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innerslytherinTitle: Life Goes On
Pairings: Hotch/Reid, Prentiss/Rossi
Rating: PG
WC: 1414
Summary:Dave and Hotch spend some time over whiskey and cigars, and Reid isn't as oblivious to the world as he seems. Coda to "The Performer".
Notes: Betaed by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
resolucidity. SPOILERS for "The Performer".
Series: This is part of a series of Season Five episode tags I've been writing.
1. Not So Alone
2. Weeping Endures for a Night
3. The Blink of an Eye
4. Trust and Regret
5. Something Pretty Wonderful
6. Hope and Bourbon
7. Shaking Things Up
8. Cementing
Aaron leaned back in his seat and stared at the ceiling, exhaling smoke. "I still don't entirely understand the appeal of these," he admitted, gesturing idly with the cigar in his hand. "The whiskey I understand."
They'd gone back to Dave's house after getting back to Virginia. Emily had pleaded tiredness and gone to bed, taking Mucci with her. Dave had watched her go, openly ogling her ass now that they weren't on the clock, and it had sent a little burn of affection through Aaron. He was a lucky man. Even if he was still hunting Foyet, even if he still doubted sometimes that he would get his son back...he still had his team.
The team believed in him. The team supported him. Even Morgan had come to him in private earlier and apologized for Lieutenant Kim's reaction to the news that Morgan was in charge, as if it were Morgan's fault. There were still moments where the others looked to Aaron for instruction, rather than Morgan. He knew it would be better for the team--and for Morgan's ego--if the hesitation wasn't there, but he couldn't help feeling gratified by it.
Dave laughed. "If you don't get it, I can't explain it," he said lazily. "But I'm glad you indulge in them occasionally for my sake."
Aaron gave him a look. "It was self-defense," he said. "The only way to stand the smell was to learn to smoke them myself." Haley had always hated the evenings he spent out with Dave. He thought it was at least partly because Haley and Dave didn't get along. But he knew she didn't like him coming home reeking of cigar smoke and alcohol. She'd once made him shower before she would let him get into bed. The second time she'd tried that, he'd slept on the couch all night, and she'd never pressed the issue after that.
Dave let out a long, contented sigh. "Aaron," he said after a while, "I don't talk this way often, but I have something I need to say to you."
Instead of responding verbally, Aaron raised an eyebrow and sipped his whiskey.
"You are by far the best friend I have," Dave said. "And I am grateful that you've stuck by me when not even three wives could do that." He met Aaron's gaze directly, his expression sincere. "I am a lucky man to count you among my friends." He sipped his whiskey. "And it is good to see you laugh again."
Aaron smiled faintly and looked down at the table. "You know I feel the same." He'd never been good at talking about his own feelings; he had learned early to hide them in his family, and he'd gotten used to thinking that his feelings didn't matter as much as the feelings of the people around him. But this was important. "Thank you for standing by me through everything...the divorce, Foyet..." His smile faltered, then strengthened. "Thank you for pushing me at Spencer."
Dave grunted. "He's good for you, Aaron. And you deserve to be happy."
"I'll never be fully happy until I have my son back," Aaron replied. "But I'm as happy as I can be."
"That's all I can ask."
***
"Ick. You taste like cigars." Emily kissed him again anyway, so Dave figured it wasn't an important complaint. Her fingers slid through his hair, pulling him closer.
"I always thought it was part of my appeal."
"Trust me, your appeal involves your wit, your style, your good looks, and your skill in bed," she told him, grinning up at him. "Nothing to do with cigars."
He laughed and kissed her throat. "I love you, Emily Prentiss."
The words still always seemed to make her melt.
***
"You're drunk." Spencer sounded astonished. Aaron knew Spencer had seen him drinking from time to time. For that matter Aaron had told him he had a glass of whiskey in his hand when Foyet showed up. But it was possible that this was the first time Spencer had seen him actually drunk.
"I called a cab," Aaron pointed out. That might have been another thing Haley didn't like about whiskey and cigars with Dave, he reflected. Aaron usually ended up calling a cab and coming home drunk.
"Well, I knew that," Spencer said, slipping an arm around his waist and kissing him. "You taste like whiskey."
"And cigars, I know," Aaron sighed. "Are you going to make me sleep on the couch?"
Spencer raised an eyebrow. "You're lucky I still have a bad knee," he said, "or I'd jump you right now. I have no idea why, but whiskey and cigars are two of the sexiest smells in the world." He kissed Aaron again, then pulled back. "It's possible I always had a thing for Cary Grant."
Aaron laughed. "And here you pretend you know nothing about pop culture."
"That was Fifties pop culture," Spencer replied. "I don't think it counts."
"You've read A Clockwork Orange six times, and you have the DVD sitting on the case right next to Citizen Kane," Aaron accused.
Spencer shrugged. "I just thought I should give Emily the line."
Aaron laughed. "You're such an amazing person," he blurted, then felt his cheeks heat. A moment later he thought, What the hell, and took a deep breath. "I care so much for you. I hope you know that."
It was wonderful to watch Spencer's expression go from amusement to surprise to utter astonishment to something so warm and tender that it made Aaron's throat ache.
