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All morning, Derek had complained about his plans being ruined for the weekend. He was supposed to go camping with some buddies from his old bomb squad, but they pulled out at the last minute with valid excuses, despite how annoying it was. Derek went on and on about how much he was looking forward to it, how he had all these grand plans of fishing out on the lake and hiking on a trail that was supposedly great this time of year.
It didn’t let up on the jet either. If anything, it got worse. He latched onto anything that could even be vaguely considered camping-related and went off on another rant about it.
Now Spencer wasn’t usually one to pick up on social cues. He got the basics, but it became extremely difficult when people never said what they wanted, then got mad he didn’t provide it. Penelope had been graciously explaining it to him, coaching him every so often when they had a slow enough day to spare the time, and this had all the markings of someone wanting something they couldn’t say aloud. He knew the anniversary of Derek’s dad’s death was on the first day of the trip too. Perhaps that was a coincidence, but on the off chance it wasn’t, this read even more like he was asking for someone to step in.
Did it sound like his ideal weekend? Not in the slightest, but friends do things they’re not interested in for their friends, and Derek was his friend, or Spencer would consider him a friend.
“I could go with you?” Spencer suggested.
“Have you ever actually been camping?” Derek asked incredulously.
He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he searched for an answer that wouldn’t give too much away. Derek had met his mother, briefly enough that he still seemed surprised when Spencer talked about looking after her for years before college, yet he still felt the need to keep everything close to his chest. What if he didn’t get it?
His honest answer would be yes, though he’d have to preface that all that experience had been unexpected camping. Half asleep from being woken up in the middle of the night to his already frantic mother begging him to come with her, he’d find himself sitting in the passenger seat of their car, a battered duffel bag he’d learned to be wary of at his feet, driving somewhere but not anywhere in particular.
He’d never been sure if Diana had a place in mind when she got like this. Sometimes she’d take a turn with a certain determination that made him assume she was following directions, and other times they’d drive in circles until they ended up on some turn-off in the middle of nowhere. They’d sleep in the car, or in a tent if he’d caught the signs early enough to sneak it into the boot of the car, before the sweltering Vegas sun came up in the morning and made it unbearable to stay there any longer.
On good days, the sun seemed to sober Diana up, and they’d drive home. She’d get him an ice cream as some sort of apology, whilst he subtracted the money spent on gas and other expenditures from their bank account, calculating how to make it stretch until the next deposit. He’d long since stopped trying to convince her he didn’t need anything to make up for the experience because she’d only grow more insistent.
On bad days, they’d just keep driving. Again, he’d quietly stress about the money they were spending, gently suggesting that they get the cheapest bits from the next shop or stop a little bit longer so they wouldn’t burn through the gas so quickly. He knew to space his comments out, or he’d sound too much like he was on the side of the enemy. Who the enemy was, he didn’t know. It was just the mysterious “they” that seemed to encompass the government and some underground group that ran the world. There was no point in searching for logic when her thoughts were already illogical.
Strangely, he held some fondness for those trips. It was tainted, as most memories are from his childhood, but there was some fun he could easily find if he looked for it. When Diana would keep the radio off because they might be listening, she would turn to him for distraction, and he’d happily rattle off everything he’d learned. They might pass something she’d grown up visiting, and she’d experience a brief moment of clarity long enough to talk about it. He liked sitting on the hood of their car, a little cardboard pot of ice cream and a colourful plastic spoon in his hands, people-watching with his mum when she wasn’t nervously eyeing up who might be a secret agent spying on them.
So yes, he had been camping, but he couldn’t say yes because then Derek would ask follow-ups he wasn’t sure how to answer. He could say no, but he didn’t really like whatever Derek was insinuating with that question. He decided to choose neither and change the subject.
“If you don’t want me to come, I won’t find it offensive if you say so,” he replied.
“I never said that. I’m just questioning the offer.”
“Why? You complained about being alone. Surely you would be pleased at the opportunity to avoid that,” he answered, a little heated.
