Criminal Minds Drabbles and Snapshots

[tabbys_fics]

500 words of Reid & Garcia stuck in an elevator. Posted 6-26-07.

Reid let Garcia lead him towards the elevator. He knew she was right, that it was late and he really shouldn't still be here, but it was so empty at home, in a way that it hadn't been before he had met Tobias Hankel, and he didn't really have anywhere else to go. He knew that if he had mentioned it to anyone else on the team, especially JJ or Morgan, they would have been making plans before he finished speaking. Garcia was the one who had noticed, though, without Reid ever having to say anything.

Garcia, with her too colorful outfits and her too cheerful voice that seemed so out of place among their day to day lives. Reid sometimes wondered how she managed to keep it all together, wondered if she realized how much the rest of the team depended on that from her.

Reid was lost in thought, idly watching the lights flicker from number to number as they slid closer to the ground floor, and was startled by a sudden jerking stop just before the elevator went black.

"I... don't think it's supposed to do that," Reid said, trying to force a bit of humor into his tone. He hated the dark.

"Understatement. Hang on, lemme call..."

Reid listened as Garcia dialed and explained to whoever answered what their predicament was. He wasn't sure who she had called since could only hear one side of the conversation, until she said, "Yes, it's all part of my grand scheme to seduce the great Spencer Reid. You've been replaced as my main object of lust."

Morgan, then.

"Okay, that's fine, just get us out of here. Don't forget, the great Spencer Reid isn't too fond of the dark."

Which was very true right now, because the darkness meant that Garcia couldn't see the glare Reid was aiming in her direction. Or, at least, what he thought her direction was.

Silence stretched out between them for a few long minutes after the phone call ended. Garcia broke it with, "I wonder how long it'll be before we run out of air..."

"Actually, the statistical probability of running out of air in an elevator..."

"Reid," Garcia cut him off. "I bet you were one of those kids who ruined ghost stories by overanalyzing them, weren't you? Don't you ever just let yourself be scared? It's kinda fun."

"I think the real world is scary enough. Look at all the things we see every day."

Reid heard the shuffling of cloth and then felt Garcia's hand slide over his. "The real world is scary, especially what we deal with. But we're the good guys, making the world less scary."

"Saving the world, one serial killer at a time," Reid quipped.

"Yep, exactly."

The elevator suddenly filled with light and lurched to life. Before either could react, the doors slid open. Morgan was standing behind the maintainence worker, grinning at the two of them.

"Garcia, were you taking advantage of my boy?"

irisgirl12000, one of my favoritest people in the whole wide world, prompted me with Hotch/Reid, restraint, their hug at the end of Revelation. Even though I really can't get behind the whole Hotch/Reid ship, I enjoyed writing this for her. Posted 2-24-07.

Reid loves words. He loves everything about them -- the way they sound, the way they're written as a peek into the writer's soul, the way they feel when they roll off his tongue and stumble over his lips. He especially loves the way a single word can have so many different meanings.

RESTRAINT (n): the state of being physically constrained

It's disconcerting to know that he's tethered to this chair, that he lacks the ability to just get up and walk out, remove himself from this situation. He can't fight physically, but he knows (in the rational part of his mind that's not yet drowning in the drugs) that his survival lies in figuring Hankel out and getting a message to his team.

RESTRAINT (n): control or repression of feelings

When Hotch hugs him in the cemetary, he can feel the tension he's still holding onto. Reid's glad Hotch can keep his feelings in check because it gives him the strength to do the same. Hotch lets Reid's name slip out on an exhalation of breath, and in it Reid hears everything he doesn't say. He knows what it means, just the way he knew Hotch would understand his cryptic message. And he knows why they're both holding back.

RESTRAINT (n): the act of controlling by restraining someone

Reid's hands are trapped above his head, and despite the fact he's here willingly, there's a flash of panic at the knowledge he's being held down. But it's Hotch and it's safe and if he struggles the slightest bit, the hand holding his wrists will let go. He doesn't try, though, because right now this is what he wants, where he wants to be.

CM drabblet from the 14 valentine's day posts. Posted 2-03-07.

“Hey, Morgan, thank you for the flowers and candy, that was really sweet,” JJ said as soon as Morgan walked into the conference room.

He was about to ask what she was talking about when Garcia added, “Ah, you sent JJ a Valentine’s surprise too? I think I’m jealous?”

“Wait, JJ and Garcia got flowers? Where’s mine?” Prentiss asked.

Morgan couldn’t tell if she was serious or not, but still...

“I didn’t send anyone flowers, not that all three of you don’t deserve them, but they aren’t from me.”

JJ and Garcia looked at each other, slightly confused.

