Criminal Minds Fic #6: The One Where Rossi’s Brother Visits
Title: The One Where Rossi’s Brother Visits
Author: myrna1_2_3
Pairing: Rossi/Reid
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Rossi’s brother visits
Word count: ~7,300
When our relatives are at home, we have to think of all their good points or it would be impossible to endure them. ~George Bernard Shaw
FBI Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi had seen guilty perps caught red-handed acting less furtively than Spencer Reid. Spencer was so preoccupied with the time he couldn’t tear his attention away from the alarm clock long enough to decide on a shirt and pair of pants to wear. “Would you relax?” Dave said. “We’ve got hours before he shows up.”
“But his voice mail said between nine and ten!” Spencer reminded him, casting another worried glance at the clock.
“And his driver’s license says he weighs 190. It’s all bullshit.”
Spencer sighed and turned to face the closet, exposing his bare back--an enticement to Dave if ever there was one. Sliding up behind him, Dave kissed a meandering path from one shoulder blade to the other. It was possibly a little unfair. Dave was intimately familiar with Spencer’s erogenous zones and that part of his back was one his most responsive. Dave grinned wolfishly at Spencer’s helpless-sounding, “Oh!”
“Your libido is sparked by the strangest things,” Spencer said, shuddering in arousal.
“I trust that isn’t a complaint,” Dave said.
“We just got out of the shower!” Spencer said, good manners precluding him from reminding Rossi what they’d done in there.
Dave chuckled. “It’s been 15 minutes,” he said. “I’m ready to go again.”
Spencer huffed at that exaggeration, which earned him a playful bite on one of those sensitive shoulders.
“Come on,” Dave whispered. “I’m gonna be on short rations for the next few days. I’ve gotta store up…” He was already fully dressed, so chances were Spencer wasn’t really buying his come-on, but they probably did have some time to kill.
“You’re the one who invited your brother for the weekend,” Spencer reminded him.
“Yeah but you’re the one with the hang-up about having sex when other humans are within a five mile radius…”
“What you call a hang-up, I consider common courtesy.”
“I’ve got your courtesy right here, Baby,” Dave said, but couldn’t keep a straight face, and they both started laughing.
“Go make coffee,” Spencer demanded.
“Mmm, you know what it does to me when you start giving orders,” Rossi said and went back to nuzzling Spencer’s back. He ooffed! dramatically when Spencer elbowed him in the belly. “Good God, what the hell is Morgan teaching you in those classes of his?” he groaned, but dutifully headed downstairs to get the coffee started.
Passing the front door, Dave saw his brother pulling into the driveway. Paul’s son was attending a baseball camp at Georgetown for the week. Paul had driven Tommy and several teammates down for the start of the camp, and one of the other kid’s parents was going to bring them home at the end of the week. Dave had gladly invited Paul to stay for the weekend instead of immediately turning around and driving the four hours back home.
Dave opened the door as Paul was walking up the walkway. “Paul,” Dave drawled, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.
“Hey, Davie Boy. Didn’t get you and the mister out of bed did I?”
Dave made a face at his brother. “You said you’d be here between nine and ten.”
Paul held his arms out, implying, Well I’m here, aren’t I?
The clock in the den struck 11:00 as Dave smirked at his brother. “I forget how Paulie Time works,” he said, moving aside to let his brother in the door.
Spencer came trodding down the steps, fastening his pants and carrying his shirt. “Do I have enough time to…” he was saying, then looked up and started when he realized Paul was there. “Oh jeez Paul, sorry, you’re early!” He held his shirt to his chest like a maiden might clutch a towel after being caught bathing in a stream.
Paul assumed the you’re early comment was his brother’s handiwork and smirked at Dave then said to Reid, “Don’t worry about it, kid. We all got what you got.” Reid still hurriedly pulled his shirt over his head.
Dave nodded toward his brother and snidely added, “Except Paulie’s is under 25 pounds of fat and a ton of fur.”
“I can still take you,” Paul said to his brother.
“Still?” Dave scoffed. “Like at some point you actually could?”
Paul ignored him and held out his arms to Spencer. “Don’t you gotta hug for your brother-in-law?” he asked innocently.
Now it was Spencer’s turn to smirk at Dave. At one time, Spencer had naively assumed Dave had mentioned Reid’s aversion to personal contact as some kind of altruistic gesture, but it was really just a means of torturing him. He sighed and grudgingly walked the rest of the way down the stairs, standing resignedly in front of Paul with his arms at his side. Paul threw his arms around Spencer, lifting him up off the ground and shaking him a little, snickering when Spencer sighed yet again as he was set down.
“What’s not to like about that kind of hello?” Paul asked as Spencer smoothed down his wrinkled shirt.
“The rearrangement of my kidneys?” Spencer hazard to guess.
“Hey, watch this,” Dave said to his brother, and then threw an arm around Spencer and said, “Who was the winning pitcher of Game 7 of the 1962 World Series?” Spencer looked like he wasn’t going to answer for a beat, then Dave said in a sing-song voice, “Fifteen.”
Spencer pursed his lips but gamely answered. “Ralph Terry,” he said, and added-almost against his will, “Who, it should be noted, gave up Bill Mazeroski's Series-winning walk-off home run two years earlier in Pittsburgh.” He shrugged apologetically at Paul, and pointed a finger at Dave before heading to the kitchen for coffee. “Fourteen,” he said sternly.
Dave grinned at Paul. “Spencer read the Total Baseball Encyclopedia for my birthday. It’s all in there now. The team records, individual stats, the rosters. All of it.” Dave gleefully bounced on his toes, then sobered somewhat. “I only get to trot him out like a trained seal 25 times, though. I have 14 left.”
“Twenty-five?” Paul said indignantly. “That’s nothin’!”
“I know,” Dave said, leading Paul to the guest bedroom. “I figure it’ll be easy negotiations on 25 more. After that he might dig in a little.”
“You could liquor him up, I guess,” Paul said, always one to be helpful. “Maybe you’ll get a little somethin’-somethin’ along with your baseball stats.”
Dave snorted at that. “We’re both guys, Paulie. The last thing I gotta do is liquor him up for sex.”
Paul threw him a sympathetic look. “That’s gotta suck--all the sex you want and no effort to get it.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say no effort.” Dave didn’t want to exaggerate his good fortune. “Sometimes I gotta kinda nod my head toward the bedroom.”
“Aw jeez, stop, my heart’s breakin’ over here.”
Dave held his hands out in supplication. “Hey, if it’s any consolation he can’t cook for shit, and he thinks Deep Purple is a flavor of Ben & Jerry’s.”
“That does not console me,” Paul said. “Gimme the keys to the Porsche. I gotta drive away my heart ache.”
Dave tossed over his keys and followed Paul downstairs. He stuck his head in the study where Spencer was now working at the computer. “Paulie and I are gonna take the baby for a spin,” he said to Spencer, then spoke to Paul over his shoulder. “Spencer’s editing an article for Mad Scientist Monthly. He’s an expert in thermodynamic whatchamacallitty.”
“Cluster weighted modeling and geographical regression,” Spencer corrected, not looking up from his screen.
“Isn’t that what I said?” Dave asked, as he and Paul headed toward the garage.
“Why d’ya always act like I need a chaperone?” Paul asked.
Dave didn’t mention the number of times they’d been called on to hand over the car’s registration, which always involved Dave’s wallet opened to reveal his Bureau ID. Instead, he offered the most obvious reason. “Because if I’m not with you, you’ll leave town in my baby, and I’ll be stuck with your Old Man car.”
“I do not drive an Old Man car.”
It was easy enough to quash that ridiculous argument. “Spencer likes it,” Dave said.
Paul sighed in defeat. “Point taken.”
Chuckling, Dave got in the passenger side of the car. “How’s Gina?” he asked.
“She’s good,” answered Paul, revving the engine with a grin. “You know, when she’s not bellowin’ at me; or tryin’ to kill me in my sleep, or cryin’ ‘cause she loves me so damn much she doesn’t know what she’d ever do without me. Who the hell timed menopause with the last kid leavin’ for college?”
“You still plannin’ on a trip after Tommy starts school?”
“Yeah, I figure Italy oughta do the trick. We leave a week after we fling Tommy outta the car. He gets expelled in the two weeks we’re gone, he’s gonna sleep on your floor, all right? I don’t want that hoodlum to have the run of our place.” He peeled out of the drive with a happy sigh.
Tommy, vice-president of his senior class, co-captain of the baseball team and one of his class’ valedictorians, was attending Princeton on a full-ride baseball scholarship in the fall. Rossi wasn’t unduly concerned about his showing up on their doorstep, at least not because he’d been expelled.
“Don’t let me forget to give you the name of the place we stayed in,” Dave said. “It was unbelievable.”
“I’m not sure I want to be right on the ocean. Too easy for Gina to dump my body if I piss her off.” Paul slammed on the brakes ,and the car screeched to a halt at a red light.
Dave shot a hand out to brace himself against the dash. “Jesus-you handle your woman the way you handle my car, no wonder she wants to kill you,” he said.
“Fuck you,” Paul said around a laugh. “Lately it’s inconsequential things like inhaling and exhaling that tend to set her off.”
Dave laughed. “Aw, don’t worry. Gina’ll be planning Ava’s wedding before you know it, and you’ll be home free.”
