SSA Dr. Spencer Reid (
youfeelluckypunk) wrote2015-06-15 10:29 am
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[july 12]
It'd happened all too quickly, having barely begun before it was already over, but the incident has left Reid with butterfly stitches at his temple, a bruised cheek, and a headache that hasn't gone away even after taking a hot shower and changing into a shirt that isn't bloodstained. Reid can't blame the man who'd done it; after all, an emotional outburst from Frank Hansen was to be expected when he'd suddenly appeared at the scene of his own wife's death, the sound of his anguished cry echoing between the walls of alley and overpowering the chatter of the crowd behind the crime scene tape.
Clank had tried to stop him, but the strength of a person suffering from a fresh loss is not to be underestimated, and Mr. Hansen had pushed past the tape and Clank and the other officer on duty before reaching Reid. He'd held his hands up in front of him, a calming gesture that never seems to do its job, and had received one punch, then another, then a rough shove into the brick wall to his left for his trouble.
In all honesty, the worst part about this ordeal hadn't even been the forced visit to the hospital. The worst part is that he'd been due at Luke's over an hour ago because it's his friend's birthday, one he'd promised to help celebrate nearly a month ago, and he hadn't wanted to explain via text the reason for why he's late so Reid is sure Luke must be thinking awfully poorly of him right about now.
As soon as he's straightened his tie in the mirror, poked at the tiny bandage strips on his face with a grimace, and patted down his hair for the eight time in the mirror, he rushes out of his apartment while shooting a quick text out to let Luke know he's finally on his way.
He has a wrapped gift in one hand and a cake, an ice cream cake with a wolf in icing on it, a custom request that hadn't gotten him so much as a raised eyebrow, sitting in a bag hanging from the other, and it's well past closing time for the store so Reid goes straight up the stairs and knocks on the door to Luke's apartment. There's a part of him that's worried that Luke has already left his place, already fed up with how late Reid is, but he reminds himself that there's little to no chance of that. They'd made plans and maybe Reid has been called away to a crime scene once or twice already, but Luke keeps agreeing to see him, and they keep having a great time together, all of which contributes to just how much harder Reid has to try to tell himself that he doesn't want to do anything to jeopardize this friendship. Namely, anything that would indicate that what he's been growing to feel for Luke isn't just friendly.
When the door opens, he breathes a silent sigh of relief and smiles, momentarily forgetting what had made him so tardy in the first place. He'd already texted Luke a happy birthday this morning, accompanied by a smiley face that had seemed innocuous enough, but he says it again now as he holds the bag containing the cake up for his friend to see. "Hi. Happy birthday, I'm sorry again that I'm late, I just-- There was this thing that happened at the crime scene, and-- well, obviously, I guess, but anyway... Yeah. Happy birthday."
Clank had tried to stop him, but the strength of a person suffering from a fresh loss is not to be underestimated, and Mr. Hansen had pushed past the tape and Clank and the other officer on duty before reaching Reid. He'd held his hands up in front of him, a calming gesture that never seems to do its job, and had received one punch, then another, then a rough shove into the brick wall to his left for his trouble.
In all honesty, the worst part about this ordeal hadn't even been the forced visit to the hospital. The worst part is that he'd been due at Luke's over an hour ago because it's his friend's birthday, one he'd promised to help celebrate nearly a month ago, and he hadn't wanted to explain via text the reason for why he's late so Reid is sure Luke must be thinking awfully poorly of him right about now.
As soon as he's straightened his tie in the mirror, poked at the tiny bandage strips on his face with a grimace, and patted down his hair for the eight time in the mirror, he rushes out of his apartment while shooting a quick text out to let Luke know he's finally on his way.
He has a wrapped gift in one hand and a cake, an ice cream cake with a wolf in icing on it, a custom request that hadn't gotten him so much as a raised eyebrow, sitting in a bag hanging from the other, and it's well past closing time for the store so Reid goes straight up the stairs and knocks on the door to Luke's apartment. There's a part of him that's worried that Luke has already left his place, already fed up with how late Reid is, but he reminds himself that there's little to no chance of that. They'd made plans and maybe Reid has been called away to a crime scene once or twice already, but Luke keeps agreeing to see him, and they keep having a great time together, all of which contributes to just how much harder Reid has to try to tell himself that he doesn't want to do anything to jeopardize this friendship. Namely, anything that would indicate that what he's been growing to feel for Luke isn't just friendly.
When the door opens, he breathes a silent sigh of relief and smiles, momentarily forgetting what had made him so tardy in the first place. He'd already texted Luke a happy birthday this morning, accompanied by a smiley face that had seemed innocuous enough, but he says it again now as he holds the bag containing the cake up for his friend to see. "Hi. Happy birthday, I'm sorry again that I'm late, I just-- There was this thing that happened at the crime scene, and-- well, obviously, I guess, but anyway... Yeah. Happy birthday."
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They live very different lives, he's understood that right from the beginning, and although he's felt an uncharitable and completely senseless flare of jealousy when Reid has been pulled away from their plans before, Luke has accepted right from the start that their schedules are bound to be different. His job is easy, secure, the schedule never changes, but what Reid does for a living is unpredictable and there's no way for him to know when he might end up at a crime scene. It means Luke has to be a little more accommodating when it comes to the times they see each other and that really doesn't seem like such a hard trade off. He's willing to be flexible if it means they get to carry on with their friendship, especially now that he's identified this warmth growing in his chest as something more than strictly just a friendly feeling. He doesn't know what to make of that, he's never acted on feelings like this before, so for the time being it's just something that's there, building low inside him. He'll take whatever time he can get with Reid, however, and he's excited about the idea of celebrating his birthday with him.
But half an hour after he's supposed to have arrived, Luke hasn't seen him and he hasn't heard from him and he suddenly realized his throat is dry and his chest is tight. What he's feeling isn't irritation that Reid is late, it's genuine fear that something bad may have happened to him and Luke checks his phone for what feels like the fiftieth time before he sets it aside and forces himself to do something else. If another thirty minutes go by without hearing anything, he'll call. That's the decision he makes and instead of letting himself stare at his phone, he leaves it in his small, cozy living room and goes into the kitchen to clean.
It's really unnecessary, his apartment is about as clean as it can possibly get, but it's something he's always done in times of stress. He's always been very neat and today he's even made his bed, which is something he rarely does. Not that he expects them to have any reason to be in his bedroom, but if Reid wants a tour, Luke wants to be sure the entire apartment is in the best shape it can be.
He wipes down the counters again and then dries them with a dish towel that he then folds and hangs neatly on the hanger beside the sink. It's as he's rearranging his coffee mugs that his phone makes a noise to let him know he has a text and when he sees it's from Reid, all he can really do is breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe he's late, but that's fine, just as long as he hasn't been injured or worse. Luke knows the things that creep around this city, he knows all the possibilities, and there's a part of him -- a stupid, irrational part -- that wishes he could just be there with Reid at all times to make sure he's okay.
When he hears the knock he gives himself a second just so it doesn't seem like he's rushing to the door, then he smooths his hands down over his shirt and goes to answer the door. His smile fades when he catches sight of Reid, the bandages at his temple and the bruise on his cheek, and without thinking Luke reaches up, his fingers catching Reid's chin gently before it even occurs to him that his friend doesn't particularly like to be touched. Luke has seen him awkwardly avoid handshakes and he's made careful note of that, has done his best not to initiate touch where it's not welcome, but he isn't thinking of anything but the bruises on Reid's face.
His skin is warm under Luke's fingers and he can feel the light scratch of stubble, and for a second he can't think of a single thing to say. "Sorry," he manages finally, taking a step back to let Reid inside, the distance it puts between them enough to let his hand fall away. "What happened?"
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"No, it's--" He pauses, hesitating, then gives Luke's a small, almost shy smile. "It's okay. Contrary to what I might want people to believe, I don't actually bite." Reid narrows his eyes at his own words, realizing how ironic that must sound to a man who's a werewolf, but he doesn't think Luke will hold his choice of words against him. "And this is nothing to worry about, really, just a run-in with a grieving husband."
He hopes he doesn't sound too casual or cold about it but there's nothing much to say about Mr. Hansen beyond that. Reid has seen it before, grief that translates directly to anger, he's felt it himself, especially after Maeve had been killed. He hadn't attacked anyone, granted, but at the time, he'd felt like maybe he could at least try. He'd poured his energy into absolutely nothing instead, possibly just as unhealthy, sitting alone in his apartment and clutching the book that Maeve had gifted him, the one that's now tucked away in a drawer in his apartment; but that had been over two yeas ago now and while he still thinks of Maeve, she doesn't haunt him like she used to. He doesn't know whether that's because he's finally come to accept that there's nothing he could have done or because slowly but surely, he's finding it easier to open himself to someone new.
She'd be happy for him, he thinks, and she'd likely tell him so if she could. Reid would deny, deny, deny until he couldn't anymore, swear up and down that he doesn't have romantic feelings for anyone because who could care for him again the way Maeve had, nobody, he's not typically lovable in that way; but in his wallet is a note, a handwritten poem by e e cummings written on it, the second one he's received so far, and a part of him wants to beg Luke to tell him that he's the one who'd sent it.
He never will, of course. That's just not who he is. He can profile, he can ask all the right questions of a family who's suffered a loss, of someone close to an unsub who might shed some light on their state of mind, but Reid would never be able to look Luke in the eye for fear of facing rejection to a question he wants so desperately to be answered in the affirmative.
"I brought you cake," he says softly, tearing away from thoughts of the poem because here, in this particular apartment, he wants to focus on what he knows to be all Luke. "It'll melt if we don't get it in a freezer."
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This time, though, Luke doesn't know if it's because he's uncomfortable or for some other reason. He knows every time he's anywhere near Reid, his own heart begins to pick up. He knows his chest tightens with nerves and his hands grow clammy just as his throat goes dry. The last time he'd felt anything like this had been the night he'd met Alaric for the first time and there are times when Luke still wonders why he hadn't made more of an effort there. His feelings had been returned, he's sure of it, but there had been Jocelyn to consider. Always Jocelyn. Ever the unintentional roadblock in his life. She never would have wanted him to put off finding someone he could care about, but he hadn't been able to help it. Seeing her every day had always made it difficult for him to see anyone else, but she isn't here.
With Mindy, he had thought he simply wasn't prepared to move on, but it's more than that. They hadn't been right for each other, they're only meant to be friends, but he had thought it was still Jocelyn getting in the way. She isn't. She never has. He's allowed her to because he'd been holding onto a hope he long since should have let go and the more time that passes, the more he realizes just how unfair he's been to them both. To give her his friendship in that manner, always waiting for her, he can't imagine the incredible pressure that had placed on her. And to refuse to allow himself to feel anything else in hopes she might one day change her mind had been just as damaging.