"I care for you too," Spencer whispered, brushing his fingers against Aaron's cheek. "You're such a good man, Aaron. So handsome and strong."
Aaron didn't usually feel strong, not since Foyet. But he mostly liked that Spencer still saw him that way. Sometimes it made him feel guilty, since he thought it was a false image. But most of the time he felt that if Spencer thought he was strong, it must make him stronger. "I want to take you to bed," he murmured, brushing his lips against Spencer's.
Spencer smiled widely, a carelessly happy smile that he seemed to reserve for Aaron. "I think that's a good idea," he said. They fumbled for a moment, then Spencer had to pull away. He made a frustrated noise. "I can't wait to get rid of these crutches."
"I can't wait either," Aaron said. They'd been holding off on anything more physical than sleeping next to each other, but he was eagerly anticipating the day he could do more.
"You could play your music for me," Spencer offered. Aaron blinked at him. "You know, the White Album. Dave said it's your favorite."
Aaron rolled his eyes. "Dave was being an ass. I like the Beatles, but Revolver is my favorite of theirs. I actually like U2 and REM better than the Beatles. REM was a local band, actually. I was still in high school when they got their start, but I had a friend who actually lugged sound equipment for them at UGA."
"Oh, so he was just going for the Manson line," Spencer said.
"Of course." Aaron kissed him. "But I wouldn't mind listening to the White Album. It's good music, even if it's not really my favorite."
Spencer laughed. "All right, give me a head start. I'm slower on crutches than you are drunk."
Aaron let him have several minutes because it was nice just sitting on the couch with his head back. After a while he headed to the bedroom, where he found Spencer starting to settle into bed. Dave had given him an iPod for his birthday--and Aaron still hadn't quite recovered from the irony of technophobic Dave giving him an MP3-player--so he queued up the White Album playlist, then crawled into bed.
Spencer settled into his arms, his head resting comfortably against Aaron's shoulder. It still occasionally astonished Aaron at how well they fit together. They listened to several songs, though Aaron saw Spencer wrinkle his nose during "Glass Onion." At the end of "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da", Spencer sat up. "Wait, he said Desmond! I've read that the Beatles' manager might have had a homosexual relationship with John Lennon, but I never imagined they espoused alternative lifetsyles in their lyrics."
Aaron snorted, and Spencer amended, "Well, alternative lifestyles aside from drugs and Hare Krishna."
"Wait until I introduce you to the sexually ambiguous Michael Stipe," Aaron murmured, then started laughing until Spencer kissed him to shut him up.
Pairings: Hotch/Reid, Prentiss/Rossi
Rating: PG
WC: 1414
Summary:Dave and Hotch spend some time over whiskey and cigars, and Reid isn't as oblivious to the world as he seems. Coda to "The Performer".
Notes: Betaed by
resolucidity. SPOILERS for "The Performer".Series: This is part of a series of Season Five episode tags I've been writing.
1. Not So Alone
2. Weeping Endures for a Night
3. The Blink of an Eye
4. Trust and Regret
5. Something Pretty Wonderful
6. Hope and Bourbon
7. Shaking Things Up
8. Cementing
Aaron leaned back in his seat and stared at the ceiling, exhaling smoke. "I still don't entirely understand the appeal of these," he admitted, gesturing idly with the cigar in his hand. "The whiskey I understand."
They'd gone back to Dave's house after getting back to Virginia. Emily had pleaded tiredness and gone to bed, taking Mucci with her. Dave had watched her go, openly ogling her ass now that they weren't on the clock, and it had sent a little burn of affection through Aaron. He was a lucky man. Even if he was still hunting Foyet, even if he still doubted sometimes that he would get his son back...he still had his team.
The team believed in him. The team supported him. Even Morgan had come to him in private earlier and apologized for Lieutenant Kim's reaction to the news that Morgan was in charge, as if it were Morgan's fault. There were still moments where the others looked to Aaron for instruction, rather than Morgan. He knew it would be better for the team--and for Morgan's ego--if the hesitation wasn't there, but he couldn't help feeling gratified by it.
Dave laughed. "If you don't get it, I can't explain it," he said lazily. "But I'm glad you indulge in them occasionally for my sake."
Aaron gave him a look. "It was self-defense," he said. "The only way to stand the smell was to learn to smoke them myself." Haley had always hated the evenings he spent out with Dave. He thought it was at least partly because Haley and Dave didn't get along. But he knew she didn't like him coming home reeking of cigar smoke and alcohol. She'd once made him shower before she would let him get into bed. The second time she'd tried that, he'd slept on the couch all night, and she'd never pressed the issue after that.
Dave let out a long, contented sigh. "Aaron," he said after a while, "I don't talk this way often, but I have something I need to say to you."
Instead of responding verbally, Aaron raised an eyebrow and sipped his whiskey.
"You are by far the best friend I have," Dave said. "And I am grateful that you've stuck by me when not even three wives could do that." He met Aaron's gaze directly, his expression sincere. "I am a lucky man to count you among my friends." He sipped his whiskey. "And it is good to see you laugh again."