He thought he did well catching the implication, but perhaps he wasn’t the person Derek wanted to catch it. It might make more sense for Emily to offer up her company, or maybe Aaron, although a weekend away with Aaron sounded awkward. David couldn’t be an option; the pair got on, sure, but they didn’t get along like that. They butted heads enough times for that to be evident. If they entered the woods together, only one would come out.
“Reid, you won’t even shake hands with me, and we’ve been working together for years.”
“I have a mild case of germophobia-”
“-mild my ass-”
“-but camping doesn’t inherently trigger it.”
He’d been in enough blood-drenched and stinking crime scenes that a night in a tent in the woods barely appeared on his contamination radar. Unlike humans, there was a level of predictability to it.
From what Derek described, the worst part would be the physical activities. He wasn’t terribly unfit. He could run when pushed and walked a fair bit. Did he ever enjoy it? No. Sweating made him uncomfortably aware of himself, worrying over how he smelled and if it was obvious to anyone else that his shirt was now shifting colours. Feeling his hot breath coming out of his nose and hitting his upper lip made him irrationally angry, too.
“It was just a suggestion,” he added quickly, glancing back down at his book with a shrug.
“So you would go camping with me this weekend? Where there’ll be hiking, and fishing, outdoorsy stuff,” Derek questioned. He drew out each action as if it were a horrific crime they’d been called to investigate.
“Why would I offer if I didn’t want to?”
“To be nice, I guess?”
“If I have to listen to you two pussyfoot around each other for another minute, I’m going to open the emergency door,” David snapped as he twisted in his seat to shoot a glare at them.
“Alright, alright. Sure, Reid, you can tag along. Hey, maybe you’ll get some half-decent Boy Scout experience.”
“I do know some things about camping.”
“Yeah? How much of that is hands-on?” He thought for a moment.
“Enough.”
“Good luck,” Aaron muttered to Derek.
Spencer was severely underprepared for camping, but Derek didn’t seem to mind. In stark contrast to how he’d been on the jet, Derek seemed excited to spend a weekend doing everything there was to do outdoors with the most indoorsy person he knew (though Penelope was equally as bad). It was hard to regret saying yes when it’d made his friend so happy, but he certainly felt it the further they drove from civilisation. Once you go to a certain number of crime scenes in the middle of the woods, you get a bit wary of them.
It started just fine. There was a bit of a drizzle, but it was barely a mist, and the forecast said it’d die off in a few hours. The temperature left something to be desired, but you can’t expect perfection when you leave all the creature comforts of the city, and Spencer figured with all the activities Derek had planned, he wouldn’t feel much of it.
They got to the camping spot early, and Derek took the time to show him how to put up the tent even though the instructions were perfectly serviceable. He supposed there weren’t many times he could be taught something that wasn’t talking to women or just talking in general, so he let Derek continue, listening attentively.
Then Derek wanted to hike. Spencer didn’t own hiking clothes, so he made do with old gym shorts and a jumper from his college he got given for free at graduation. It wasn’t the best outfit imaginable, but he didn’t have much time to throw something together in between the case and coming here. It’d set him on edge to do something so impulsive, but he found some comfort in having Derek lead the way. He appreciated that when Derek said they would leave by a certain time, he was ready to go at that time, a quality he wished everyone on the team could develop. It drove him crazy being stuck in waiting mode for something to happen and people around him pushing the time further and further back.
“Look at that view and tell me it wasn’t worth it,” Derek announced, standing proudly by the edge. It was a nice view. The sun was high, lighting up every tree in the valley, which were beginning to turn brown and orange in preparation for the full force of autumn and the river that ran into the lake they’d presumably fish on later looked never-ending from this angle.
“It wasn’t worth it,” Spencer huffed out. Yes, the view was lovely, but he was swinging between freezing his ass off and melting into a puddle of Spencer stew. He was disgustingly sweaty under his arms, the armpits of his sweater drenched, but his leg hair stood on its ends, rooted to goosepimpled flesh. He collapsed onto a small collection of rocks to catch his breath.