It's time for him to move on. He's ready. And all he can do is hope he isn't going to mess any of this up too badly. All he can do is hope Reid might be interested in the same.
Luke smiles again and closes the door gently behind Reid before he leads him over to the small kitchen. It's spotless with the exception of the dish rag and he narrows his eyes at it before he snatches it up and folds it carefully over the tap to let it dry. "Here," he says, opening the freezer for Reid to put the cake inside and he can't pretend he doesn't feel a little flutter of pleasure knowing he's brought something just for him. For his birthday. No one has ever done something like this before, not someone he's felt himself very rapidly developing feelings for. "Do you need some ice for your face? I make an excellent ice pack."
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But maybe he has. It hasn't been all that long at all since he'd arrived but the parts of his mind that are warring over how he feels and how he thinks he should feel are starting to blend together now. To walk into this apartment and not feel like he's walking on eggshells has to be a good sign, he thinks; or maybe it's just being here with Luke that already makes him feel like he's at home.
He sets Luke's wrapped gift down on the counter, leaning against it as he watches his friend put the cake away, then shrugs a shoulder before nodding. The rational part of him that's vying for control is screaming that he doesn't need the ice pack, the cuts and bruises are manageable and the headache still lingers, but it isn't going to ruin the evening; but the other part of him craves the tender gesture Luke is offering. He's used to his team fussing over him, poking and prodding in a playful manner even when their expressions betray how concerned they really are, but there's something different between him and Luke. He just hopes that he isn't the only one who feels it.
His fingers tap against the shimmery silver wrapping paper that hides a sculpture of an old Ferris wheel, a way of preserving a memory that Reid doesn't think he could forget if he tried, which he wouldn't want to in the first place. He'd wandered around the pawn and antique shops looking for something appropriate for what must have been hours before landing on this, and Reid doesn't know whether Luke will like it or shove it somewhere along with whatever else he finds useless, but to him, it mean something. It's special.
"I'll take an ice pack," he finally answers with a wry smile. "Only to put your skills to the test, though. I've been through way worse before, this is just a few scrapes and bruises."
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"So now I have to impress you with my ice pack making skills," Luke says with a soft huff of laughter as he retrieves the tray from the freezer. It's not the sort of talent one usually brags about, but the fact is that he has gotten very good at it over the years. Shadowhunters have their healing runes and werewolves heal quick enough that they usually don't need anything of the sort, but as children, before they'd been allowed to use steles and Mark each other, they'd still had to train. And Luke had often been the one helping Amatis heal when she would return home from a particularly brutal afternoon of physical training.
The memory comes as a bit of a surprise and Luke's hands shake for a moment as he puts several ice cubes into a bag. For the most part, he tries not to think of Amatis too often. It still hurts, the echo of her final words to him. Valentine told me to kill myself, he'd said to her and she had looked at him, so cold, so empty. Her eyes had been blank and she had said, Maybe that would be the best thing. It's hard to separate that memory from all the others, but he does his best to think of his sister in the years before he'd been turned. The way she'd taken care of him and the way, in return, he'd done his best to care for her.
He misses her. Every single day, he feels his sister's absence and he doesn't imagine that will ever change.
Carefully, he crushes the cubes in the bag using his cookie jar. It's empty now, he hasn't really had a reason to fill it, but it's useful enough for tasks such as these. Then he disappears into the hall long enough to find a soft, clean wash cloth in the linen closet, which he then wraps around the bag of crushed ice before offering it to Reid. "See if that passes the test," he says, smiling. "And come sit down. Tell me what happened."
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Luke has gone to find a cloth by the time he arrives at that last thought, and he frowns, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers and urging this headache to go away because he thinks that's part of what's prompting his mind to conjure up a cause-and-effect as outrageous as that. She'd been the one to help him get rid of his migraines and while this pain in his head isn't from the so-called psychosomatic symptoms he'd had a few years ago, it certainly doesn't help to keep his worry that they could start again at bay.
He takes a deep breath, then another, letting the tension that's built in his shoulders drain away as he rolls his neck and drops his hand back down to his side as soon as Luke wants back into the roof. He takes the wrapped ice with a grateful smile, ignoring the small voice in the back of his mind telling him that he should ask Luke to help him with it, and holds it to his bruised cheek with a slight hiss of pain when he pushes too hard. In an instant, though, his skin is cooling, and Reid suspects the swelling will go down sooner than later thanks to the ice pack so he has to concede.
"The best I've ever had," he says, returning the smile and noting that it's with Luke that his worries melt away little by little, like the smallest bits of ice against the heat of his cheek. Being around Luke doesn't mean he sees the world differently, Reid has seen far too much horror to let himself fall into the trap of thinking a good life can't be touched; but it's easier, that's all. It's easier to believe that he can let go just a tiny bit more each day of the life he's left behind because if they continue on this path together, Reid thinks they'll eventually come to a point where their chemistry can't be denied for much longer. He doesn't know if it's the same for Luke but when they're close to each other, Reid can feel his heartbeat pick up, he can feel heat rising to his cheeks and impending nervousness over what he should do with his hands, and the worst part is that he's well aware Luke could sense all of that if he wanted to, if he was choosing to pay attention to Reid's reaction to him; it's that Reid can't do the same that's bothersome, and he feels like he's catching up on all the lovesick teenager symptoms that will eventually lead him to passing Luke a note that asks him to check off whether he likes Reid like that, check yes or no, and it's ridiculous.
They're grown men. If Luke cares for him as more than a friend, surely he'll say something about it; but then again, Reid feels something stronger than friendship for Luke, yet hasn't said a thing so age, he supposes, really has nothing to do with it.
"There's not a whole lot to tell," he admits, dropping down onto a couch beside Luke and sighing as he adjusts the ice pack against his cheek. "I got called in to a scene this morning, there was a body that was found, Mrs. Hansen, in an alley close to where another body was found nearly drained of blood in almost the same way about a month ago. I found out from the coroner that he found two small puncture wounds on the first body and if I had to guess, he'll probably find the same thing on Mrs. Hansen." He holds a hand up, waving it before he continues. "Don't say vampires. I know werewolves are real, obviously, that's fine, but I don't know if I'm really ready to accept that I'm fighting vampire crime. Anyway, Mrs. Hansen's husband arrived on the scene, I don't know if he was just passing by or if someone called him, but he became hysteric. Screaming, pushing his way through the crowd, tearing through the tape, the whole nine yards. I didn't move out of his way in time and, well, you can see the consequences of that."
He lowers his eyes, knitting his brow thoughtfully. "I don't blame him, you know? Losing someone you love that much, it isn't easy. If we're talking the Kübler-Ross model, he definitely skipped denial and went straight to anger, almost like..." He pauses, trying to work something out that just won't click, not when his head is pounding the way it is. "Almost like he wasn't surprised that it happened, just furious that it did."
He shakes his head, which only causes more pain but is enough to snap him out of his dead end of a trail of thought. "I'm sorry, you don't want to hear about stuff like this on your birthday, I'm supposed to be, I don't know, throwing confetti at you or singing at you or something, right?"
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It makes him nervous, thinking of Reid trying to deal with someone like that. Someone like Camille, perhaps, who has always followed the laws, but who Luke also knows is capable of so much damage and so much bloodshed. Vampires, like warlocks, live long enough to learn how to manipulate almost any situation they find themselves in and while they're not all terrible, while he can point to Simon as an example of a vampire who wants so badly to be good, there's still danger there. Too much danger.
"Please don't throw confetti at me," Luke requests with a smile, tilting his head so he can look at Reid's cheek. He wants to reach out and gently lift the ice pack so he can check on the state of the swelling, but even though Reid had told him it was okay earlier, he's still a little cautious when it comes to touching him without being invited. It's been made fairly clear to him through watching Reid interact with other people that he's not exceptionally comfortable with casual touching and while he's said the words to make Luke thinks it's okay, he's still uncertain. How much of that has to do with his own insecurities, he doesn't really know, but he imagines it's not a small amount. It isn't as if Jocelyn had spent all their time together rejecting him, he thinks their friendship had remained fairly strong despite his proposal and her gentle attempt at letting him down. He had never asked again, but he remembers moments, little instances throughout the years that had always made it very clear that her feelings hadn't changed. He would reach for something for her at the same time she would, their fingers would brush and she would jerk her hand back as if his touch burned her. She would catch him looking at her every now and then, and her brow would crease before she glanced away quickly, as if she didn't want him to know she had seen.
In the end, it all amounts to tiny rejections every day. And while Luke thinks he'd weathered them rather well, all things considered, it isn't something he'd like to repeat ever again. That's why he had never indicated to Alaric that there might be a chance to explore something more. It's why he's sitting here with Reid, unable to reach out and touch him like he wants to, and it's why he's letting himself focus on what Reid has said about the woman's husband. How he wasn't surprised she had died, just angry.
There are certain lives in which one might live in that sort of fear every day. Certainly he and Jocelyn had been on edge for a long time. Neither of them had ever been convinced that Valentine was really dead and discovering that he'd come for her and the cup, discovering that she was in a coma and Valentine was still out there hadn't entirely surprised Luke. He'd been angry, he'd been desperate to do anything in his power to protect Clary, but he hadn't been particularly surprised and on that level, at least, he thinks he can understand this Mr. Hansen. Sometimes the things that seem like they should be the most unexpected really aren't.
"It's alright," he continues. "If you want to talk about it, I'm happy to be here for you to bounce ideas off of. I know I'm not exactly a law enforcement official, but I have experience in... that other aspect of it that you've asked me not to say." He's smiling as he speaks, unable to help himself, not because anything is particularly funny, but because he just likes being with Reid. He likes spending time with him, he likes listening to him speak and if Reid wants to talk about what happened, he'll be more than happy to just listen, even if it is his birthday. It's not as if he's ever done anything particularly special and this is already significantly better than some of the birthdays he's spent more or less alone.
no subject
He's never experienced touch quite like that before. Ethan had gotten scared at the prospect of a proper relationship, one that Reid has wanted even if he prefers not to let on that having a romantic life matters in the slightest to him, and he hasn't treated Reid poorly because of that, but he hadn't exactly been the type to settle into an afterglow after sex, either. They hadn't lasted with each other long, being so different, and they'd argued more than once over the use of condoms and what to label the thing they'd shared between them and whether or not it was practical to consider anything resembling a future together.