“Well, they weren’t signed,” JJ started to explain, “but they were from someone on the team. I know it wasn’t Hotch because he saw them and remembered that he’d forgotten to get his wife something. And Gideon isn’t the flowery, romantic type. That just leaves you and Reid...”

“What about Reid?” Reid walked into the room, cup of coffee in one hand and a case file in the other.

“Reid, did you send me flowers? And Garcia?”

“Um, yes, well... it is Valentines Day, and it’s customary for men to send a token of affection to the women in their lives, right? And since it seems I see you two more than I see my own bed, I thought I should get you something. Was I wrong? Because if I am, tell me and I’ll never send you flowers or chocolates again...”

“Oh, no, you can send me flowers anytime you want.”

SPN/Criminal Minds crossover. Posted 12-06-06.

Reid looked up when Gideon entered the briefing room. "Garcia got a positive ID on the prints we found at the crime scene, the ones that seemed to appear after the local team completed their workup. They belong to a Dean Winchester."

"He's not our guy," Gideon replied without hesitation.

"Sir, he's on the FBI's most wanted list. He faked his own death in St Louis, and he's been connected to dozens of crimes." Reid was prepared to go on, but a look from Gideon stopped him.

"I know the Winchesters. Dean's not the one responsible for this." There was nothing but certainty in his voice. "And if he's involved in investigating this woman's death, it probably means this isn't our kind of case."

200 words of Reid (and his love for supernatural) for ltlredhairdgirl
originally posted October 7 2007 at this post.

Reid tries to get out of the office on Thursday nights before anyone can catch him. Despite the fact Reid's brief flirtation with drug addiction is over, the rest of the team still worries over him. He appreciates the concern and sometimes even likes the forced company, but not on Thursday. Thursdays, he has a standing date with the Winchesters.

He's not sure how he got hooked on the show, but he is. Despite the fact he finds it hard to believe that such creatures exist -- vampires, werewolves, ghosts; according to everything he had learned, such things were myths made up to explain things people didn't understand -- he was intrigued by their research and by the way Sam and Dean (and John before them) studied demons and other supernatural beings, tracked their findings to be used in future encounters. Profiled them. They're like the BAU of ghosthunting.

Of course, Reid could never admit any of this to the others. He could only listen and bite his tongue on Friday mornings as Garcia and JJ discussed the show -- and its hot stars -- and Morgan teased them about being hooked on a fantasy show aimed at teenage girls.

200 words of a post-Mayhem drabble
Originally posted September 24 2008 here.

“Talk to me, baby girl.”

Morgan listens but there’s only silence interspersed with the clacking of a keyboard from the other end of the line.

“So it’s still like that, is it? I love you, Garcia, and I’m still here, and I’ll stay on this line until you either decide to talk or hang up, it’s your call.”

More silence, what sounds almost like a small laugh, and then the call is ended.

“So, let me get this straight -- she’s still not talking to you because she’s mad at you, but she’s called four times since we got home?”

Morgan nudges Reid’s foot with his own before leaning over him to set his cell on the nightstand. “Yeah.” The two of them are stretched out on Morgan’s bed, the murmur of late-night television filling the room as they try to unwind after the adrenaline of the last few weeks. “She wants to make sure I realize she’s upset, but she still has to check up on me.”

“Well, she hasn’t called me at all.” Reid sounds more confused than hurt by this.

“You think she doesn’t know you’re here with me? Think again, genius boy; that girl knows everything.”

100 words of BAU (Criminal Minds)
Originally December 25 2008 here.

Morgan looked around as he stepped into the BAU. There were lights and sparkly garland strung around the railings and the cubicles, miniature snowmen and penguins and reindeer scattered atop the desks, and fake snow lining the bottom of the windows.

"Isn't it fantastic?" Garcia appeared beside him with a brilliant smile and an elf hat complete with jingle bells and a sprig of mistletoe on the tip. "I love Christmas, gives me an excuse to make the office a little brighter."

"Baby girl, you always make the office brighter," Morgan said as he leaned over and kissed her cheek.

675 words of Spencer Smith & Spencer Reid, written for poetrychik, prompt: more than a shared name
Originally posted March 01 2009 here.

Spencer’s glad for Jon’s arm around his shoulder and Zack standing behind them, holding the two of them up. He could almost pretend it’s the cool air of the late night that’s causing him to shake, but the blanket he’s wrapped in isn’t doing anything to touch his chills. He barely acknowledges the two FBI agents that are talking to Zack, wouldn’t notice them at all except for the fact that one of them can’t have been much older than him. There are too many lights, too many people, and too much noise; he’s almost grateful when he finds himself being tugged away from the spot where he’s been standing since the ambulance pulled away.