“Bite your tongue. She better not marry that yahoo she’s seein’ now.”
“He didn’t seem that bad,” Rossi said, thinking back to the innocuous young man Paul and Gina’s daughter had brought to dinner the last time he was visiting.
Paul shrugged. “Compared to the serial killers and mass murders you meet every day, probably not. And yet still he is a yahoo.”
Dave supposed it was all relative. “I’m starting to get the impression that no guy will ever be good enough for your little princess.”
“Hey,” Paul took exception to that remark. “I’d let Ava marry Spencer in a heartbeat.”
“Because he’s gay or in spite of it?” Dave asked mildly.
“Exactly.”
“Be a little embarrassing when people ask how they met and you have to explain he’s your brother-in-law,” Dave pointed out.
“Technically, he’d be my ex-brother-in-law.”
“I ain’t goin’ quiet,” Dave warned.
Paul shrugged. “All I gotta do is turn Gina on you in one of her rages, and we’re good to go.”
“I carry a gun.”
Paul stomped on the gas and peeled out of the red light. “That’s what makes it a fair fight.”
Dave just laughed and shook his head.
He and Gina were actually great friends. Paul and Gina had been together since they were fifteen years old. They had two kids, though the house was always filled with many more, a multitude of dogs, cats, and fish over the years, and a household in a perpetual state of noisy chaos. It was one of Dave’s favorite places on the planet.
He’d been apprehensive the first time he brought Spencer with him for a visit. He’d never been so deeply involved with a man that introductions extended to his family, and God knows Spencer had never spent time with a crew as unruly as the New Jersey Rossi’s. Hell, it was hard enough to get Spencer to agree to the long weekend when he learned they’d be staying at Paul and Gina’s house. Spencer’s Victorian sense of propriety was vexed at the very idea, but Dave calmly brushed aside his concerns with promises of homemade pasta and Boston cream pie.
Shortly after they arrived, Paul had taken Dave’s bag from him and led the way to a guest bedroom with Spencer trailing nervously behind. Paul had tossed Dave’s bag on the bed, grabbed the keys to Dave’s car and said he’d see them in a bit. Spencer had anxiously watched Dave unpack until he couldn’t stand it any longer and finally he whispered, “Where am I sleeping?”
Dave froze as he reached for a pair of slacks, and it was only years of law enforcement training that kept a bark of laughter at bay. “I’m almost positive you’re in here with me,” he’d said.
“Are you sure that’s… appropriate?” Spencer asked.
“Paulie doesn’t care that I’m with a guy, but I don’t think he’s ready for you to bunk with him and Gina so…”
Spencer huffed impatiently. “What if I, like, drop my shoe or something and they think we’re… you know…”
Dave made a show of thinking through such a calamity. “Well, there aren’t any sodomy laws left on the books so after we’re hog tied and led from the house in chains, it’ll probably all get settled amicably at the local police station, after which we’ll be driven to the county line and politely asked never to return.”
“Sarcasm is rarely an effective means of waylaying concerns…”
“And yet I risk legitimizing unfounded anxiety by addressing it as founded.” Rossi shrugged at Reid’s glare. “Hey, I’ve read my fair share of psychobabble text books too.”
Spencer was wound so tight that sleeping was nearly impossible the first night. After they both tossed and turned for an hour, Dave decided he’d go downstairs and raid the fridge for the last of the pie. “Two forks,” Spencer had said, refusing to venture down to the kitchen with him.
Which was probably a good thing. As Dave hit the bottom of the stairs, he realized Ava and her mom were sitting at the kitchen table, sharing a slice of pie between them. Ava spoke before he had a chance to make his presence known. “Uncle Dave’s awesome and everything but …how did he land someone who looks like Spencer?”
Dave stopped in his tracks, thinking he who eavesdrops is bound to hear ill of himself.
“Tell me about it,” Gina said breathlessly. “What? Don’t look at me like that! Mama ain’t dead.”
“His skin is unbelievable! You think he’ll be embarrassed if I ask about it?”
“Don’t bother,” Gina said. “He’ll just tell you he splashes water on it once in awhile.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. You know, I’m sitting across from him at dinner, and I’m thinking Is he good looking? Yeah, yeah, he’s good looking. No, wait, is he? And then Uncle Dave said something and Spencer laughed and it was like Ahhhhhh! Angels singing!”
“Uncle Dave has always had an eye for pretty things,” Gina said knowingly.
“Did you see how much he put away at dinner?” Ava continued in an awed voice. “In what universe is that even remotely fair?”
“A fourth of a pie!” Gina said, admiration clearly in her tone. “He ate one-fourth of the pie, and he’s invisible when he turns sideways.”
“That kinda made me want to stab him,” Ava admitted.
Dave returned quietly to the bedroom sans pie. “Do not get lost on your way to the bathroom,” he had cautioned as he slid under the covers.
“What?” Spencer said. “Why?” Dave didn’t answer, and it was quiet for a beat until Spencer rose up on an elbow and indignantly asked, “Hey, where’s the pie?”
“Shhhh,” Dave said. “They’re gonna think we’re you knowing.”
The next day had been Sunday which meant Sunday Brunch to Paul and Gina and what seemed like 50 of their closest friends. There was food everywhere, kids laughing and shouting. Tommy and his friends were throwing a ball around in the back yard, and Ava, judging by the number of nubile young women loitering near Spencer at the buffet table, had apparently sent out word that today’s brunch featured some interesting eye candy.
At one point, Paul walked by carrying a platter of roast beef and nudged his brother. “Just like the days back at 120 Cambridge, yeah?” he said, referencing their childhood home.
“Your house was like this growing up?” Spencer had asked him, avidly taking in the scene.
Dave surveyed the bedlam with a bemused smile and nodded. “Pretty much,” he said, half expecting a dry that explains a lot from Reid.
Instead, Spencer jumped when one of Tommy’s friends lunged for an errantly thrown football. He unconsciously moved a little closer to Dave, a half-step behind him, their arms almost entwined. Dave could have wrapped his hand around Spencer’s without moving an inch. “Good,” Spencer had whispered, almost to himself.
Dave moved slightly closer, still not holding Spencer’s hand. He turned his head and caught Spencer’s eye and shared a look that said what would have been inadequate for words
Then Dave smiled because Spencer had blushed as if Dave had brazenly kissed him on the mouth right there in front of everyone.
==================================================================
There was no sign of Spencer when Dave and Paul returned to the house after their drive (ticketless for once, though the weekend was young). Paul followed Dave to the kitchen and grabbed a soda from the fridge while Dave brewed a new pot of coffee and toasted a bagel. When the coffee was ready, Dave poured a cup, put the toasted bagel on a plate then carried them into the study.
When he came back, his brother was still sitting at the kitchen table, looking at him as if Dave had just come out in favor of the designated hitter rule. “You know you’re nauseating now, right?”
Dave seemed unconcerned with the criticism. “Why’d you drive all this way to tell me stuff you could just tell me over the phone?”
“No, I’m serious,” Paul said. “You used to be my go-to guy. Gina was pissed at me, I’d arrange a weekend with you and whoever, and by comparison I smell like a rose. Now we come down, and all I get is a slap upside the head and a ‘why don’t you treat me like Davey treats Spencer?’”
“You might want to remind Gina how many times it took me to get it right. At least you’re still practicing with the original model.”
Paul nodded slowly. “Yeah, all that’s gonna get me is sleepin’ on a roll of blankets out in the garage.”
“Probably not the way to go on second thought,” Dave agreed.
“So thanks to you I’m gettin’ smacked around by my wife, and Ma’s all weepy ‘cause you married a doctor…”
Dave laughed at that. “Oh don’t even try to float that BS. You gave Ma grandkids when I was nothin’ but the divorced loser playing cops and robbers.”
Paul shrugged and said, “Good thing Markie didn’t end up a priest or we’d both be dog meat.” His cell phone sounded and he flipped it open without checking to see who was calling. “Hey G,” he said. “Yeah, dropped him off a couple of hours ago and made it here around eleven. Yep, already had Dave’s baby out for a spin…What? Of course I mean the car…”
Dave chuckled and shook his head, nodding his head to Paul’s comment about Mark. Their younger brother Mark had planned to enter the priesthood until the local bakery hired a beautiful new cashier three weeks before he was due to leave for the seminary. To say their mother had been upset when Mark eloped with young Sarah Finkelstein was something of an understatement. Of course, now, almost 30 years later, Sarah was as much a Rossi as anyone.
Dave remembered visiting his mom and dad in Florida years ago. Mark and Sarah and their kids were there, and everyone was out on the beach watching the sunset. A neighbor of his parents had stopped on their nightly walk to chat, and they watched the kids playing in the surf.
“Is it your son or daughter?” the woman had asked watching Sarah and Mark chasing down one kid and then another.
Mrs. Rossi made a show of thinking it over then finally shrugged and said, “You know? I don’t remember anymore.”
It was funny to think now that Spencer may have been reticent to meet Paul and Gina, but he’d been outright fearful about meeting Mark. He’d assumed Mark’s religious background would make him intolerant toward his and Dave’s relationship. Dave had been almost shocked at the idea which was ridiculous given the religious climate of the world, but the idea was such an anathema to who Mark was that it threw him for a minute. “No, no,” Dave had said in response to Spencer’s concerns. “Mark thinks religion is an excuse to love people, not hate ‘em.”