Reid could have had a future like that with Maeve. She'd loved him, wanted him before ever even seeing his face, but the first time he'd touched her, Maeve's body had already gone cold. He wonders if he'll ever be able to stop thinking of that without that familiar, deep ache rising in his chest, one that only seems to worsen the pain in his head, and he lets out a soft groan of discomfort as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
The best thing to do, really, is to stop thinking so hard about all this. He's here with Luke, on Luke's birthday, and he's thinking of defunct relationships and death and the potential of a future with a man he isn't even sure is interested in other men. He's thinking about the fact that the poem in his wallet is one of Cummings' and the fact that the only person he's talked to about that particular poet is sitting right next to him. He's thinking about Luke's affliction, though Reid isn't sure that's the proper thing to call it when Luke has so wholly accepted that part of himself, and how none of what's happening in Darrow would pass as sane back with the BAU.
Yet he'd so readily welcomed it into his life because of one reason in particular, and it isn't that he hadn't had a choice. It doesn't take a genius profiler to figure out why, and it takes him another half a moment to finally be able to bring himself to say something that wouldn't just be an unintentional verbal freefall of all that he's feeling right now.
"It's just... strange," he says, opting to continue with the topic of the not-vampires because it's just easier, it's somehow less of a headache. "There's so much that leads me to believe these are sloppy killings, both the bodies were left to find so easily with blood trails in the alleyways. Assuming it's the same person, the unsub obviously went to the trouble of dumping the bodies, maybe even meant it to look poorly executed, but after seeing Hansen's reaction, I'm starting to think that maybe it's all been very deliberate."
A theory has been cooking in his mind since he'd left the last crime scene but in his rush to see Luke, it hasn't had a chance to fully form so really, all Reid is left with is a few facts and a very big question mark.
A glance at Luke shows Reid that his friend is smiling and almost instantly, it relaxes him, coaxes out a small smile in return, and he lets out a frustrated groan as he throws his hands up into the air in an overexaggerated expression of having absolutely no clue what he's gotten himself into before letting them fall back into his lap.
"I just don't know where to start. If we were in my world, I'd say that this could be a case of an unsub with Porphyria, they might display commonly described vampiric conditions like a desire to drink human blood to alleviate symptoms like an aversion to sunlight or. But here, there's... well, there's you. And that means there's other things out there, things I can't understand, so if this does have to with what I've asked you not to say then can there even be an end and if there is, how am I supposed to stop it?"
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But instead of saying that, instead of asking Reid not to get involved or telling him he can't -- because Luke already has a fairly good idea of how well that might go over -- he mulls over the question thoughtfully. It's different here in Darrow in a lot of ways, but it can't be entirely dissimilar. For the most part it seems like the vampire population has been relatively quiet until recently and Luke doesn't know what it might be that's shaken them up, but things like this usually don't happen without a reason. Vampires can and often do feed without killing, many of them with powerful abilities to compel their victims to forget the attack has happened at all, so to kill people outright and to leave their bodies in such obvious locations speaks to something bigger than just simple hunger. He doesn't know the politics in Darrow, but he has a feeling this is bigger than it might seem.
"Where I'm from there are laws in place to prevent vampires or werewolves from killing," he says carefully. "They're not enforced by police officers and that's... I don't want to say that's a problem, but it does raise some roadblocks. Regular officers aren't trained to fight vampires. They're incredibly strong, much faster than regular humans and difficult to kill, which puts people in increased levels of danger when they're not expecting it." And it makes him incredibly aware of just how vulnerable Reid is. Even just sitting here next to him, Luke is terribly aware of the steady beat of his heart, the delicate pulse in the hollow of his throat. It's right there under the surface of his skin, so easily accessible to any sort of creature that might want to spill his blood and Luke has to draw in a deep, steadying breath.
"I know you can't have me with you when you're working, but if there's any time when you think you might... when a danger like that might be present, please call me," Luke says, then smiles again, a faint, shy expression. "Before you rush headlong into a vampire's next, preferably." Being a werewolf doesn't make him a vampire hunter, but between his increased strength and being trained as a Shadowhunter, he's more than capable. He wants to be there if Reid needs him, he wants to be able to keep him safe, and he knows such a thing isn't truly possible, that there will always be dangers in this world and any other they may find themselves in, but at least he can offer this is nothing else. To be there if he ever needs to face down something other than human.
"The thing with vampires is that they're still very much like humans in a lot of ways, especially when they're young," he says. "They can be very stupid, but they can also be brilliant. They can be cold and calculating, or they can be like you would expect any regular person to be. The older they get, the more wrapped up they become in their world's politics and the more likely they are to make a stand when challenged. A show of force. Being a vampire doesn't necessarily make them evil, but it does make them strong and fast and anyone who lives for hundreds of years gets bored eventually."
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Granted, he may have it all wrong. Maybe in Darrow, vampires are immune to sunlight and pointy pieces of wood, and Reid has to keep thinking of their existence as impossible because otherwise, he has to admit defeat in this case before he can even really begin with it. What makes that difficult is the fact that he's sitting next to a werewolf, one who's offering him protection from these things they both know to be real, though one of them is clearly much more familiar with them than the other. He shifts awkwardly in his seat, suddenly all too aware of just how close his knee is to Luke's right now, and it reminds him of when their fingers had brushed so very lightly in the dark of the movie theater at Mindy's party.
There's nothing to read into when it comes to that, accidental touches that could have happened with anyone, but this is different. Luke's implication that Reid would be no match for vampires on his own is clear enough but it's what's beneath the surface of those words that has him far more interested. It's what has him very aware of the poem he's carrying with him, of the heat rising in his cheeks, and of Luke's discomfort at the idea that Reid might involve himself in something he can't handle on his own. It all adds up to what Reid wants the total sum to be but for the life of him, he can't bring himself to believe that he isn't just overreacting. Call it self-preservation, it wouldn't be far off, but there's nothing about Luke's reactions that can't be explained away with simple concern for a friend.
The truth of it is that if there's a chance of something more happening between them, Reid wants it to be a sure thing. He knows that might be asking for a lot, possibly even too much, but he wants this surprisingly pleasant ache in his chest that happens every time he sees Luke to continue and if that means keeping all of this to himself, so be it. The alternative is a worse, much less appealing kind of pain, one he's felt before, and he's tired of that. He'd like, for once, to win one when it comes to romance.
"I promise I won't try to emulate Van Helsing at any point," he says sincerely, though his brow arches playfully and the corners of his lips twitch. "Well, unless I'm actively watching someone be attacked, but I promise I'll call you for back-up before anyone else. " As far as he knows, most of the people he works with at the station are human, though he supposes there'd be no real way to tell until he was, in fact, told, and he wouldn't trust anyone else to be able to truly keep him safe. "You'll always be my first call. Even if it doesn't have to do with vampires."
It's the closest he's come to admitting the way he feels, and he's not sure whether he'd prefer for Luke to acknowledge or ignore it but either way, he's taken his turn. He's moved his piece and this isn't a game, Reid knows that, but he thinks it might just be time to start taking risks that don't include getting involved with supernatural creatures causing crime scenes.
"Hey," he says after a beat, lowering his ice pack from his face with brightening eyes, "as uplifting as this topic is, there's the matter of your birthday cake in the freezer. And the gift I got for you, which you don't have to open in front of me because I've had some practice reading facial expressions so if you hate, I'll know immediately. But vampire talk and cake go pretty well together, right? Cake's a great appetizer, by the way, if you haven't eaten dinner yet."
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Protecting the world is too grand a goal for him here in Darrow, but he can protect those he's close to, those he cares about. He can protect the people who matter, starting with Reid, and if he's done well enough to have convinced the other man to call him directly should he ever need help, then Luke thinks he's accomplished exactly what he set out to do. And when Reid lowers the ice pack and the skin around his eye does look a little less swollen, Luke feels better still. He reaches out for the damp cloth, intending to take it into the kitchen and wring it out, because he can't imagine it will be of much use to Reid now that the ice has nearly melted and there's cake to be had as well.
"I'm sure I won't hate it," Luke says and he doesn't know how he's so sure, but he is. Perhaps it's been less than two months, but Reid has come to know him fairly well and that isn't only due to being a profiler and being able to understand Luke and his motivations in a way many people can't simply because they haven't had the training. Luke has been willing to share things with Reid that he hasn't always shared with others and it isn't because he doesn't trust them, but because he's been offered a place in which he feels comfortable. They spend so much time in the store instead of out doing other things and it's because of that, because they often find themselves surrounded by familiar books and shelves, a place Luke has put together piece by piece until it's reminded him or something special and personal that he's always found it so easy to just say things to Reid without worrying much one way or the other how they might be received. Because for all Reid's training, Luke has a few things on his side as well. That he can sense the changes in Reid's body certainly helps, but besides that, when it comes to his daily interactions, Reid is easily read. He doesn't try to hide things, for better or worse, he is exactly the man he is and Luke has found him very easy to read. That, too, makes him comfortable.
"I also hear gifts and cake go very well together," he says as they return to the kitchen. For the moment he leaves the melting ice pack in the sink and while he would normally clean it up immediately, he doesn't want to make Reid stand here and watch while his kitchen gets another entire wipe down. He'll worry about it later, because right now he's spending time with someone who's willing to celebrate his birthday with him and he can't remember the last time he's had that. Clary and Simon have always done their best, they've always made sure they remember, that he has something to open, but it's different with them. They're incredible, lovely children, but they're still children. It's nice to think he might have an adult in his life now who cares enough to give him a quiet birthday celebration.
"Should I open the gift first?" he asks, but before he even finishes asks, he's already pulling back edges of the silvery paper. Since it's his birthday, he doesn't think he needs to wait for permission, especially since there's only one person here with him, only one gift, and Luke has another playful comment on his tongue before he reveals the sculpture and his words seem to all but dry up. It's beautiful and he already knows exactly where it needs to go, but more than that, it's personal. It means something to the two of them and Luke's mind feels like it's both stopped processing information altogether and is going a mile a minute. The night at the amusement park had been a strange one, but it's also the night he feels they'd really become friends. Reid had been willing to listen to him, to take in everything he'd said and accept it. Believe it. For a man who is so rooted in science and reality in so many ways, Luke had appreciated that more than he'd been able to say.
The night means a lot to him. And he thinks this is the most beautiful reminder of that he could possibly receive.
"It's perfect," he says finally, then laughs and picks it up gently. "Come with me."