Aaron smiled faintly and looked down at the table. "You know I feel the same." He'd never been good at talking about his own feelings; he had learned early to hide them in his family, and he'd gotten used to thinking that his feelings didn't matter as much as the feelings of the people around him. But this was important. "Thank you for standing by me through everything...the divorce, Foyet..." His smile faltered, then strengthened. "Thank you for pushing me at Spencer."
Dave grunted. "He's good for you, Aaron. And you deserve to be happy."
"I'll never be fully happy until I have my son back," Aaron replied. "But I'm as happy as I can be."
"That's all I can ask."
***
"Ick. You taste like cigars." Emily kissed him again anyway, so Dave figured it wasn't an important complaint. Her fingers slid through his hair, pulling him closer.
"I always thought it was part of my appeal."
"Trust me, your appeal involves your wit, your style, your good looks, and your skill in bed," she told him, grinning up at him. "Nothing to do with cigars."
He laughed and kissed her throat. "I love you, Emily Prentiss."
The words still always seemed to make her melt.
***
"You're drunk." Spencer sounded astonished. Aaron knew Spencer had seen him drinking from time to time. For that matter Aaron had told him he had a glass of whiskey in his hand when Foyet showed up. But it was possible that this was the first time Spencer had seen him actually drunk.
"I called a cab," Aaron pointed out. That might have been another thing Haley didn't like about whiskey and cigars with Dave, he reflected. Aaron usually ended up calling a cab and coming home drunk.
"Well, I knew that," Spencer said, slipping an arm around his waist and kissing him. "You taste like whiskey."
"And cigars, I know," Aaron sighed. "Are you going to make me sleep on the couch?"
Spencer raised an eyebrow. "You're lucky I still have a bad knee," he said, "or I'd jump you right now. I have no idea why, but whiskey and cigars are two of the sexiest smells in the world." He kissed Aaron again, then pulled back. "It's possible I always had a thing for Cary Grant."
Aaron laughed. "And here you pretend you know nothing about pop culture."
"That was Fifties pop culture," Spencer replied. "I don't think it counts."
"You've read A Clockwork Orange six times, and you have the DVD sitting on the case right next to Citizen Kane," Aaron accused.
Spencer shrugged. "I just thought I should give Emily the line."
Aaron laughed. "You're such an amazing person," he blurted, then felt his cheeks heat. A moment later he thought, What the hell, and took a deep breath. "I care so much for you. I hope you know that."
It was wonderful to watch Spencer's expression go from amusement to surprise to utter astonishment to something so warm and tender that it made Aaron's throat ache.
"I care for you too," Spencer whispered, brushing his fingers against Aaron's cheek. "You're such a good man, Aaron. So handsome and strong."
Aaron didn't usually feel strong, not since Foyet. But he mostly liked that Spencer still saw him that way. Sometimes it made him feel guilty, since he thought it was a false image. But most of the time he felt that if Spencer thought he was strong, it must make him stronger. "I want to take you to bed," he murmured, brushing his lips against Spencer's.
Spencer smiled widely, a carelessly happy smile that he seemed to reserve for Aaron. "I think that's a good idea," he said. They fumbled for a moment, then Spencer had to pull away. He made a frustrated noise. "I can't wait to get rid of these crutches."
"I can't wait either," Aaron said. They'd been holding off on anything more physical than sleeping next to each other, but he was eagerly anticipating the day he could do more.
"You could play your music for me," Spencer offered. Aaron blinked at him. "You know, the White Album. Dave said it's your favorite."
Aaron rolled his eyes. "Dave was being an ass. I like the Beatles, but Revolver is my favorite of theirs. I actually like U2 and REM better than the Beatles. REM was a local band, actually. I was still in high school when they got their start, but I had a friend who actually lugged sound equipment for them at UGA."
"Oh, so he was just going for the Manson line," Spencer said.
"Of course." Aaron kissed him. "But I wouldn't mind listening to the White Album. It's good music, even if it's not really my favorite."
Spencer laughed. "All right, give me a head start. I'm slower on crutches than you are drunk."
Aaron let him have several minutes because it was nice just sitting on the couch with his head back. After a while he headed to the bedroom, where he found Spencer starting to settle into bed. Dave had given him an iPod for his birthday--and Aaron still hadn't quite recovered from the irony of technophobic Dave giving him an MP3-player--so he queued up the White Album playlist, then crawled into bed.
Spencer settled into his arms, his head resting comfortably against Aaron's shoulder. It still occasionally astonished Aaron at how well they fit together. They listened to several songs, though Aaron saw Spencer wrinkle his nose during "Glass Onion." At the end of "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da", Spencer sat up. "Wait, he said Desmond! I've read that the Beatles' manager might have had a homosexual relationship with John Lennon, but I never imagined they espoused alternative lifetsyles in their lyrics."
Aaron snorted, and Spencer amended, "Well, alternative lifestyles aside from drugs and Hare Krishna."
"Wait until I introduce you to the sexually ambiguous Michael Stipe," Aaron murmured, then started laughing until Spencer kissed him to shut him up.