The comment had intrigued Spencer, and it turned out Mark and Sarah’s place was much more Spencer’s speed. At the opposite end of the spectrum from the happy chaos of Paul and Gina’s was the peaceful contentment of Mark and Sarah’s. They had four children, all of them scholarly and either accomplished artists or musicians. While a raucous contest of Rock Band was likely to take up an evening at Paul and Gina’s, it was more common to sit down to a game of Trivial Pursuit at Mark and Sarah’s.
And just as Dave suspected, Sarah and Spencer seemed to share an affinity of spirit. Sarah had been raised by her maternal grandparents after her mother and father were killed in a car accident when she was 14 years old. She and Spencer both shared the quiet reserve of children who’d learned far too young how unfair life could be.
After Spencer had been hospitalized that winter with pneumonia, it was Sarah who arrived on their doorstep and spent nearly a week quietly and efficiently taking care of the both of them.
She of all Dave’s family was the one who recognized that Dave’s relationship with Spencer was different than all of the relationships he’d had before. When Dave had clumsily tried to thank her for coming, she’d merely winked at him and said, “I know a kindred spirit when I see one.”
Dave didn’t have to ask what she meant. Several years earlier, Mark had undergone surgery to replace a valve in his heart. Retired from the BAU and between book tours, Dave had gone down to lend a hand, but as usual, Sarah had everything under control. Whether reassuring her kids their dad would be fine, cooking dozens of meals ahead or bolstering Mark’s confidence, she was the picture of composure.
The night before the surgery, with Mark already checked in to the hospital, Dave had gone downstairs to get a drink and was curious to see the door to the garage ajar. He’d stuck his head out the door and saw Sarah sitting in her car, winter coat balled up and pressed to her face to silence her hysterical sobs.
“I don’t know how to be without him!” she’d whispered brokenly to Dave, sounding almost bewildered at the words, as if she was just realizing she felt that way.
Dave had comforted her as best he could; chalking up her feelings to stress and anxiety and, if he were to be honest, a certain amount of melodrama. Dave had never bought into any I can’t live without you bullshit.
But then came a late night in Spencer’s hospital room. They were on their third antibiotic, and it wasn’t working either. Dave had started to hear whispered concerns of septic shock. It was past four in the morning when one of the monitors started frantically sounding a warning. Dave jumped out of the chair where he’d been half-asleep and watched Spencer’s eyes rolled back in his head as he started to convulse. Rossi remembered robotically backing away from the bed as several nurses and an attending physician bolted through the door. And he remembered watching them working on Spencer and thinking bitterly-furiously--to himself that he wasn’t going to live in a world without Reid in it.
The Catholic in him-lapsed though he might be-was later ashamed of the sentiment, but, oddly, he wasn’t particularly alarmed by it. Being a profiler all these years, Rossi had long since learned that feelings and emotions could exist without judgment; it was how you acted on those feelings and emotions that counted.
Besides, the third antibiotic kicked in several hours later, and Reid made a speedy recovery after that. Dave could compartmentalize with the best of them.
Dave shook away the dark memories as he leaned against the counter and waited for Paul’s phone call to end.
“How the hell would I know?” Paulie was saying. He looked over at Dave. “She wants to know what Spencer’s wearing.”
Dave grinned as he emptied the coffee pot in the sink and began to wash it. “Tell her neither Spencer nor I appreciate the objectification.”
Paul lifted an eyebrow at his brother which clearly said, Are you fucking crazy? “Davie says he’s wearing khakis and a button-down shirt.”
“Coward,” Dave mumbled.
“Oh yeah, he’s as beautiful as ever,” Paul said, rolling his eyes. “I did not make a face. I’m agreein’ with you, aren’t I?...Yeah, well, I’m thinkin’ that all of a sudden I start pointing out to you how beautiful I think this guy is and that guy is, you start wonderin’ what the hell my dealio is…all right Babe, I’ll talk to you later. Love you too.” He was snapping the phone shut when Spencer loped in the kitchen carrying his empty coffee cup and plate. And wearing jeans and a t-shirt. “Oops, got that wrong,” Paul said. “Hey, anyone asks, you’re wearing khakis and a button-down.”
“Why would anyone ask?” Spencer wondered, sounding confused. “Is it time to start dinner yet? I’ll take Muchie for a walk and then we can try the pasta again,” he said.
“Ah, no can do,” Paul said. “Gina’s got me on some friggin’ birdseed and wheat germ diet.”
“But we always make pasta when you come,” Spencer said hopeful eyes looking dewy and wide. “And this time I really think I’ll get the hang of it!”
“What am I supposed to do with that?” Paul asked his brother.
Dave shrugged. “Say no?”
“What, and then we’ll all go shoot some puppies?”
Spencer scratched his chin. “Umm, I think Dave and I are supposed to bring some of your pasta to a dinner party next week.”
“We are?” Dave said, sounding surprised and pleased at once. Social invitations were pretty exclusively Dave’s domain. He was proud of Spencer for stepping up to the plate.
“Well, Laurie was picking Hotch up last night because his car was in the shop, and we were waiting for the elevator together. She always looks at me like she’s kind of hungry, and that made me think of Paul’s dinners, so I told her Paul was coming and then I told them about all of the pasta he usually makes and then all of a sudden she was saying we could bring the pasta and they’d have dessert and they’ll see us next Saturday.” With Muchie leashed up and excited for his walk, Spencer gave a go figure shrug and let the dog lead him out the front door.
Paul watched after him for a beat. “He has no idea women think he’s good lookin’ does he?”
“Nope,” Rossi said affably. “And it would only upset him if he did, so shut up.”
“Kid’s lucky to have you, Bro. You’re a prince among men.”
“That’s what I tell him. Every day.”
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“Isn’t one of those fancy degrees of yours in Chemistry?” Paul asked Spencer, pointing to the hopelessly sticky glob that should have been a smooth pasta dough.
Mouth quirked as he studied the mess in front of him, Reid slowly nodded. “Yes it is,” he said thoughtfully.
Spencer had come back from walking the dog, washed up and told Paul he was ready to try his hand yet again at making the homemade pasta dough. Dave was in charge of the red sauce and had been throwing out insults and suggestions as Paul walked Spencer through the elementary steps of putting the dough together.
“How’m I supposed to introduce my brother-in-law the doctor in Chemistry to anyone when that is the travesty you make of flour, eggs and water?”
“Chemistry formulas are significantly more precise than ‘add flour ‘til it feels right.’ There’s no scientific measure of ‘feeling right.’” As Dave took a breath to speak, Reid quickly added, “Hush.” He looked trustingly at Paul. “How do you fix it?” he asked.
“Più vino,” Paul said dryly.
Spencer wrinkled his nose. “You put wine in it?”
“No, I put wine in me and make you go sit over there.”
“I really thought I’d get it this time,” Spencer said, walking around the counter and sitting down on one of the kitchen stools.
Shaking his head, Paul added flour to Spencer’s sticky mound of dough and began kneading it into a recognizable texture. “You’re gonna have enough pasta to feed an army,” Paul said. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and looked sharply at his brother. “Did you just high five him?” he asked, pointing at Reid.
Spencer stared at him with wide eyes. “High what?” he said.
“I was brushin’ off flour,” Dave said with a shrug. “Kid’s a mess.”
“I am on to you both,” Paul said menacingly.
“You’ll probably want to make an extra pan of lasagna,” Spencer said helpfully. “We’ll just freeze the extra one.”
=================================================================
Later that night, Rossi pretended to be editing a chapter of his book, but he was really just watching Spencer skulk around their bedroom. The kid was humorously ill at ease whenever they had guests, scandalized by the very idea that someone in the house might think they were having sex. Before they moved in together, he wouldn’t have entertained for a minute the idea of spending the night with Dave with someone else in the house. Even now, Dave figured he’d probably rather be sleeping in the little den off his study. Dave usually took it as a personal challenge to see if he couldn’t entice Spencer into messing around at least a little, but he had a sneaking suspicion, watching Reid slowly reorganizing his sock drawer, that Reid was on to him.
They’d had a nice dinner with Paul. Paul really did make fantastic pasta, and the red sauce was Grandma Sarducci’s famous recipe, so the meal was amazing if Dave said so himself. There was something immensely satisfying to Dave watching Spencer grow more comfortable with his family. Maybe Dave would never hear his mother struggle to remember if Spencer was one of hers or not, but he liked it that his family was starting to see beyond the stereotypical genius to the real Spencer underneath. Plus Paul’s teasing assaults to Spencer’s dignity were an evening’s worth of entertainment.
When it looked like Spencer was about to refold his entire underwear collection, Dave finally caved. “Spencer, for God’s sake. If I promise not to ravish you, will you leave that damn drawer alone and come to bed?”
“I’ve learned to view your promises of abstinence with great skepticism,” Reid said primly.
“Aww, come on, Baby,” Rossi cooed. “Don’t be like that.”
Spencer pursed his lips in disapproval, but reluctantly approached the bed, then stood there, staring expectantly at Dave who was wearing his most innocent expression. While sitting on Spencer’s side of the bed.
Finally Spencer just crawled on top of him and straddled Dave’s waist, knees on either side. Reid lifted an eyebrow in challenge and made a show of finding the most comfortable spot for his ass.
