Work Text:
Although Spencer knew a lot, there were still some matters that remained a mystery to him. Why people thought it was disrespectful to not shake hands when it was a hotbed for germs, why Derek and Penelope took so much joy in flirting without ever pursuing one another and, most recently, why Derek was suddenly keeping him at arm’s length.
He didn’t do anything, or at least he didn’t think he’d done anything to warrant it. He rattled through the various inconveniences, times when he rambled on for too long or became frustrated when he didn’t understand what romance lesson Derek was trying to bestow. Maybe he didn’t laugh at a joke, or perhaps he’d unknowingly embarrassed him when being introduced to new police teams. It could be anything. It could just be Derek getting tired of him, as most people did. It could be drawing the line in the sand; he’d done something wrong and fallen out of favour. Perhaps his charm wore off. Maybe he wasn’t as interesting as he was annoying.
All he knew was that it must’ve happened after Kentucky, specifically when they got back, since Derek couldn't so much as stand within six feet of him without making a staunch effort to escape once they got back to the office, despite giving him a ride home when the case was done.
“Morgan.”
“Yeah, one minute, Reid.”
“No, Morgan-” He tugged on Derek’s arm to try and get his attention, but no luck. They were getting closer, and the closer they got, the more he didn’t like what he was seeing.
“I said one minute. Yes, I’m still here. No, it’s fine, but if you could just-”
“Seriously-”
“Wait a damn minute!”
He rubbed his arm passively, feeling the thick bandages bulging from beneath his jumper. It could’ve been worse. The phrase was beginning to wear on him the more he heard it because, yes, it could’ve been worse. He could’ve been turned slightly more to the side, or he could’ve been a little lower, or the unsub could be a better shot. He could've completely failed to shield Derek from the blow, or it could've nicked an artery or damaged his muscles irreparably. His arm still hurts.
“How’re you feeling, tough guy?” Aaron greeted him, giving him a well-meaning pat on the back.
“Derek is ignoring me,” he stated. Most would think he’d ignored his question entirely and was going off on his own tangent, but Aaron knew he felt it was the best response. It took an extra two steps to get there, but he figured out he wasn’t feeling great, and the cause was surprisingly not from the gunshot wound.
“Is that right? What makes you say that?”
“Plenty, but I can give an example. Every day after work, we both take the same elevator because we leave at the same time, and he will always comment on the fact that I have a car that I don’t drive if I don’t turn to go into the parking lot with him, and therefore, I’m wasting my driver’s license. I always give him the reason I didn’t drive on those days, because there's always a reason, and he will always offer to drive me home on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays because his dog sitter will be walking Clooney on those days, but she can’t do it on any other day because she has college and the dog sitting job-”
“Reid,” Aaron called. It came out much softer than he’d like, but he could see the younger one needed it. The problem with remembering nearly everything you heard and saw was that you didn’t always get to turn it off. You couldn’t always separate the piles all that neatly, and he found that Spencer had the habit of spilling his guts until he was told to stop or said something worth noting because he thought everything meant something.
"He hasn't said anything for the last week. He's taken a different elevator on two occasions," he finished, getting to the point.
“Why don’t you go ask him if there’s something wrong?”
“He’s avoiding me.”
"Do you have a theory as to why?”
“No, because I don’t know! I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong, but clearly I have. I must’ve explained a thousand times over that I don’t understand subtle hints and to tell me when I’ve done something wrong, but he isn’t telling me, so I don’t know what I’ve done, and I can’t figure it out-”
“Reid, take a break. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“I’m sure it’s not.” His fingers were picked to pieces, his desk was filled with scraps of paper he’d torn and crumpled up, and there were slight blue smudges on his hands from where he twirled his pen and didn’t quite stick the landing. “I’ve done something, and once I figure it out, I can apologise for it. I just don’t know what it is yet.”
“Why don’t you just apologise anyway?”
“He’ll know I’m not apologising for the right thing. You can’t bullshit a bullshitter.”
“Excuse me, we’ll be having no swearing even with the war wound,” JJ taunted lightly as she walked past.
“Leave him be. He’s stressed as it is.”
“I’m not stressed!” he squawked. “I’m just... off put. I can work it out, I’m sure.”
“Work what out?”
“Morgan’s avoiding him.”
