, it didn’t take long for Derek to spot Desiree and her friends. They were taking up one of the few corner booths along the wall opposite the bar, tasteful black and white pictures of jazz legends decorating the space.

Making his way across the room, Derek made sure to stay out of Desiree’s line of sight – big brother privileges dictated that he had every right to play a little prank on her, after she forced him away from his current project on a Saturday night.

Stepping closer, it took Derek a few seconds to place the voice currently dominating the conversation at his sister’s table. But only a few seconds. It was a voice Derek was almost painfully familiar with, after all.

“-which is why the loss of so much original media in the late 20th century is such a cultural tragedy. There are ninety-seven episodes of the original Doctor Who that are lost forever. Ninety-seven out of two hundred-fifty-three. That’s 38% of a cultural phenomenon simply gone. I won’t compare it to the burning of the library of Alexandria, of course, but you have to consider-“

“Reid?”

Any attempt at a prank was immediately forgotten, as Derek stared at his co-worker. His socially awkward, nerdy co-worker currently sitting next to Desiree, holding her hand, as her attractive, intelligent friends listened to his every word. Maybe Derek had stepped into a parallel universe? But, no, it was definitely Reid looking back at him, with his patented deer in the headlights look, his ill-fitting lilac sweater vest one Derek had seen quite often out in the field.

“Morgan?”

“Oh, Derek! You made it – I thought you’d bail on me, not gonna lie. Come sit down, and order something to drink. Spencer was just telling us about lost media.”

Desiree materialized next to him like a force of nature, guiding him into a chair next to one of her friends from work. Not that Derek could focus on the hot blonde next to him, his gaze still firmly trained on Reid.

“Desi… what is Reid doing here?”

“Oh, Spencer?” Desiree had taken after their mother, not cowering even once in the face of adversary, even in the form of her confused and slightly pissed-off brother. “I told you there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“You’re- you’re dating Reid? My co-worker Reid?”

Reid at least had the common sense to try and hide away. It didn’t work, of course, since they were in the middle of a jazz bar, and Desiree refused to let go of his hand even as Reid pulled on it in his attempt to disappear underneath the table. What little colour his friend possessed was gone now that Derek was glaring at him.

Reid.

Dating his sister.

What the hell?

“Yes, for a few months now. We exchanged numbers during that- you know, last year after mom’s birthday. We’ve been keeping in contact ever since, and now that my boss thinks about opening a branch here in DC, there’ve been a lot more opportunities for us to see each other.” Desiree said it like a challenge.

Derek knew raising to it would mean to lose.

His sister wanted him to make a scene, wanted him to be the overprotective, disapproving older brother, just to prove to herself that her idea of him was right. It cost him everything he had not to play into her expectations.

Sometimes having siblings was more complicated than tactical warfare.

“Oh.” Derek finally found himself saying. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Why didn’t he tell me? being the unspoken question. Judging by the look on Reid’s face, his colleague had heard him loud and clear.

“Desiree wanted to be the one to tell you. I- uh, um… I didn’t know you’d be coming tonight?”

Derek raised an eyebrow in doubt.

“Come on, Derek! Don’t scowl so much – we’re here to have fun!”

Desiree was smiling, two of her friends whispering and giggling as they stole glances at him. Even Reid had relaxed somewhat now that the imminence of Derek’s temper had passed.

“Fun, huh? In that case… has Desi ever told you about that time she tried to woo the neighbour’s boy and ended up kissing a dog instead?”

“Derek!”

This time it was Desiree’s voice that got drowned out by roaring laughter, and the faint murmurs of Ain’t That A Kick In The Head by Jimmy Van Heusen in the background.

2.5.  Intermission - 2008

He and Austin had gone on a total of three dates - if you didn’t count the hours of telephone conversations they’d shared - before she called it quits, citing his job, the distance, and the long hours as totally valid reasons to no longer see each other. Reid wasn’t too heartbroken about it, his relationship with her never really leaving the realm of possibility. Still, he hadn’t ever expected to be contacted by Elle of all people because of this.

Not least of all because he hadn’t heard from her in almost three years.

“Elle? As in-?” He had recognized the voice on the other end of the call immediately, his brain faster than his mouth - not for the first time.

“Yes, Mr. 187. Elle, as in Elle Greenaway, the BAU disgrace.”

“Nobody ever called you anything-”

“Shut it. That’s not why I’m calling - I heard you broke up with my cousin?”

“You’re cousin?” Reid was used to being the smartest person in any room, but this conversation made him feel slow, Elle miles ahead of him.

“Austin? My dear baby cousin?”

“Austin’s your cousin?”

“You didn’t know?”

“No! Why would- we only went on a couple of dates, Elle. We never even talked about our families. And anyway, she broke up with me!”

“Oh.” There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line, and then: “Hah, that makes me sound pretty crazy, huh?” 

“Not at all. I’m just- I’m just glad to hear your voice again.”

“Don’t get sentimental on me.”

“I miss you.”

Another beat of silence, only this time Reid feared Elle would end the call, and it’d be another three years until he heard from her again. He missed her. She was brimstone fire and raucous laughter, the smell of whiskey and warm smiles. 

“I miss you, too. But don’t tell anyone. Can’t have them think I have a heart.”

