Combefere's Journal

1. Alphabetizing Movies by Title

“Pretty Boy?” Derek was crouched down in front of their TV looking for their movie while Spencer did the dishes. The latter hadn’t seen Happy Gilmore and Derek couldn’t let that stand. 

“Yeah?” Spencer called from the kitchen. 

“I can’t find it?”

“What?” Spencer stepped away from the sink and went to the living room. Water dripped from his fingertips. “The movies are alphabetical. It’s between Hamlet and Ice Age.” He went to Derek’s side and gestured to the movie. “I was going to order them by director, but Hotch said most people don’t know directors very well. Which is a shame because J.J. Abrams destroyed Star Trek but Guy Riche-” 

Derek pressed a kiss to Spencer’s lips with a fond smile. Spencer blinked. 

“Sorry,” the doctor blushed. 

Derek just chuckled. “You know you’re adorable, right, Pretty Boy?” 

“You may have mentioned it a time or two,” Spencer laughed. 

“You can tell me all about directors later,” Derek promised. “I know a bit about the mainstream guys, but not a whole lot.”

“All you really need to know is that J.J. Abrams kills anything he touches and Peter Jackson doesn’t get as much attention as he should.”

*****

2. Morning Rituals

One thing that Derek very quickly learned about Spencer was that he 

had a specifically timed morning ritual when not on a case. And that if it was broken or disturbed, the whole rest of the day would go down hill like a train on greased tracks. 

He woke up at 6:17, was in the shower by 6:25, eating breakfast by 7:00, his bed made by 7:30, and shoes on his feet by 7:32. The last half hour before they left at 8:00 was free game. 

The first morning in their new place was the roughest. Spencer went 

about his usual morning, but Derek didn’t usually wake up until 7:45 because he took less time to get ready and ate in the car. So when Spencer finished breakfast and went back to their room to make the bed but Derek was still asleep… He paced for the next fifteen minutes and his head nearly went through the ceiling when Derek’s alarm went off. 

Spencer almost had a panic attack as he fumbled his way through making their bed and cramming his feet into his shoes. Needless to say, the extra half hour was spent- in vain- trying to calm the doctor down. None of the rest of the day lined up properly and Spencer was on edge and fidgety. Hotch even had to gently remind him to focus a few more times than the usual redirection of infodumps. 

That was the first and only time Derek didn’t follow Spencer’s morning routine. He found the same day that Spencer had a much simpler night ritual: Snack (sometimes) at 10:10, teeth brushed by 10:25, in bed by 10:35, reading until (supposed to be) 11:18, and then lights out. This routine was much more flexible and relaxed.

Derek found waking up and going to bed at the same time every day made the former much easier. He also found that Spencer reading to him most nights- no matter the book or topic- was very relaxing. And of course there were nights when Derek read to Spencer.

*****

3. Sugary Coffee

Derek took a sip of coffee from his travel cup and whistled. “Think I got yours, Pretty Boy. There’s enough sugar in this to hype up a six year old’s birthday party.” 

Spencer braced himself and took a sip of the coffee in his own cup. He was pleasantly relieved when the bitterly sharp taste expected never came. “I-I put sugar in both of them. I wasn’t thinking,” he said sheepishly. 

Derek shrugged. “You know what they say: I’ll try anything once.” He chuckled. “I’ll just brush my teeth for an extra three minutes.” 

Spencer scoffed as he got into the passenger seat of Derek’s car. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll like it. You don’t get the caffeine drop when the eight hour half-life is over.” 

“Is that why you put so much sugar in coffee?” Derek raised an eyebrow, thinking he already knew the answer. 

“And coffee tastes like battery acid. I’d rather drink vinegar than black coffee.” Spencer shuddered. 

Derek chuckled but didn’t say anything else as he pulled onto the street.

*****

4. Cuddly Sleeper

Even though Spencer wasn’t huge on PDA like Derek was, he sure was a cuddly guy. The second the door closed, he was a six foot koala. That included in bed- but usually not until after he was asleep. 

Some nights, Spencer would fall asleep reading. So Derek would take his book, close it, gently remove Spencer’s glasses, and turn out the lamp. Nine times out of ten, Spencer was curled up against his side before Derek was asleep himself. 

At first, Derek found himself wondering why Spencer wasn’t nestled against him before sleep took him. But after a while, it sunk in that the doctor unwound by reading. 