“It truly is a miracle you passed that field test.”
“I didn’t, remember? Gideon pulled strings to have me earn it on out-of-office cases.”
“Should’ve just made you hike with me. You were a lot faster than I thought you’d be.” Was he? He felt like he was incredibly slow. Unless Derek thought he was going to be even slower than that, in which case he really shouldn’t be working in the field.
He rubbed his arms as his sweat began to cool his skin. He wished they hadn’t started the day with a massive hike, but this was Derek’s trip, and he’d do what Derek intended to do with a bunch of people capable of running for more than five minutes without getting winded. The man of the hour turned to face him, something cracking in his expression before he sealed over it.
“Ready to head back down?”
“We only just stopped!”
“Can’t have you getting too cooled down. Gotta keep that heart rate up if you don’t wanna catch your death in those shorts. Seriously, man, are you wearing them as a dare or something?”
“I don’t have any more shorts.”
“You own the same shirt in five different colours, but you only have one pair of shorts?”
“I don’t find myself at many events where I’m required to show my shins. Most prefer the opposite.”
“When did you even get them? How are they both too small and too big?”
“Need I remind you that I don’t have to be here?” Derek grinned in triumph, although Spencer wasn’t aware they’d been battling. He was too focused on getting back some of the heat he’d flippantly wanted nothing to do with moments before. Why anyone would actively seek this feeling out was beyond him, science behind it be damned.
Whilst the hike up had at least parts of him warm, the hike down wasn’t as fruitful. If anything, he felt colder than before, with some added scrapes from the thorns Derek insisted were part of the trail, and they definitely weren’t going off the path. Derek wasn’t content to stay in one place for too long, and by the time Spencer changed into some more suitable clothes, he was ready to move on again.
“You ever fish before?” Derek asked. They were already on the boat at this point, a boat that by Spencer’s standards should’ve been decommissioned, but he held his tongue to keep Derek happy, so it wasn’t like either way he answered would matter. He shook his head. “Guess it was stupid to ask a Vegas kid that.”
“There are several places to fish. Willow Beach was an hour away,” he answered. “We didn’t have much desire for it.”
“My dad and I used to fish. We’d go to North Pond Casting Pier, but there were hardly any bites. Pollution probably got most of them, but we kept going,” he said wistfully.
Did Derek want to talk about it? That felt like he wanted to talk about it, but maybe he was just sharing a good memory. If he tried to pick at the topic, Derek would undoubtedly shut down, and he wasn’t all that excited to be trapped in a boat in the middle of the lake with someone too broody to make conversation. If he didn’t show interest, then Derek might take offence to his indifference and, again, he’d be trapped with someone not making conversation.
Spencer shifted uncomfortably, still cold from the morning hike. It didn’t help that the rain hadn’t moved on yet, and from the look of the clouds, it was going to get worse before it got better. He urged himself to say something because he could feel the shift in the silence from something comfortable to something apprehensive, but his mind was blank, not at all helped by how much of it was wondering how much he could shiver before he should see a medical professional.
“Did you ever ice fish? Since Chicago is so cold?” Spencer asked. Derek had joked about the weather enough times for him to feel confident in making light of it. He thought he’d hit the right chord, but there was something a bit too tight in Derek’s smile. Swing and a miss.
“Never got the chance, no.”
“Lakewood Forest Preserve has one lake, Bangs Lake, dedicated to ice fishing.”
“I’ll try to remember that.” Oof, massive miss. The awkwardness hit Spencer full force.
Still, he couldn’t be sure that Derek did want to talk about it, and quite frankly, if he did, it shouldn’t be with Spencer of all people. He couldn’t keep a half-decent father figure to save his life, and his answer to grief was just to ignore it until it went away. Maybe he didn’t have to share some good stories from childhood that he didn’t possess. Maybe Derek just wanted a person to soak up all his memories like a sponge. He should direct the conversation back somehow.