“I won’t.”

“And don’t go around dating any more of my cousins. They’re all way too good for you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He was smiling.

“You do that.” Just listening to her voice, Reid was pretty sure, she was smiling too.

3.   Hotch – 2009

He’d been asleep when his phone rang at 3am, Reid’s caller ID flashing across the screen with a sick sense of foreboding.

“Hotchner.” He answered the phone, not a trace of sleep left in his voice. As the Agent In Charge, Hotch couldn’t allow himself to show any weakness, not even at 3am on a Saturday. His team wasn’t on call, and even if they were, Garcia or JJ would be the ones to call him. Not Reid. Never Reid.

Something else had to be wrong.  

“Uh, hi, Hotch. Um. It’s Reid.“

“I know.”

“You know?”

“Caller ID, Reid.”

“Oh.”

Reid didn’t sound like himself. Something was definitely wrong. Adrenaline one hell of a stimulant, Hotch rolled out of bed wide awake, ready to get dressed and solve whatever sticky situation Reid had found himself in.

“What’s wrong, Reid?”

“Uh… would you- we’re friends, right?”

One leg already in one of his favourite suit pants, Hotch stopped in the middle of getting dressed as Reid’s words registered. The bad feeling in his gut intensified, Reid’s timid question reminding him of all the horrible things the team had recently survived. There were only two phrases that would have evoked an even worse feeling in Hotch: “Please don’t be mad” and “I’m not on drugs, I promise”.

“Reid. What the hell’s going on?”

“I mean, you’re my superior officer, and my Unit Chief, but- but I would consider us friends, yes? Especially after Chester Hardwick.”

Hotch had the strong suspicion that he wouldn’t achieve anything until he soothed Reid’s irrational anxieties: “Yes, I’d consider us friends.”

“Oh, good.”

“Now, what is going on?”

“Uh, please don’t be mad?”

A string of curses escaped Hotch as he fastened his belt and searched the table in his apartment for his car keys. Something was definitely wrong. Nobody was dead, hopefully, but that did little to calm the terror crawling up his throat. Ever since Haley finalized the divorce and Hotch was forced to move into this soulless apartment on the other side of town, his tolerance for danger had grown a lot smaller.

“Reid, I need you to be honest with me: are you in danger?”

“Uh… not really? But, okay, this sounds bad, but you can’t be mad.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Only a little? But nothing else! I promise!”

Hotch swallowed.

“What do you need?”

“I- okay, I need you to get me… uh, we’re, I mean, I’m at 815 V Street.”

“Isn’t that the 9:30 Club?” His apartment door fell closed behind him, the light jacket hopefully enough to stave off the cool night air. “How did you get there? Where’s your car?”

“Uh, so they took away my keys? And- and now we’ve got thrown out and I can’t find my wallet and I couldn’t think of anyone else to call.”

“Morgan? Garcia? JJ ?”

Hotch didn’t mean to sound quite this angry, but while he would consider himself Reid’s friend, he was still his boss. The other members of their team were truly more suited to drunken late-night calls and stupidity fuelled emergencies. The bad feeling in his gut had steadily morphed into annoyance over the past few minutes, and listening to Reid’s drunken ramblings certainly didn’t help.

“There’s ex- extenuating circumstances. You’ll understand once you get here. Please.”

“Don’t move.”

With one last longing look back at his apartment and the comfortable bed waiting for him within, Hotch ended the call and jumped into his car. He would have to have a serious talk with Reid once the other agent was sober again.

DC’s Northwest district was filled with people even this late at night, taxis clogging the streets in front of the 9:30 and similar clubs. Hotch made sure to drive by slowly, his intense gaze focused on the sidewalks as he tried to spot his colleague and current headache. Thankfully, Reid was easy to find, in part due to his height, but mostly because he – in contrast to most clubbers – wore beige slacks, a purple shirt and a crocked black tie (the blue-grey cardigan was tied around his waist).

Hotch elegantly navigated his car to the curb in front of Reid, and only then did he notice the person clinging to Reid’s arm. Suddenly the late-night phone call made a lot more sense.

“Reid. Sean. I didn’t know the two of you were friends?”

More than one LEO had confessed to Hotch in the past that his glare was a thing straight out of a nightmare, and yet it seemed completely ineffective when used on inebriated subordinates and little brothers. Both Reid and Sean looked at him with big, innocent eyes as one swayed more than the other, Reid the only thing keeping the two of them upright.

“Uh, yeah, about that…”

“Get in the car, Reid.”

Hotch had frequently born witness to Reid’s rather subpar athletic abilities, but watching the man drunkenly try and climb into a waiting car, while Sean fought against every attempt to be separated, was truly a new low for them both. Come Monday, Hotch wasn’t sure how he could face Reid again, knowing he wore Paddington Bear underwear.

“Oh, hey… Aaron.”

Sean had finally noticed just who the car belonged to, his big smile and busy hands slowly falling away as he stared at Hotch. Hotch could physically feel the temperature in the car drop by a few degrees.

“Sean," he said.

“I can explain?” Reid offered, every limb finally inside the car, just in time for Hotch to pull back out onto the street.

