leftinbasketforfbi | A prerequisite for being in the BAU is the utter refusal to listen to doctors.

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A prerequisite for being in the BAU is the utter refusal to listen to doctors.

Reid wasn't exactly mad. He was more resigned. He had known that Rossi would probably leave before the doctors okay'd his departure, but he was still somewhat frustrated by the stubborn Italian. Would it kill the man to just take care of himself? (He wondered if that was how Hotch felt every time one of them were gravely wounded and then showed up to work two days afterwards.)

Reid drove up Rossi's driveway, but he had to pause at the wheel after he stopped, swallowing hard. The last time he had done this, he had ended up having to shoot a man and keep Rossi from bleeding out before paramedics arrived.

He took a deep breath, then opened the car door, stepping out and shutting it behind him. It wouldn't help anyone if he dwelt on that experience.

Reid knocked on Rossi's front door. Even if Rossi wouldn't take care of himself, Reid could make sure he was alright.

(Continued from here.)

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"Hmm?" Reid had already re-assumed his submissive body language. Admittedly, it had been getting easier to speak up. It wasn't easy, but he was able to do it. He gave an awkward smile, popping the movie into the DVD player and going to the table to get the casserole. "Well, I have to keep up with a team full of Alpha personalities somehow."

To be honest, he had learned a lot about being assertive without being unkind from his teammates, Rossi included. He wasn't sure how he would fare if Rossi actually tried resisting, but he was sure he'd find out soon enough. He set the casserole in front of the table in front of the TV on top of a place mat, adding two plates, utensils, and a serving spoon. "Now I guess we'll see how much Garcia learned from your cooking lesson."

"Not an easy thing to do," he sympathized. He wouldn't and couldn't change that aspect of his personality, though he had certainly mellowed quite a bit. Part of him did wonder how Reid would fare if Rossi got particularly cantankerous while convalescing. It wasn't that he had it in his head to purposely be argumentative, if the situation arose, but he was sure he'd do something he shouldn't be doing yet -- he knew himself well enough to admit that -- and not be pleasantly acquiescent.

"She promised me there's no tofu in this," he said. Still, there was a skeptical look on his face as he brought the fork to his mouth and took a bite. It wasn't of the same caliber as his homemade lasagna, but it was decent. Better than he'd been expecting. He'd already thanked her, of course, but he'd make it a point to tell her that he enjoyed it, too.

Once the movie started, he felt even more...right about his decision. It was easy to feel that way when they weren't talking, when the movie gave him a chance to think and reflect. Halfway into the film, he let his arm graze Reid's, the slightest of touches, just testing it for now.

Reid shivered at the touch, but he didn't draw away like he often did. He was curious. Curious about how far this would go. Despite his social awkwardness and his generally limited romantic experience, he had had relationships before, and he was at least able to navigate the physical aspects of a relationship without much more than the initial anxiety that always came when a relationship just started.

His indicator of his acceptance was slightly leaning into the touch after a moment of surprise. The movie was being just as suspenseful as it was renowned to be--Reid was busily dissecting the use of various storytelling and cinematic tricks that contributed to the tension, but he couldn't concentrate as much as usual with the presence of Rossi next to him.

He had to be utterly insane to be going along with this. This had to be one of the worst ideas ever. He found he didn't really care that much.

Rossi had seen the movie enough times that he could let his mind wander in and out of focus and still be able to piece together what was going on at any given moment. Even the first time he'd seen it, though, he doubted he'd approached it the way Reid was likely approaching it now, with a desire to examine every facet of the storytelling, and how each element fit together to create such an intriguing story.

Just imagining the way Reid's mind was working had him affectionately amused. He teased sometimes, sure, but he loved Reid's mind.

He hadn't pulled away from the touch, and a part of him wondered what he was thinking now, as Rossi took it a step further, reaching out for his hand.

