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“We got the tox screen back, and all of our victims were injected with three times the lethal amount of...” JJ makes brief eye contact with Reid then, grimace poorly concealed as the word, “Dilaudid,” Leaves her mouth.
“Dilaudid? Are you kidding?” The people who don’t know start looking at him a little funny, but it’s not like they hadn’t been this whole time. It stings regardless, pressing into the scars in the crook of his elbow and how his skin itches from every eye. “Guess we know without a doubt that these are homicides now.” They were just called in for an equivocal death investigation when the answer was so simple to begin with.
“What makes you so sure?” One of the cops, one that has been infuriating since day one of this case, asks as if it wasn’t completely obvious. More and more, this man is getting under Spencer’s skin, leaving fuming after every damn word he says.
“If the fact that they each had the same amount in their system isn’t enough: Hydromorphone, more commonly referred to as Dilaudid, is an opioid that is highly regulated, and incredibly expensive on the black market.” Thus begins the education lesson for a room full of idiots. “No one on the street could afford it, wouldn’t have access to it in general, never mind the lethal dose, let alone three times that. How could you miss this?”
“Never thought to look, seemed straightforward, open and shut.” He may just kill a man.
“Right, because they’re all just junkies to you,” No one misses the way Spencer spits the word out, it feels so strongly of outing himself that he actually feels nauseous, but he presses on anyway. “No use investigating, they did it to themselves!” The cops in the room are starting to grow uncomfortable as this FBI agent goes off at them. “No, because at the end of the day, most of you are thinking the exact same thing: they’re all just one less problem out on the streets for you to worry about.” Aaron is already moving to pull Spencer out of the room when he finally concludes with, “I hate to break it to you, but their families don’t get that luxury!”
“Reid-” He starts, but he’s quickly cut off by Spencer continuing to rip the police department a new one. He knows he can’t let Spencer carry on like this, but he also knows that Spencer is right.
“Even if the victims were ‘just junkies’ that doesn’t mean their deaths matter any less,” He wrenches his arm free from Aaron’s grip, “That doesn’t mean their lives mattered any less. They’re just as human as every single person in this room.” He makes dead eye contact with every stupid cop that’s pissed him off during this case, but especially that one. “The next time you dismiss them, remember that with the wrong combination of events, they could be you.” With that, he finally lets Hotch drag him out of the room.
“What the Hell was that?” Hotch demands once they’re alone. Right now, he has to stay SSA Hotchner, he can’t let their relationship interfere.
“The truth!” Reid shouts back. “They don’t get to sit there in their ignorant little bubbles just because the FBI has to play nice. They aren’t doing their fucking jobs, and quite frankly, I think it would be irresponsible not to call them out on that!”
“You’re right, it would be. That doesn’t mean going off on a room full of cops!”
“We have been wasting our time here when we could have been working on a case that needs us more, all because they didn’t run a simple tox screen. On suspicious overdoses.” Reid is baffled, well and truly baffled. “You’re lucky I’m not marching to that coroner to ask why the Hell he isn’t doing his job right either!”
“Again, I agree, but I cannot approve of the methods.” Hotch bites back, still rigid in how he carries himself. Distancing himself emotionally is a lot harder than he thought it would be. “This could have waited until we could handle it in a more controlled environment!” He doesn’t miss the harsh roll of Spencer’s eyes. He closes his own, letting the emotions catch back up to him now that they’re alone. The jump in hostility from Spencer is almost a deterrent, but this is important. Aaron scrubs a hand over his face, trying to take the mask off for a second. “I’m worried that you’re so affected b-”
Knowing how that sentence will end, Spencer raises his hand and cuts Hotch off, “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Aaron.” He stands there now, fuming and unyielding, both of them do; nearly shaking under the weight of it all. “I think I’ll just go back to the hotel. We all know I can’t work these cases!” Spencer spits, then turns on his heel and makes to follow the advice given to him oh so many times when this was a much larger issue for him.