Dave matched that lifted brow. “Do not write checks you’re unwilling to cash,” he warned.
Spencer laughed, then gave a muffled shriek when Dave tickled his ribs. “Stop it! Stop! Stop!” he hissed grabbing wildly at Rossi’s fingers.
“Too late!” Rossi said wearing an exaggerated “uh oh” face. “Paulie thinks we’re goin’ at it now!” He pushed Spencer to the side and rolled over on top of him. “Spencer!” he called amorously. “Oh Spencer! There, Baby! Right there!”
Reid tried to cover Rossi’s mouth with his hand. “Would you stop it?” Spencer said. “You are 12 years old every time you’re with one of your brothers!”
Dave laughed. “You know how to keep me quiet,” he said with a suggestive leer that made Spencer laugh in spite of himself as he began struggling in earnest to regain his spot on top of Rossi.
It was rare to see such a playful side to Spencer, and Dave loved it.
Early in their relationship, Spencer had warned him that if Dave was looking for some happy-go-lucky young boyfriend, Spencer probably wasn’t the guy for him. The conversation had started after Dave had taken Spencer out to dinner one night. They’d ended up back at Dave’s house and were engaged in one of those innocuous discussions about what they’d do if they had millions of dollars at their disposal. Rossi had enumerated the places he would want to visit and the sites where he’d build vacation homes. He’d pressed Spencer for what he’d do, and Spencer just shrugged and shook his head. Dave tried to coax an answer out of him, but Spencer became agitated, trying to form words, but unable to. Spencer had escaped from Dave’s kitchen table to his family room, standing in the middle of the room as if he was thinking of making a run for the front door.
“Hey, I’m sorry if I was bein’ pushy,” Dave said, taken aback by the force of Spencer’s reaction. “You don’t have to…”
“I saw you watching those women at the bar,” Spencer interrupted to say. Dave had heard similar claims from others in the past, but they’d been leveled resentfully, never in such sad defeat. “I’m not like them,” Spencer said.
There had been a group of women at the restaurant, a bachelorette party Rossi had gathered from their raucous behavior. They’d caught his attention to be sure, but he could read Spencer well enough to know this wasn’t a typical conversation rooted in jealousy. “What do you mean?” Dave asked gently.
Spencer shook his head like he wasn’t going to answer, then shrugged. “Just…laughing all the time and-and carefree and-and-and frivolous. If you think because I’m young that being with me means I’ll be like them, then…”
“Okay, wait,” Rossi said, then paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. He understood where Spencer’s fears were coming from-he’d made no secret of the fact that Reid’s youth was a huge turn on. But it was Spencer’s youth, not youth in general that was the draw. “Look,” he finally spoke. “We both know I get off on how young you are.” He chuffed a laugh at the understatement, and Spencer managed a smile of acknowledgement. “I love how quick and agile your mind is,” Rossi whispered. “How soft and unlined your skin is. That long, beautiful hair of yours.” He was silent for a moment, hoping Spencer was remembering the myriad of ways Rossi showed his appreciation. Dave leaned forward and caught Spencer’s eyes. “But Sweetheart, I have no illusions about what you’ve lived through and how that informs who you are.” He kissed Spencer’s temple. “You’re who I want. All of you. Okay?”
For as fast as Reid’s brain worked, his emotions churned at a much slower pace. Rossi stayed quiet, gently bringing Spencer over to the couch and sitting close enough for their thighs to touch, but otherwise just waiting for Reid to process.
Spencer eventually laid his hand over Rossi’s. “There’s a private hospital in Connecticut that specializes in mental disorders,” he said, so softly Dave had to turn his head and lean in to hear him. “It’s so exclusive it won’t even accept insurance payments of any kind; you have to privately fund the cost through an annuity. If I had all the money I wanted, I’d move my mom there.”
Reid had understood it wasn’t really a matter of offering up how to spend an imaginary windfall so much as an exercise in trust, and Rossi realized yet again that this dance with Spencer required careful, deliberate steps. There were so many hidden minefields to cautiously navigate.
And maybe Reid had been perceptive enough to realize that there was something of a white knight impulse that drove Rossi. As determined as Dave was to give Spencer’s future a decidedly happily-ever-after bent, he would never be able to undo all that had come before. It seemed ludicrous that he would need to be reminded of this fact from time to time, but Rossi was trying to accept his ridiculousness with as much equanimity as possible.
So even if Dave knew not to expect a frivolous, carefree Reid, he was certainly going to appreciate it when he got one.
Breathing hard, a quietly laughing Spencer took it as a victory when he ended up straddled back on top of Dave, not that Dave saw any downside in the way things were going. Spencer stared down at him while he caught his breath, pinning Dave’s wrists to the mattress. “Paul called me his brother-in-law twice today,” Spencer said, cautiously eyeing Rossi to see if he’d try to escape his hold.
Why in the hell would Dave try to get away? “Did that bother you?”
Reid had a maddening poker face when he wanted to. “It’s factually inaccurate.”
Dave grinned. “And that bothered you?”
Spencer shrugged. “I don’t think bother is the right term. Makes me curious.”
“That bothers me,” Rossi said, laughing at Reid’s ineffectual poke. “Paulie probably feels stupid saying ‘boyfriend.’ At his age it’s a little unseemly.”
Reid kindly refrained from mentioning there was just a two year age difference between the men. He released his hold on Dave’s wrists and sat back on his heels. “But if I were a woman, he’d still say girlfriend, right?”
Dave took enough time answering that Reid began to lightly bounce on him. Rossi groaned as their pasta dinner made itself known. “It’s a difficult question,” he said defensively, arms now crossed behind his head. “I’m trying to imagine Gina letting Paulie visit on his own if I was living with a 26 year old woman.”
“That’s sexist,” Reid said.
“Take it up with Gina.”
“It’s maddening the way society has construed language to force same-sex couples into yet another sense of ‘otherness,’” Reid said. “I mean, the term ‘lovers’ really only encompasses one aspect of our relationship and in what I consider an inappropriately explicit manner which, it bears pointing out, straight couples are not forced to reveal. ‘Significant other’ is more encompassing, but certainly off-putting in its starkness.”
“See, this is why I don’t like it when you drive the car. I don’t think you’re concentrating on the road.”
Reid continued as if Rossi hadn’t said anything. “’Partners’ is accurate, but because we’re in law enforcement, it’s imprecise and could lead to misunderstandings. ‘Love interest’ isn’t a term generally used in casual conversation and again is more revealing than heterosexual couples are forced to admit…”
They’d had this discussion before. Or, to be accurate, Reid had given this lecture before. If the kid got excited over ellipses and hyphens; it stood to reason that when you got him going on semantics, he’d drone on for hours. Days even. “So you can see why sometimes we invoke the spirit over the letter,” Dave said.
“That’s why you just say we’re married.” It wasn’t really a question.
“Mm hm,” Dave answered.
Reid looked thoughtful then shrugged. “Marriages can end,” he said. “I don’t want to think of us as something that might end.”
“We won’t,” Dave said. The certainty of his tone never failed to make Spencer smile. As bowled over as Dave was by Spencer’s staggering intelligence, Spencer marveled the same way at Dave’s confidence.
“I didn’t go into any of my marriages thinking they’d fail, but I knew…” Dave paused, unsure exactly how to explain his point to Spencer. “Right from the start, I knew I wasn’t a man worth staying with for the long haul.” Spencer looked stricken at such an assessment and shook his head, ready to defend Dave against himself. “The only decent man I’ve ever been,” Dave quietly continued. “Is the man I am with you.”
Spencer nodded rather absentmindedly. He understood even if he didn’t agree that Dave had been anything other than a decent man before he met Reid. “If people could read one another’s’ minds and know what someone meant regardless of what they said, then I could just introduce you as my Dave and everyone would know everything they needed to.”
“Mm, I like that,” Dave agreed, warmed by the words. “Maybe then I wouldn’t have to watch coffee shop employees hit on you every morning.”
“I have never been hit on when ordering a cup of coffee in my entire life!” Reid sputtered. “And if you figure I’ve been drinking coffee every single day since I was 14, that’s well over 5,000 opportunities.”
“I don’t know what universe you live in, but it is not customary to get a lap dance with your latte.”
Reid rolled his eyes. “I was waiting to the side, and she walked over to hand me my drink.”
Dave snorted in disbelief. “Standing to the side because for the second morning in a row, there’s no milk up front for a latte? I’m not buyin’ it.”
“I’m sure with the gallons of milk they go through, there are going to be occasions when they run out of said milk …”
“Let’s review-it’s a coffee shop--at seven in the morning, they’re not going to have extra cartons of milk out front? They’re gonna have the counter girl sashay into the back room, get a single carton of milk, make the latte and then trot it out to the customer so she can press her ample bosom against him for a cheap thrill? I don’t think that’s the SOP in the employee manual.”
“If news of your delusional observational skills gets out, every one of your convictions is going to be up for review.”
Rossi studied Spencer’s superior face for a beat, then said; well, yelled, really, “Oh Spencer, do me, Baby! Do me!”
Rossi thoroughly expected the thwack! of the pillow in his face, but had to laugh in surprise when Spencer proceeded to smother him with it. Oh well, he wasn’t too worried. Dave was pretty sure Spencer wasn’t ready to be rid of him yet, and figured if he did give up the ghost at least they’d find him with a smile on his face.
