Page 53 of Small Sacrifices

Reid wakes up because someone is moving. In his bed, which has only ever contained him. For a moment, he just freezes. But it doesn't last long.

"Damn it," Everett mutters. "I really didn't wanna wake you up. Sorry."

First comes the slack-limbed relief that nothing bad is happening.

Oh, so he hasn't just woken up in one of his nightmares?

Great! Next comes the awareness of just how warm he is.

And then, Reid tries to turn to look at Everett, only to realize that he can't, at least not like this. They're already too close.

The speed at which Everett rectifies this is impressive—but that's what happens when you don't have to worry about waking someone up when you rip out your arm from under their body.

Before Reid has even had the time to wipe the sleep from his eyes, Everett is already way back on 'his' side of the bed.

When Reid finally sits up and turns towards him, he looks sheepish.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm a bit of a cuddler. Didn't think about that before we went to sleep last night."

"It's okay." Reid's eyes are flicking from Everett's adorably tousled hair to the teeth he's digging into his bottom lip to the way the old t-shirt Everett brought to sleep in stretches around his biceps and back.

He not only doesn't mind that Everett was touching him, but he also wants to touch him more.

As a slow smile spreads across Everett's face, Reid is reminded of that helpless feeling he had when they woke up together in that hotel, the desperate wish to reach out.

Only, he realizes, now he's allowed. He could reach out and touch Everett, kiss him.

The thought makes his throat constrict just a little.

"Yeah?" Everett asks.

He scoots closer so that he's within reach again, but he doesn't try to touch Reid.

Not even when Reid answers in the affirmative.

Why isn't he touching him? Reid frowns. There's a possibility that Everett is just teasing Reid again.

But his face is so open and vulnerable that Reid can't imagine that's what's happening.

Still, the way to solve this is communication. Reid takes a breath and asks, "What's going on over there?"

He also moves his hand forward on the bed a bit, to make sure that Everett can see that he is inviting touch.

But he can't think about the fact that Everett isn't taking him up on that invitation.

The flush that darkens his cheeks is way too mesmerizing.

Reid could swear he could even see Everett's neck color slightly.

"Just thinking," Everett says with painfully fake nonchalance.

Reid narrows his eyes at him. "No, you're not." How is this communication thing supposed to work if Everett isn't cooperating?

"Right." Everett looks down at Reid's hand between them on the bedsheet, then up at Reid again. "I just really wanna kiss you."

Oh. Heat sparks in Reid's stomach so suddenly that he sits up straighter. "Then why don't you?"

Across the bed, he can see Everett's Adam's apple bob as he swallows. "Well. One: Morning breath. Two: We're in bed. I wasn't sure… I don't wanna do anything that you don't want."

"I want to kiss you."

Reid doesn't even have to put thought into saying that.

He wants a whole lot more, too. He just isn't sure whether it's smart to let himself have these things right now.

There's still that feeling in the back of his mind, like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. He'd like it if that went away first.

But he definitely wants to kiss Everett.

And he gets to kiss Everett, who scoots over and closes the distance pretty much immediately.

It's soft and warm, easy to fall into. Do people ever get used to this?

Even if they do, Reid hopes he never will.

There's something about the feeling of Everett's lips on his that he wants to preserve for all eternity.

He doesn't understand why morning breath was a concern for Everett when they both have it. Sure, Reid can taste that his own mouth is a bit stale. But Everett? He doesn't really notice anything about Everett except for how he makes him feel. Especially when he licks into Reid's mouth.

When Reid whimpers at the sensation of Everett's tongue against his, he draws back to check if everything is okay.

Normally, he'd be a lot more appreciative of that than right now—because right now, it just feels mean.

Everett only just gave him that feeling, and now he's taking it away again? Mean.

By the time Reid notices he's moving, he's already halfway in Everett's lap, wide brown eyes staring up at him in something akin to shock.

Oh. That's… Yeah. This might be a lot. When he asks if it's alright, Everett nods eagerly, but he still doesn't move until Reid has settled himself on top of his thighs.

Then, he raises one eyebrow, and he looks so smug doing it that Reid wants to punch him in the shoulder.

But they've got more important things going on, so he just kisses him again.

Now that he's finally doing it, French kissing isn't nearly as daunting or complicated as he always thought it was.

Sure, he's awkward at it, but Everett doesn't seem to mind.

As a concept, it's so weird that Reid can't think of a way of doing it wrong that wouldn't also mean he's doing a bunch of other things wrong.

Really, there seems to only be one rule: Make it feel good.

And oh, does it ever. The first time Everett twists their tongues together, Reid moans right into his mouth.

It gets him an amused huff of breath against his cupid's bow—but Everett isn't laughing.

Not really. He's not laughing at him. Mostly, he just seems happy.

There are all these little noises that he makes in the back of his throat.

And then there's the way he moves in and withdraws, nips at Reid's lips and even kisses Reid on the tip of the nose once, which makes him go cross-eyed.

It's not teasing. It's just playfulness. He's happy.

That's what gets to Reid most of all, the levity of it. Somehow, he's always thought of moments like these as somber and serious. When people talked about making out or having sex as fun, he thought that was just a synonym for arousing. But this is fun. And, ironically, that's what turns him on.

At first, he doesn't notice that's what's happening. But then Everett decides it would be a good idea to suck on his tongue, and that makes his entire body seize up with want for a moment. He can't ignore that.

Neither can he ignore the fact that he's well on his way to an erection.

He'd like to ignore it, because he really wants to go back to making out with Everett.

But considering the circumstances, it would probably be best to stop now.