---
“I’ll try to remember that.” Derek couldn’t think of anything better to say. He knew he had to be straightforward with Spencer, but he didn’t exactly feel comfortable putting it into words. Hey Reid, you wanna be my surrogate family for the day so I can fill the void left by my dad? Yeah, the genius would take that perfectly without any sort of psychoanalysis involved. He wanted to bury his head in his hands, but that would be too obvious.
You’d think the pain would ease each year that passed, and whilst it did in some ways, in others it just amplified. He didn’t clasp his hands together in prayer, begging for some sort of reply that would explain how he deserved any of this or what the pain was all for, but he did glare up at the ceiling as if to meet eyes with God and let Him know just how angry he was. He’d been prepared to spend this trip screaming at the top of his lungs.
Hell, when they got to the top of the hiking trail, he almost did let out all the curses he’d been brewing up, but Spencer was right behind him in those goofy shorts. He’d been on the verge of just smashing up the tent when slot A, B and whatever other letter they assigned to a random piece didn’t go together, but Spencer was there, watching him intensely with all his focus zeroed in directly on him. He wanted to throw his rod into the lake when he struggled with the wire- fuck the deposit- but Spencer was there by his side, struggling just as much with shaky hands. The smile on his face when he got it relaxed Derek’s shoulders from where he’d hiked them up to his ears and smoothed the knot between his eyebrows.
Honestly, Derek wasn’t sure if being around his old bomb squad would be better than this. It would’ve been a good distraction, but he’d feel like he was playing a part still. He felt right at home with someone so… themselves as Spencer was. He might not be unabashed about it, but perform like Derek did. He was the same person no matter where you put him. It was nice that, if he wanted to be, he could be something softer. If he did ask Spencer to play happy families, he wouldn’t be laughed at or disregarded. He might have his psyche picked at in exchange.
“Reid-”
“That boat is going too fast,” Spencer stated, pointing to their right. Huh, it was coming in fast. It wasn’t like they had much chance of catching fish between the pair of them, but they definitely wouldn’t now.
“Probably some kid messing around.”
“They’re a bit close.”
“It’ll be fine, Reid.”
“At their size and speed, they would need to give us clearance of at least 100 feet. Any closer and-” He was interrupted as the powerboat rushed by them and a massive wake rocked their boat with enough power to tip it over. He yelped as they went crashing into the water, their tackle box and rods descending to the depths of the lake.
It’s a scramble immediately. Limbs fly everywhere as the cold water welcomes them and all the light from the grey clouds above disappears in an instant. Derek adapted quickly, ducking his head to catch the light rays. His eyes stung as he searched, but he knew he couldn’t close them until he got to the surface. He dove a little deeper to get out from underneath the capsized boat and breached the surface, the water still choppy from the wake. He turned to look for the offending boat, but it was long gone by now.
He’d make sure to call the rangers when they got to shore and flex their FBI status for good measure. His anger was somewhat cooled by the freezing water threatening to frost his bones, which thankfully made it easier for him to realise he couldn’t see Spencer. He did a full twirl just to make sure he couldn’t see the man, his eyes peeled for long, slender fingertips dipping out from beneath the waves only to fall back under. Did Spencer know how to swim? Surely he’d mention it if he couldn’t. He did complain about the lack of life jackets, but that was more from it being against the rules. Right?
“Reid?” he shouted. If Spencer couldn’t swim, then he was somewhere drowning, and if he was somewhere drowning then Derek couldn’t see him, and if Derek couldn’t see him then he was going to keep drowning and-
The boat wobbled, splashing water in his face, dragging his attention just in time to catch Spencer’s hands clawing at the wood before his head finally popped up. He hacked and gasped, struggling to get a good hold and accidentally dunking himself when his hand slipped. Derek quickly swam over and hooked an arm around his torso so he could get stable enough to find a hold.
“You can swim, right?” Derek asked.