The look on Spencer’s face when he curled into Derek’s side always sent the older man over the moon. The absolute peace on the doctor’s face. One night, Derek almost woke Spencer up laughing. Derek rolled over to out the lamp and Spencer had gripped Derek’s arm tighter and whined in his sleep. Derek then had to assure his boyfriend- in soft whispers as to not actually wake him up- that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

Spencer never thought to question why his book and glasses were gone when he woke up.

*****

5. Leaves Books Everywhere

Anyone who had a 30 second conversation with Spencer- anyone who glanced at Spencer- could tell the man read more than he did anything else. 

Derek picked up the doctor’s satchel once and was moderately surprised the slim man hadn’t dislocated his shoulder with how heavy the bag was. But Spencer didn’t only keep books in his bag. No. They were all over the place. 

Their bedroom, the craft room where Derek made floor plans for his renovations, the kitchen, the dining room, the living room. Even both bathrooms and the basement. 

When the two first moved in together, Derek debated building an extension onto the living room for a library. He still debated it from time to time (just in case). But as time wore on, Derek grew to appreciate the countless (if seemingly random) books around the house. 

Spencer would read when Derek was working on floorplans, so Derek would read when Spencer worked on an academic paper or consult. 

“What’re you reading?” Spencer asked one night, finally looking up from his notebook. He was writing an essay on how handwriting analysis could help catch a serial killer and/or rapist. 

“I don’t even know,” Derek chortled. “Uh..” he looked at the cover, “it’s Introduction to Law by Joanne Banker and Yvonne Ekern.” 

“Oh! Hotch loaned that to me yesterday,” Spencer noted. “I should get that back to him soon.” 

Derek just shook his head. “You know, Pretty Boy, I didn’t read this much in college.”

Spencer smiled. “See? Maybe there’s a good side to not spending thousands of dollars on building a library,” he teased.

6. The Nightlight

In the bedroom, in the outlet closest to the door was a nightlight. But not just any night light. This nightlight made the move in the front pocket of Spencer’s satchel. 

“So what’s the story behind this platypus, Pretty Boy?” Derek had to ask one night as Spencer turned it on. “Because you’ve had this since before we were dating.” 

“My uh- my mom’s went on a sort of field trip with her hospital a couple years ago. It was on one of her good days. She saw this in the aquarium’s gift shop and bought it for me.”

“That’s pretty cute,” Derek encouraged. He knew Spencer didn’t open up about his mom often so Derek tried to learn everything he could about the woman during the rare occurrences. 

“We named him,” Spencer laughed. “Alfred Nicholas Brian Reid.” He giggled. “I just… He helps.”

*****

+1. Bleeding/Infected Hangnails

Spencer usually had something to stim or fidget with. A strip of paper, a pen or pencil to twirl, a shirt with a loose thread, something. On the off chance that he didn’t, the doctor somehow decided that his fingers were good enough. If Spencer didn’t have a hangnail, he’d start one. 

This was the one and only thing about Doctor Spencer Reid that Derek Morgan hated. He could see the minute flinch when Spencer held a utensil wrong and it pressed on the swollen skin. He heard the soft hiss when Spencer got tomato or orange juice in the broken skin. 

What Derek hated even more than that was when the hangnail would get infected. The skin around the nail or turn a greenish-yellow and harden. Which, in turn, gave Spencer another thing to pick at. 

“Pretty Boy, you gotta stop,” Derek sighed. He’d gone into a convenience store to get them something other than coffee- but tastier than water- to drink. While inside, he bought a box of Band-Aids and a tube of anti-bacterial cream. 

Spencer snapped out of his daze. “What?”

“Picking at your nails.” To prove his point, Derek took Spencer’s hand in his to show him, as well as to stop his current picking. “I know you’re worried about the case, Baby, but we’ll catch the son of a bitch and put his ass behind bars like we always do. You gotta stop destroying your hands.”

“I didn’t realize I was,” he admitted. 

“I know,” Derek said softly. He applied the cream and a Band-Aid to each finger that needed it (five in total between both hands). “We just gotta get you a couple of those fidget cubes Garcia has.”

JJ could tell from the second she laid eyes on Reid that something was off. She couldn’t tell if something bad happened, or if he was just thinking. Either way, the blonde figured that talking would do the young doctor some good. 

“Hey, Spence.” JJ approached the younger man. “Everything okay?” 