#
Author: myrna1_2_3
Pairing: Rossi/Reid
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Rossi’s brother visits
Word count: ~7,300
When our relatives are at home, we have to think of all their good points or it would be impossible to endure them. ~George Bernard Shaw
FBI Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi had seen guilty perps caught red-handed acting less furtively than Spencer Reid. Spencer was so preoccupied with the time he couldn’t tear his attention away from the alarm clock long enough to decide on a shirt and pair of pants to wear. “Would you relax?” Dave said. “We’ve got hours before he shows up.”
“But his voice mail said between nine and ten!” Spencer reminded him, casting another worried glance at the clock.
“And his driver’s license says he weighs 190. It’s all bullshit.”
Spencer sighed and turned to face the closet, exposing his bare back--an enticement to Dave if ever there was one. Sliding up behind him, Dave kissed a meandering path from one shoulder blade to the other. It was possibly a little unfair. Dave was intimately familiar with Spencer’s erogenous zones and that part of his back was one his most responsive. Dave grinned wolfishly at Spencer’s helpless-sounding, “Oh!”
“Your libido is sparked by the strangest things,” Spencer said, shuddering in arousal.
“I trust that isn’t a complaint,” Dave said.
“We just got out of the shower!” Spencer said, good manners precluding him from reminding Rossi what they’d done in there.
Dave chuckled. “It’s been 15 minutes,” he said. “I’m ready to go again.”
Spencer huffed at that exaggeration, which earned him a playful bite on one of those sensitive shoulders.
“Come on,” Dave whispered. “I’m gonna be on short rations for the next few days. I’ve gotta store up…” He was already fully dressed, so chances were Spencer wasn’t really buying his come-on, but they probably did have some time to kill.
“You’re the one who invited your brother for the weekend,” Spencer reminded him.
“Yeah but you’re the one with the hang-up about having sex when other humans are within a five mile radius…”
“What you call a hang-up, I consider common courtesy.”
“I’ve got your courtesy right here, Baby,” Dave said, but couldn’t keep a straight face, and they both started laughing.
“Go make coffee,” Spencer demanded.
“Mmm, you know what it does to me when you start giving orders,” Rossi said and went back to nuzzling Spencer’s back. He ooffed! dramatically when Spencer elbowed him in the belly. “Good God, what the hell is Morgan teaching you in those classes of his?” he groaned, but dutifully headed downstairs to get the coffee started.
Passing the front door, Dave saw his brother pulling into the driveway. Paul’s son was attending a baseball camp at Georgetown for the week. Paul had driven Tommy and several teammates down for the start of the camp, and one of the other kid’s parents was going to bring them home at the end of the week. Dave had gladly invited Paul to stay for the weekend instead of immediately turning around and driving the four hours back home.
Dave opened the door as Paul was walking up the walkway. “Paul,” Dave drawled, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.
“Hey, Davie Boy. Didn’t get you and the mister out of bed did I?”
Dave made a face at his brother. “You said you’d be here between nine and ten.”
Paul held his arms out, implying, Well I’m here, aren’t I?
The clock in the den struck 11:00 as Dave smirked at his brother. “I forget how Paulie Time works,” he said, moving aside to let his brother in the door.
Spencer came trodding down the steps, fastening his pants and carrying his shirt. “Do I have enough time to…” he was saying, then looked up and started when he realized Paul was there. “Oh jeez Paul, sorry, you’re early!” He held his shirt to his chest like a maiden might clutch a towel after being caught bathing in a stream.
Paul assumed the you’re early comment was his brother’s handiwork and smirked at Dave then said to Reid, “Don’t worry about it, kid. We all got what you got.” Reid still hurriedly pulled his shirt over his head.
Dave nodded toward his brother and snidely added, “Except Paulie’s is under 25 pounds of fat and a ton of fur.”
“I can still take you,” Paul said to his brother.
“Still?” Dave scoffed. “Like at some point you actually could?”
Paul ignored him and held out his arms to Spencer. “Don’t you gotta hug for your brother-in-law?” he asked innocently.
Now it was Spencer’s turn to smirk at Dave. At one time, Spencer had naively assumed Dave had mentioned Reid’s aversion to personal contact as some kind of altruistic gesture, but it was really just a means of torturing him. He sighed and grudgingly walked the rest of the way down the stairs, standing resignedly in front of Paul with his arms at his side. Paul threw his arms around Spencer, lifting him up off the ground and shaking him a little, snickering when Spencer sighed yet again as he was set down.
“What’s not to like about that kind of hello?” Paul asked as Spencer smoothed down his wrinkled shirt.
“The rearrangement of my kidneys?” Spencer hazard to guess.
“Hey, watch this,” Dave said to his brother, and then threw an arm around Spencer and said, “Who was the winning pitcher of Game 7 of the 1962 World Series?” Spencer looked like he wasn’t going to answer for a beat, then Dave said in a sing-song voice, “Fifteen.”
Spencer pursed his lips but gamely answered. “Ralph Terry,” he said, and added-almost against his will, “Who, it should be noted, gave up Bill Mazeroski's Series-winning walk-off home run two years earlier in Pittsburgh.” He shrugged apologetically at Paul, and pointed a finger at Dave before heading to the kitchen for coffee. “Fourteen,” he said sternly.
Dave grinned at Paul. “Spencer read the Total Baseball Encyclopedia for my birthday. It’s all in there now. The team records, individual stats, the rosters. All of it.” Dave gleefully bounced on his toes, then sobered somewhat. “I only get to trot him out like a trained seal 25 times, though. I have 14 left.”
“Twenty-five?” Paul said indignantly. “That’s nothin’!”
“I know,” Dave said, leading Paul to the guest bedroom. “I figure it’ll be easy negotiations on 25 more. After that he might dig in a little.”
“You could liquor him up, I guess,” Paul said, always one to be helpful. “Maybe you’ll get a little somethin’-somethin’ along with your baseball stats.”
Dave snorted at that. “We’re both guys, Paulie. The last thing I gotta do is liquor him up for sex.”
Paul threw him a sympathetic look. “That’s gotta suck--all the sex you want and no effort to get it.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say no effort.” Dave didn’t want to exaggerate his good fortune. “Sometimes I gotta kinda nod my head toward the bedroom.”
“Aw jeez, stop, my heart’s breakin’ over here.”
Dave held his hands out in supplication. “Hey, if it’s any consolation he can’t cook for shit, and he thinks Deep Purple is a flavor of Ben & Jerry’s.”
“That does not console me,” Paul said. “Gimme the keys to the Porsche. I gotta drive away my heart ache.”
Dave tossed over his keys and followed Paul downstairs. He stuck his head in the study where Spencer was now working at the computer. “Paulie and I are gonna take the baby for a spin,” he said to Spencer, then spoke to Paul over his shoulder. “Spencer’s editing an article for Mad Scientist Monthly. He’s an expert in thermodynamic whatchamacallitty.”
“Cluster weighted modeling and geographical regression,” Spencer corrected, not looking up from his screen.
“Isn’t that what I said?” Dave asked, as he and Paul headed toward the garage.
“Why d’ya always act like I need a chaperone?” Paul asked.
Dave didn’t mention the number of times they’d been called on to hand over the car’s registration, which always involved Dave’s wallet opened to reveal his Bureau ID. Instead, he offered the most obvious reason. “Because if I’m not with you, you’ll leave town in my baby, and I’ll be stuck with your Old Man car.”
“I do not drive an Old Man car.”
It was easy enough to quash that ridiculous argument. “Spencer likes it,” Dave said.
Paul sighed in defeat. “Point taken.”
Chuckling, Dave got in the passenger side of the car. “How’s Gina?” he asked.
“She’s good,” answered Paul, revving the engine with a grin. “You know, when she’s not bellowin’ at me; or tryin’ to kill me in my sleep, or cryin’ ‘cause she loves me so damn much she doesn’t know what she’d ever do without me. Who the hell timed menopause with the last kid leavin’ for college?”
“You still plannin’ on a trip after Tommy starts school?”
“Yeah, I figure Italy oughta do the trick. We leave a week after we fling Tommy outta the car. He gets expelled in the two weeks we’re gone, he’s gonna sleep on your floor, all right? I don’t want that hoodlum to have the run of our place.” He peeled out of the drive with a happy sigh.
Tommy, vice-president of his senior class, co-captain of the baseball team and one of his class’ valedictorians, was attending Princeton on a full-ride baseball scholarship in the fall. Rossi wasn’t unduly concerned about his showing up on their doorstep, at least not because he’d been expelled.
“Don’t let me forget to give you the name of the place we stayed in,” Dave said. “It was unbelievable.”
“I’m not sure I want to be right on the ocean. Too easy for Gina to dump my body if I piss her off.” Paul slammed on the brakes ,and the car screeched to a halt at a red light.
Dave shot a hand out to brace himself against the dash. “Jesus-you handle your woman the way you handle my car, no wonder she wants to kill you,” he said.
“Fuck you,” Paul said around a laugh. “Lately it’s inconsequential things like inhaling and exhaling that tend to set her off.”
Dave laughed. “Aw, don’t worry. Gina’ll be planning Ava’s wedding before you know it, and you’ll be home free.”
“Bite your tongue. She better not marry that yahoo she’s seein’ now.”