Just to make sure that they don't slip into something that might be uncomfortable for one of them. They should talk about this.

Reluctantly, Reid detaches himself. He gives Everett a brief peck on his lips, but then he sits back and just looks at him for a while.

It's always nice to look at Everett. But right now, with his pupils blown and his hair tousled, his chest expanding with deep breaths and his lips a deep red and still a bit slick, he's a sight.

Going by the grin lifting the corners of his mouth, he knows exactly what he looks like.

Heaven help him. Reid really needs to start talking, or he's going to get sidetracked, and then they'll never get to it.

"So," Reid starts, his voice steady despite the nervous flutter in his chest, "I don't think I want to have sex while all the big stressful things are still going on."

If this line of conversation surprises Everett, he doesn't show it. He just nods. "Can I ask why?"

Reid exhales slowly. He knows the reasons aren't simple, but he starts with the most important. "I want to be sure that I want it for the right reasons. You know? It shouldn't be about relieving stress."

That gets him a soft smile. "I can get behind that. For the record, it doesn't ever need to be about relieving stress. But waiting seems like a good idea. Everything is so chaotic at the moment. If we have sex, you deserve my full attention."

"When," Reid says. "When we have sex."

It sounds clumsy as soon as it leaves his mouth, but it's important to him that this is clear. He wants Everett to know that he wants this. He's just not brave enough to use those exact words. Yet.

"When we have sex," Everett agrees and winks at him. "But for real, it's actually a good idea. Sounds cheesy, but it's always best to figure those things out in a safe space. Who you are, what you want, who you want… stress can make you make weird decisions sometimes. It skews things."

The way he grows quiet after that makes Reid think he speaks from personal experience. And that's sad, but not nearly as alarming as the devastated expression that flashes across Everett's face a second later.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

"Sorry," Everett says. His smile looks tight.

Reid is about to ask about his expression when his stomach makes itself known. The loud growling noise is enough to rip Everett out of whatever funk he was in, and he seizes it as his opportunity to change the subject.

"Well, I guess we better make breakfast. Feed the beast before it feeds on us."

It almost feels patronizing when he pats Reid's thighs after saying that, only he looks so deeply confused about why he did it that Reid has to lean forward and give him another kiss. And then he gets up to go to the kitchen.

It takes Everett a bit to get over his initial confusion at discovering that Reid doesn't keep any cereal in his home.

"Like, at all?" he asks, his head tilted like the puppy he basically is.

Reid decides it's best to not dignify that with an answer. Soon, Everett is occupied with building himself another sandwich.

For a while, they eat in companionable silence. Until Everett sets his sandwich down so heavily that he almost upends his plate when his wrist hits its rim.

"Can I ask you for something?" His eyebrows are scrunched together in a way that almost makes him look like he's pleading. Strange.

"Sure," Reid says. "But I reserve the right not to do it."

Everett doesn't even respond to that. "Can you watch Max this evening?"

What? That doesn't make sense. Reid tilts his head. But that doesn't help him understand the situation any better. "Isn't Max about fifteen? I don't think you need a babysitter at that age."

And even if that wasn't the case—what is happening tonight that Max would need to be watched for?

"Yeah. But please? I just need to know that Max is somewhere safe tonight. We'll tell our father that Max is visiting a friend or something."

Safe? Not only does that not answer any of the questions whirring around in Reid's head, but it also creates even more of them.

Like, "What the hell is happening at your house tonight that Max needs to be kept safe from?

" and "Why can't you do it?" But this time, he doesn't ask any of them.

He just stares at Everett until he hangs his head.

"I wanna try to get him to admit to stuff on tape while he's got his guard down. Today would be a good day, you know? I spent the night somewhere else, he always makes assumptions when I do that. He's gonna be disgusting about it, but probably less careful."

He being Everett's father. Oh, Reid hates this so much. "And why do you need Max out of the house for that?"

Under the table, Everett's leg bounces. "I just don't want to risk someone walking in and ruining my progress. Our mother's at a gala at some museum. Please?"

Reid can tell it's nowhere near the whole truth. And maybe Everett can tell that Reid can tell, because his facial expression gets just a tad more desperate. "Please," he says. "I need to do this today."

Something is wrong, and Everett doesn't want to say what it is. Still, he's asking for help. Not in the way that Reid might like him to, but he is. This is important to him.

So Reid agrees. It lifts some of the clouds on Everett's face. "Thank you." He sounds and looks relieved, but there's still an aura of sadness about him. Or maybe it's resignation? Reid can't tell. But the emotion looks heavy. Everett's back is hunching under the weight of it.

Though it's clear that Reid won't get any more information out of him, it almost appears as though Everett is afraid that he’s going to keep asking questions. There's something defensive about the way his eyes dart between Reid and his hands, where he's picking at his cuticles in his lap.

So Reid says, "Of course," and slowly, deliberately, picks up his sandwich and takes a big bite out of it.

He can give Everett space. Some of it, at least. Right now.

This is weird, but it doesn't seem malicious.

Everett is hurting about something. But he's a sensible person.

He wouldn't do anything that would end up with someone being hurt, right?

Everett's initial shock fades as his expression softens. "Thank you," he whispers.

When they finish their breakfast, Everett just… doesn't leave. They hadn't discussed this—only that he'd stay the night. It's not addressed now either. Everett remains close, almost clinging to Reid's side, sometimes leaning on him or resting in his lap as Reid continues sifting through files.

The closeness is comforting, the warmth and pressure of Everett leaning on him is nice. But Reid can't shake the feeling that he's missing something important. He just hopes it's nothing too big.