He looked up from his paperwork with a blank face but conflicted eyes. “Yeah. Why?” 

“You just seem a little quiet today. Are you sure everything’s going alright?” JJ cocked her head a little but made sure to keep her voice gentle. 

Oftentimes, one had to over express themselves for Reid to get their gestures. He had no problems reading potential unsubs or the families of victims, yet he couldn’t read his friends well. If something was wrong, he could tell immediately, he could tell they were happy because they were smiling and laughing. Just about anything else, though? Annoyance, anger, confusion, contentment, curiousness? He couldn’t tell. 

Reid started tugging firmly- not hard enough to hurt- on the hair at the nape of his neck. JJ noticed first as she was passing through the bullpen on her way to Hotch’s office with an armload of files. She quickly placed the files on Hotch’s desk and left before the man had a chance to say thank you. 

JJ placed her hands gently on Reid’s shoulder. “Spence? Let’s go talk, okay?” She helped the young doctor out of his seat and led him to her office. “You okay?” 

“Just...overthinking.” Spencer’s hand was still tugging at his hair and JJ found herself wondering if he even knew he was doing it. 

“Okay,” JJ nodded slowly. She handed Reid a pencil and a rubber band from her desk with one hand, easing Spencer’s hand from his hair with the other. “Is your mom okay?” she guessed.

“Fine.” Spencer took a deep breath and shakily released it. He started muttering under his breath and JJ frowned. 

“What?” 

“Transference happens when someone redirects their feelings or-or a desire for someone to an unrelated third party,” Reid recited. “Freud believed it happened more often when stemming from one’s childhood. But that doesn’t make- it can’t-” 

“Spence, Spence. Slow down. We can figure this out. Why do you think you’re transferring your feelings onto a third party?” JJ eased Reid to sit in her desk chair and he immediately started moving the swivel chair in semi-circles. 

“I have to be. He’s not even-” Spencer stopped and shook his head. 

“Who?” JJ tried to pry. 

“Morgan.”

“Morgan’s bi,” JJ offered. “Do you have feelings for Morgan?” 

“I can’t,” Spencer shook his head frantically. The sound that came out of his throat when the rubber band snapped against his hand was nearly a whimper.

“Why not?” JJ cocked her head and sat on the corner of her over-cluttered desk. “Spence, it’s okay to develop feelings for people- especially someone you work with and see everyday.”    

“Not Morgan. He wasn’t trying to be romantic. He was just being a friend. Friends hang out after work. You and I aren’t dating and we go to the movies all the time.”

“Right,” JJ nodded. “Have you tried talking to Morgan about this?” 

“No. I can’t. It would mess everything up,” Spencer stopped spinning the chair. “It’s just transference. I think I like him because he was kind and yesterday was close to what a date is supposed to be.” 

“Are you sure it wasn’t a date?” JJ proposed. 

“It wasn’t. He would have told me.” 

“How did he ask you?” JJ’s brows furrowed together. 

Spencer’s eyes gained a distant look. “Pretty Boy? Yeah? Wanna get some coffee that’s supposed to be sweet without rotting your teeth? My treat. Oh. Sure. The coffee they have here isn’t good enough? Do you see the ability to steam mil-” 

“Wait, wait,” JJ stopped Reid from continuing the rest of the conservation. “Morgan offering to pay was the indication of it being a date.” 

It was Reid’s turn to frown. “How is that an indication of a date? That’s such an everyday thing- he pays for my coffee all the time.” His eyes widened. “Have we been on dates before I didn’t know?” 

“No, no, Spence, he specified that this time was his treat. It wasn’t a convenience where we were on a case and you both needed coffee. This was going out of the way after work instead of going home.” 

“I didn’t know… This isn’t transference?” Spencer’s brown eyes finally met JJ’s. 

“No. You two like each other. There’s nothing being transferred.” JJ wore a small, encouraging smile.

*****

Elle was a little more than confused when she got a text from Reid that night. It was pretty rare for the young man to contact anyone outside of work seeing he had such a strong dislike towards technology. 

The text read: Are flowers too much for a first date?

Elle shook her head with a soft smile. Boys, she thought with a sigh. Regardless, she answered the poor boy’s text. You have to be careful with roses. They mean different things. Roses are too strong. 

Roses are too strong? Reid frowned and texted Hotch instead. He was married; he’d know about flower meanings, right? 

Hotch chuckled as he answered his phone. What’s so funny?” Haley asked. 