The apartment isn't particularly large, but he goes down the hall to the small office just beside his bedroom. The other two spare rooms are shut up, their doors closed, and he hopes to one day have use for them, but until now he's just readied one with things Clary might like. Just in case. His office, though, isn't decorated yet and he crosses to his mostly bare desk and puts the ferris wheel at one side. Exactly where it looks like it belongs.
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The following year, Secret Santa had been noticeably replaced with the simple deliverance of candy canes to every one the team.
So it's fair, he thinks, to be a little nervous when Luke tears at the wrapping paper and carefully slides the miniature wheel from its box. His friend goes silent for a moment, and Reid almost says something about how he'd kept the receipt and can easily return it when he catches sight of Luke's expression. He looks... pleased, not in the way that Garcia had when she'd realized just how grand a bounty she'd received from Reid that one year, but in exactly the way Reid had hoped he would.
He knows it couldn't have been easy for Luke to reveal so much of himself that night, to express the sort of things Reid isn't sure he'd be able to himself in such an eloquent way. There'd been a calmness in Luke's tone that evening, an acceptance that had been evidence enough of how unashamed he is about the man he's become, the werewolf he's become, and he'd trusted Reid to pay the same respect in his response. Luke needn't have worried, Reid had already decided by the time the story had reached the part about Valentine suggesting Luke kill himself that he could never walk away from this man. He knows that Luke is more than capable of protecting himself, but Reid has tasked himself with making sure that he never gives Luke any cause for unnecessary pain.
They may speak of difficult pasts when they're together, but it's only because of the trust they've come to have in one another. Reid wouldn't tell just anyone about what has happened in his life, about the horrors he's seen or the troubles he's faced and in fact, Luke is the only one who knows about any of it in Darrow so far. There's a reason for that, a very good reason, and it's expanded to include this sight of Luke right now, holding the reminder of that night in the park close to him and smiling the way he is. Reid only wishes he could reach for his phone to take a photo of this moment because he wholly appreciates the fact that he's played a part in inspiring that smile.
When Luke tells him to follow him, Reid offers no objection. He hasn't said anything yet because he doesn't know what he could possibly say that wouldn't degenerate into mumbling or stuttering because what he wants to explain is how much that night at the amusement park had truly meant to him. He wants to tell Luke that every time they see each other, his heart feels like it's expanding for him, for this easy rapport they've developed, and for everything he thinks and envisions when he walks away. It's not that his mind is constantly on Luke, he has other obligations and things of interest to attend to, of course; but he can't just explain away how Luke pops into his mind randomly throughout the day with friendship. Morgan had been his friend, but Reid hadn't wondered more than once what it might be like to kiss him. JJ had been his friend, but Reid hadn't spent a great deal of time imagining her hands exploring his body and finding all the most sensitive parts of him.
It isn't just infatuation, Reid knows what that consists of and this is so much more. This is stronger, he feels drawn to Luke, and he doesn't know why that is but then again, he's not sure he needs to know. All that's clear to him is that he feels comfortable here, safe and content, and doesn't feel that way with most people. He's seen too much to trust too quickly but with Luke, things have been different. Things have been easy.
"I'm glad you like it," he finally says, his voice soft as he stands in the doorway to what's obviously an office with his hands tucked in his pockets. "I wasn't sure if it'd click with you the way it did with me, I just-- Anyway, I thought about getting you a book of poetry, but I figured you'd already have it and buying from the competition just seemed cruel."
He pauses, biting down on his lip as he toys with whether he ought to say what he does next. "Did I tell you, by the way?" He shifts, feeling his wallet in his back pocket and knowing very well that he hadn't spoken to Luke of this yet. "I got another one of those poems in my mailbox. Cummings this time, this beautiful excerpt from 'somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond.' It's funny, really. Every time I get another one, it reflects things that I've been feeling myself." He lowers his eyes, unable to hold Luke's gaze, and toes at the floor. "I really need to find out who's sending them to me because they're clearly worth knowing."
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It isn't fair to compare everything to that moment, but he's never forgotten it. It's one of the most vivid memories he has, the way it had felt, like his heart wasn't breaking, exactly, but slowly crumpling inside his chest. He's never felt anything else like that, not even on the day she had married Valentine, and while there's a part of Luke that very much believes he wants to be loved again, there's a bigger part of him that is too afraid of rejection to give himself the chance. And it isn't fair. It isn't fair to either of them. He's been sending the poetry and if he isn't prepared to admit he's been the one doing it, then he's being as unfair to Reid as he is himself. If he can't be the sort of man he wants to be, if he can't step up and admit to his feelings, he shouldn't be offering them in the first place, even in an anonymous manner. It's cowardly and it's shameful and he knows he's not going to stop. Not until he finds in himself the strength to face the possibility of rejection all over again.
But he has to say something. He can't just leave that statement hanging in the air without a response and when he turns back from the ferris wheel, he's fairly certain his smile looks genuine. "That's a lovely poem," he says and his voice doesn't sound terribly strangled. In fact, if he were looking and listening to himself from the outside, Luke is fairly certain everything would appear as normal as it possibly can. It doesn't look or sound as if his heart is racing in his chest and unless he reaches out to touch Reid, there's no way he would be able to tell how badly Luke's hands are suddenly shaking. Everything that's been said to him right now screams of acceptance, tells him he wouldn't be so callously brushed off if he admitted he was the one sending the poems, but even still, he can't bring himself to do it. Fear and embarrassment still stop the words in his throat.
Anything he says now will sound dismissive and he doesn't want that either. This is an act he clearly hadn't thought through and now he's wondering what had possessed him. What silly, mindless part of him had thought this was a good idea when he's long since accepted he's never going to be the one to find someone who wants to be with him? He's accepted who he is, the man he's meant to be, the one who stands by Jocelyn, who loves her, who waits for her, but never expects anything of her. Never asks. And even if he's decided he's capable of moving on, there's nothing to have assumed that Reid might be interested in being the person he would move on with. There's been no suggestion of returned feelings, no encouragement that he might continue to send the poems.
He suddenly feels terribly stupid and like a very bad friend.
"One of my favourites," he adds, then nods back toward the living room. "There's still that cake, isn't there?" And he feels even worse. Like he's pretending not to have heard what Reid has said even though he's already memorized the words, even though they've already carved out a place in his chest and curled up there, resting and waiting for him to take them out again when he's alone later and examine them for deeper meaning.
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"Luke."
But even then, he's at a loss as to what he'd expected himself to say. There they both stand, eyes barely meeting each other's with a strange tension between them that Reid hasn't felt before and doesn't necessarily like, and he wishes he hadn't said anything about the poems at all because that's exactly what seems to have made things a bit awkward. That Luke hadn't had much to say on the subject isn't surprising, he hadn't the last time Reid had mentioned getting one in the mail either, and maybe that should have been the first sign to keep his mouth shut the second time around. Why should it matter to Luke that he apparently has a secret admirer he doesn't want? The only person Reid has been able to picture himself in any kind of embrace with in Darrow is standing right in front of him, and he can't do anything about it. Luke hasn't even given him any reason to think that he should, and Reid has to wonder why Darrow can bring him here in the first place but won't let him rewind time.
Five minutes ago, they'd both been smiling so genuinely at each other and Luke had looked so pleased by the Ferris wheel; now, they're standing in silence, and Reid remembers that he's supposed to be saying something so he struggles to find a believable cover to what he'd been about to say. Or not say, rather.
"The cake," he continues, and he doesn't know what he has to say about the cake, but the train of thought is a work in progress. "It's kind of silly. I remembered what you said about Simon and Clary giving you one with a clown on it, and I decided to follow in their footsteps in a small way. I know you'd much rather be spending it with them, but I-- I'm glad that you're willing to let me help you celebrate."
Everyone deserves to feel celebrated once in awhile, and he lets a bit of the tension drain from his shoulders because in spite of the fact that Luke is separated from his loved ones, from his daughter, Reid thinks that the fonder memories are the most important, especially on a day like this. He thinks of Gideon, of Emily and Alex, and Reid knows that it's thinking of them in a light that's better than the one that had cast shadows on their choices to walk away that will always keep them close to his heart. He needs them there, the three of them and the rest of the team, because they're the ones who'd helped him become the person he is now. They'd helped him become the friend he wants to be for Luke. The friend he hopes he is.
If anything more ever comes of it, Reid won't know where to begin with his thankfulness, but he doesn't want to push. Clearly, Luke hadn't been the one to send the poems, and that's okay. A random admirer is something Reid is okay with, as long as the infatuation doesn't lead to more than just a couple handwritten notes dropped in his mailbox, but that person could never hold a candle to the way Luke has been making him feel over the course of the last few weeks. That, in itself, is terrifying to him because he's never experienced something like this before. His feelings for people have always developed after he'd known the other shared them, and he can see now why it tends to make some people sick to their stomachs with anxiety every now and then.
Caring is stressful.
"Anyway, I'm keeping us from something delicious and sweet." He smiles widely, stepping past Luke and heading toward the kitchen with a glance over his shoulder. "If you're lucky, I might even sing you the first line of the birthday song."
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And he doesn't want to risk that with Reid. Over the course of his life, Luke has lost so many people and when he finds ones that are he cares about, people he knows can become important to them, the fear comes back. He's going to lose them. They're going to leave him. Worse, they're going to ask him to leave. It isn't fair to expect the same awful reactions from the people who have so far proven to be quite kind, but it's hard to undo years of betrayal. He's thirty-eight years old and now and then he has the insecurities of a fourteen-year-old.
So he's preparing himself for it when Reid says his name, but then suddenly he's talking about the cake and Luke's lips part, almost in surprise. "No," he says, then laughs. "I mean... yes, I would love to be able to see them, have them here to celebrate with me, but being here with you is... it's more than enough. It's been a long time since I've had a friend to celebrate my birthday with." There's Jocelyn, of course, but the more time he spends thinking about her lately, the more he's come to realize he was never that good a friend to her, after all. There's no one in the world he knows as well as he does Jocelyn, but knowing someone well doesn't necessarily mean he was as good a friend as he would have liked to be. And he wants to do better here. He wants to try harder for the people he cares about. He wants to be a good friend and not just someone who does nice things in hopes they might change the way a person feels about him.
But he also never wants Reid to doubt that they are friends. He never once wants him to think that he isn't having a good time or that he doesn't want him around.
"Are you much of a singer?" he asks as they return to the kitchen. He's watching Reid as they walk through the apartment, watching the way he moves, the look on his face when he glances over his shoulder. Luke can't help but smile at him in return and he feels the way his heart picks up a little, the way it feels like his skin is prickling all over with heat. "Because I am not, so if you start to sing, you'll be entirely on your own. There is nothing in this world that can get me to sing, not even the promise of cake." And yet that's not entirely true. If certain people asked him to, if Reid asked him to, he would probably muddle through any song he wanted.