“I-It was dark- I couldn’t,” Spencer stuttered through chattering teeth. He got the idea. He could swim, but he’d been stuck under the boat and panicked. He never did like the dark, and he looked chilly before they tipped over, so the shock of the water wouldn’t have helped. “Vegas ha-has pools,” he added once he felt more stable, a forced smile fighting to stay on his face. Derek chuckled all the same. “Th-those rods weren’t impor-important, were they?”
“Oh, no, we sold Dad’s rods years ago to pay for my sister’s prom dress. She had expensive tastes. They were considered vintage even back then.”
“Was I b-born by then?”
“Shut it and help me flip this thing back over, or you’ll be swimming back to shore.”
“Don’t- don’t let me go un-under.”
“I won’t,” he promised without a second thought.
They were both shivering messes by the time they got to shore, and Derek had to practically drag Spencer back to camp. The rain, as if to mock them, started pummeling them to the point their tent threatened to collapse under the pressure-washer-level rain.
“Fuck this,” he grumbled. He was ready to jack it all in, leave the tent there to rot and deal with the guilt of leaving so much trash behind later, but Spencer stepped in quickly.
“Let’ss go to the car,” he suggested. “Dry off i-in the tru-nk.”
“The trunk?”
“Don’t wan-na ru-ruin your sseats.”
“We should just go home. Trips a wash.”
“Dry off first,” Spencer stated, putting every bit of power he had to make sure he got through the sentence without fumbling the words.
To placate him, Derek agreed and opened the trunk. It was big enough to comfortably fit both of them as they pulled off sopping wet clothes and dried themselves as best they could. They changed back to back, but Derek could feel Spencer’s shivers shaking the car. Well, that was a bit dramatic, but it certainly felt that way.
He did feel better getting out of his wet clothes, but he was still ready to throw in the towel. They lost their rods, the rain was getting worse, and their tent would be flooded by the time night came. There’d be no chance at starting a fire, and blankets could only do so much to keep them warm. All the signs to give up and go home were there, and yet Spencer, of all people, was the one making him take his time with the decision. Anyone else would be saying to hell with it alongside him and suggest hitting a bar instead to drown their sorrows. Spencer just shivered and silently watched the rain bounce off the forest floor. Derek frowned to himself, reaching into one of his duffle bags and grabbing a blanket to drape around their shoulders. He was cold too, and sharing body heat would do them both some good.
“This was a mess,” Derek grumbled. “I should’ve jacked it in when I had the chance.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You didn’t flip the boat. You didn’t make it rain.”
“Then I’m sorry about the situation,” he amended. A shudder ran through him, drawing him dangerously close to resting his head on Derek’s shoulder. “For what it’s worth, if I wasn’t currently experiencing mild hypothermia, I think this would’ve been really nice.”
“You think?”
“Yeah. The hike wasn’t all that bad, and it was fun when you were teaching me things.”
“You know, when I was a kid, I begged for a little brother. I was in a house surrounded by girls who would’ve hated this kind of stuff. Not that my dad took me camping all that often anyway. Hard to, when you live in Chicago.”
“He would be proud of you.”
“Thanks,” he said with a cadence Spencer was intimately familiar with. That tone you get when someone is obviously trying to be kind, but they’re the fifth person today to remind you of the terrible thing they’re giving you sympathy for.
“No, I do mean it. It’s not part of the social script I usually apply.”
“Just a raw Reid thought?” Derek chuckled.
“Mhm.”
“Do you really think you got hypothermia?”
“No, I was exaggerating. If I had hypothermia, I wouldn’t improve with a blanket and a wardrobe change. Though I will most likely have got some variant of a virus from swallowing the lake water.” The stutter dying off bolstered his statement, so Derek chose to believe him just this once when it came to his health. “Was it fun for you? Before the boat?”
“It was. Thanks for this, R- Spencer. I wish it went better, but it wouldn’t have been good at all without you.”
“I’m glad. It would’ve sucked to nearly drown for nothing.”
Two days later, through bleary eyes after a long night of vomiting, Derek got a text.
You’re never taking me camping again - Spencer Reid