“Do you remember Dr. Spencer Reid?” Hotch looked at the blonde. 

“He’s the shy, Autistic boy, right?” She looked up from feeding Jack.

“Yeah. He just texted me, ‘do you know anything about flower symbolism? Elle says flowers have different messages’.” Hotch’s thumb danced across the flip-phone’s buttons. 

“What are you telling him?”

“That roses have the highest chance of getting him into his date’s bed. Pink camellias and carnations are signs of love and longing; ferns represent new beginnings.” Hotch typed the names of the flowers, placing an equals sign before the meaning. 

“Do you know who his date is?”

“SSA Hotchner does not.” 

So yes he did.

*****

Once Reid bought the flowers, he got into a cab and headed for Morgan’s. He knocked on the door, flowers in hand. His heart was hammering in his chest while he waited, jumping at the sudden barking of Clooney.  It had slipped his mind that Morgan had a dog.

Morgan opened the door, a little shocked to see Reid with a bouquet of flowers. “What’s up, Pretty Boy?” 

“I-I…” Reid’s heart was suddenly in his throat and he gulped. “I talked to JJ and I didn’t know yesterday was supposed to date.” the young doctor paused. “I didn’t- I haven’t been on a date before. I didn’t know that-”

“Spencer, Spencer. Slow down. It’s okay. Why don’t you come in?” Morgan opened the door a little wider led Reid in with a gentle hand on his forearm. Reid followed inside and Morgan closed the door behind them. 

Clooney was sitting on the couch, completely ignoring the men without a care in the world. 

“I wanted to ask you out on a real date- one that I know is a date. JJ said flowers were a nice gesture.” 

Morgan chuckled and took the flowers from Reid when the latter offered them. “You’re sure this is something you’re okay, Spencer?”

“You aren’t pressuring me; this isn’t transference. I genuinely have feelings for you,” Spencer nodded, not breaking eye contact. 

The solid, unwavering eye contact was the note that assured Morgan he was serious. Spencer hated eye contact. It made him squirm and stutter. Spencer only ever made eye contact for longer than a split second when he was sure of a detail in a profile or he was info-dumping and the person he was talking to was honestly engaging back. 

“Alright, Pretty Boy,” Morgan nodded with a smile. “We’ll go on a real date. We’ll think of something.” The man was already formulating ideas for the date. Somewhere that wasn’t too bright or loud, somewhere that didn’t serve spicy food. It narrowed things down some. 

“I-I know I’m not an easy person. I just...something’s good,” he tried to explain. “I don’t... “ he stopped and took a deep breath.

“You ain’t gotta know, man. Sometimes, ya just gotta go with it.” 

“Just gotta go with it,” Reid repeated with a smile.

**********

Hotch came out of his office and entered the bullpen. “I almost forgot that Jack told me a joke this morning and wanted me to tell it to you all. What has two butts and kills people?” 

Elle and Morgan looked at each other, running possible answers through their minds. Hitman; no. Sadist; no. 

“An assassin,” Hotch chuckled. 

Morgan and Elle laughed. “Where’d he hear that?” Morgan wondered. 

“Someone at school heard it from their brother,” Hotch shrugged. “He was proud that he got me with it.” 

The three looked at Reid who was still contemplating the joke. His brow was furrowed, his eyes seemingly staring at the floor but not focussing. Assassin?

“Reid?” Hotch questioned. 

“I-I don’t…” he shook his head with a frown.

“You’ll figure it out,” Morgan reassured. “A hint: don’t overthink it.” 

Hotch chuckled again at the perplexed look on the youngest agent’s face and went back to his office. 

Reid got a fresh cup of coffee and sat back down. On a scrap of paper, he wrote the joke’s question and the punchline under it. Writing out the punchline was what got the joke through to him. 

The young doctor clamped a hand over his mouth, giggling. His eyes were clenched shut as he laughed. The two co-workers sitting around him shared a look. 

“You good, Pretty Boy?” Morgan chortled. 

“You just got the joke, didn’t you?” Elle sighed. 

Reid finally managed to swallow his mouthful of coffee and burst out laughing. He nodded in answer to Elle’s question. Hotch could hear Reid’s laughter from his office and couldn’t help laugh. The young genius could pinpoint where the unsub lived based on his handwriting in moments yet it took minutes for him to understand a simple quip. 