There was only a small hesitation before he took Rossi's hand. He normally didn't like touching people, but that was more because he wasn't comfortable with getting too close to people he didn't know. He knew Rossi, and his only discomfort with being close came from the butterflies in his stomach.

He couldn't help but be reminded of two teenagers, awkwardly holding hands while watching a movie. It was amusing, since if anything, he was the awkward teenager, and Rossi was moving slowly to accommodate him.

It was reminiscent of one of those awkward, teenage first dates, punctuated with desire, curiosity, intent. Rossi wasn't used to moving quite this slowly, delicately, but he was also fully cognizant of when he needed to, and he needed to right now. This wasn't some blithe fling, there was depth of emotion, love, and that necessitated nurturing and care. It didn't mean he'd always move this slow, though.

He looked down at Reid's hand, stroking his thumb across the knuckles.

More than anything, Reid needed to believe how important this was to him, and he would communicate that as best as he could. He squeezed his hand, then raised it to his lips to kiss the knuckles. Awkward teenager Reid might be, but in contrast, Rossi was a libertine.

Reid appreciated the gentleness with which he was being treated. He doubted that Rossi was like this with all his love interests, and he liked being eased into the situation, given time to adjust.

At the feeling of Rossi's lips against his knuckles, his breathing hitched slightly in surprise and his cheeks became red, but once more, he didn't pull away. Instead, he closed his eyes, completely ignoring the movie for a moment. Rossi's breath was warm on his skin. His goatee brushed against Reid's fingers. It felt like his nerves were suddenly ten times more sensitive than normal.

"You're making it really hard to watch the movie," Reid said quietly, giving a small breathy laugh. He wasn't complaining at all.

He knew what it took for Reid to let him take the initiative like this, moving them one step forward. He also knew that if he left it up to Reid to take the next step, they'd be stuck in this phase for a very long time. Stagnating. And that simply wouldn't do.

He smiled mischievously; it was nice knowing he could evoke that kind of reaction from him, and they hadn't even properly kissed yet.

"I could stop," he offered; wording it like that was intentional, since he very much doubted Reid actually wanted him to stop.

For now, Reid was content to allow Rossi to take the lead. He wasn't always going to be submissive, but he understood when he had no idea what he was doing. He knew that Rossi would stop the moment he asked him to, and that was enough for him.

"I never said you should." He took a risk. He scooted a little closer to Rossi.

The movie kept playing, but he hardly paid attention.

He stretched so that his legs were straight out in front of him, crossing his feet at the ankles, and leaned back more completely against the sofa cushions. The movement, slight though it was, was yet another step in the right direction. He'd kept a hold of his hand, but now he moved it so it was on his lap, covered by both hands now, their fingers intertwined.

By now, he'd given up entirely on paying attention to the movie. His focus was entirely on Reid. The tips of his fingers brushed back and forth across the palm of his hand. Unsurprisingly, his skin was soft, and he found himself wanting to touch and explore more of it. His fingers moved to his wrist next, lingering over the pulse point.

Reid's pulse was fast. His stomach fluttered. Rossi's skin was rough compared to his own, but that wasn't saying much.

He closed his eyes, dedicating his sizable intellect to analyzing the touch. The creases in Rossi's palms. The steady pulse in his thumb. The gentle ghosting his fingers did against his own hand and wrist. He didn't know hand-holding could be so intense. It made his face flush.

Carefully, his fingers started moving too, tracing the creases in Rossi's hands. Automatically, Reid's mind went to the significance of hands, humanity's most basic tools and one of the biggest collections of nerves in the body. His finger's found what palm readers would call Rossi's heart line. Then his head line. Then his life line. He traced them, his mind examining the significance behind the creases. Intellectualizing the rush he was feeling from the slight touch.

Rossi had his own appreciation for hands, though his was rooted in the power of touch to bind, connect, tether two people to each other. It was such a simple act, twining fingers together, but there was nothing simple about the emotions it beget. Holding someone's hand very often led to a desire for claiming their heart as well. Many people had held his hands through the years, but never like this, never had they been studied like this before. It was pleasant, to say the least. He let Reid explore, examine, giving him room and silence enough to consider it, what it meant and how he felt.