Worried about how Spencer’s emotions have escalated so quickly, Aaron says, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Aaron just wants to keep him close. He’s not talking as a Unit Chief; he’s talking as a partner, but Spencer is too wrapped up in his spiralling to see that.
“Why!?” Spencer shouts as he whirls back around. “Worried I’ll turn up as the next body in there that they won’t run a damn tox screen on!?” The question feels a little like a slap to the face, and maybe it was intended to be one. Aaron has always known that Spencer can be a vicious little thing, but this is the first time it’s happened since they started dating. Aaron doesn’t know if he should be grateful it happened over a case rather than something in their personal lives or not.
When he finally manages to shake off being stunned by the words, Spencer is already gone.
Well... That definitely could have gone better. He’ll let his partner have space for now, they can talk about it more later. He... Needs to focus on the case, but still, Aaron thinks he might need a little advice.
Of course, he hunts down JJ just in time for her to find a possible lead, which he decides to join her in pursuing. In the car, Aaron drives while she explains more about the local doctor she, Morgan, and Garcia managed to find who has written about the drug more than once. He only hopes that this doctor will be a helpful source, rather than the UnSub who they’d be unwittingly tipping off to their presence and involvement in the case. Hotch tells her as much, so they go over a few planned lines that will hopefully keep the case as discreet as possible for now.
Right as they park, Aaron turns in his seat to face her better and says, “Of the entire team, you’re the closest to Reid,” To begin with, then follows up with the question, “I wanted to know if you have any advice on what to do after upsetting him somehow.”
JJ is a bit shocked at the question, to say the least, nevertheless, she replies, “A bit of space and an open conversation is usually enough. Spence is quick to anger, but once he’s simmered down, he’s quick to forgive too.” Assessing Hotch’s demeanour, she finds all the minute signs of his guilt, so she adds, “If this is about earlier, he knows when he’s being irrational, and he also knows when his anger is justified. More often than not, he lands in the strange middle-ground, and he doesn’t navigate those well. Just... Don’t back down, show him something steady, and he’ll get there too.”
So, he may have gone a bit over the top.
That leaves him in a very frustrating position. He feels terrible now in most senses of the word, and he just wants to go to Aaron for comfort, to be held, but Spencer is still kind of mad at him. He’s sure that Aaron is still mad at him, too; he looked mad when Spencer left the station.
The second that word left JJ’s mouth, Spencer felt like everyone was zeroing in on him before he went and made a scene. Doing that certainly hadn’t done him any favours. The feeling of his skin crawling prompts him to rip off his suit jacket and vest and replace them with his ‘comfort cardigan’. It feels a little like armour in times like these, the sleeves are long, much longer than his arms. It makes it easy to keep any evidence hidden. Logically, there’s no way there’d be scars visible at this point, but he feels like it’s written all over him.
The only thing he wants in this moment is comfort from his partner, but he’s too damn prideful to accept it. Doesn’t know when to bite his tongue.
Reid still works from his hotel room, diligently triangulating key suppliers, dump sites, and potential hunting grounds. While he’s at it, he tries to track down any strange Dilaudid-related deliveries in the area. He spends most of the day on the phone with Garcia, and her presence at least sparks some joy in him, soothes the ache in his soul. Lately, Penelope has been the one person who never fails to make him feel better,
The hour grows later and later, and still not much comes of it. Eventually, he’s forced to quit for the night when the words on the pages start blurring together, and the rumble in his stomach becomes impossible to ignore. Spencer sets the files off to the side but doesn’t get much further than that. He simply lies there, staring up at the ceiling. The popcorn texture seems to mock him, each bump and groove a reminder of the chaos swirling in his mind, pooling in his gut and making him nauseous.. He feels trapped in a cycle of guilt and fear, spiralling out of control.