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He'd spent years as a child in high school getting bullied for being weak, for not being able to defend himself, and he goes out of his way to be caught in a position like that now. He trusts that Luke wouldn't take advantage of him in a vulnerable state, not in any way, but to offer up the truth of a feeling that hasn't been asked for or prompted or truly shown to be returned, it's practically unthinkable. It's not something Reid has ever done. In a way, that almost makes him want to do it because it's a way to challenge himself; but this isn't a game. His friendship with Luke isn't something he wants to destroy over feelings he's been able to keep in check so far. If one day, being around Luke without having the luxury of being able to reach out and touch him when he wants to becomes too much to handle, maybe he'll reevaluate; but he doesn't anticipate that happening for a long time to come, if ever at all.
Reid is good at being alone, but he's come to the realization that he doesn't want to be anymore. He'd spent more time at work than at home and he'd never been refused an invite to going out to a bar or to Rossi's for cooking lessons but outside of his time with the team, Reid had spent a great majority of his free time doing things like calculating force times distance times the coefficient of friction to determine how fast he can make a hairpin turn in a Prius--and he likes doing things like that but frankly, he likes doing things with Luke more. Maybe he needs to meet more people and make more friends to keep his feelings at bay and if that's the case, he'll do it. He just needs to find the ones who don't want to give up on talking to him within the first five minutes of having a conversation.
"Depends on who you ask," he answers, reaching for the handle to the freezer before hesitating because this isn't his kitchen, it's not his place to poke around without permission, so he takes a step back with a rather sheepish smile on his face. "Sorry, your cake, all yours. Anyway, if you were to ask my teammates, they'd say absolutely not, I'm an awful singer. They've only heard me sing karaoke, though, and they were all drunk at the time so I don't know how conclusive that opinion is. If you ask me, I'd also say I'm awful. But to be fair, it's not my fault, the University of Montreal did a study that showed that nearly sixty-two percent of non-singers in Canada are poor singers and the primary reason was due to the inability to match the pitches of their voices to the tone of another instrument."
He shrugs as if that explains it all, as if it clears him of something that isn't necessarily a bad thing to begin with, and leans an elbow on the kitchen counter. "It's also a physiological thing. The shape of your vocal tracts can determine how good your voice is so some people are actually born great singers. Allow me to demonstrate."
He clears his throat, rolling his neck as he rubs at the base of it and sings, "Happy birthday to you..." There's a waver in his voice, something that sounds very close to a crack, and he trails off, deciding it'd probably be better for the both of them if he stops right now. "Obviously my vocal tracts are entirely the wrong shape. The cake might help. In fact, I'm thinking it's exactly what we need, maybe it'll get us on enough of a sugar high that we can go find a karaoke bar and stretch our vocal muscles." He's teasing, of course, though he's suddenly very on board with the idea of getting Luke to sing into a microphone. "Maybe I'll have to save that one as a birthday request for myself. Gives you about three months to prepare."
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And as he gets out utensils, he watches Reid, listening to him as he speaks and by the time Reid is singing the first few bars of the birthday song, Luke finds he's grinning, unable to help himself. Reid has been like this right from the start, filled with fascinating information Luke would have only ever been able to guess at, with statistics and numbers and studies to back up the things he's saying, which is a trait Luke respects more than he can possibly say. A good number of people seem to think as long as they say it, their information can be taken as fact, but Reid always has a way to verify what he's said, and Luke thinks that's a respectable, interesting trait. Not one many people seem to share. Valentine had always been of the view that his opinion was fact and it's rubbed Luke the wrong way ever since then.
"Oh, no," he says, shaking his head as he puts down the plates and holds up his hands in a defensive gesture, even though he's laughing at the same time. "No, now you really do sound like Clary and Simon." Who had tried to entice him to one of Eric's poetry readings more than once, who had tried to convince him going to Pandemonium would be good for him, who had tried desperately to talk him into getting up on stage when they had once accidentally attended a karaoke night in town when they had been up at his farm. "There is absolutely no hope of you ever getting me on stage. Not even for your birthday, I'm terribly sorry to say. I'll find you some other present, but not that. Not unless you'd like the better part of Darrow to be rendered completely useless when I shatter their eardrums."
And he waits for it with a little grin, wondering if Reid is going to take the bait. He'd used the turn of phrase on purpose, the expression of shattering their eardrums, knowing actually shattering them is utterly impossible. They can be ruptured or punctured and he knows especially loud noises can be capable of doing it, but shattering is not the right word, and Luke's singing would never be able of doing it. He wants Reid to correct him in a way, he wants to be told why he's not quite right in what he's just said and it's a strange sort of thing to crave, but he loves it. He really just enjoys listening to Reid speak. About anything.
It's so painfully obvious to him now just how hard he's fallen, but everything still feels like it's just out of his reach. He doesn't know what to do with this, but he knows that he doesn't want any of it to stop. One day he'll figure out what to do, but until then this is where he wants to be. Nowhere else.
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He trails off as he turns to see the smile Luke is failing to hold back, and Reid stares blankly at his friend for a long moment before he eventually blinks and lets the corners of his lips curve into a smile of his own.
"You set me up," he accuses, though it's with a good-natured tone, "you knew I would correct you on that, didn't you?" It doesn't offend him and that's clear enough by his ever widening smile. He's always been encouraged to hold back except when his wealth of knowledge is useful for a case, and Reid had understood why. In the middle of a search for an unsub, detailing the background of how something like Halloween came to be isn't exactly the most helpful thing he could offer. During slower times, everyone just let him talk but that's just it, they let him talk. Luke, on the other hand, had goaded him into it.
Not goaded, Reid thinks, that implies that there's mockery in it and he doesn't think there is. Luke simply doesn't mind that Reid likes to talk and more than that, he never seems to be faking his interest in what Reid has to say. The last time some had made him feel like he could talk about anything without judgment had been his phone conversations with Maeve. Sometimes he'd stand at a payphone for hours, adding quarters with every warning tone even though he could never know how long they had together. The difference now is that Luke is here, he's standing right in front of him, and he hasn't asked Reid to stop or leave. He's just asking Reid to be himself.
"Anyway, now that we're talking about it, I have had my ears ruptured a couple times over the past nine years but that was due to being caught in explosions. I think I could probably handle a little bit of you singing. In fact, I'd like to hope I'd find it preferable."
Reid would never truly pressure Luke into doing karaoke if he didn't want to, there's nothing he loves so much about singing in front of a bar full of people that would make him want to do it regularly or encourage anyone else to do the same; but he likes the way the suggestion had made Luke laugh because the smile that creases his friend's eyes is so infectious. With a life like Luke's, Reid imagines it would be difficult to practice using that smile, as he knows it's been for himself. There's nothing worth smiling about when being handed photos of dead bodies day after day, after all, and bringing an unsub to justice is something to be proud of but it doesn't bring the dead back to life.
Killing Tobias hadn't made Reid any less of an addict and watching Diane Turner shoot herself hadn't made Maeve any less free of her stalker.
Still, there has to be something to smile about or none of it worth it, and Reid has found very quickly that Luke has become key in brightening his day. Any texts or the promise of a visit is enough to make him nearly giddy and it's a little embarrassing but at the same time, Reid has never really experienced this before. Ethan had been the one to encourage Reid into a relationship, albeit one that had consisted mostly of sex and a distinct dodging of labels, and Maeve had been the first to tell him she loved him. Reid has never known how to flirt, nor has he ever really known when he's being flirted with, which makes all of this exceptionally difficult but no less exciting. There's the possibility for rejection, yes, but when Reid is ready to take a step forward and tell Luke the truth about how he feels, he'll at least be able to say he'd had the courage to do it.
When that day will come, he has no idea; but he thinks it's something to at least be planning for it.
"If not the karaoke bar, you can just keep it between us," Reid continues, unveiling the cake from its box and showing Luke the wolf made of icing. "And voila, for you. It's kind of amusing, right?"
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They hadn't exactly been well-loved because of it. Luke remembers well enough how often Robert had rolled his eyes at the two of them and they had only ever escaped without a physical altercation because they were both under Valentine's protection. He loved them in his way and so others were forced to love them, too. It's not the sort of love Luke thinks anyone should have to bear and he tries not to let the memories of that time creep in. Not tonight, not when it's his birthday and the decision to join Valentine and the Circle is officially two decades in the past. Not when he's here with a friend, someone who cares enough to have brought him a cake and a present, someone whose company he enjoys.
Someone who inspires the sort of feelings in him he'd long thought were over. Valentine has no place here. He has no place in Luke's life whatsoever and day by day he thinks he's taking the right steps toward forever undoing any hold his former best friend may still have on him. A parabatai is not a bond so easily undone. There are Shadowhunters who die of despair when their parabatai falls in battle and Luke felt the severing of that bond more keenly than he'd felt anything before, but it's been a long time now. The wound has healed, even if the scar is jagged and uneven.
"An explosion or my singing..." Luke shakes his head as he retrieves the utensils from the drawer and sets them out on the counter alongside the plates. "I'm actually not sure which would be preferable. With all the strange and crazy things that have happened in my life, I have to admit that explosions have never been all that common. I suppose demons have no use for dynamite." It's a joke, even if it's a bit of a silly one, but now that he's thought about it, it's always been interesting that the types of altercations Shadowhunters endure are fairly limited. Within the boundaries of Idris, magic prevents gunpowder from igniting, so it makes sense they're not used there, but he knows out in the world things are different. It does make him wonder why rouge Downworlders or even the angry Fair Folk don't use guns.
When Reid sets the cake down on the counter, his grin grows wider and then he laughs, shaking his head. "It's much better than a clown," he agrees, leaning closer to get a better look at the wolf done in icing. He wonders what the cake maker thought of it, if maybe they didn't think of it at all. It can't be the most unusual design they've ever had requested.
It makes him laugh, though, to see a little icing wolf on his birthday cake. More than that, it makes him feel good. Accepted. Reid isn't trying to ignore what he is or pretend it doesn't exist. He's acknowledging that the wolf is a part of Luke, a part of his friend, and there's no undoing it.
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He wouldn't have minded if it hadn't sent his mother spiraling, and he'd spent the remainder of that afternoon trying to help her through an episode. It hadn't occurred to him until later that she might not have even done the inviting she'd said she had, but Reid had known even before the party that the others in his class had considerably better things to do than celebrate the birth of someone several years younger than them.