His own pulse was beating a bit more rapidly, too, something which Reid was sure to detect.

As Reid's fingers ghosted down his palm to his wrist, he could feel the quicker heartbeat. It made his breathing get heavier. He remembered one of his few romantic partners once telling him the effect his careful touches had. If Rossi was going to make his heart beat faster, he decided to do the same.

He focused on Rossi's hands. Earth hands, characterized by broad palms, deep-running lines, and long fingers. He ran his finger down Rossi's fate line, then traced the curves of the sun line, the girdle of Venus, the Mercury line, tracing the crosses and hatched pattern in his skin. He felt the soft spots, the callouses, the tiny ridges and spirals.

Then, almost without thinking, he pulled one of Rossi's hands up, brushing his lips carefully against his wrist, his breath blowing against the older agent's carefully examined palm.

His breathing became a little more uneven; shallow, long breaths held tightly in his chest while Reid studied his hand the same way an artist might observe a work of art, noticing all of the flaws and perfections, memorizing every detail, to be conjured up any given moment after this one had ended.

His lips were soft, too, and he wondered (not for the first time) how they would feel against his own. He wouldn't wait and wonder much longer, but he also didn't want disrupt Reid's entrancing exploration.

Reid's fingers brushed against Rossi's knuckles as they moved to the back of his hand, and he started to retrace the lines with his lips. He ghosted his lips along the fate line, then heart line, then head line, then life line. The creases, unique only to Rossi, were memorized, examined, interpreted.

Then he drew away, closing Rossi's hand and intertwining their fingers.

"I like your hands."

By now, the movie was all but forgotten.

He had no doubt that every groove and mark on his hand had been filed away for future reference, if necessary. It amused him to think how quickly Reid would notice if a new callous or blemish of any kind suddenly appeared, different from the memory he'd imprinted.

The declaration delighted him, and not just because of the confession itself, but what it meant in a broader sense.

With his free hand, he reached out to brush a strand of hair back from Reid's eyes, letting his index and middle finger trace down his cheek and the length of his jaw before landing by his mouth. And then his thumb stroked back and forth across his lower lip.

"I like this," he said. It meant so many things, though he was focused on Reid's lips at the moment.

Reid closed his eyes again, focusing on the touch on his skin, then on his mouth. His face flushed, his cheeks getting warmer against Rossi's hand. His lips parted, an instinctive response to the touches.

"I like this too," he breathed, resting his hands on his knees. It may have confused him, but he liked it. He liked touching and being touched by Rossi. He had never for a moment entertained the thought of his quiet infatuation with the man becoming anything real, but something felt... right. So right.

The way he rested his hands on his knees, coupled with the look in his eyes, felt like silent assent for Rossi to make a bolder move. They'd worked together so long, often in the field as unofficial partners, and that naturally fomented a deeper connection. He still couldn't pinpoint that exact moment when the feelings of friendship had morphed into affection, and love, but it seemed like a long time that he'd wondered what it would be like to do this, to touch him and kiss him and hold him. He wanted to give, to fill Reid with an abundance of love in those places where there had long been a drought.

"Sometimes I'd see you sleeping on the jet, and I'd wanna do this," he brushed another lock of hair back, stroking his forehead.

"And this," he confessed, closing the gap and kissing Reid on the mouth. The kiss was full of assurance, wisdom, but there was still a softness to it, an enticement for Reid to join him, and deepen it.

Reid's heart skipped a beat at the kiss. He reached out furtively, grasping Rossi in a way only a man utterly deprived of love and affection could. He was careful to avoid touching Rossi's stitches, and instead kept his hands around Rossi's chest.