There’s a knock at the door, he ignores it. He doesn't have it in him to get up and answer it. It sounds again, and still, he ignores it. He doesn’t want to be bothered by the team right now, and he knows they’ll just regret it if they drag him out.
Of course, Spencer Reid does not get his way as the sound of the electronic lock beeps, followed by some plastic rustling. He doesn’t look up; he still just lies there, but he is very curious about what’s going on. He already knows who it is, but he turns his head just in time to briefly see Aaron beyond the frame; then the door clicks closed again.
A bag sits on the floor by the door, and that’s what finally draws him off the bed. The smell gets to him first, and he immediately knows that Aaron went out and got him his comfort food for dinner; the gesture makes him want to cry. When he picks up the bag, he finds a styrofoam container inside with a post-it note on it. It reads: ‘Whenever you feel ready, I’d like to talk about earlier. I don’t want to go to bed with us still at odds.’
Consumed by emotion, he sets the bag down on the small table near the entry and pulls out his phone. Spencer still hates texting, and right now is the worst time to be doing that, considering the horrible headache that’s manifesting behind his eyes, but he just... ‘Come back.’ He sends off and then he waits. After a minute, he follows it up with, ‘Please.’
Seconds later, the door clicks back open, and in walks Aaron with his own dinner bag in hand. It gets set down on the table by Spencer’s, and once his hands are free, Spencer is wrapping the man up in a hug. “I’m sorry,” He whispers into Aaron’s shoulder.
A hand cards through his hair in comfort, and another wraps around his waist, holding him tightly in just the way he likes. “Can we actually talk about it now?” Aaron asks, and when there’s no immediate response, Aaron continues with, “I promise you, I’m not trying to say you can’t handle these things yourself. I know you can, but that doesn't mean you should have to. I worry because I care, but I need you to let me know where the line between caring and overbearing is.” Then Spencer nods, head cradled in Aaron’s hands.
“Not overbearing,” Spencer manages to mumble, a little tearfully, just loud enough for Aaron to hear. “I was just being a jerk.” Aaron can’t exactly disagree, so he just presses a kiss to Spencer’s forehead and continues carding his hand through brown locks in a move he hopes is at least a little comforting. “Will you stay?” Spencer asks, meek.
“Of course,” Aaron replies, imploring because he means it, and he needs Spencer to know that. “I’m actually glad you asked. Garcia cancelled my hotel room.” That manages to pull a laugh out of Spencer. They settle on the bed, curled up together like Spencer is some sort of house cat as they finally start talking about earlier. “Have you thought about that before?” It’s a loaded question, he knows, and Aaron honestly finds it hard to breathe until he gets his answer.
“About what?”
“What you said earlier, about being the next body they won’t run a tox-screen on.”
Spencer is silent, but his eyebrows are pinched in a way that usually means he’s choosing how to word something, taking the time to think about his answer. Aaron waits patiently, simply rubbing his hand up and down Spencer's back; a touch the younger man leans into ever-so-slightly, likely unbeknownst to him, but it still makes Aaron smile into Spencer’s hair.
“I have,” He finally says slowly, looking down and picking at his nails, “I used to, I’d—” He cuts himself off when his breath hitches in his throat. He leans further into Aaron’s hold. “Sometimes I’d get so scared you, or JJ, any of the team, really—” Then there's a bitter laugh that catches Aaron off guard. “Not Gideon though, he wouldn't
hunt me down if I was missing.” The comment catches Aaron off guard, because he thought Gideon had been trying to help Spencer, yet Spencer says it like Gideon didn't do shit, didn't care enough. “I’d get scared any of the rest of you would find me like that. That fear was rooted in the side that thought I’d do it by accident, but the side of me that thought about doing it on—” Both men realise now that Spencer is crying fully now, tears soaking into Aaron’s shirt, but he can’t bring himself to mind. “On purpose.” Spencer doesn't miss the way Aaron’s heartbeat runs faster or the way he stops breathing, but Aaron holds strong and doesn't give away how deeply upsetting this is to hear.