Elle spared Morgan a look, her smile softening when she noticed a different light behind the man’s eyes as he watched Reid trying to contain his laughter. 

After a few moments, Reid managed to calm himself but was left with the hiccups. Everytime Reid hiccupped, Morgan would chuckle. At first, she thought it amusing. Now though? Five minutes later? It was driving her insane. 

The brunette ventured into the breakroom and thrust a cold bottle of water into Reid’s hands when she came back.

*****

JJ and Reid were talking in the breakroom later in the afternoon. 

“Did you hear the joke Hotch told earlier?” Reid giggled at the thought of the joke.

“No. What was it?” JJ grinned at her child-like friend.

Reid managed to tell the joke- a smile constantly on his face and through giggles. 

“Want some Tums for those butterflies, lover-boy?” Elle teased suddenly, making Morgan jump. 

“Jesus, Elle!” Morgan hissed from where he sat at his desk. 

“You’re gonna talk to him, right?”

“I talk to him all the time,” Morgan shrugged, trying to dismiss the woman’s teasing. 

Elle gave him an incredulous look. 

“I- No. Not about this.”

“Why not? There’s nothing in the books saying agents can’t date.” Elle crossed her arms over her chest, tapping the toe of her shoe waiting for an answer. 

“I...It’s not a smart move.” 

“Not a smart move?” Elle scoffed. “It’s one of the smartest moves you could make.”

“What move?” Reid wondered as he and JJ appeared in the doorway. 

“Pulling his head out of his ass long enough to breath,” Elle covered, ignoring  Morgan’s galre. 

Reid’s brow furrowed again in confusion, but he dismissed it and headed back to his desk to finish the consult he was working on. 

“Butterflies?” JJ looked between the two profilers with a knowing smirk. 

“Does everyone know?” Morgan threw his arms up. 

“I’m not a profiler and I know, so probably.” JJ shrugged. 

Morgan glanced at Reid with wide eyes, silently asking the two women if Reid might know as well. The women glanced at Reid. “No,” they answered at the same time. 

“I’ll give Garcia a heads up that you’re gonna want to talk to her for date ideas.” JJ beamed and left with a bounce in her step.

*****

“Pretty Boy.” Morgan caught Reid’s elbow as the younger agent pressed the down button for the elevator. 

Spencer looked at Morgan with widened eyes, shock evident in them. “Yeah?” 

“Wanna get some coffee that’s supposed to be sweet without rotting your teeth?” Morgan offered. “My treat.” 

“Oh. Sure,” Reid smiled. “The coffee they have here isn’t good enough?” he teased. 

“Do you see the ability to steam milk?” Morgan smirked. 

“Fair point. But if you want frothy milk, it’s not hard to do. I mean, you could buy a hand-held frother- they don’t cost much. Or if you have a jar- like a canning jar- then you fill it a third of the way and shake it like crazy until the milk doubles in size. It only takes about a minute, actually,” Reid explained. 

As the two got into the elevator, Reid missed the thumbs up JJ and Garcia were sending Morgan’s way with wide smiles. 

“You don’t usually drink coffee after four unless we have a case. What changed?” Reid’s question pulled Morgan’s wandering mind back to the present. 

“Uh...it’s just one of those cooler fall days, you know? Gets ya in the mood for warmer drinks.” 

“Have you had spiced cider?” Reid asked, excitement in his eyes. “My favorite coffee house only has it from October first to December 31.” 

“You never really struck me as a cider kinda guy,” Morgan noted. 

“It has to be real cider. The stuff they sell at the store isn’t worth the money. It’s just over priced, juice made from crab apples- not really crab apples, but it’s sour enough to be. It has to be real cider,” Reid explained. 

“If you like cider so much, have you had hard cider?” 

“I don’t drink,” Reid shook his head. “I like the usage of my frontal lobe and liver too much. Not to mention what it does to your kidneys and blood- Alcohol is just back for you. Some people swear that a glass of red wine is good for at the end of the day, but more current studies are finding that it’s not because it kicks your liver into hyper drive right before you lay down to go to bed so it actually keeps you up.” 

Morgan chuckled at Reid’s info-dumping. A lot of people found it annoying, but Morgan saw the truth behind it. The more the kid trusted you, the more he info-dumped. He wasn’t huge on physical touch from others- he, JJ, and Garcia were working on that- so he showed he cared by sharing his infinite knowledge with you. 