He pressed forward in the kiss, curiously running his tongue along Rossi's lower lip. It had been a long time since he had kissed someone, but he could never forget how to do it. He had had the fortune of going out with a very talented girl while they were both working on PhD's in Chemistry, and she had taught him practically every strategy in the book. He was glad to have a chance to use the skill in some meaningful way--he wanted to show Rossi that he wanted this.

One hand wandered up, brushing Rossi's neck before settling with one palm cupping his cheek.

It was a pleasant surprise, the way he reciprocated with vigor and skill. It wasn't that he had believed Reid had no experience with this at all, he just wasn't sure how much. And as far as he knew, Reid had never been in any long-lasting relationship. That was, he vowed silently, until now.

There was no mistaking Reid's desire, or intent. His feelings were very clearly conveyed in the way he touched and kissed him. He waited until Reid's tongue made a second pass across his lower lip before opening his mouth further to him, letting his own tongue slip out to court his. With his free hand, he ran his fingers up the back of Reid's neck, into his hair, adding slight pressure and kneading his scalp a little.

Reid welcomed Rossi's tongue, his heart pounding in his ears. If he had had any doubts of what he wanted when he had sat down with Rossi, they were gone now. He wanted this, the consequences be damned.

Rossi's hand in his hair made him curl towards the touch. He ghosted his hands along Rossi's jaw, up the bones in his face to his hair. He doubted they would be able to do much more than this with Rossi's injuries--and even if Rossi wanted to, Reid would put a stop to it before the older agent managed to undo his stitches--but he was happy with this for the moment. He was completely content with Rossi's kisses.

It would be difficult to restrain himself, to not go further than just kissing, though he was also completely aware of how much he would pay for it if he didn't listen to his body and take it easy. The silver lining was that he had something to look forward to, when he finally was healed and the damn stitches could come out.

His fingers moved further up his scalp, then back down again to Reid's neckline. He repeated the motions, back and forth, back and forth. The rest of his focus lay in kissing Reid. Making out, as it was often called. He felt more right and secure in his decision to confess his feelings than he'd realized he could. After a moment, his lips drifted south, away from Reid's mouth, to mark his jawline, and then his neck, with the soft press of his mouth. He lingered against Reid's neck, breathing him in, nuzzling a little as he pulled away.

"I wanna do more than just kiss you, but it'll have to wait." Not just because of his injuries, of course. He smiled softly, though, brushing his thumb over Reid's ear.

Reid gasped softly as the kiss was broken and Rossi drifted down his neck. His pulse raced, pounding in his throat, and he couldn't help but smile ruefully when Rossi pulled away.

"Yeah. I don't know about you, but I didn't exactly like calling in the paramedics and I'd prefer to not have to do that again." His smile became more genuine and he reached up, holding Rossi's hand to his face. "Something to look forward to, right?"

The butterflies receded, becoming calm and warm. He felt safe. He very, very rarely felt safe.

"Once is enough," he said. They could both agree to that. It gave him time, as well, to plan the proper date he'd spoken of earlier: homemade pasta, a dessert Reid could appreciate, music, the same closeness they were experiencing now, only taken further. The prospect of what was to come was also a good incentive to take it easy, not try to push beyond his limits, lest he injure himself further and delay the recovery process.

He leaned back, pulling Reid closer, though careful not to aggravate his stitches.

"I've already got plans," he promised, with a smile.

Reid would really like that. A night of old-fashioned romance and intimacy, both emotional and physical. The kind of night he never thought would happen to an awkward guy like him.

Reid lay back next to him, tucking his head in the crook of Rossi's neck and keeping his hands well away from the older agent's stitches.

"Should I be scared?" he joked, barely noticing that they were halfway through the movie now.

A prerequisite for being in the BAU is the utter refusal to listen to doctors.

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/matching icons ftw!

Yay for matching icons!

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Maaaaan it was killing me that I couldn't tag this at work :3

Yay! You're back! 83

Yes! Too busy to take a lunch break today, I was dying. And that icon is so cute!