He needs to hear this, because Spencer needs to say it, because he needs to know, even if the words could kill him inside. “Aaron, I was so tired,” The way Spencer says it is heartbreaking, voice wet with tears. “When I was high, I’d end up locked into memories from my childhood, and they weren't exactly the happy kind either. When I wasn’t, all I could think about was the drugs, I’d try so hard to give it up, only to come crawling right on back. I felt pathetic, trapped in this repetitive cycle that was nothing but miserable.” When Spencer sniffles, Aaron reaches a hand up to wipe away the tears, still not looking at Spencer so that he can get through talking about this. “It was exhausting, and I just wanted it to end. I just wanted to end.” Spencer takes a moment to breathe, laughs, and says, “The first time I had that thought, it scared me so bad it was the closest I’d gotten to actually getting off the stuff.”
“You are so much stronger than anyone gives you credit for, love,” Aaron says, pressing kisses to Spencer's head, hoping that if nothing else, his sincerity is conveyed.
“I’ve always had to be,” Spencer shrugs, and the nonchalance of the admission brings Aaron pause. ‘Does Spencer not realise how wrong that is?’ He wonders, but he keeps the comment to himself. “I was 25 years old going through the worst moments of my life up until that point, with no one to lean on because none of you could help me.” A withering sigh escapes Aaron’s lover then, “I wouldn't risk your jobs like that, you needed plausible deniability in case word escaped our team.” Aaron knows that Spencer is right, but God does part of him burn inside with the knowledge. Who he is now wants to believe he would have burned the world down if it meant he could help Reid, but he knows that he didn't do anything. Aaron let his position as Unit Chief fall to the wayside in favour of Gideon’s role as mentor in Spencer’s life, left it to a man he trusted to be compassionate and responsible when it came to Spencer and his addiction, when evidently he shouldn't have. “It sucked, and it was brutal, and I’ll never get back who I was before... No matter how hard I try.”
“Yet you still did it, and you're here, in my arms, alive and well and able to tell me about it.” Spencer nods against his shoulder, but he doesn't say anything. “I should have done more for you, checked in, and for that, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to do it alone, and for that—” He hugs Spencer tighter, “I need you to know just how proud I am of you. Not only as your partner, but also as your friend and your Unit Chief,” Spencer twists a little in his position so he can see Aaron’s face as he says, “There aren't enough words to express it, it’s unquantifiable.” Spencer, being the genius that he is, presents another option to words by pressing their mouths together softly.
When they part, Spencer takes to leaning forehead to forehead against Aaron, who reaches a hand up to wipe away the moisture on his cheeks. “It means a lot to me,” He whispers. “I know what victims in these cases felt like in their final moments, how scared and alone they must have been. The empathy is agonising.” Spencer hums, “This is my equivalent to you and JJ’s kid cases. I try to stay objective, to not take things personally, but it’s hard.”
“I know, baby,” Aaron soothes.
Odd silences with Spencer, Aaron has learned, are pretty common in casual conversations, when Spencer is truly comfortable. Aaron just holds him through it. Eventually, quietly, Spencer says, “It hurts sometimes.”
“What do you mean?”
Spencer shifts, tucks himself further into Aaron’s side. “I know the team doesn’t mean anything by it; they don’t mean me, but whether it’s me or not shouldn’t change anything.”
“Spence, love, I’m still a little lost.” Aaron keeps his voice gentle, his hold firm and comforting. He can tell Spencer is trying to confess a pain he’s likely harboured for a long time. The last thing he wants to do is scare Spencer off.
“Addicts,” Spencer chokes out. “How they’re talked about, they don’t consciously mean me, but they do because I am one. I don’t get an exception just because they know me, just because I’m clean.”