“You can explain what ? The missing wallet, the inebriated state of my brother and yourself, or why you thought it would be a good idea to call your boss at 3am to get you out of a sticky situation?”

“Hey! Don’t talk to my boyfriend like that!”

Sean had always been rather good at drawing attention to himself, and now was no different. Hotch’s glare – directed at the rearview mirror – switched from Reid to Sean, the man leaning forward as if to challenge Hotch.

“I was getting to that.” Reid intercepted, the ease with which he pulled Sean back telling Hotch more about the length and nature of their relationship than his brother’s drunken exclamation. “Uh, Sean invited me to the Columbia Room because one of his chef friends owed him, and afterwards he, well, I guess, we didn’t feel like going home yet, so I agreed to go to the 9:30 Club with him, but the bartender took my keys and Sean lost my wallet when he paid for our drinks, and I don’t know where Sean’s phone is…”

“So, you called me?”

Hotch wasn’t even surprised that nobody had informed him of this relationship. Sean was certainly not the type to keep his brother updated on his dating adventures, and Reid was an insanely private person. It didn’t help that the FBI was a rather conservative workplace, and Hotch held a position of authority over Reid – rumours and gossip had ruined more than one career in the bureau. Same sex marriage was only legal in seven states, DC ruling in favour of marriage equality just a few weeks ago.

No, it wasn’t the secret that surprised him – it was the fact that Reid told him.

“I couldn’t call Morgan since he’s still mad I broke up with his sister, and I- this isn’t something I necessarily want Garcia or JJ to know about. I mean, I don’t think they would judge, but a survey from 2008 showed that 49% of US Americans still think homosexuality is a sin. 64% think children shouldn’t come in-“

“Reid?”

“He’s your brother, sir. It felt wrong to call anyone else.”

Reid’s eyes were full of sincerity, whatever influence he’d been under almost completely gone. The streets around them were silent, the busy lights and sounds of downtown a memory of the past as they made their way back to Hotch’s apartment. Sean was resting his head on Reid’s shoulders, his blond hair brushing against Reid’s jawline with each sway of the car. It looked comfortable, whatever those two shared.

Hotch tried not to show his bitterness as his thoughts strayed away from his colleague and towards the hole Haley and Jack had left behind.

“Are you gay then?”

“Excuse me?”

“You just said that studies about homosexuality show most people are bigots. But I remember Lila Archer. And Desiree Morgan, of course. So, are you gay?”

“Bisexual, sir. As much as I do not feel the need to label myself, that is probably the word that fits me best.”

“Huh.”

“Everything alright?”

“Oh, yeah.” A glance in the rearview mirror revealed Sean asleep, cuddled against Reid’s bony shoulder. “I don’t have to tell you, but… look after him for me, will you? He doesn’t trust me, and I don’t think I’ll ever be the older brother he needs, but please keep an eye on him.”

“Oh.” Reid was blushing. “I will, sir.”

Maybe they would be able to look each other in the eyes come Monday, not that Hotch planned on bringing this privately gifted information into the workplace with him. He recognized when he’d been given something special, like a fragile kernel of trust, and he planned on cherishing it.

If he couldn’t have Haley, maybe he could have a relationship with his brother.

4.   Prentiss - 2012

Every three months Emily Prentiss met her mother at St. Regis in DC for afternoon tea. Elizabeth Prentiss was a formidable woman, an ambassador, and a political powerhouse. She was by no means an attentive mother or welcoming presence in her daughter’s life.

This three-month arrangement was a compromise between two stubborn people, who wanted similar and yet quite different things in life. As such, Emily tried to make the best of it, enjoying the expensive tea and fancy finger-food she usually didn’t indulge in with her government salary.

Especially now, as Emily had only recently returned from being dead. Paris had been great but living in hiding had been horrible for her stomach – Emily was too proud and didn’t take to fear well.

But that was in the past. Her mother had already hugged her once with tears in her eyes upon her return, and that was enough emotion for the two Prentiss women for at least another six months. They were back to their regularly scheduled bickering, thinly veiled insults hidden behind compliments and sharp commentary.

In a way, this was a love language of its own.

Her mother looked as regal as ever as she enjoyed a cup of tea under the glass dome of the restaurant, the afternoon sun bathing her in an almost rejuvenating light. Emily joined her, her own dark pantsuit shabby in comparison to her mother’s sensible two-thousand-dollar dress. It was purple, a colour Emily had never seen on her mother before.

“Hi mom.” She said, sure to draw out the second word until it was a parody of itself.

“Hello Emily, I see you have yet to grow out of childish pleasures.”

There was a spark in Elizabeth’s dark eyes as she greeted Emily, gesturing to the spread in front of her in place of offering a hug.

“Oh, I would never dare to grow up, mother. How would you recognize me, if I suddenly started to talk and act like you? No, it’s better if I stay in my lane and you stay in yours.”

Outsiders would probably consider this to be a threat, but her mother didn’t even flinch, not even as Emily grabbed one of the small cakes in front of her without using one of the pastry forks. Emily had to silently laugh at her own antics, this behaviour not something she’d ever engage in anywhere else. No, at work she was Prentiss, a serious and stern force to be reconned with, former CIA and Interpol, one of the best when it came to undercover work and terror threats. But here, in a fancy hotel on the other side of DC? Suddenly she was a rebellious teenager again, ready to tease her black hair until it resembled a scarecrow more than a young girl.