These are the kinds of things that can lead to a dysfunctional life; they're the kinds of things that can make people feel left behind, abandoned and alone, and maybe that's why Reid sometimes believe that he can relate a bit too much with the unsubus they catch. It's a frightening thing to realize, to think that he has so much in common with someone who could kill and that if he'd made certain choices, if his brain hadn't gone the route of cooperation, he could very well have fallen into the role of hunted rather than hunter. In a way, though, it's helped him understand exactly what parts of his life separate him from the one he could have had.
In spite of his tendency to spend time with just himself or his mother as a kid, he'd grown up to have some incredibly intelligent, truly good people in his life. Gideon had taken him under his wing like nobody else could have, Hotch had always supported him in everything in his own quiet way, and the rest, Reid considers his family just as much as his mother. Outside of Darrow, those bonds wouldn't have been broken because there's a certain level of trust already required of them to work with each other. It's taking that step forward and moving past the surface relationships that have gotten them to where they'd been before Reid had been brought here.
That same bond is growing steadily between him and Luke, and Reid wonders if his friend can feel it, too.
"Speaking as someone who's been through a handful of explosions, I can confidently say that your singing would very much be preferable," Reid says, grinning as he slides a piece of cake onto one of the small plates and nudging it toward Luke.
He can't deny that he isn't pleased to see Luke smiling at the wolf, though he will gladly deny that he's pleased to see Luke smiling at all because it is such a wonderful smile. It makes him want to reach out and trace the laugh lines that crease at the corners of Luke's eyes, and Reid has to busy himself with cutting another slice because he's never thought that particular thing about someone so it's easier just to pretend he'd never thought it in the first place.
"Eat," he orders, "before it turns into soup. And while you do, just know that I'm already plotting ways to get you to sing me something, even if it's just between you and me."
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Once Reid has a piece of the cake for himself, Luke covers the cake again and returns it to the freezer so it doesn't turn into soup as he's suggested, then nods toward the couch once he's picked up his plate again. The couch had come with the space above the store, as much of the furniture had, and while it's not exactly the most stylish, it's worn and comfortable, and he sinks down on one end, leaving sufficient room for Reid if he doesn't want to sit right next to Luke. So much of the time he feels like he's floundering, trying to figure out where to stand, where to sit, how to conduct himself around Reid without giving away too much of what he's feeling, and there are times when he wonders if he should just let himself relax. If maybe it wouldn't be such a terrible thing for Reid to understand how he feels, but he just doesn't know how to do that. He toes the line between too much and too little.
"While you plot ways to get me to sing something to you, you should tell me about some of these explosions," he says, sitting back on the couch as he takes his first bite of cake. It's been a long time since anyone has done something like this for him and he hums softly, clearly enjoying the cake. This is all he could have hoped for on a day like today. He's missing home and Clary more than he usually does, he keeps thinking about what things would have been like this year, if they would have even acknowledged the passage of time with everything else that had been going on, but he knows she would have done something special for him anyway. Even if it had only been a cupcake from his favourite bakery in a box waiting for him on the counter when he arrived in the morning, she would have done something to mark the day, and having someone here willing to do the same means a lot to him. It makes him feel a little less alone, a little less homesick.
"Consider it an extension of my birthday present," he says, grinning before he takes another mouthful of the cake. It's good cake, cool and creamy, and his smile softens a little as he looks at Reid. He'd meant what he had said, that he likes listening to him talk, and even if he is one of the few, he thinks that's the loss of everyone else who's had the opportunity and hasn't taken it. People are a vast wealth of stories and information, things they're able to share, and Reid knows what he's talking about, he speaks well and clearly, he draws people in. At least, he's drawn Luke in and he supposes that's really the only thing he needs to be considering here.
"I know your job was dangerous, I... I completely understand what that's like, that it isn't something to be romanticized, but I think about all the stories you must have and I just want to hear them," he admits, feeling faintly embarrassed to find himself still speaking. "They're not like my life at all, they're so completely different from anything I've ever known."
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He's never going to be the kind of person who welcomes casual touch from a stranger or often initiates it even with people he is comfortable with but there are certain people he doesn't mind it from at all. Typically, it takes a little bit of time and effort on the other person's part to unlock that part of Reid that's willing to open himself up to someone else a bit more but in Luke's case, it seems to have happened exceptionally quicker than usual. Since the night of Mindy's party, he's been searching for a way to say that, to let Luke know he doesn't have to be so careful or hesitant, but Reid has no clue how without making it sound unnatural. The issue of touch has never come up between them, after, at least not out loud. Luke had simply noticed Reid's tendency to avoid physical contact, even a simple handshake, and had respected that without even asking.
It's no wonder that Reid finds it so easy to trust him. So often, he's withheld his hand, a gesture returned with a quirk of an eyebrow or a look of offense, neither of which Reid thinks he really deserves. He shouldn't have to justify not wanting to touch people when even some hospitals back home had started internal movements to ban handshakes in the workplace just to help prevent the spreading of germs. It's not a novel concept but there's little he can do about people's skepticism besides try to educate them, though that rarely seems to end with a better result than the other person changing the subject midway through a so-called lecture.
But there's cake melting on his plate, he remembers, and Luke wants a story, so Reid allows himself to get settled without trying to create more space between them and sighs. "Okay, which one do I even start with, that's a tough one. Okay, this actually happened in my first year with the BAU, about nine years ago. There was this unsub, Randall Garner, we called him 'The Fisher King.' Highly delusional, but he believed in those delusions fully, which actually made him incredibly organized with his killings. One of his victims was decapitated, another impaled with a medieval sword. He started stalking us once we were put on the case, trying to figure out where we lived and what our schedules were like. He sent each of us on the team items that he knew would mean something to us, even made contact with our families."
He tries not to flinch when he thinks about flying his mother out to the BAU, seeing her for the first time in so long not even because he'd wanted to protect her but because he'd needed her for her accidental involvement in the case, but he shovels a piece of cake in his mouth to distract him from the memory and carries on.
"We were searching for another victim that he'd abducted, her name was Rebecca, but we found out that he was institutionalized in the same sanitarium that my mom was. He actually talked with her, they were friends." In a way, it'd been a good thing. It's what had helped them in the end, but Reid remembers how horrified he'd been to know that his mother had been so close to Garner, even if it'd only been for a short period of time. There's no fault that lies with her, of course, but it'd been the first time Reid had really considered that the people he cared for outside of the BAU might also be put in danger simply because of his chosen profession.
"Anyway, it turned out that he'd given her a photograph of his residence so eventually, we were able to find an address. Rebecca, the victim, she was Garner's daughter, but she'd been put up for adoption because when she was very young, the rest of their family was caught in a house wire while they slept. Garner was severely burned, completely unrecognizable, and when he was insitutionalized, my mother taught him about..." Reid holds his fork up in lieu of a drum roll. "The Fisher King, keeper of the Holy Grail and antagonist to the Knights of the Round Table. In Garner's mind, he became the Fisher King, Rebecca the Holy Grail, and the BAU were the Knights. So when we finally got to the house, I was the one to confront him. He was strapped up, had a bomb planted on himself with a detonator that would set the bomb off if he let go. I knew the Fisher King story, he knew that, and he asked me to ask the 'magical question,' the one that would heal his wounds."
He smiles sadly, lowering his eyes to his cake and poking at it before taking another bite. "Obviously, that wasn't going to work. I tried to talk him down, I asked him to forgive himself for what happened to his family and for not being able to get all of them out. He'd been blaming himself for year, but it was faulty wiring, it wasn't his fault." He's seen it so often, a trigger that sparks the urge to kill in an unsub who just needed the right kind of help, and Garner was no different in that sense. "He let go of the detonator while I was still in the room, but my teammates got me out. No real physical harm done to me, just-- just Garner. We did find Rebecca, though, so..."
Reid trails off, knowing that's not exactly a happy ending to the tale, and he feels a little awkward now for talking about such a heavy case. He risks a glance at Luke, biting down on his lip. "I'm sorry if that wasn't quite what you were expecting. None of the stories I have about explosions really have a pleasant lead-up." Wetting his lips, he takes the last bite of his cake and lets out a deep breath, following it with a short laugh. "Okay, your turn now. You won't sing for me so maybe you'll tell me a story about your dangerous job."
Knitting his brow, he frowns, though the corners of his lips quickly turn back up into an amused smile. "We make an interesting pair, don't we? Trading stories like this while eating ice cream cake, I don't think that's something most people make a habit of doing. I can't say I mind it if you don't."
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But that's dangerous, too. Because a simple shift might lead to ducking his head, pressing his nose against the curve of Reid's neck, breathing him in. Swaying closer until their arms are pressed together might lead to craving more of that warmth that comes off him, the heat every last living thing carries with them, the feeling of which Luke has begun to crave desperately, though there's really only one person in particular who'll be able to deliver what he wants. It isn't as if the wolf makes him some wild animal, incapable of any kind of self-restraint. Luke has been attracted to people before without having to worry that he's going to lose control. He's a very controlled man most of the time and it feels like Reid is slowly undoing him bit by bit.
He listens to the story attentively, eating his cake, letting Reid tell the story. It's terrifying on any entirely different level than Luke's life has ever managed to be. Fighting demons is one thing, demons are so clearly evil, there's no purpose to them besides wanting to come into this world and destroy it, but people are so much more complicated than that. Even the ones who are capable of true evil -- and Luke believes they exist -- can hide their intentions with much better success than a demon can. And often there are reasons under the evil things people do, guilt and fear, and that doesn't excuse it, nothing can possibly excuse hurting others, but it makes it a little less scary than those who have no reason. Those who just want to cause pain, like the demons do.
"I can't imagine stories about your work are often very happy," Luke agrees, his voice soft, but he had known that when he had asked. It's incredible to him that anyone can do that sort of job, day in and day out, seeing the horrors people are capable of committing. It's such a far cry from what he's done, even if they are both dangerous in their own ways, simply because there's never any reason to doubt or worry when it comes to demons. There's no grey area, it's all black and white, made very clear. Except even that isn't entirely true, he thinks, smiling very slightly. Because he is part demon now. Simon, Magnus, Maia and Bat. All the wolves and warlocks he's known and those he's loved, they're all demons, too, through no fault of their own, and that's where the grey area begins.
Of course, he would be inclined to say wolves and warlocks, at least, are more human than demon. Sometimes he doesn't know if the same can be said for the vampires and the fey, not when they're often so willing to cast aside any pretense of care for humans, but that doesn't apply to everyone. Nothing can apply to an entire population, there are no hard and fast rules everyone will live by. The Fair Folk might come closest, with their inability to lie, but he knows they've found ways around that by mixing faery and human blood.