It’s not until they get to the hospital and are led to a nearly-empty waiting room that Spencer lets go of Jon. He’s not sure which one of them was holding the other up, but he misses Jon’s warmth almost immediately. He forces himself not to grab him back, lets Jon wander to the window, pulling out his sidekick, probably calling Cassie or Tom or his mom.

Spencer wants to call his own mom, but he can’t. Not until he knows Ryan’s okay. He feels sick, remembering. He had walked out the back door of the venue, intent on busting Ryan and Brendon for sneaking out to smoke up without him. He wasn’t expecting to stumble upon… well, he wasn’t even sure what had been going on. He still wasn’t even sure that it had been real, except there was blood on his clothes, on Jon, on Zack. He didn’t know who it belonged to, Ryan or Brendon or the girl. The girl who said they had stepped in and saved her, the girl who hadn’t stopped talking or clinging to Zack while they waited for the ambulances. Spencer had no idea what she had said, her voice mixing in his memories with Jon’s low, urgent one as he’d talked to Brendon – Brendon had been awake, kinda, but hadn’t answered any of Jon’s questions – and with his own. He doesn’t know what he’d said to Ryan, but it was probably a nicer version of “don’t you fucking dare die on me.”

Spencer looks up when the young FBI agent sits beside him. “Hi. I’m Dr Spencer Reid.”

Spencer looks at him suspiciously. “You’re my age; how the hell are you a doctor?”

Reid shrugs. “I’m working on my fourth PhD. It’s just a different kind of successful from what you do.” He holds out a cup of coffee – there’s an independent coffee shop label wrapped around the cup, not the shitty stuff Spencer is used to getting in the hospital. “Your friend over there, Zack? He says you’re Spencer too.”

Spencer hesitates before taking the coffee in one hand and reaching out to shake Reid’s hand with the other. “Spencer Smith, yeah.”

“Is it okay if I ask you a few questions, Spencer?”

“I don’t know anything,” Spencer says immediately, shaking his head. “I didn’t even see the guy.” He had been too focused on Ryan to even notice the man who had run past him when he stepped outside.

“Hey, no, okay.” Reid leads Spencer to a quieter corner of the room and gestures at a chair, taking a seat beside him. “How about we talk about something else? I’m not familiar with your music. Your band is from Vegas?”

Spencer nods. “Not Jon, he’s a Chicago boy, but yeah. Me and Ryan and Brendon…”

“They’re going to be okay. Your friends, I mean. They’re heroes.”

Spencer wants to laugh at that, at the idea of Ryan and Brendon being heroes, and he is so going to as soon as he sees for himself that they were all right.

“Hey, so, I grew up in Vegas too. That’s two things we have in common. And I can think of one more.” He waits until Spencer looks up before he continues. “We both really, really want to catch this guy, right?”

Spencer nods.

“So, questions?”

Spencer nods again. “Yeah, okay.”

600 words of Morgan/Reid, leftover from Christmas drabbles and the prompt "someone gets a kitten"
Originally posted March 13 2009 here.

Morgan tried Reid’s cell yet again, but he still wasn’t getting an answer. It was a lot less common for Reid to ignore him since they had started – well, whatever exactly it was they were doing, Morgan wasn’t sure how to classify, but it was something – but it still happened occasionally. Especially when he was feeling depressed about something, or worried about Morgan catching him in a lie. Like telling Morgan he was going to be in Las Vegas for the holidays when, according to Garcia, he was hiding in his apartment all alone. Morgan had been planning on going to Chicago, but the snow there had shut down the airports. He would call it Fate if he believed in that sort of thing.

Either way, he was now shivering in the cold wind as he made his way to Reid’s apartment with a bag of takeout in one hand and Reid’s present in the other. He stopped suddenly just past the alley at the corner of Reid’s building, sure he had heard something from the shadows. He stepped back and waited, listening. There it was again, a faint meow and a rustling of plastic. He watched and waited until a tiny slip of a kitten appeared at the end of the alley, eyeing his bag of takeout and keeping its distance from Morgan. The kitten looked far too small to be on its own to begin with, and Morgan could see dried blood on a gash on what was left of its ear.

Morgan crouched down and reached out his hand, waiting patiently as the kitten studied him, inching closer a little at a time. When the kitten was close enough, Morgan scooped it up, holding it close to his chest as he stood up and juggled the bag and box he was carrying in an effort to hang on to the wily little thing. One of Reid’s neighbors was coming out of the building and held the door open for Morgan with a smile and a Christmas greeting. Morgan made his way up the stairs, whispering nonsense to the kitten, who was too weak to fight much but was putting forth an effort anyway.