They talked about the weather, about Emily’s eternally single status, about the newest art collection her mother was financing, when suddenly the tone of the conversation shifted.

“Emily.” Elizabeth said, her shoulders squared, her posture straight. Emily knew that look – it was the one her mother wore when facing down international delegates and foreign ambassadors. A cold hand creeped down her spin; Emily had a bad feeling about this.

“Yes?”

Despite everything else, Emily knew this was no time for jokes.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Okay.”

Her gut clenched in silent horror, even as her voice turned bland. Please don’t be cancer , Emily thought, please don’t be a death sentence now that I’ve finally returned from the grave .

“Before you find out about it from the gossip rags.”

“The gossip rags? What the-?” Emily bit her tongue before the curse could escape, some behaviours unbefitting in the current company, no matter how contrarian she wanted to be.

“I know. Normally I would ask them to pull the story, but it is for a fundraiser with the mayor of DC and- well, as I’ve been told, there is little anyone can do. The public deserves to gossip, it seems, to hell with the privacy of those they chatter on about.”

As if she was participating in a morbid Show-and-Tell, her mother pulled a preview print of one of DC’s newspapers out of her purse. It wasn’t a gossip rag by any means, the only thing they had in common the handful of society pages in the back. Emily snatched it out of her mother’s hands with little grace, quickly paging through the paper until she found the glossy headlines promising the newest Who-Is-Wearing-What of DC’s upper echelon.

Her mother watched silently, as Emily puzzled over what she saw.

No.

That couldn’t-

Right?

Half the page was covered in a photo of her mother, the woman elegantly dressed in a red gown, as she stepped out of the doors of the DC city hall, the mayor on her left, and… and Spencer Fucking Reid on her right. Her co-worker was dressed in a smart suit, the fit better than anything Emily had ever seen him wear, his left hand not pictured since it apparently rested on her mother’s back in obvious familiarity. The headline read “Finally A Male Gold-Digger?” and the description of the picture helpfully told Emily that “Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss (68), a woman of great political renown, seen leaving the charity function with a young gentleman (Dr. Spencer Reid, 30) about to get handsy”.

After a long minute of shocked bafflement, Emily dared to look at her mother, who at least had the good grace of blushing in the face of this insanity.

“I know” said Elizabeth Prentiss, as if she had any idea what was going on in her daughter’s mind, “it’s all horribly tasteless.”

“That’s- That’s really not the problem here, mom. I mean, Spencer Reid? Really?”

“Doctor Spencer Reid. He is really quite intelligent.”

“I- how? How did the two- are you dating?”

Emily prided herself on being a strong and virtually unshakable person, ready for just about anything life could throw at her, but somehow she had never anticipated this. Terrorists and delusional Unsubs were nothing in the face of whatever the fuck her mother was trying to tell her just now.

“Dating always sounds so juvenile. I would- he’s my current partner, yes. My companion, if you will.”

“How did you two meet?”

She must have slipped into a parallel universe, Emily thought, because there was no fucking way Spencer Reid, slightly awkward, frighteningly clever, annoyingly bitchy Spencer Reid was seeing her mother, who was twice his age. Simply no way. Impossible.

Maybe Emily was still dead.

“At your funeral.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh .” Some of the tension eased from Elizabeth’s shoulders, her posture relaxing slightly even if the light in her eyes dimmed at the reminder of her daughter’s untimely demise. “He approached me after the service to offer his condolences. I could see how utterly lonely he was, and – without wanting to admit it to myself – I was just as lonesome. Especially back then. So, I took him up on his offer to meet up for coffee sometime, and he brought me to his favourite hole-in-the-wall coffee place. I was secretly amused by his horror when he realized just who he’d brought into this cesspool of coffee anarchism and anti-capitalist wall art.”

“That’s-“ so Reid , Emily thought but didn’t say. “That’s so… cute? But, still, mom, he’s half your age.”

“And we’re both old enough to make our own decisions when it comes to dating, Emily.”

Elizabeth took another sip of her coffee, her purple dress suddenly so much more significant. Purple was Reid’s favourite colour. Damn it, the two of them had to be pretty serious, if her mom invested in new gowns for him. Emily was pretty sure her mother had never even done that for her father, and the two of them had been married for twelve years before a rather ugly divorce hallmarked their separation.

“Why did Reid never say anything?”

At Emily’s question, her mother raised a perfectly kept eyebrow, as if to ask Emily how she could be so naïve. Anger bubbled under the careful façade of professionalism Emily tried to uphold even now, her hurt aimed at the person currently not at St. Regis with them. “We’re friends. Hell, we’re good friends even!”

“And you were dead for seven months. Now, I understand why, and I think Spencer is also making peace with it, but the two of us grew closer in a time where you simply weren’t there, my dear. He’s a very private man, you know this, and as you’ve surely noted by now… there are many aspects to this relationship that make it a rather unconventional one. We simply didn’t want the drama.”

“And now that choice has been taken out of your hands.”