“He didn’t seem that bad,” Rossi said, thinking back to the innocuous young man Paul and Gina’s daughter had brought to dinner the last time he was visiting.
Paul shrugged. “Compared to the serial killers and mass murders you meet every day, probably not. And yet still he is a yahoo.”
Dave supposed it was all relative. “I’m starting to get the impression that no guy will ever be good enough for your little princess.”
“Hey,” Paul took exception to that remark. “I’d let Ava marry Spencer in a heartbeat.”
“Because he’s gay or in spite of it?” Dave asked mildly.
“Exactly.”
“Be a little embarrassing when people ask how they met and you have to explain he’s your brother-in-law,” Dave pointed out.
“Technically, he’d be my ex-brother-in-law.”
“I ain’t goin’ quiet,” Dave warned.
Paul shrugged. “All I gotta do is turn Gina on you in one of her rages, and we’re good to go.”
“I carry a gun.”
Paul stomped on the gas and peeled out of the red light. “That’s what makes it a fair fight.”
Dave just laughed and shook his head.
He and Gina were actually great friends. Paul and Gina had been together since they were fifteen years old. They had two kids, though the house was always filled with many more, a multitude of dogs, cats, and fish over the years, and a household in a perpetual state of noisy chaos. It was one of Dave’s favorite places on the planet.
He’d been apprehensive the first time he brought Spencer with him for a visit. He’d never been so deeply involved with a man that introductions extended to his family, and God knows Spencer had never spent time with a crew as unruly as the New Jersey Rossi’s. Hell, it was hard enough to get Spencer to agree to the long weekend when he learned they’d be staying at Paul and Gina’s house. Spencer’s Victorian sense of propriety was vexed at the very idea, but Dave calmly brushed aside his concerns with promises of homemade pasta and Boston cream pie.
Shortly after they arrived, Paul had taken Dave’s bag from him and led the way to a guest bedroom with Spencer trailing nervously behind. Paul had tossed Dave’s bag on the bed, grabbed the keys to Dave’s car and said he’d see them in a bit. Spencer had anxiously watched Dave unpack until he couldn’t stand it any longer and finally he whispered, “Where am I sleeping?”
Dave froze as he reached for a pair of slacks, and it was only years of law enforcement training that kept a bark of laughter at bay. “I’m almost positive you’re in here with me,” he’d said.
“Are you sure that’s… appropriate?” Spencer asked.
“Paulie doesn’t care that I’m with a guy, but I don’t think he’s ready for you to bunk with him and Gina so…”
Spencer huffed impatiently. “What if I, like, drop my shoe or something and they think we’re… you know…”
Dave made a show of thinking through such a calamity. “Well, there aren’t any sodomy laws left on the books so after we’re hog tied and led from the house in chains, it’ll probably all get settled amicably at the local police station, after which we’ll be driven to the county line and politely asked never to return.”
“Sarcasm is rarely an effective means of waylaying concerns…”
“And yet I risk legitimizing unfounded anxiety by addressing it as founded.” Rossi shrugged at Reid’s glare. “Hey, I’ve read my fair share of psychobabble text books too.”
Spencer was wound so tight that sleeping was nearly impossible the first night. After they both tossed and turned for an hour, Dave decided he’d go downstairs and raid the fridge for the last of the pie. “Two forks,” Spencer had said, refusing to venture down to the kitchen with him.
Which was probably a good thing. As Dave hit the bottom of the stairs, he realized Ava and her mom were sitting at the kitchen table, sharing a slice of pie between them. Ava spoke before he had a chance to make his presence known. “Uncle Dave’s awesome and everything but …how did he land someone who looks like Spencer?”
Dave stopped in his tracks, thinking he who eavesdrops is bound to hear ill of himself.
“Tell me about it,” Gina said breathlessly. “What? Don’t look at me like that! Mama ain’t dead.”
“His skin is unbelievable! You think he’ll be embarrassed if I ask about it?”
“Don’t bother,” Gina said. “He’ll just tell you he splashes water on it once in awhile.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. You know, I’m sitting across from him at dinner, and I’m thinking Is he good looking? Yeah, yeah, he’s good looking. No, wait, is he? And then Uncle Dave said something and Spencer laughed and it was like Ahhhhhh! Angels singing!”
“Uncle Dave has always had an eye for pretty things,” Gina said knowingly.
“Did you see how much he put away at dinner?” Ava continued in an awed voice. “In what universe is that even remotely fair?”
“A fourth of a pie!” Gina said, admiration clearly in her tone. “He ate one-fourth of the pie, and he’s invisible when he turns sideways.”
“That kinda made me want to stab him,” Ava admitted.
Dave returned quietly to the bedroom sans pie. “Do not get lost on your way to the bathroom,” he had cautioned as he slid under the covers.
“What?” Spencer said. “Why?” Dave didn’t answer, and it was quiet for a beat until Spencer rose up on an elbow and indignantly asked, “Hey, where’s the pie?”
“Shhhh,” Dave said. “They’re gonna think we’re you knowing.”
The next day had been Sunday which meant Sunday Brunch to Paul and Gina and what seemed like 50 of their closest friends. There was food everywhere, kids laughing and shouting. Tommy and his friends were throwing a ball around in the back yard, and Ava, judging by the number of nubile young women loitering near Spencer at the buffet table, had apparently sent out word that today’s brunch featured some interesting eye candy.
At one point, Paul walked by carrying a platter of roast beef and nudged his brother. “Just like the days back at 120 Cambridge, yeah?” he said, referencing their childhood home.
“Your house was like this growing up?” Spencer had asked him, avidly taking in the scene.
Dave surveyed the bedlam with a bemused smile and nodded. “Pretty much,” he said, half expecting a dry that explains a lot from Reid.
Instead, Spencer jumped when one of Tommy’s friends lunged for an errantly thrown football. He unconsciously moved a little closer to Dave, a half-step behind him, their arms almost entwined. Dave could have wrapped his hand around Spencer’s without moving an inch. “Good,” Spencer had whispered, almost to himself.
Dave moved slightly closer, still not holding Spencer’s hand. He turned his head and caught Spencer’s eye and shared a look that said what would have been inadequate for words
Then Dave smiled because Spencer had blushed as if Dave had brazenly kissed him on the mouth right there in front of everyone.
==================================================================
There was no sign of Spencer when Dave and Paul returned to the house after their drive (ticketless for once, though the weekend was young). Paul followed Dave to the kitchen and grabbed a soda from the fridge while Dave brewed a new pot of coffee and toasted a bagel. When the coffee was ready, Dave poured a cup, put the toasted bagel on a plate then carried them into the study.
When he came back, his brother was still sitting at the kitchen table, looking at him as if Dave had just come out in favor of the designated hitter rule. “You know you’re nauseating now, right?”
Dave seemed unconcerned with the criticism. “Why’d you drive all this way to tell me stuff you could just tell me over the phone?”
“No, I’m serious,” Paul said. “You used to be my go-to guy. Gina was pissed at me, I’d arrange a weekend with you and whoever, and by comparison I smell like a rose. Now we come down, and all I get is a slap upside the head and a ‘why don’t you treat me like Davey treats Spencer?’”
“You might want to remind Gina how many times it took me to get it right. At least you’re still practicing with the original model.”
Paul nodded slowly. “Yeah, all that’s gonna get me is sleepin’ on a roll of blankets out in the garage.”
“Probably not the way to go on second thought,” Dave agreed.
“So thanks to you I’m gettin’ smacked around by my wife, and Ma’s all weepy ‘cause you married a doctor…”
Dave laughed at that. “Oh don’t even try to float that BS. You gave Ma grandkids when I was nothin’ but the divorced loser playing cops and robbers.”
Paul shrugged and said, “Good thing Markie didn’t end up a priest or we’d both be dog meat.” His cell phone sounded and he flipped it open without checking to see who was calling. “Hey G,” he said. “Yeah, dropped him off a couple of hours ago and made it here around eleven. Yep, already had Dave’s baby out for a spin…What? Of course I mean the car…”
Dave chuckled and shook his head, nodding his head to Paul’s comment about Mark. Their younger brother Mark had planned to enter the priesthood until the local bakery hired a beautiful new cashier three weeks before he was due to leave for the seminary. To say their mother had been upset when Mark eloped with young Sarah Finkelstein was something of an understatement. Of course, now, almost 30 years later, Sarah was as much a Rossi as anyone.
Dave remembered visiting his mom and dad in Florida years ago. Mark and Sarah and their kids were there, and everyone was out on the beach watching the sunset. A neighbor of his parents had stopped on their nightly walk to chat, and they watched the kids playing in the surf.
“Is it your son or daughter?” the woman had asked watching Sarah and Mark chasing down one kid and then another.
Mrs. Rossi made a show of thinking it over then finally shrugged and said, “You know? I don’t remember anymore.”
It was funny to think now that Spencer may have been reticent to meet Paul and Gina, but he’d been outright fearful about meeting Mark. He’d assumed Mark’s religious background would make him intolerant toward his and Dave’s relationship. Dave had been almost shocked at the idea which was ridiculous given the religious climate of the world, but the idea was such an anathema to who Mark was that it threw him for a minute. “No, no,” Dave had said in response to Spencer’s concerns. “Mark thinks religion is an excuse to love people, not hate ‘em.”