“The difference is that you aren’t actively choosing to harm yourself or trying to justify your addiction,” Aaron says carefully. “Still, you’re right. the team and myself should be more respectful.” Aaron knows he’s very likely contributed to the problem; he can admit that, he won’t exclude himself just because of the difference in their relationships, or because he happens to know Spencer’s hardships more intimately. “If I notice, I’ll say just that to them, okay?” He feels a nod against his shoulder after a moment.
With that, once Spencer is calmed, they start eating their dinners together, minds off the case for now. Eventually, later into the night than they should have, the two of them tuck into bed, wrapped around each other securely. They both find that the two of them sleep better this way; they know they’re safe, that they can rely on one another.
When the case finally comes to a close, and the UnSub sits in police custody, Spencer finds himself standing outside the precinct, the cool night air brushing against his skin. He feels lighter, as if a weight has been lifted from his chest. Aaron joins him, and they stay tucked behind the bureau SUVs for a bit of privacy. They’re pressed together, Aaron’s back leaning against one of the team’s cars and his hands carefully cradling Spencer’s face; Spencer, in turn, holds onto Aaron’s wrists and brushes his thumbs in a steady rhythm across the back of Aaron’s hands.
"Thank you for everything," Spencer says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know how I would have gotten through this without you." So many things during this case had been deeply upsetting for Spencer, so much so that he worked almost entirely from his hotel room. Aaron was there every night, and Spencer found it progressively easier to talk about his struggles, to open up to Aaron. The more he did, the lighter he felt.
Aaron’s eyes are soft and warm as he speaks, "You don’t have to thank me. I’m here for you, always." The promise in his voice hangs heavy in Spencer’s chest, seeps into his pores, infiltrates his bloodstream and wraps itself around his heart.
Spencer nods, and God, he loves this man. It’s the smallest, littlest things that Aaron does; he pays attention. One time, there had been a period where Spencer’s lips were always chapped, and while making out, his lip split. The next day, a small tube of chapstick had appeared on his desk, and of course, he’d known who it was from. It was clear Aaron had done his research as well, since it was one of the most reputable brands on the market. Their chapped state got better, much better. When the tube ran out, without him even saying anything, a new one appeared in the exact spot where he kept the old one. He wondered, briefly, if Aaron had been keeping an eye on how much was left for that purpose exactly.
Sometimes, Reid feels as though he’ll never be able to know the warmth of genuinely remembering something special about someone. For someone who can so easily forget things, the act of remembrance is something special, a sign of care. Reid, well... That’s just his average state; it doesn't take much effort to remember things. The closest he’ll ever get to that is personally transcribing a conversation so that it will flow into all the written word stored inside his mind.
One night, tangled together in their PJs, Spencer had asked about it, suddenly so overtaken with emotion over it, and Aaron had answered that he wouldn't allow himself to take loved ones for granted again, voice thick with emotion hanging over each word. He knew that Aaron was referring to Haley, and he understood perfectly. A small part of him had felt... Guilty maybe, for getting something she hadn't, but the larger part of himself knew that she’d simply be happy for it. He... Well, Spencer heard her last words; he knew her too. Before things got bad, she was one of the kindest souls he’d met up until that point. So, ‘choose love’, she had said, and that’s what Aaron seems to be doing every day.
Spencer wouldn't use the word ‘perfect’ as many would; everything is always more nuanced than that; Aaron has his faults, of course, as everyone does, but it’s how he handles those faults that Spencer truly admires- Aaron’s growth. "I know," He replies, with his heart racing. "You’re ineffable to me,” He can’t help but say, needing to say something. It’s whispered, nearly swallowed up by the wind that blows Spencer’s hair into his face, but it’s just loud enough for Aaron to hear, just loud enough to hang in the air between them.
Aaron smiles softly, understanding the depth of Spencer’s words. "Ineffable, I like that," He echoes, the weight of the moment hanging between them. Spencer kisses him softly, briefly. It’s far too soon for ‘I love you’s, but they both know what it means. That can be enough, for now.