“Yes.” Her mother gestured to the newspaper in front of them as if to lay all the blame there. “So, we’ve decided to talk to you before you’re confronted by it in a way that is less…”

“ Controlled. ”

With a sigh Emily leaned back in her chair, her stomach queasy, her mind clear. It made some sense, what her mother had just told her, not that Emily would ever readily admit that. And the thought of her friend Spencer Reid kissing her mom, probably doing other things as well- No, Emily had to stop that train of thought before it could reach its destination.

Then again, her mother was right: they were both old enough to make their own choices. Reid was still her friend.

And in the end, they had reached out to her, even if Reid had left the ungrateful job of explaining everything to her mother.

Idiot.

She’d have to prank him to hell and back as payback once she returned to the office on Monday – if the reveal of his secret sugar baby lifestyle to Morgan and JJ wasn’t already punishment enough.

With a sigh, Emily leaned back in the ornate chair, the sacred halls of St. Regis bearing witness to this insanity evoking an almost anachronistic feeling in her chest. Fallen out of time – what a way to describe the relationship her mother had found herself in.

Huh.

Spencer Fucking Reid.

Emily signaled a waiter.

“You know what this needs, mom? Some good fucking alcohol.”

For once her mother agreed.

5.   Rossi - 2015

Rossi had planned his trip to San Francisco with care. He’d made sure the team wasn’t on rotation that week, took some of those damned vacation days the others were always going on about, and booked a flight with a credit card Garcia knew nothing about.

Everything just to make sure nothing surprising happened while he visited his daughter.

He wasn’t the only one to use this short two-week reprieve to take care of some business. Reid was somewhere in California on an academic conference on- Rossi didn’t know, had stopped listening the moment Reid started talking about the PowerPoint he’d prepared, but it was surely something nerdy and niche. Morgan had planned a weekend get-away with his girlfriend, finally taking the time to meet her family, while JJ and Garcia had planned a shopping trip to end all shopping trips. Even Hotch had smiled when Rossi asked and told him about a trip to Disney World Jack was looking forward to.

So, Rossi felt confident that he could vanish for a few days, without the end of the world cutting his vacation short just this once.

Not even Joy knew he was coming by, though he’d made sure she was at home. Nothing more embarrassing than an old man stranded in front of his daughter’s San Franciso brownstone because he couldn’t plan accordingly. No, Joy, Shawn and Kai were all at home, and soon enough Rossi would join them.

He closed the door of his rental, carefully balancing the basket with toys on his hip as he made his way to the front door. He’d never had a kid, so sue him, but he enjoyed pampering his grandson just a little. The sun was bright for a day in late autumn, the air warm with an underlying crispness that promised winter. Rossi could feel decades worth of stress fall off his shoulders as he crossed the street, every step further away from the daily horrors of the job.

Maybe he should vacation more often, maybe HR was onto something there.

By now the colourful front door was no longer foreign to Rossi, the doorbell a familiar sound as he pressed down on it. He didn’t have to wait long for the door to open, the overjoyed “Hi Joy! Hello Kai! Look what I brought!” dying on his lips as he recognized just who stood in the doorway.

That wasn’t the familiar shape of Rossi’s daughter, nor the build of her husband.

It was Spencer Fucking Reid.

“Reid. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Uh… Rossi. Hi. I- uh… I can explain?”

Reid was no longer the neurotic scarecrow Rossi had met on his first day back at the BAU some seven years ago, the kid truly a man by now, but one look at Rossi’s frown and his voice jumped up an octave and every ounce of composure was left to drown in the Bay.

“Who’s at the door, Spence? Oh…. Oh, hi dad!”

The interrogation had to wait for now, as Joy pushed past a frozen Reid to hug Rossi tight. The basket full of toys swayed precariously, only saved by Reid’s fumbling hands and Rossi’s refusal to turn down a hug from his favourite child.

“Joy, hi.” Rossi recovered quickly, sending a glare in Reid’s direction, glad that Joy couldn’t see his face as her head was pressed against his shoulder. “I was in the area and thought I’d come by – can’t say I expected to see my dear colleague, Dr. Spencer Reid, here.”

“Oh yeah.” Joy’s laugh could only be described as awkward. “Come inside for a cup of coffee. Shawn and Kai are currently at the farmer’s market, but they should be back in a few.”

His daughter ushered him inside, completely ignoring the frozen panic on Reid’s face or the inquisitive nature of Rossi’s stare. Joy’s stubborn refusal to acknowledge the elephant in the room reminded him of Hayden, and multiple afternoons spent silent in the French summer heat. It was always a bit shocking to recognize his ex-wife in his daughter – and to be charmed by it, instead of frustrated.

Once everyone had sat down at the kitchen island, cups of coffee in their hands (and Reid still put too much sugar in his, as if he was still twenty-six and not approaching thirty-four), did Rossi pick the thread back up.

“I thought you were at a conference, Reid. Something about-“

“Hodgkins, Smith, and Mead, et al – inter-disciplinary research and the contributions of discourse to the academic sphere. Yes. And I was. Am. I’m just-“

“Spencer’s staying at our place while he’s in town for his conference.” Joy finished the sentence for Reid, obviously used to Reid’s nervous habits.