The comment had intrigued Spencer, and it turned out Mark and Sarah’s place was much more Spencer’s speed. At the opposite end of the spectrum from the happy chaos of Paul and Gina’s was the peaceful contentment of Mark and Sarah’s. They had four children, all of them scholarly and either accomplished artists or musicians. While a raucous contest of Rock Band was likely to take up an evening at Paul and Gina’s, it was more common to sit down to a game of Trivial Pursuit at Mark and Sarah’s.
And just as Dave suspected, Sarah and Spencer seemed to share an affinity of spirit. Sarah had been raised by her maternal grandparents after her mother and father were killed in a car accident when she was 14 years old. She and Spencer both shared the quiet reserve of children who’d learned far too young how unfair life could be.
After Spencer had been hospitalized that winter with pneumonia, it was Sarah who arrived on their doorstep and spent nearly a week quietly and efficiently taking care of the both of them.
She of all Dave’s family was the one who recognized that Dave’s relationship with Spencer was different than all of the relationships he’d had before. When Dave had clumsily tried to thank her for coming, she’d merely winked at him and said, “I know a kindred spirit when I see one.”
Dave didn’t have to ask what she meant. Several years earlier, Mark had undergone surgery to replace a valve in his heart. Retired from the BAU and between book tours, Dave had gone down to lend a hand, but as usual, Sarah had everything under control. Whether reassuring her kids their dad would be fine, cooking dozens of meals ahead or bolstering Mark’s confidence, she was the picture of composure.
The night before the surgery, with Mark already checked in to the hospital, Dave had gone downstairs to get a drink and was curious to see the door to the garage ajar. He’d stuck his head out the door and saw Sarah sitting in her car, winter coat balled up and pressed to her face to silence her hysterical sobs.
“I don’t know how to be without him!” she’d whispered brokenly to Dave, sounding almost bewildered at the words, as if she was just realizing she felt that way.
Dave had comforted her as best he could; chalking up her feelings to stress and anxiety and, if he were to be honest, a certain amount of melodrama. Dave had never bought into any I can’t live without you bullshit.
But then came a late night in Spencer’s hospital room. They were on their third antibiotic, and it wasn’t working either. Dave had started to hear whispered concerns of septic shock. It was past four in the morning when one of the monitors started frantically sounding a warning. Dave jumped out of the chair where he’d been half-asleep and watched Spencer’s eyes rolled back in his head as he started to convulse. Rossi remembered robotically backing away from the bed as several nurses and an attending physician bolted through the door. And he remembered watching them working on Spencer and thinking bitterly-furiously--to himself that he wasn’t going to live in a world without Reid in it.
The Catholic in him-lapsed though he might be-was later ashamed of the sentiment, but, oddly, he wasn’t particularly alarmed by it. Being a profiler all these years, Rossi had long since learned that feelings and emotions could exist without judgment; it was how you acted on those feelings and emotions that counted.
Besides, the third antibiotic kicked in several hours later, and Reid made a speedy recovery after that. Dave could compartmentalize with the best of them.
Dave shook away the dark memories as he leaned against the counter and waited for Paul’s phone call to end.
“How the hell would I know?” Paulie was saying. He looked over at Dave. “She wants to know what Spencer’s wearing.”
Dave grinned as he emptied the coffee pot in the sink and began to wash it. “Tell her neither Spencer nor I appreciate the objectification.”
Paul lifted an eyebrow at his brother which clearly said, Are you fucking crazy? “Davie says he’s wearing khakis and a button-down shirt.”
“Coward,” Dave mumbled.
“Oh yeah, he’s as beautiful as ever,” Paul said, rolling his eyes. “I did not make a face. I’m agreein’ with you, aren’t I?...Yeah, well, I’m thinkin’ that all of a sudden I start pointing out to you how beautiful I think this guy is and that guy is, you start wonderin’ what the hell my dealio is…all right Babe, I’ll talk to you later. Love you too.” He was snapping the phone shut when Spencer loped in the kitchen carrying his empty coffee cup and plate. And wearing jeans and a t-shirt. “Oops, got that wrong,” Paul said. “Hey, anyone asks, you’re wearing khakis and a button-down.”
“Why would anyone ask?” Spencer wondered, sounding confused. “Is it time to start dinner yet? I’ll take Muchie for a walk and then we can try the pasta again,” he said.
“Ah, no can do,” Paul said. “Gina’s got me on some friggin’ birdseed and wheat germ diet.”
“But we always make pasta when you come,” Spencer said hopeful eyes looking dewy and wide. “And this time I really think I’ll get the hang of it!”
“What am I supposed to do with that?” Paul asked his brother.
Dave shrugged. “Say no?”
“What, and then we’ll all go shoot some puppies?”
Spencer scratched his chin. “Umm, I think Dave and I are supposed to bring some of your pasta to a dinner party next week.”
“We are?” Dave said, sounding surprised and pleased at once. Social invitations were pretty exclusively Dave’s domain. He was proud of Spencer for stepping up to the plate.
“Well, Laurie was picking Hotch up last night because his car was in the shop, and we were waiting for the elevator together. She always looks at me like she’s kind of hungry, and that made me think of Paul’s dinners, so I told her Paul was coming and then I told them about all of the pasta he usually makes and then all of a sudden she was saying we could bring the pasta and they’d have dessert and they’ll see us next Saturday.” With Muchie leashed up and excited for his walk, Spencer gave a go figure shrug and let the dog lead him out the front door.
Paul watched after him for a beat. “He has no idea women think he’s good lookin’ does he?”
“Nope,” Rossi said affably. “And it would only upset him if he did, so shut up.”
“Kid’s lucky to have you, Bro. You’re a prince among men.”
“That’s what I tell him. Every day.”
==================================================================
“Isn’t one of those fancy degrees of yours in Chemistry?” Paul asked Spencer, pointing to the hopelessly sticky glob that should have been a smooth pasta dough.
Mouth quirked as he studied the mess in front of him, Reid slowly nodded. “Yes it is,” he said thoughtfully.
Spencer had come back from walking the dog, washed up and told Paul he was ready to try his hand yet again at making the homemade pasta dough. Dave was in charge of the red sauce and had been throwing out insults and suggestions as Paul walked Spencer through the elementary steps of putting the dough together.
“How’m I supposed to introduce my brother-in-law the doctor in Chemistry to anyone when that is the travesty you make of flour, eggs and water?”
“Chemistry formulas are significantly more precise than ‘add flour ‘til it feels right.’ There’s no scientific measure of ‘feeling right.’” As Dave took a breath to speak, Reid quickly added, “Hush.” He looked trustingly at Paul. “How do you fix it?” he asked.
“Più vino,” Paul said dryly.
Spencer wrinkled his nose. “You put wine in it?”
“No, I put wine in me and make you go sit over there.”
“I really thought I’d get it this time,” Spencer said, walking around the counter and sitting down on one of the kitchen stools.
Shaking his head, Paul added flour to Spencer’s sticky mound of dough and began kneading it into a recognizable texture. “You’re gonna have enough pasta to feed an army,” Paul said. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and looked sharply at his brother. “Did you just high five him?” he asked, pointing at Reid.
Spencer stared at him with wide eyes. “High what?” he said.
“I was brushin’ off flour,” Dave said with a shrug. “Kid’s a mess.”
“I am on to you both,” Paul said menacingly.
“You’ll probably want to make an extra pan of lasagna,” Spencer said helpfully. “We’ll just freeze the extra one.”
=================================================================
Later that night, Rossi pretended to be editing a chapter of his book, but he was really just watching Spencer skulk around their bedroom. The kid was humorously ill at ease whenever they had guests, scandalized by the very idea that someone in the house might think they were having sex. Before they moved in together, he wouldn’t have entertained for a minute the idea of spending the night with Dave with someone else in the house. Even now, Dave figured he’d probably rather be sleeping in the little den off his study. Dave usually took it as a personal challenge to see if he couldn’t entice Spencer into messing around at least a little, but he had a sneaking suspicion, watching Reid slowly reorganizing his sock drawer, that Reid was on to him.
They’d had a nice dinner with Paul. Paul really did make fantastic pasta, and the red sauce was Grandma Sarducci’s famous recipe, so the meal was amazing if Dave said so himself. There was something immensely satisfying to Dave watching Spencer grow more comfortable with his family. Maybe Dave would never hear his mother struggle to remember if Spencer was one of hers or not, but he liked it that his family was starting to see beyond the stereotypical genius to the real Spencer underneath. Plus Paul’s teasing assaults to Spencer’s dignity were an evening’s worth of entertainment.
When it looked like Spencer was about to refold his entire underwear collection, Dave finally caved. “Spencer, for God’s sake. If I promise not to ravish you, will you leave that damn drawer alone and come to bed?”
“I’ve learned to view your promises of abstinence with great skepticism,” Reid said primly.
“Aww, come on, Baby,” Rossi cooed. “Don’t be like that.”
Spencer pursed his lips in disapproval, but reluctantly approached the bed, then stood there, staring expectantly at Dave who was wearing his most innocent expression. While sitting on Spencer’s side of the bed.
Finally Spencer just crawled on top of him and straddled Dave’s waist, knees on either side. Reid lifted an eyebrow in challenge and made a show of finding the most comfortable spot for his ass.
Dave matched that lifted brow. “Do not write checks you’re unwilling to cash,” he warned.