“Sorry.” Reid tugged the cuffs of his cardigan over his palms and fisted his hands. “I was rambling.” 

“It’s all good. I knew people thought wine could help disease- my aunt swears by it- but I didn’t know they were disproving it. I’ll have to send her some of those sources of yours, huh?” 

“I can forward them to you tomorrow,” Reid nodded.

*****

Reid got up from their table to get them refills. They’d been chatting and working on a jigsaw puzzle at the back of the coffee house. Morgan sent a quick text to JJ. 

“I don’t think he knows I asked him out.” 

JJ giggled as she replied. “So tell him you asked out. You know Spence. You have to be painfully clear.” 

Reid sat back on the couch, handing Morgan one of the cups of spiced cider. “Do we have a case?” 

“Nah. Just JJ texting to see what’s up,” Morgan shrugged. He couldn’t help but admire Spencer. The younger man went right back to the puzzle, the awkward air floating miles above his head.

**********

No-one in the BAU was shocked to learn the young Dr. Reid had horrible seasonal allergies. Upon his first year at the BAU, the Unit Chief, Aaron Hotchner, thought the poor boy was ill. 

The youngest agent continuously had a tissue, wrapped around his forefinger, pressed under his nose whenever he had to look down. Reid sniffled almost constantly and sneezed every few minutes. After the third sneezing fit, Hotch decided enough was enough. 

“Reid,” he called from the rail above the bullpen, “my office, please.”

Reid was up on his feet, going to his boss’s office and sat when gestured to. He sneezed and wiped his nose with the tissue. “What’s up?”

“You can stay home when you’re ill, Reid. That’s why you have sick days,” Hotch explained. Gideon had joked about them having to tell Reid about what a vacation was, but he didn’t think he’d need to tell the boy about sick days. 

Reid shook his head. “I’m not-” he sneezed, “sick. It’s just allergies. My meds just haven’t kicked in yet.” The doctor sniffled. “It only takes about a week for antihistamines to work their way into the system.”

“When did you start taking them?” Hotch studied Reid. 

“Monday.” 

It was Wednesday. “Reid, go home. Catch up on sleep.” 

“Hotch, I’m really-” sneeze, “-okay.”

The unit chief sighed. “That wasn’t a question. Go get some rest; play tomorrow by ear. If you aren’t as snuffly, come on back.”

Reid grabbed his satchel and begrudgingly waved to Morgan on his way out.

---

When Reid went back to work the next morning- very early morning seeing as they had a case, he was still just as stuffy-nosed as before. Hotch very nearly sent the boy home. 

Reid was comparing handwriting samples when his nose started to run. He was about to run the cuff of his shirt under his nose when there was suddenly a tissue in his hand. 

He looked at Morgan, who was slipping a plastic sleeve of tissues into his pocket, for a few seconds before he sneezed into this tissue. From then on, Morgan made it a habit to carry tissues with him in case the kid might need them.

II

JJ was in Quantico with Garcia while the rest of the BAU was off helping police in Montana with a missing person’s case. Garcia usually preferred tea after 3:30 in the afternoon. Whenever she started up her electric kettle, she always offered whoever was within earshot if they wanted tea, too. That day, it happened to be JJ.

“I’m going to rinse out my mug. The second drawer to the left- the bottom one- is full of tea. Take your pick.” Garcia ducked out of the room.  

The Tech Analysis wasn’t kidding when she said the drawer was full of tea. Earl Gray, mint, Lady Gray, a couple of herbal seasonal teas. And a sinus relief tea. 

Garcia re-entered her office only to find a rather concerned JJ. 

“Are you coming down with something, Garcia?” the blonde inquired. 

“What? No.” Realization dawned on her when she saw the Yugi box in the Media Liaison’s hand. “Oh! That’s for Reid when his allergies act out. When his allergies are bad, I cut him off after two cups of coffee, but he can have as much Gateriad, water, and tea- herbal tea- as his little doctoral heart desires.

III

When Reid came to work sniffly and red-eyed, Prentiss felt worry for the young doctor. Why didn’t he stay home if he was feeling so poorly?

Garcia came bustling in next and Emily caught up with her. “Hey, Garcia? Does Reid look kinda ill to you?”

“Watery eyes? Sniffling every five seconds?” Garcia was already headed back to her bunker, determination in her step. 

“Yeah…”

The blonde shook her head. “He’s early this year.” 