"But you found her," he says. "And you were safe." As far as Luke can determine, those really the most important things. Reid had done what he could to bring the girl home and he's still here to tell the tale, so Luke can't really look at the story as having an unhappy ending. Not when it's given him this.
"No," he says, still smiling. "No, I don't mind. A story from my dangerous job..." He trails off and is silent for a moment, thinking. With Valentine as his parabatai, there is really a countless number of stories he could tell, but he settles on one within a few moments.
"Valentine, the man who set me up to get bitten, before that all happened, he was still a bit of a zealot. In the beginning, when he wanted to hunt Downworlders, he would always tell us they'd done something awful. Broken the Accords in some way," he says, telling the story slowly, carefully. Knowing it doesn't cast him in the best light and telling it anyway. "Looking back now I realize he was lying to us, but I wanted so badly to have someone to follow and the Clave, the system he was railing against, it was corrupt. It still is." But they'd all been so wrong in the way in which they had gone about their attacks.
"He told us once that he found a group of werewolves who were living outside the Accords. Attacking other wolves, attacking vampires, attacking humans. He told us they were mostly teenagers, barely a fight at all. We were supposed to find their base and arrest them. Take them into the Clave for a trial and sentencing," Luke says. "But when we got there, the base was heavily guarded with dozens of adult male wolves. We should have retreated, but Valentine pushed us forward, made us attack. We weren't there to arrest anyone and he knew it from the start. It was a brutal fight, but it was short. At the end all the wolves were dead and we'd lost four Shadowhunters, too. He had dragged us into that situation knowing some of us were going to die." Luke pauses, then looks at his cake. "That's when I realized what he was doing to us."
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It's friendship, he knows that, and he can tell himself that until he's blue in the face; but he's at a point now that trying to deny how he feels at all is just exhausting. It's pointless, too, to pretend that every time Luke even looks at him, Reid is afraid that he's going to give himself away with a flush that will reveal everything. He's afraid that one of these days, their knees will brush again and that time, he won't move away. He wishes he had the courage to do that now, to keep that physical contact between them without worrying so much about what Luke's reaction would be, but courage in romance has never been his forte.
Maeve had been the one to tell him she loved him first. He'd been the one to say over and over again that he'd wanted to see her in person, but she'd been the one to express her feelings for him before he'd even considered the possibility that she might actually want him, too. Ethan had been the one to pursue Reid, to convince him that he was wanted for the very first time in his life, and that relationship (or whatever Ethan had wanted to call it) hadn't ended particularly well but it hadn't ended up with Reid wanting to burn all evidence of Ethan's existence in his life, either. When they'd seen each other again in New Orleans, so many memories of the time they'd shared together had come flooding back, and maybe it'd been a mistake to spend one more night with Ethan again, but Reid doesn't regret it.
He doesn't want to spend just one night with Luke. He wants more of this, of this unexpected connection that they've developed in a few short weeks, but he also wants to be able to confirm what he's already imagined it's like to pull Luke closer to him. He wants to know what it'd be like to have Luke's fingers raking down his back or to kiss him until they're both out of breath.
But there's someone sending him love poems, he reminds himself, and it's not Luke. As badly as Reid wants it to be, it's not Luke. So touches between them will come few and far between because that's how it has to be, that's what Reid has to make sure of so he doesn't drift away into thoughts like those he's just had. It's a dangerous way to carry on a friendship, it would lead too easily to lingering gazes on Luke's lips or lip bites that aren't quite as innocent as they usually are. For the most part, he has an excellent poker face; but he thinks that there's the potential here for Luke to make that very difficult for him. Rather, for Reid to make that very difficult for himself.
"I've never been betrayed like that," Reid says softly, forcing himself to move past the so very minor thing that'd put such heavy thoughts in his mind and leaning back against the couch. He studies his friend for a moment, the undeniable attraction he feels for Luke pushed aside because right now, he wants to exist as what he already knows he is--a friend, someone Luke trusts enough to confide in with stories like these, and Reid wants him to know that it isn't taken lightly. There's no part of him that isn't grateful that they can talk to each other like this because without Luke, Reid would truly have nobody here.
He highly doubts, after all, that Clank would be impressed with him if he were to text randomly throughout the day; he'd even woken up from a nightmare last week well past one in the morning and held an internal debate with himself before texting Luke to see if his friend might, on the off chance, still be awake. He'd been so pleased to get a response, it's partly why he'd fallen into that fantasy of discovering that Luke was the one delivering poems, but now, Reid just feels glad to have someone he can rely on regularly.
His teammates, they'd all cared about him, they'd treated him like their younger brother; but they'd had lives of their own. Luke does, too, of course, but there seems to be enough room left in it to let Reid fill the gaps once in awhile. He wishes he knew how to thank Luke for that, but it's not something he's ever really had to think about before.
"You know," he continues, clearing his throat as he shifts just slightly on the couch so he can sling an arm over the back and turn his body more toward Luke, "people who go through traumas like yours, who've been manipulated that way, who've been hurt the way Valentine hurt you... They don't always come out very well on the other side of things." He can hear it in Luke's voice that his friend isn't exactly proud of standing beside Valentine, but Reid understands it; and he makes no judgments.
"He was supposed to be your best friend. He used that to twist you into believing what he wanted you to, and I know you've had years to figure that out for yourself and accept that but that doesn't necessarily make it any easier. You could have let him turn you into someone like him, but you didn't. You could have given in to the people who told you that you weren't worth anything when you were turned, but you didn't. Instead, you became Luke Garroway. You became a-- a bookshop owner and a protector and a father."
Reid lets out a small sigh, offering Luke a crooked smile as he shrugs a shoulder. "And a really good friend to someone who needed one."
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This isn't something he's going to just be able to ignore, he realizes. At some point he's going to have to find a way to deal with it one way or another, but he can't just go on ignoring it, pretending it isn't happening. Reid might see him as just a friend and no matter how hard Luke searches, he can't see a single gesture that might indicate otherwise. Everything they've done together, every conversation they've had, every experience, it could all be in friendship just as easily as anything else and Luke has never presumed to think someone might care for him as more than just a friend without presented with something obvious and concrete. What Reid has given him is friendship, pure and simple. Wonderful friendship, there's no denying that their connection is strong, but there's also nothing to indicate it might be something more.
But if he allows himself to ignore all that for just a moment, it does feel nice to have someone be close to him. It feels nice to have Reid's knee resting against his, even for such a short moment, and Luke smiles as he leans back against the couch and glances up toward the ceiling for a moment. He listens to the things Reid is saying to him, the wonderful compliments he's being paid, and he lets himself just enjoy the moment. Accept the things that are being said to him. Allow them to just slide into his mind and settle there instead of immediately rejecting them.
Looking back at his time in the Circle, there are many things he's ashamed of. Luke had been a weaker fighter; he and Hodge had been better with books, languages and history. It wasn't until Valentine, a year older, had taken them both under his wing that either of them flourished. Hodge had never become an accomplished fighter, but he'd found his weapon, and Luke had grown by leaps and bounds, even moreso when he and Valentine had become parabatai. They had worked so well together, complemented each others' fighting style. They'd trusted each other, they'd been bound together. In many ways, Valentine had made Luke into the warrior he'd become and he knows it's because of that he'd had such a hard time letting go.
Before Valentine he had been nothing. A poor orphan with a preference for books who wore shabby, patched up fighting gear because he and Amatis couldn't afford better than that. After Valentine he'd been a warrior. The second in command in the Circle. Someone to be feared. And perhaps that's it, he thinks. Perhaps that had been the moment he had realized something wasn't right, because Luke has never wanted to be feared.
"Lucian Graymark," he says after a moment of silence. "You said I became Luke Garroway and you don't know just how true that is. I was Lucian Graymark until I was twenty-one and it became necessary for me to have a less distinctive name, something less easy to track. That's why I named the store Graymark Books." His smile grows a little, becomes easier as he looks back down at Reid. "I'm glad. That we've become friends."
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That wouldn't have been possibly in any way, shape, or form, he and Luke aren't even from the same time, much less the same world, and it hits him then just how much his life has really changed since he's arrived in Darrow. There's almost nothing that's the same, from his job to what he accepts about the world around him to what he feels for someone who's given him no indication that those feelings might be returned; but in spite of how he's been struggling to understand and properly react to this growing attraction to Luke, a mental and physical attraction that he isn't sure he'll ever find the courage to act on, Reid, too, is so grateful that Luke had nearly crashed into him the day he'd arrived.
"I'm glad we're friends, too," he says, tone softening as he nearly reaches out to rest a hand on the knee he'd just brushed with his own, but Reid realizes in time (or too late, depending on how he wants to look at it later) that doing such a thing would be completely out of the question. Luke has already noticed his aversion to being touched by strangers and to offer it so freely now would be all too obvious an indication that there's something going on with Reid that inspires more than just friendly thoughts.
Then again, maybe Luke wouldn't find it strange at all. Reid knows he's overthinking this, but he has absolutely no idea what to do about it. Back home, he'd stopped trying to avoid the touch of his teammates fairy quickly because once someone has earned his trust, it doesn't take much for Reid to be willing to step out of his comfort zone. With Luke, though, he finds himself going out of his way to avoid his friend's touch, mostly because he's afraid that at any given moment, he might not be able to stop himself from showing all over his face what being so close to Luke does to him.
Right now, for instance, there's a flush creeping up the back of his neck that will surely spread to his cheeks soon if he doesn't stop thinking about this, and he quickly clears his throat as he straightens up in his spot on the couch. "Spencer Reid is the only name I've ever had, but I've had a lot of nicknames." He lets out a little laugh, rolling his eyes fondly as he thinks of them. "My teammates, some of them think they're hilarious. JJ, she's the only one who's ever called me Spence, which was fine but Garcia.... I think her best one was probably 'Junior G-Man,' though I should probably be thankful she didn't ever refer to me as 'Sugar Shack' like she did Morgan. Morgan did call me 'Pretty Boy' pretty often, though, which I never really understood."
He realizes he's never given Luke a full breakdown of each of his teammates, but Reid thinks this brief mention actually isn't a terrible introduction to who those three in particular are to him. He lowers his eyes, picking at an invisible piece of lint on his pants. "You know, I never thought I'd actually miss hearing that."