Spencer laughed, then gave a muffled shriek when Dave tickled his ribs. “Stop it! Stop! Stop!” he hissed grabbing wildly at Rossi’s fingers.
“Too late!” Rossi said wearing an exaggerated “uh oh” face. “Paulie thinks we’re goin’ at it now!” He pushed Spencer to the side and rolled over on top of him. “Spencer!” he called amorously. “Oh Spencer! There, Baby! Right there!”
Reid tried to cover Rossi’s mouth with his hand. “Would you stop it?” Spencer said. “You are 12 years old every time you’re with one of your brothers!”
Dave laughed. “You know how to keep me quiet,” he said with a suggestive leer that made Spencer laugh in spite of himself as he began struggling in earnest to regain his spot on top of Rossi.
It was rare to see such a playful side to Spencer, and Dave loved it.
Early in their relationship, Spencer had warned him that if Dave was looking for some happy-go-lucky young boyfriend, Spencer probably wasn’t the guy for him. The conversation had started after Dave had taken Spencer out to dinner one night. They’d ended up back at Dave’s house and were engaged in one of those innocuous discussions about what they’d do if they had millions of dollars at their disposal. Rossi had enumerated the places he would want to visit and the sites where he’d build vacation homes. He’d pressed Spencer for what he’d do, and Spencer just shrugged and shook his head. Dave tried to coax an answer out of him, but Spencer became agitated, trying to form words, but unable to. Spencer had escaped from Dave’s kitchen table to his family room, standing in the middle of the room as if he was thinking of making a run for the front door.
“Hey, I’m sorry if I was bein’ pushy,” Dave said, taken aback by the force of Spencer’s reaction. “You don’t have to…”
“I saw you watching those women at the bar,” Spencer interrupted to say. Dave had heard similar claims from others in the past, but they’d been leveled resentfully, never in such sad defeat. “I’m not like them,” Spencer said.
There had been a group of women at the restaurant, a bachelorette party Rossi had gathered from their raucous behavior. They’d caught his attention to be sure, but he could read Spencer well enough to know this wasn’t a typical conversation rooted in jealousy. “What do you mean?” Dave asked gently.
Spencer shook his head like he wasn’t going to answer, then shrugged. “Just…laughing all the time and-and carefree and-and-and frivolous. If you think because I’m young that being with me means I’ll be like them, then…”
“Okay, wait,” Rossi said, then paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. He understood where Spencer’s fears were coming from-he’d made no secret of the fact that Reid’s youth was a huge turn on. But it was Spencer’s youth, not youth in general that was the draw. “Look,” he finally spoke. “We both know I get off on how young you are.” He chuffed a laugh at the understatement, and Spencer managed a smile of acknowledgement. “I love how quick and agile your mind is,” Rossi whispered. “How soft and unlined your skin is. That long, beautiful hair of yours.” He was silent for a moment, hoping Spencer was remembering the myriad of ways Rossi showed his appreciation. Dave leaned forward and caught Spencer’s eyes. “But Sweetheart, I have no illusions about what you’ve lived through and how that informs who you are.” He kissed Spencer’s temple. “You’re who I want. All of you. Okay?”
For as fast as Reid’s brain worked, his emotions churned at a much slower pace. Rossi stayed quiet, gently bringing Spencer over to the couch and sitting close enough for their thighs to touch, but otherwise just waiting for Reid to process.
Spencer eventually laid his hand over Rossi’s. “There’s a private hospital in Connecticut that specializes in mental disorders,” he said, so softly Dave had to turn his head and lean in to hear him. “It’s so exclusive it won’t even accept insurance payments of any kind; you have to privately fund the cost through an annuity. If I had all the money I wanted, I’d move my mom there.”
Reid had understood it wasn’t really a matter of offering up how to spend an imaginary windfall so much as an exercise in trust, and Rossi realized yet again that this dance with Spencer required careful, deliberate steps. There were so many hidden minefields to cautiously navigate.
And maybe Reid had been perceptive enough to realize that there was something of a white knight impulse that drove Rossi. As determined as Dave was to give Spencer’s future a decidedly happily-ever-after bent, he would never be able to undo all that had come before. It seemed ludicrous that he would need to be reminded of this fact from time to time, but Rossi was trying to accept his ridiculousness with as much equanimity as possible.
So even if Dave knew not to expect a frivolous, carefree Reid, he was certainly going to appreciate it when he got one.
Breathing hard, a quietly laughing Spencer took it as a victory when he ended up straddled back on top of Dave, not that Dave saw any downside in the way things were going. Spencer stared down at him while he caught his breath, pinning Dave’s wrists to the mattress. “Paul called me his brother-in-law twice today,” Spencer said, cautiously eyeing Rossi to see if he’d try to escape his hold.
Why in the hell would Dave try to get away? “Did that bother you?”
Reid had a maddening poker face when he wanted to. “It’s factually inaccurate.”
Dave grinned. “And that bothered you?”
Spencer shrugged. “I don’t think bother is the right term. Makes me curious.”
“That bothers me,” Rossi said, laughing at Reid’s ineffectual poke. “Paulie probably feels stupid saying ‘boyfriend.’ At his age it’s a little unseemly.”
Reid kindly refrained from mentioning there was just a two year age difference between the men. He released his hold on Dave’s wrists and sat back on his heels. “But if I were a woman, he’d still say girlfriend, right?”
Dave took enough time answering that Reid began to lightly bounce on him. Rossi groaned as their pasta dinner made itself known. “It’s a difficult question,” he said defensively, arms now crossed behind his head. “I’m trying to imagine Gina letting Paulie visit on his own if I was living with a 26 year old woman.”
“That’s sexist,” Reid said.
“Take it up with Gina.”
“It’s maddening the way society has construed language to force same-sex couples into yet another sense of ‘otherness,’” Reid said. “I mean, the term ‘lovers’ really only encompasses one aspect of our relationship and in what I consider an inappropriately explicit manner which, it bears pointing out, straight couples are not forced to reveal. ‘Significant other’ is more encompassing, but certainly off-putting in its starkness.”
“See, this is why I don’t like it when you drive the car. I don’t think you’re concentrating on the road.”
Reid continued as if Rossi hadn’t said anything. “’Partners’ is accurate, but because we’re in law enforcement, it’s imprecise and could lead to misunderstandings. ‘Love interest’ isn’t a term generally used in casual conversation and again is more revealing than heterosexual couples are forced to admit…”
They’d had this discussion before. Or, to be accurate, Reid had given this lecture before. If the kid got excited over ellipses and hyphens; it stood to reason that when you got him going on semantics, he’d drone on for hours. Days even. “So you can see why sometimes we invoke the spirit over the letter,” Dave said.
“That’s why you just say we’re married.” It wasn’t really a question.
“Mm hm,” Dave answered.
Reid looked thoughtful then shrugged. “Marriages can end,” he said. “I don’t want to think of us as something that might end.”
“We won’t,” Dave said. The certainty of his tone never failed to make Spencer smile. As bowled over as Dave was by Spencer’s staggering intelligence, Spencer marveled the same way at Dave’s confidence.
“I didn’t go into any of my marriages thinking they’d fail, but I knew…” Dave paused, unsure exactly how to explain his point to Spencer. “Right from the start, I knew I wasn’t a man worth staying with for the long haul.” Spencer looked stricken at such an assessment and shook his head, ready to defend Dave against himself. “The only decent man I’ve ever been,” Dave quietly continued. “Is the man I am with you.”
Spencer nodded rather absentmindedly. He understood even if he didn’t agree that Dave had been anything other than a decent man before he met Reid. “If people could read one another’s’ minds and know what someone meant regardless of what they said, then I could just introduce you as my Dave and everyone would know everything they needed to.”
“Mm, I like that,” Dave agreed, warmed by the words. “Maybe then I wouldn’t have to watch coffee shop employees hit on you every morning.”
“I have never been hit on when ordering a cup of coffee in my entire life!” Reid sputtered. “And if you figure I’ve been drinking coffee every single day since I was 14, that’s well over 5,000 opportunities.”
“I don’t know what universe you live in, but it is not customary to get a lap dance with your latte.”
Reid rolled his eyes. “I was waiting to the side, and she walked over to hand me my drink.”
Dave snorted in disbelief. “Standing to the side because for the second morning in a row, there’s no milk up front for a latte? I’m not buyin’ it.”
“I’m sure with the gallons of milk they go through, there are going to be occasions when they run out of said milk …”
“Let’s review-it’s a coffee shop--at seven in the morning, they’re not going to have extra cartons of milk out front? They’re gonna have the counter girl sashay into the back room, get a single carton of milk, make the latte and then trot it out to the customer so she can press her ample bosom against him for a cheap thrill? I don’t think that’s the SOP in the employee manual.”
“If news of your delusional observational skills gets out, every one of your convictions is going to be up for review.”
Rossi studied Spencer’s superior face for a beat, then said; well, yelled, really, “Oh Spencer, do me, Baby! Do me!”
Rossi thoroughly expected the thwack! of the pillow in his face, but had to laugh in surprise when Spencer proceeded to smother him with it. Oh well, he wasn’t too worried. Dave was pretty sure Spencer wasn’t ready to be rid of him yet, and figured if he did give up the ghost at least they’d find him with a smile on his face.
#