“Oh, Spence, I’m sure it’s fine. I mean, you saved the guy's life after all.”
“Or he just doesn't like me anymore,” he huffed too loudly. He cringed at himself immediately, clearly not intending to voice that fear, and suddenly gathered up his things, rushing off somewhere he didn’t name. They didn't know why he tried so hard to pretend he didn't want their approval when it was so obvious he valued their opinions of him, but they didn't ask either. There was a time and place for profiling your coworkers after all.
“Do I wanna know?” JJ asked.
“I’m not sure I do.”
Derek was sure that they had their guy, but Aaron didn’t want to jump the gun and provoke them into killing another on the way out. The pair had been arguing on the phone for the last ten minutes, and Spencer had been standing off to the side, trying his best not to make it obvious he could hear them all but yelling at each other. He always felt a little awkward when the pair had their tiffs. It was never anything serious, something they could easily put behind them by the end of the day and, at worst, by the end of the case, but it nevertheless made him feel out of place to be standing near it. Perhaps it just made him feel like a kid again when his parents snapped at each other. He wasn't willing to delve too deeply into that theory for his own sake.
He’d been scanning the surroundings so he didn’t accidentally end up staring at either of the pair when they spoke, unintentionally adding fuel to the flames. He spotted someone walking their way and squinted at them as he tried to make out their face. It looked like they were storming over to them, but he wasn’t in uniform, and he didn’t look like a victim's family member. Then he was reaching for something, and Spencer was acutely aware that the one with the gun was arguing on the phone. Damn marksmanship test.
Derek lurked by the small kitchen area, stirring his coffee despite his sugar having dissolved ages ago. It would go cold before he returned to his desk, but he just couldn't go sit down and work like nothing was going on.
“Morgan, can I see you in my office?” Aaron asked. Derek raised an eyebrow, but it was between potentially getting yelled at or going back to his desk beside Spencer, so he shrugged and followed him up the stairs. He closed the door behind them and took a seat, preparing himself for whatever was coming next. “You need to talk to him.”
“You’ll need to be more specific.”
“I don’t think I will. Reid thinks you’re avoiding him.”
“I’m not avoiding him.”
“I’ll correct myself. You’re avoiding him, and he can tell.” Derek glared at the table and leaned back, remembering all those times he got sent to the principal’s office for so much as breathing too loudly in the back of class. That and throwing a paper plane at the teacher, but in his defence, he didn’t mean for it to actually hit the teacher. “You were glued to his hip until we got back to the plane, and now he's saying you won't even share an elevator with him. What happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
A gunshot.
Spencer shoved Derek back a few paces since he certainly wasn’t strong enough to tackle him to the ground.
He yelped as he fell backwards from the force of the blow, and Derek abandoned his phone for his gun.
He returned fire, and the unsub fell like a discarded ragdoll, but unlike Spencer, he failed to sit back up.
Red blossomed from Spencer’s bicep as he brought his hand to tightly close around the wound to somewhat stem the bleeding. It seeped through the cracks of his fingers, dripping down his knuckles.
Derek’s heart jumped to his throat. His mind went straight back to the bomb, forgetting the quiet streets and replacing them with smoke and shouts. He dropped to his knees beside him and pulled his hand away, getting a good look at it before he covered it with his own hand.
“You’re alright. You’re okay.”
He knew Spencer was saying something, but he couldn’t hear it over the ringing in his ears, so he just kept repeating that he would be okay because he just had to be. Spencer had to be okay because he was too young to die. He was too damn young to be leaping in front of bullets without a gun to return the favour.
“I already have Gideon out and the jobs of six to fill. Don’t put me in a position neither of us wants me to be in,” Aaron cautioned. “Nothing has to leave this room, but what will happen is some sort of resolution between you and Reid. I won’t be saddled with personal drama on cases.”
Derek considered staying silent, but Aaron was a lot better at suffering through long stretches of unbroken silence than he was, and he’d just end up wasting time better spent working. He sighed and uncrossed his arms, moving forward to create some space between his back and the chair.
The thing is, he didn’t want to avoid Spencer. If anything, after they got home, he struggled to watch the man head towards the subway and ended up running after him to offer a ride. That didn’t settle him either. He didn’t drive away until five minutes after Spencer had disappeared inside his apartment building.