Rossi looked the both of them over, using his time-honed skills as a profiler to get a read on his co-worker and daughter. Joy wore an oversized yellow jumper, the fabric worn and well-loved, her hair falling down to her shoulders in a not yet styled weave, meanwhile Reid was dressed down in slacks and a burgundy cardigan, his mouth framed by stubble – an unusual sight, considering Rossi hadn’t seen Reid in anything less than a three-piece suit in almost a year now, the younger agent always careful to appear clean-shaven. Their bodies were facing each other, Rossi the one being excluded solely based on their body language and non-verbal cues.

That spoke of familiarity and security. The two of them trusted each other with their true selves and not just their professional work personas – this was more than just acquaintances helping each other out. This was friendship. Maybe even-

No, Rossi wouldn’t even entertain that thought.

Joy was married, Reid an honest man, and the curse was just an office legend Hotch tortured him with as payback for that SUV Rossi had crashed six months ago.

“And how do you two know each other?”

Rossi certainly couldn’t remember ever introducing Reid to Joy. Back when she stalked him to find out if he truly was her father, she had never once interacted with the rest of the team.

“Oh, that’s a funny story!” Joy smiled, Reid next to her not quite agreeing with her assessment, judging by the colour of his neck and the deep red tips of his ears. Especially since her expectant look urged Reid to take up the thread and weave a convincing tale.

“I, uh, I actually met Shawn first?” Reid toyed with his coffee cup. “We- Remember last year, after I was shot?”

“Hard to forget, kid. You left most of your blood on the crime scene.”

Rossi shuddered recalling the race to the hospital and the long hours spent waiting for a verdict on the life of their youngest. Reid had almost died that day – Rossi didn’t want to think about how close it’d been or how bitter the scotch he’d downed to drown out the fear had tasted.

“Yeah, and Hotch wouldn’t let me get back to work for six weeks, even though I was medically cleared after four.”

Of course, this was the only thing Reid complained about – too long a medical leave, as if six weeks was too much to ask for after almost dying. Rossi saw his own exasperation mirrored in Joy, who’d grabbed Reid’s hand as if to assure herself that he was still alive and well.

It was the kind of touch Rossi usually noticed between family members - or married couples.

“So, I went to see - and speak at - a few conferences down in Florida, far away from everything. I’ve never been to Florida outside a case, so I thought why not. A little adventure was just what I needed. And during a compositum on Musical Therapy in Healthcare Contexts in St. Petersburg - if I recall correctly -, I, uh, notice a man seemingly engaged in a struggle with some of the waitstaff – naturally, I intervened. It was apparently just a misunderstanding, but once we started talking… Shawn was also in town for the compositum and since he was one of the guest speakers on the next day I promised I’d wait around to meet up again once he was finished-“

Shawn Struthers wasn’t good enough for his daughter, through no fault of his own. It was simply that no man could ever be good enough for Joy. That didn’t mean he wasn’t a celebrated professional in his line of work, a music therapist who loved baseball and doted on his son.

“They hit it off.” Joy continued Reid’s story, leaning forward as if to draw Rossi in. It was working. Good to know that his flare for the dramatics had been passed on to his offspring. “Shawn came back from the compositum and all he could talk about was his new best friend Dr. Spencer Reid. So, of course, I had to invite him over. With your job it took a while, but Spencer managed to visit us a few months later, and- yeah, we hit it off too. And now, whenever he’s in the area and has the time, he sleeps over at our place.”

Joy presented the end of her tale with a satisfied air that screamed “there you have it, dad” – but Rossi was an old dog, and he could smell bullshit ten miles against the wind.

He hadn’t made it as far as he had in life because he was overly polite. No, if anything he was an FBI agent carved out of some pretty old school wood, his ability to step on toes quite famous around the office. Apparently, when being lied to, he was just as capable of being frank with his daughter.

And his subordinate.

“Are the two of you sleeping together?”

Reid choked on his coffee, Joy quick to thump him on the back to get him breathing again, her own blush clearly visible as she fought for composure.

“Dad! You can’t just- No. I- How-“

“Does Shawn know? What is this? Reid, I really expected better of you – and with my daughter no less. Both of you I’m-“

Rossi could feel himself getting angry, the hypocrisy of the action overshadowed by the knowledge that it was his daughter they were talking about. Yes, of course, he and Erin had been lovers long before she got divorced, but Rossi was an old dog with three ex-wives – he always thought Joy and Shawn were happy and Reid a gentleman.

“Shawn knows.” Reid coughed out before Rossi could start yelling or Joy ended up throwing him out onto the street.

“Shawn knows?” Rossi repeated.

“If anything it was his idea.” Reid hid his face in his hands, the shame clinging to him surprisingly upsetting. Rossi hadn’t planned on- he didn’t mean-

“We have an open marriage, Shawn and I. And dad, this is nothing I ever wanted to discuss with you, since it’s none of your business, but… I guess, yeah. You’ve made it your business. Mom warned me about that. We met Spencer a year ago and… and we both liked him. So, we invited him into our lives. It’s not- we’re not exclusive or seriously dating but, uh- we’re good friends with certain benefits.”

Rossi was struck speechless.

Reid used the sudden silence to insert himself, “If it is any consolation, when we met, Joy didn’t yet know she was your daughter”.

“That helps less than you might think.”