When he reached Reid’s apartment, he kicked the door, not hard but still loud enough to be heard. “Reid! I know you’re there, man, open up! I brought you a present!”

There was only the space of a few seconds before Morgan heard the click of the locks being disengaged and then Reid was standing in front of him, sleep-rumpled and adorable. His eyes widened when he saw the creature in Morgan’s hands. “You got me a kitten?”

Uh, no. If Morgan had picked out a kitten for Reid, it sure as hell wouldn’t have been a bloody, starving, feisty ball of fluff like the one he was holding. But Reid looked so happily surprised as he took the kitten and headed for the bathroom, barely remembering to hold the door open for Reid, that Morgan didn’t correct him. He set the food and Reid’s actual present on the kitchen counter before locking the front door and following Reid.

He stood in the doorway to the bathroom, watching as Reid gently cleaned the kitten up, talking as if the kitten could understand. The kitten seemed to be calmer, no longer fighting, and Morgan wondered if it knew Reid needed to take care of something as much as the kitten needed someone to care for it. Now that he was thinking about it, a rescued kitten was the perfect Christmas gift for Reid after all.

100 words of Reid/Rossi, written or poetrychik, prompt: S is for seduction, Reid/Morgan or Reid/Hotch or Reid/Rossi (CM)
Originally posted May 06 2009 here.

Spencer Reid knew he was different. He had always been different, so it wasn’t like it bothered him anymore. But sometimes he forgot that he didn’t think like everyone else. He was likely to believe flirting was general friendliness, but a lecture on the use of handwriting recognition software in profiling? That was totally a form of seduction. He didn’t think anyone knew that about him, until he realized that Rossi was making eye contact with him more than anyone else in the room. He kept coming back to Spencer with a knowing smile. He was so in for it.

636 words, Criminal Minds/bandom crossover, Spencer Reid meets Spencer Smith.
Originally posted November 15 2009 here.

Reid has to visit four stores before he finds the particular book of Celtic folk tales he’s been looking for, and just as he reaches for it, someone else grabs it. A brief tug-of-war ensues -- it's the last copy on the shelf, and Reid isn't giving it up without a fight -- and Reid's almost surprised by the fierceness of the boy beside him. It's silly to be fighting over a book, but Reid still doesn't release his grasp.

"Spencer!"

Both he and the boy look up, watching as they're approached by another kid (god, Reid feels old, even though he's really, really not, but spending all his days -- for most of his life -- makes him think everyone he meets is so much younger than he is), who breaks into a smile when he sees the book.

"Hey, Spence, you found it!"

"Yeah," the boy -- who is apparently also named Spencer -- tugs the book free. "I did." He smirks at Reid and turns to walk away. Reid's a little stunned from the encounter, and just stares after the two boys, wondering what just happened.

He settles on another book -- his mom had specifically asked for the Celtic folk tales, so he hates that he has to disappoint her, but he only has a few days in Vegas and he doesn't want to spend all of them in bookstores -- and walks around the mall for a while, picks up a few token gifts to take to his mom and finds this perfectly adorable rainbow unicorn to buy for Garcia. He almost has to fight off another kid for that one, but at the last minute is saved by the boy knocking over a display rack and getting distracted.

He decides it'll be easier to go straight to the institution from here than to make another stop, so he heads to the food court. He's almost at the counter when the woman in front of him glances at him and then turns around smiling.

"Why, Spencer Reid, I haven't seen you in years!" She steps forward and pulls him into a hug. "Are you in town to visit your mother?"

"Yes, ma'am." Reid smiles at her -- Mrs. Ginger Smith was the medical secretary that helped him settle the paperwork to have his mother committed. It shouldn't be a happy memory, because it wasn't an easy time, but Mrs. Smith had treated him with a compassion he wasn't used to and he has only good thoughts for her. "I'm heading over there this afternoon, actually."

"Good, good! She'll be delighted to see you!" Mrs. Smith excuses herself and turns to place her order, which is enough to feed a small army, and then steps aside as Reid places his order as well. "She's so proud of you, you know. I visit her one afternoon a month -- I'd go more often, but things are so hectic -- and she's always so happy when she talks about you."

Reid isn't sure how to respond to that; he had no idea that his mother received any visitors, much less one on a regular basis. Before he can think of a proper response, Mrs. Smith says, "Come on, join me and my boys for lunch. I can introduce you to my Spencer and you can tell me about what you've been up to!" She balances her tray of food with the ease of someone who's had years of practice and weaves her way through the tables, obviously expecting Reid to follow. He does, but stops short when she sets the food down in front of three boys -- the two from the bookstore and the unicorn kid.

This ought to be fun. He thinks his long-weekend in Las Vegas just got entirely more complicated.