“What?” Emily followed after her. 

“His allergies are awful. They’re always worse in the fall.” Garcia turned on her electric kettle and got a Dr. Who mug from her tea drawer. 

“Does he take meds for it?” Emily wondered. “My allergies were bad in college and I took an over the counter pill; they were manageable.” 

“No,” Garcia sighed. “He used to, but now he won’t take anything that isn’t prescription and he refuses to go to the hospital unless Hotch makes him- and allergies aren’t deadly or contagious, there’s nothing Hotch can do. Anyway, we help our good doctor teas and endless tissues. Morgan always has tissues for him and JJ has tea in her go-bag.”

---

When Emily went to the store after work, she was sure to buy tissues in the plastic sleeves. She was loaded with the little things. Her blazer pocket, pants pocket, purse, go-bag, and the glove box of her car. 

So Reid was shocked when, the next day when they were at a crime scene, he sneezed and there was a tissue in front of his face when he opened his eyes and the hand wasn’t Morgan’s.

“Oh. Thanks.” He took the tissue and Emily merely nodded.

IV

Rossi had been on the team for a few weeks before he witnessed one of Spencer’s allergy bouts. He couldn’t help but pity the young man. After all, he’d had godforsaken seasonal allergies when he was a teen. 

One day, Reid stepped into the bullpen and saw a jar of honey on his desk- comb and all. Beside the jaw was a note in Rossi’s neat scrawl. It read: Eat half an inch of honey comb twice a day, use the honey in tea or on food. Give two weeks and you’ll never suffer from allergies again. -David Rossi.

Reid smiled to himself and picked up the jar. He opened it and broke off the suggested amount, squishing it lightly between his forefinger and thumb, debating if he’d be able to stomach the texture. He came to the conclusion that never having to deal with allergies again- even the possibility of it- was worth an off-putting texture. 

Morgan was the first to notice the youngest agent stopped putting half a cup of sugar in his coffee and instead opted for three tablespoons of honey. “Trying a new flavor, Pretty Boy?” Morgan asked when he spotted Reid putting the jar of honey back in his desk drawer. 

“It’s a home remedy suggestion from a friend. The honey’s sweeter, so it takes less- to mention the health benefits. Honey has four properties that kill bacteria and because this jar I have is wild honey, it has trace amounts of pollen. That’s why it might help my allergies- it’s like an edible vaccine.”

Percival didn’t get sick often, but when he did, the illness usually had him laid up in bed for as long as two weeks. This time was a little different. So when he stumbled into Gaius’s chambers with a hacking cough, Merlin grew worried. 

“Are you okay?” Merlin rushed up from the table where he was sitting and the gentle giant to sit down on the patients’ cot. 

“I can’t-” Percival broke out coughing again. When the coughing subsided, the knight opened his hand and frowned at the flower petal in his palm. “What…”

“I’ll find Gaius,” Merlin offered. “He’ll know what’s wrong and what to do. I’ll be back soon.” He patted the man’s shoulder and tore out of the room at a dead sprint.

*****

Gaius sat back from listening to Percival’s breathing with a furrowed brow and a frown. 

“What is it?” Merlin asked. 

“It’s a very rare disease,” Gaius sighed. “Hanahaki, they call it. There’s only one cure for it, and it isn’t always a guarantee.” 

“Well what is it?” Merlin asked. “I’ll-”

“You can’t.” Percival hung his head. 

“What are you talking about?” Merlin looked between the two. “What does Hanahaki do?” 

“It causes flowers to grow in the lungs until the love isn’t unrequited anymore,” Gaius answered when Percival didn’t open his mouth. “The only one who can stop the disease is the one who’s love Percival’s heart desires.”

“That’s why the cure isn’t guaranteed… But-but you’re in love with Gwaine, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Percival whispered. 

“But he loves you as well- I know he does. He can cure you.” 

“He doesn’t, Merlin,” Percival offered a small smile. “You’ve seen the way he flirts with women. He’d have no interest in someone like me.” 

“Flirting is just words,” Merlin protested. 

“You musn't say a word of this to him, Merlin,” the knight begged. “He’ll blame himself and my death is not something he needs on his conscience.”

*****

A week went by and Percival’s breathing became shallower by the day. There wasn’t an hour when the man wasn’t light headed from lack of oxygen. He found himself wishing he had the strength to pick up a knife and end everything rather than slowly wasting away. He wasn’t even coughing anymore. 