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Reid mentions that someone named Morgan called him Pretty Boy, though, and that unfair jealous streak flares up again. He's clearly speaking about someone on his team, someone he's extremely unlikely to have any sort of romantic connection with, especially if they have the type of friendship where one of them uses playful nicknames on the other, but he can't help it. All his life he's been a rather jealous man, unable to calm the burning and tightness in his chest when watching someone else with something he wanted, but he's always fought against it. Jealousy is not a pleasant emotion, it's not a respectable response, it embarrasses him that he experiences it, and he's had excellent practice when it comes to hiding it.
That doesn't mean he's stopped feeling it.
There's a moment when he thinks he might laugh again, mostly at the idea that Reid has no idea why someone might refer to him as Pretty Boy, but he realizes a second later that Reid really doesn't know. He doesn't know how people look at him, he really doesn't see himself the way others do and Luke knows that's true of most people, but when he looks at Reid, he completely understands the origin of the nickname. There's a slight flush lighting up the sharp edges of his cheekbones and from this angle, looking at his profile, the strong line of his jaw is especially apparent.
He's more than simply pretty, but Luke thinks about it for even a second and he finds his mouth has gone dry. What he wants is to ask more about Reid's team, hear more about these people who would have been as close to him as family, but for a second he can't quite speak and he wishes he had grabbed himself a glass of water while they had been in the kitchen.
Glancing down at his knees, he clears his throat, then looks back up again and smiles. "Well, you spent more time with them than anyone," he says. "It makes sense that you would miss them and everything they do that's familiar. Once Clary found out I was a werewolf, she told me to feel free to hang my head out the car window if I wanted. At the time I felt like throttling her, but I can't deny it was pretty funny and I miss all the inevitable werewolf jokes she and Simon would have made."
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Admittedly, what they'd initially found for him had stuck and once he'd realized Hotch didn't mind that he wore his Chucks, Reid made more of habit out of doing it. The cardigans, he's been told, still make him look like a grandpa but there's no compromising there. The cardigans stay, and they always will. The occasional vest and scarf, though, those have been welcome additions, courtesy of Garcia's fashion expertise.
He has to force himself away from that train of thought because it's a dangerous one that can only lead to more troublesome things for his imagination. If he lets himself think that Luke really does agree with the 'pretty' assessment, Reid will wonder then just how pretty Luke thinks he is or how far Luke would go to make sure Reid knows. The only time he's ever been insecure about himself or the way he looks has been with someone he cares about, those people being Ethan and Maeve, to some extent even Lila, and now Luke. To Reid, looks aren't even secondary, they're lower on his list of desired aspects of another person. He hasn't grown to be attracted to Luke just because his friend is exceptionally handsome, which he is but that's hardly the point.
Luke talks to him like so few others ever have, like a person and not a doctor or an agent or anything but himself. It's a nice feeling, a refreshing, to be able to count on someone, all the while knowing that if he needed anything, Luke would help him if he could, even if it was something awful. If Reid were to knock on his door at three in the morning completely out of sorts and practically in hysterics, Luke would absolutely let him in. That's the kind of trust Reid puts into this man, and it's exactly why he'll keep his feelings to himself for as long as as appropriate.
No matter what they have been them now, Reid doesn't want to lose it.
"I'd say I'd be happy to emulate him with the jokes, but I discovered not too long ago that I'm actually not a very funny person. My best one goes like this: 'How many existentialists does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Two. One to change the lightbulb, and one to observe how it symbolizes an incandescent beacon of subjectivity in a netherworld of cosmic nothingness.'" He can't help but let out a little laugh at it, as he always does, though he narrows his eyes, waiting for a reaction. "It's always like I"m telling that joke to an empty room, nobody ever seems to think it's as funny as I think it is."
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Luke knows he isn't funny, he hadn't needed Clary to tell him, although she had on more than one occasion, but now and then Simon had told him that he was funny in a dry way. Luke had just sort of shrugged and accepted it, because he's never particularly tried to be one thing or the other. Whether or not he's funny has never worried him much, so long as his friends and family are happy to spend time with him. But he finds he does care what Reid thinks of him just in general. Not just whether or not he he has a good sense of humour, but whether he's a good man, a good friend. Whether he's fun to be around, trustworthy, all sorts of things.
There are times when he wonders if Reid finds him attractive, though he does his best to crush those moments. He isn't supposed to be thinking things like that about his friend, he should just let it all be, but sometimes he can't help it. His physical appearance isn't something he's ever given a lot of thought to, at least in part because Valentine had been so vain and Luke had never known what to do in the face of that. Even now he doesn't bother with much in the way of variety when it comes to his wardrobe and he doesn't do anything in particular with his beard or hair. He makes sure his beard is trimmed and he shaves most of the time, but there are definitely times when he forgets, when it gets to grow a little longer than usual and he wonders if he should start to make more of an effort now. Or maybe he needs to concentrate on not changing anything too completely, maybe if he starts to do that, he's never going to be able to dig himself out of this hole he finds himself in.
"I think as long as you make yourself laugh, that's the only thing that matters," he adds. That's certainly something Simon would have said to him, informing Luke that it's better to be easily amused than too serious to find the humour in anything. For a teenager, Simon had been rather perceptive most of the time and although Luke thought he took most things not quite seriously enough, it was actually a bit of a refreshing point of view. There wasn't much that seemed like it could bring Simon Lewis down and all he can do is hope whatever comes for them in Manhattan isn't going to take that from him. So much has changed, he knows what it's like, becoming a Downworlder, and all he can do is hope Simon has the support he needs.
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Hearing Luke laugh, seeing him smile, they're both things that Reid has wants more of, and he may not be an especially funny person but he'll find a way. So much can be derived from what's in a person's voice, and he may not yet be able to figure out whether anything Luke has said to him is an indication of there being the possibility of more between them, but Reid remembers what it'd been like to listen to Maeve on the other end of the phone for all those weeks. He things he'd been fairly obvious in his feelings from the moment he'd realized the extent of how much he'd come to care for her, but Maeve had always been a steadier force than he was.
She'd had her practice, with the stalker she'd feared so much, and he sobers a bit at the thought as he sinks deeper into the couch and tilts his head back just slightly to look up at the ceiling. Reid knows that he's never really been looked at by anyone in his life as the man who could make things better just by being there, by being present, and he wishes so badly he could have proven himself to be just that for Maeve. He wishes that by simply existing in the same space as her, as Diane, that he could have prevented what'd happened because people who love each other that much shouldn't be separated so cruelly. It isn't right and it isn't fair but if there's one thing Reid has always been aware of since childhood, it's that rarely is anything right or fair.
Maybe in Darrow, that won't be so true. He would never call himself a man without hope but somehow, being here and next to this man in particular, he feels like he has more of it. What that could mean is beyond him, he'd given up on trying to predict how his life might turn out a long time ago, but even if nothing more than platonic ever happens here, Reid will still want to do everything in his power to make his friend happy. He'll do what he can to see that smile.
"I don't know," he says, glancing over at Luke with a gaze that lingers maybe a little longer than it should, "I think it pays to hear others laugh, too. Maybe I just need to narrow my audience down more, to the ones I care to hear."
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It's the one that always wins and Luke closes his eyes briefly, wishing he could just let himself believe. There have been moments in the past where he's let himself believe he might deserve something good and in those moments the good thing has always been taken from him. Snatched away, not in a manner that's particularly cruel, but gently, in a way that's made the sting especially memorable. None of this is Reid's fault, none of this is information he could know, but it makes Luke cautious in a way that perhaps isn't fair. He's afraid, though. In the end it all comes back to fear and he wishes he could be stronger. That he could finally beat his fear.
But for all that he was convinced there had been a moment between him, he can't make himself act and now the moment is gone. He smiles, though, when he opens his eyes again and glances over at Reid, because more than anything he desperately does not want to lose this burgeoning friendship. If he's never allowed to make a move toward something more, he'll accept that fate if it means he's still allowed these nights where he sits on his couch with Reid, the two of them laughing and smiling. This is what he needs desperately and maybe he needs so much more than this, too, but if he's allowed either only friendship or nothing, he'll pick friendship every time. He's not prepared to lose this. Not now, not after feeling like he's really connected to someone who trusts him.
"So karaoke for me and an open mic night for you?" he asks, looking amused as he tries to calm the racing of his heart. "That's something I think I'd very much like to see and you might even get me up on a stage to sing in exchange. Maybe." He feels comfortable saying this only because he truly doubts Reid is going to be willing to get up and perform stand-up comedy, not that Luke could blame him. He's a leader in a good number of ways and has no problem speaking to a crowd when it's necessary, but being the centre of attention in a manner that's meant strictly for entertainment leaves him with a creeping feeling of discomfort. It's just not the sort of thing he's cut out for, being in the limelight, and it's something he'll continue to avoid as fervently as possible.
"Thank you for this," he says after another moment, though he's looked up toward his ceiling again. Their friendship is already strong, he really believes that, but Reid makes him nervous regardless. He makes Luke feel like a silly, fumbling teenager who doesn't know what to do around another person, and while there's a part of him that relishes that, there's another, deeper part that's still just afraid. "For the cake and the gift and mostly for coming to spend the evening with me. I'm having a good time."
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It's a little strange to realize that he's already accepted a future here, even if it's uncertain, but Reid isn't as at odds with the idea as he'd been in the first weeks of being here. It's easier to let something like that settle when others are going through the same thing, he supposes, but he knows he also owes a lot of that to Luke.
"And you don't need to thank me," he continues, and he means it because he feels as if he should be the one thanking Luke for allowing this evening to be possible at all. It's Luke's birthday, he could be doing anything with anyone else, but Reid can't help but be privately pleased that his friend had chosen to stay in with him instead. "I'm having a good time, too. Quiet celebrations are the better choice, in my opinion, but I'm sure that wouldn't surprise you."
The team had always gone out of their way to celebrate Reid's birthday, even if it meant postponing for after a case, and he'd never really been all too certain whether that was because he was the baby of the group or because every single one of them had understood just how important it was to him to know that they would remember it. A bit of both, most likely, but Reid had always appreciated it. Some years, his mother would forget in the midst of having an episode, and he'd never resented her for that but it'd become easy to think that the day didn't really matter, in the grand scheme of things.
He hopes that even with just a cake and a small gift and some good conversation on the couch, this is notable for Luke. It's notable for Reid, at least, and he's beginning to think that he's not alone in that the more they spend time together. It's all hope he has to believe is false until proven otherwise or he'll drive himself mad, but he's happy to do that if it means this friendship can continue to grow. It's not just the best thing about being in Darrow anymore, knowing Luke; it's becoming one of the best things for him, period. There's something a little frightening about that but with a new world comes new experiences, and Reid is finding that it's much better to embrace the change.