Chapter Text
Reid was still on his conversation with ‘John’ as he entered the elevator.
The director of the FBI, the fucking Federal Bureau of Investigation, was now ‘John’. A superior figurehead that he’d watched give speeches during conferences, or a signature on the bottom of mass memos to the organization, went from being an abstract idea to the man that gave him his chip and told him to keep his chin up.
If he were to make a list of the reasons he was rattled, ‘John’ would be in the top three. Running late for the round table and being called in for a case in the middle of the night would be the other two.
He was through the doors before they’d fully opened, speed walking through the bullpen. The team was already there and chatting when he made a b-line for his usual chair. By the look of the image queued up on the screen, it seemed like a case that merited their quick attention. He knew it was a house and the cars in front hinted at homicide.
“Sorry I’m late.” His bag was off his shoulder and his butt in the seat before most noticed his arrival. He thumbed through the file, trying to pay back the time he held them up.
“I hope she was worth it,” Rossi greeted him.
He looked up across the table as Morgan piped in.
“I hope it was a ‘she’.”
The implications of the comment had him speaking without thinking.
“What do you mean?”
90% of his thoughts didn’t make it past his lips. Usually he could keep his lip zipped. People had never liked it when he corrected them, so as long as the misinformation wasn’t going to hurt anyone, he’d kept facts to himself. Comments were held when he’d already said too much. Fun facts that he knew others wouldn’t appreciate were left unspoken.
If he’d been thinking he would have cataloged the comment, filed it away for later to be talked about or pretend didn’t happen.
The room froze, silence getting heavier by the second. All eyes were on them.
“Uh, I just meant that she must be important if she made you run late.” Rossi said cautiously, testing the waters. He recognized the tone from interviews with witnesses and victims.
“Not you. Morgan, what did you mean by that?”
Morgan’s mouth was open but nothing came out. His eyes flickered around the room, coming back to Reid again and again.
The team was frozen, looking between them with looks of wariness and shock.
His mind had jumped to a conclusion that lit a fire under his skin.
A scrawny kid with proclivities like his had to be sure of the people around him, ready for opposition. His guard was a second skin but he didn’t think he had to wear it around his team anymore.
“If I’m right in assuming that comment was in response to Rossi’s regarding my fictitious love interest that had hypothetically held me up, I would infer you were being casually homophobic.”
The sound that came out of Morgan’s mouth couldn’t be described as communicative, having not resembled a word, sound or syllable used in the English language.
“The acceptance of individuals within the LGBTQIA+ community has become more widespread in the past decades, but there are still individuals who are uncomfortable or against the idea of same-sex romantic or sexual activities. Although I am aware of the statistics, I didn’t expect anyone on the team to be of that belief.”
“I-” Morgan stuttered.
“I have not been forthcoming about my preferences in this group because I didn’t see a reason to talk about that part of my life. But now that it’s been brought up, I’m happy to say that I’m pansexual. If anyone is uncomfortable with that, they can keep their opinion to themselves.”
He let the end of his speech peter off, the silence was profound and full of tension.
Everyone’s eyes were on him but he’d maxed out his social courage so he settled his gaze on the table.
An eternity later Hotch quietly said, “With that, let’s start the briefing.”
There was motion around him, the shifting of papers, the creak of chairs, but he kept his eyes on the case file in front of him. He catalogued the basic details of where they were going and the situation at hand as his mind raced.
JJ was speaking, holding up a few pictures. He felt more than saw Morgan take the seat next to him. There was no doubt in his mind that he’d rather be sitting anywhere else, having chosen the seat before everything went down and there were no other seats left.
Adding to the discussion here and there, he resolutely pushed on and pretended not to notice how Morgan’s hands were shaking around his cup.
It was “Wheels up in 30,” before he knew it.
He wasn’t interested in sticking around for an argument with Morgan or a heart-to-heart with anyone else. What he needed was to get some space and cool down before being isolated on a jet with everyone.
Reid wasted no time gathering his stuff and hightailing it out of the room.
Garcia had given him the code years ago in case of emergency, but he recalled it quickly. If there was ever something worth escaping, it was this. He had no doubt that she’d be fine with him seeking solace in her sanctum of fortitude.
Adrenaline was cooling in his veins and his eyes were burning under the heels of his hands.
Not only was his mind abuzz, he felt like every one of his nerves were raw.
He could feel every seam of his clothes, every bit of friction, every little thing as he folded in on himself on the small beat up loveseat against the far wall.
There was a lump in the cushion under his left thigh and his shoelaces were too tight.
The air was too sharp. His ribs ached, breath not reaching his lungs.
He wrestled his cardigan off, loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt.
Over and over, he ran his fingers through his hair, he shook them out, flexed his fingers again and again to keep him from doing anything worse.
He was debating whether or not to lay on the floor when there was a knock on the door. Without opening his eyes he slid onto the floor, focusing on his breathing. In and out. In and out.
Apparently, Garcia had given someone else the pass key too.
The door opened and out of all the people he expected to be coming in, Emily was far down on the list. One of the better options but still not really welcome.
“Reid?” She said after closing the door behind her.
His jaw was clenched too tight to speak. Shaking his head back and forth, he pulled his legs up to his chest.
Steps got closer. Slowly, he felt her sit down next to him, close enough he felt her warmth.
He tried to match his breathing to hers.
Together, they sat breathing. In and out. In and out. Slowly the rhythm loosened him up. He flexed his jaw, his headache worse from the tension.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” He rasped.
He opened his eyes, looking at her without turning his head. Whether consciously or not, she was mirroring his position. Her hands were fidgeting, twisting the ring on her pointer finger.
“I’m gay.” She said softly. “Said as much after you left. If they’ve got something to say, they can say it to both of us.”
Her words lingered, settling around him.
Slowly, he leaned closer, knocking their shoulders together.
His thanks was unspoken but heard all the same.