Each member of the round table would come to Gaius’s chambers and visit with the man daily. Arthur would come and pray for him to get better, Gwaine would swear at the sight of his best friend so ill. But Gwaine was determined to find a cure for his friend. He had been told the story about Merlin’s life having been saved from a poison with a simple- yet rare flower. If he had to go to the ends of the Earth for some herb, he’d do it.

*****

“It’s not that kind of illness.” Merlin shook his head while polishing Arthur’s sword in the armory. “There is a cure, but it’s said to be an unlikely one.” 

“Well what is?” Gwaine threw the dagger he was sharpening on the  floor, making Merlin jump- almost cutting his hand on the blade in his own hands. “Merlin, please. If you know it, tell me. I have to try something. My best friend is dying and I can’t sit by and watch any longer when there’s something I could be doing.” 

“He requested I not you. If the cure doesn’t work, he doesn’t want you to feel guilty.”

“Then at least I tried and I didn’t let my friend die without a chance.”

Merlin sighed, running a hand through his hair. The long haired knight had a solid point. Even if the cure wasn’t within reach, Gwaine deserved to know and Percival deserved the chance. 

And so, with a gentle tone and deliberate word choices, Merlin told Gwaine the truth. How someone falls ill to the disease, how and why it kills, how it can be cured. As Merlin finished the explanation, as though the fates aligned, Gwen burst through the door.  

“Gwen-”

“It’s Percival. Gaius says he’ll be dead within the hour.” 

Merlin and Gwaine bolted up and followed Gwen out of the armoury and back to Gaius’s chambers. When they entered the room, Gwaine sat on the side of Percival’s cot and took the other man’s larger hand in his own, holding it tightly. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Gwaine begged, tears threatening to spill. “You oaf. Why didn’t you say a word of this to me?”

All Percival could do was shake his head, and even that simple action seemed to cause him pain in some manner. His breaths were now short wheezes that could be heard from across without straining one’s ears. 

Gwaine rested his forehead on Percival’s. “Don’t go,” he whispered. “I do love you. I do. Just don’t leave me. Please.” 

Percival’s breathing slowed and quieted. Everyone in the room knew what was coming. The slow rise and fall of Percival’s chest stopped and a feral sob tore from Gwaine’s throat and the sound was the tipping point of Gwen’s tears. 

“Go dtí go mbuailfimid le chéile arís, is féidir le Dia tú a shealbhú i pailme a lámh,” Merlin whispered with his eyes closed and head bowed. Percival had been raised by Druids; Merlin thought the blessing was fitting for the gentle man. 

In a final attempt to do something for the man, Gwaine pressed his lips to Percival’s. He needed his best friend alive. He loved the man and didn’t want to see him go. There was so much good for the man to do in the world. He couldn’t be taken so young. Not after everything he’d been through to get to where he was. 

As Gwaine pulled away, all hope lost, Percival took a deep, gasping breath. The painful wheezing was gone, the soft fluttering sound left too. He opened his eyes and looked at Gwaine with shock and confusion. 

“It worked!” Gwaine sobbed. He cupped Percival’s face in his hands and kissed the man again, deeper this time. Percival didn’t waste a second in returning the kiss. 

“How did you know?” Percival asked, still catching his breath from being days without it.   

“A little bird told me,” was the only answer Gwaine gave. “I begged him to- he was hesitant but I got it out of him. I need to try whatever the cure was. I love you and seeing you go so slowly- so painfully- It couldn’t be the end.” 

“You love me?” Percival asked. 

“Would you be alive if I didn’t?” Gwaine asked. “You should have told me.” 

“I didn’t think you were…” 

“You can be attracted to both, Percy. But attraction isn’t the same as love. I flirted so often to hide. My cowardice nearly cost you your life- It did cost you your life.”

“Yet your love brought me back,” Percival smiled. “That takes bravery I didn’t have.” 

“Didn’t?” 

“I don’t want to hide anymore.” 

“Then we won’t,” Gwaine vowed. “Arthur’s Camelot is different. Merlin’s not hiding anymore...Arthur’s engaged to Gwen...I don’t think he’ll deny us the same right.” 

The king had been standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe unnoticed since the two kissed and now made his presence known. “I won’t. I’ll write the law tonight.” 

“Which means I’ll be writing it and he’ll stamp it,” Merlin pointed out, drawing laughs from the room.