Now it was Rossi’s turn to hide his face in his hands, the revelation a big one. Mostly because he’d never wanted to know quite this much about Reid’s sex life – not to speak of Joy’s. The other two adults on the kitchen island with him seemed to agree, a heavy air of embarrassment weighing down on them.

The doorbell rang and saved them all, Shawn and Kai back from the farmer’s market just in time to break the spell keeping all three of them in place.

Reid was the fastest, out of the room before either Joy or Rossi had a chance to react. The silence hanging over them both disquieting, as they listened to the excited squeal of Kai greeting Spencer.

“Is this going to be a problem?” Joy finally asked, her voice weighed down with premature grief.

It was then that Rossi decided not to be like everyone else – to be a better father than he would have been had they known each other sooner.

“No.”

“Really?”

“I’m not saying I’m okay with it. At least not yet. It’s strange. Especially since it’s Reid – but I’ve been around the block a few times myself, Joy, and I’ve dipped my toes into a fair share of alternative lifestyles. I’ll get used it. I have to, if Reid sticks around.”

“Thank you, dad.”

Her hand on his shoulder on her way out of the kitchen meant more than she would ever know. Children were really special – it only hurt sometimes to know he had to wait thirty years to find out.

+ 1. Tara Lewis - 2018

Dr. Tara Lewis had grown used to the crazy that was the BAU. She was a specialist in her field, one of the best to ever grace the Bureau, and after a few weeks, not even the worst the BAU had to offer could turn her stomach. The team was nice and welcoming, their oddities comforting after years of offices shared with uniform FBI drones.

Penelope Garcia was a ray of sunshine in a world which often appeared dark and hopeless, her nicknames and silly jokes utterly delightful after a long day at work. Emily Prentiss was a strong woman with a mysterious past – and a smile Tara found embarrassingly charming. David Rossi threw parties and weddings in his own backyard, and Luke Alvez talked to his dog when he thought nobody was listening. Jennifer Jereau was a bit of an enigma to Tara and Spencer Reid – now, that man was a collection of oddities, most of them endearing.

But she liked them, something that couldn’t be said for all of Tara’s past postings.

She especially enjoyed their banter.

Standing on the gallery overseeing the entire bullpen, Emily Prentiss, Garcia, JJ and Matt on her side, Tara watched the gentle negging and joyful back-and-forth within the group. It was something that spoke of years and years of friendship and a lot of history. After more than a year in this team, Tara no longer felt like an outsider, though she often waited before joining in on the crazy. 

One well placed joke could be a better aimed weapon than twenty lackluster ones. 

(You only had to ask Luke and his unfortunate defeat at the hands of her “Your Momma” joke)

Just then, Reid entered the bullpen, a strange skip to his walk as he put his leather bag down on his desk, before making his way to the small kitchenette for his first cup of coffee. His hair was as gravity defying as always, the dark red cardigan a piece of clothing Tara had seen a few times - she couldn’t pinpoint what was different about him, but something seemed off.

And she wasn’t the only one who had noticed it.

“Oh no.” Prentiss said. “He seems happy.”

“Oh no?” Tara repeated.

“Oh, it’s not- I wish him the best! Of course! But if he’s happy like this, it can only mean one thing, really.”

“And that is?”

“The Curse.”

Garcia’s voice made it very clear that the word was capitalized - the grave look on her face only slightly undermined by the deepening of her laugh lines. 

“The Curse?” Thankfully, Tara was no longer the newest member on the team, Matt taking up that spot as if he didn’t mind being the newbie, asking the obvious questions. Or maybe Luke’s continuous existence in Garcia’s vernacular as the New Guy helped. 

“The Curse.” Garcia nodded sagely. 

“Can you please elaborate?”

As Tara watched, Reid left the kitchen with a cup in his hands, Luke joining him on his way back. The two of them were talking, Reid’s smile excited and lively. 

It was a welcome sight. 

She didn’t quite understand why her teammates were being so strange about this.

“Whenever Reid dates someone… sooner or later it turns out that the person is related to one of us.”

“‘One of us’?” Tara repeated, not quite sure if she’d understood JJ correctly.

“Yeah. One of us.” Prentiss nodded. “Reid has dated my mom and Morgan’s sister in the past.”

“But that could be a coincidence!” Matt defended.

It was a bit silly, the way all five of them stood leaning against the railing of the gallery, trying to gossip covertly. At least two of them had training as covert ops, and yet they acted barely any subtler than high school cheerleaders discussing the hottest guy on the football team in the middle of the cafeteria. Tara wanted to say she was above such things, but her curiosity got the better of her.

“Your mother? But isn’t she-?”

“Almost forty years older than Reid? Yes. They met at my funeral, and apparently they hit it off. They dated for two-and-a-half years, if you can believe.”

“They’re still friends. Sometimes Reid goes to fundraisers with her.”

“And how do you know that, Garcia?” Prentiss’ eyebrow was raised, a hint of authority colouring her voice.

“Oh, you know how I am! I like to be on top of things!” A beat of silence. “Okay, I check the society pages. And your mom’s facebook - which she still upkeeps, funnily enough.”

“Still, two data points barely make for a statistically relevant conclusion.”