He kept thinking about the bombing and replacing the victim’s faces with Spencer’s. He’d just looked so young. Big brown eyes, wet with tears and somewhat desperate for reassurance. The way he’d held himself was like a kid who fell over and scraped their knee, waiting for a responsible adult to come help him. It twisted his stomach how Spencer watched every paramedic that came close to him carefully, as if expecting them to make him worse for the sake of it and then looking over to Derek for some sort of reassurance he never seemed to find.
When they got back to work, Derek couldn’t take seeing him everywhere and constantly having the same bloodied images flash in front of him. It drove him mad, so he decided to be proactive and cut out the cause. He had an inkling it wouldn’t go down well, but Spencer was always the introvert, so he told himself that he’d enjoy a week or two of peace and quiet. His brain didn’t register the hurt on Spencer’s face when he walked away from conversations he joined.
“He practically stepped into the damn thing,” he argued. “He shouldn’t be out there without a gun, and this is just proof.”
“Proof he should have a gun or proof of a fragile ego?”
“I do not have a fragile ego,” he snapped back, speaking through a sharp laugh at how absurd the suggestion was.
“He saved your life back there, and you’re punishing him,” Aaron replied. “He’s going through enough as it is. With Gideon out, it's our responsibility to train him.”
“Hey, I’m not the guy who sent those agents in.”
“Neither is he.”
“He’s too young.” Aaron rolled his eyes.
“I thought we moved past this.”
“We moved past him being too young to work here, but I’m sorry for not getting past him already having some self-sacrifice bullshit going on.”
“So what would it be if you saved him?”
“You’re twisting it.”
“No, I’m stating what I’m observing. If I’m twisting it, then you need to give me more details because I fail to understand how this is anything short of you feeling embarrassed that you didn’t get to be the hero.”
“It’s not about playing a hero, it’s about how self-sacrificial he is when he has nothing to defend himself with. He got so lucky this time. He’s got a sore arm and a scar. This time, he gets to be the hero, but what about next time? What about the time after that? How many times is he going to step into bullets meant for others and come out the other side? Especially with Gideon telling him how to be an agent.”
“When he gets his firearm qualification, would you feel any better? Or do you just not want him here?”
“I want him here. He’s y'know, he’s got quirks, but he’s got what it takes. Forgive me for being a little worried that a kid was so willing to die for me when he’s only known me for what? Just over a year, maybe less?”
“Have you considered that’s just who he is?”
“Yeah, and that scares me. I- I keep seeing his face on theirs, and I don’t know how to feel about that because I know it could’ve just as easily been me, but it makes sense for me. It doesn’t make sense for him.”
“You know what I think this is?”
“Fragile ego and a hero complex, yeah, I got that.”
“No, I think you are just now realising that Reid is doing the same job as you with half the muscle and no firepower, and that scares you. You’re right, he got lucky this time. You’re also right that it was self-sacrificial, but you would do the same for him. We’d all do the same for each other. You’ll have to come to terms with that.”
“I know. He just looked so…”
“Childlike. Believe me, I see it. I half expected the doctor to give him a lollipop after he got his stitches, but he’s here through his own merit. I promise that we will step in if it goes too far, but in this instance, Reid did the right thing. You had the gun, he can’t shoot to save his life, it made sense to take the hit when he knew you would be able to take the shot after. He did nothing wrong.”
“But he thinks he did,” Derek sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “I’ll fix it.”
“Good. I don’t like getting mixed up in these things so this will be the last time something like this happens. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“Hey,” Derek greeted. Spencer’s head snapped up with an expression that asked ‘who? Me?’ which made him smirk. “How’s the arm?”
“Okay. They said the stitches can come out soon, which I’m pleased with. I don’t like how much they look like spiders’ legs.”
“Wonderful mental image you’ve given me.”
“Sorry?”
“Don’t be.” They stared at each other for a minute, Spencer’s eyes darting around before landing back on him as though he'd been looking for the cameras filming the prank. When no one jumped out, and Derek sat back down at his desk instead of scuttling away to hang out with Penelope, he figured he was out of the doghouse, but he couldn't be sure. He leaned over the gap between their desks.
“Are…are we okay now?”
“If that's good with you?"
"Yes, it would be. I- I missed talking to you."
"Aww, you missed me? Wittle Reid missed me?"
"I take it back. Please go back to ignoring me."