“Well, yeah, but those two weren’t the only ones.” JJ looked at them, before answering Matt and Tara’s silent question. “Remember Rossi’s daughter? Yeah, apparently they had a thing, even if both Rossi and Reid are really tight-lipped about it. One of his exes is the cousin of a former agent, and-”

JJ stopped talking, suddenly unsure.

“What?” Matt asked.

“I don’t want to break his confidence. I mean, I don’t know if-”

“If we know he swings both ways?” Finished Tara for her.

Now everyone was looking at her.

“You know?” Prentiss seemed genuinely surprised. Tara knew why. Spencer Reid was a horribly private person, which was probably why everyone loved gossiping so much. It was the absence of information, which demanded to be filled. And yet, Spencer had entrusted her (and Matt by extension) with a secret often kept on the down-low. Times might be changing but this was still the FBI.

“Uh, yeah. It was- he told us, after I told him about my ex-girlfriend. Matt and Luke were there as well.”

There were some advantages to working with profilers - they all immediately understood Tara’s coming out as the non-issue she wanted it to be. No one reacted, though Tara knew she wasn’t imagining the smile in Garcia’s eyes or the surprise in JJ’s.

“Well, in that case-” Garcia started, only to interrupt herself with a shake of her head. “It doesn’t really matter. Let’s just say, some brothers and sons were involved as well. My brother, in fact, seems to recall a night many years ago spent with our very own genius. The thing is… sooner or later, Reid is going to show up at your family gathering, dating one of your relatives, making family board game night horribly awkward.”

“Which is why we call it The Curse.”

The three old members of the BAU nodded along with JJ’s declaration.

“But- JJ, I don’t think you said who Reid claimed in your family?” 

Below them, Reid had started working, his gaze occasionally wandering in their direction as if to make sure the vultures were still a safe distance away from his vulnerable good mood. If he knew what they were talking about, he gave no indication - then again, Reid was one-hell of a profiler, and the best poker player Tara ever had the honor of losing against.

At least he didn’t seem mad.

“Well, I’ve always considered myself immune to The Curse.”

“Why?”

“Because back in the early days, when Reid was barely twenty-four and I was an adorable twenty-seven-year old, we went on a date. A baseball game, Gideon had gotten him the tickets, just so he could ask me out.”

“Oh.” 

Tara tried to imagine the two of them together, but all she could see was Reid playing with Henry and Micheal at one of Rossi’s barbecues, while JJ and Will danced together under the moonlight. Judging by the look on Matt’s face, she wasn’t the only one.

JJ laughed. “Yeah, that’s how we found out that two attractive young people, who really liked each other, could have no chemistry whatsoever. It was a real bummer, especially since he's such a good kisser. Though, I can’t say I regret it - I got one of my best friends out of it.”

“And Reid won’t show up one day dating Sandy Jareau.”

Prentiss spoke with the voice of someone who had a man ten years her junior show up as her mother’s date one too many times. But even then, there was laughter hidden behind her steely exterior, the same kind of benevolent mirth Tara could sense in all of them.

They were silent, contemplating what they just learned, maybe thinking about the fact that they should all get back to work, this reprieve from horror not a permanent one, only for Matt to break the quiet.

“If in fifteen years from now, Reid comes home dating one of my kids, I do see it within my rights as a father to threaten him with a gun.” 

The frown on his face was enough to break them. Pearling laughter escaped Tara, JJ’s shocked gasp quick to turn into a deranged giggle. Prentiss hid her grin behind a raised hand, and Garcia turned bright red in delight. 

The entire bullpen stared at them as if they had finally lost it - Tara could see the headline: Elite BAU Team Experiences Simultaneous Mental Breakdown. Unfortunately, the thought only made her laugh harder.

“Don’t worry… Reid seems to prefer his own age… and older…” Prentiss gasped, the words not all that helpful.

It took a minute or two to calm down, heat colouring all their faces a slight pink, when Tara looked up, only to see that Luke and Reid had joined them on the gallery. 

Reid’s eyebrow was raised, his expression that of a headmaster, who had just discovered the usual suspects vandalizing a school toilet.

“Are you done?”

At least he didn’t sound hurt.

“Reid! I didn’t-” Tara was surprised at how good Reid was in making her feel like a teenager again. Rarely had she wished for the floor to swallow her up, but right now, she longed for it.

He glowered at her, the corners of his mouth quivering.

“It’s quite alright.” And now he was smiling, the glee evident in his tired brown eyes telling her more than enough. He was in on the joke. And tricking her into thinking he was mad was payback enough for him. Probably. Garcia had warned her about the prank wars, he and Agent Morgan had gotten into back in the day. Prank wars Reid usually won.

Next to her Matt relaxed.

“But, really, we have work to do. There’s a consultation I wanted your professional opinion on, Tara, and I think Rossi has found a case for us - something gruesome in Minnesota, if I understood his frantic mumbling correctly.”

And just like that, everything was back to normal. The banter stopped and they seamlessly slipped back into being seasoned professionals. It was a wonder any of them had laugh lines at all - but with a team like this, maybe it was possible. It was different here than at her other assignments. They shared more: relationships, laughter, trauma - and apparently family dinners.

The wonders of the job never stopped.

But neither did the horrors.

They gathered their things (and wits) and went back to work.

O