A.N. Set shortly after the end of season 14, referencing the events of 14X15.

Meals Up

Chemistry

"Geez, you'd think growing up all over Europe, I would have picked up a few culinary skills." Emily Prentiss whined as she watched her younger colleague, newly her subordinate, toss a handful of spice into a pan that had already been emitting a most enticing aroma. "But I haven't a clue what you're doing."

"That's okay. You're a master of take out. That's an art form in itself." Spencer Reid chanced a cheeky grin in her direction.

"Ha. I'll have you know that I've found three new to-die-for places since I came back. IF you play your cards right, I just might be amenable to sharing them."

"Play my cards right? Has it been that long?" The unofficial card shark of the team expressed his incredulity.

She laughed, but it was muted. "You're right, I forgot who I was talking to. And, yes, it has been that long, hasn't it?" She took a sip of her wine. "Whatever happened to that? I mean, we always used to play cards on the plane, or at least we would decompress together. These days, it's almost silent."

Reid splashed a bit of wine into the pan before turning around and leaning on the range.

"I know. I don't know how it happened. I don't even know when it happened. But it's not like it used to be."

Emily seemed rattled by the acknowledgement.

"Is it…is there something about me? Or something I should be doing?"

It had been inevitable that she would compare herself with her predecessor, upon her return to the BAU in his role. She'd done it with nearly every case, at first, thinking about what Aaron Hotchner would have done, how he would have looked at it, how he would have handled it. Now, she began to comb her memory for the nuances of her old, absent friend and would-be mentor, looking for the subtleties in his ability to offer consolation to his charges. For, even when they'd had success, they'd still required consolation. Maybe especially when they'd had success, because those were the times when they'd most assuredly looked into the abyss of what could drive a human to perpetrate the inhumane.

"Is it my fault everyone seems so isolated, when the work is done?"

Reid's relationship with Emily had always been unique. Despite their best attempts to the contrary, neither had ever been able to hide anything from the other. Not for very long. Reid heard the insecurity in her tone and responded to it in a protective way.

"It's not you. Definitely not. It's just… I don't know, things are different. We're different. We're older, for one thing. People's lives are more complicated…."

This time, it was Emily reading him. His words hadn't so much ended abruptly as they had faded out, and into reverie. Looking up sharply from her glass of wine, Emily caught him trying to shake off whatever had captured him. Something about his demeanor told her not to press him. Yet.

"So, you don't think it means anything? I shouldn't be worried about the team being cohesive?"

Again, a flash of something crossed his face, and she couldn't quite decipher it. But she was becoming determined to do so. Maybe this spontaneous dinner plan hadn't been so spontaneous after all.

Uh-oh. Is he planning to leave? He got into the routine of teaching with that ridiculous furlough schedule. Maybe he thinks it's time to do that full time. Maybe he's having trouble telling me.

Mulling the possibilities, unable to keep from wondering if they wouldn't be in this predicament if she'd handled everything about his unwarranted prison stay better.

Is that it? Is he still upset about it? Not that either of us can change anything now. All we can do is to ask for and bestow forgiveness, and move on.

But she still wasn't quite convinced that she'd settled on the right thing.

Whatever it is, it's eating at him.

She would have to find a way to draw him out.

"So, what do you call this concoction of yours? And how in the world did you learn how to make it?"

He turned back to the pan, giving the contents a shake.

"It's called 'Wednesday', and I learned it first from a book, of course."

"Wednesday? What kind of a name is that for a recipe?"

"The kind you come up with when you're inspired by the TV." He paused a moment, and then chuckled. "Although I could never tell Mom that, or she wouldn't have eaten it, for fear of being brainwashed. I just told her that my friends ….. the ones I wanted her to think I had ….all ate it on Wednesday."

Emily smiled in recognition, although American television had been only a small part of the childhood she'd spent mostly in Europe. "Ah, Wednesday, Prince spaghetti day! I remember those commercials."

He nodded. "Except that, back then, it was much simpler. I would boil some pasta and heat up some sauce from a jar, and I was done. It's evolved since then."

"You're not kidding! Lobster ravioli in white sauce? You know, I have to admit, all this time I've known you, and I never realized you could cook."

Reid shrugged as he lifted his hand-made ravioli from the water. "I started out of necessity, because Mom was usually too ill to think about cooking. Really, it's all just chemistry. Once I figured that out, it was easy to play with a little something here, and a little something there."

"Ah, the PhD."

He grinned at her as he spooned sauce over the pasta pillows. "Yep."

As he passed her on the way to the café table in his living space, he directed, "Bring the wine. And the cheese."

Emily followed as ordered, and took the seat cornered to his, waiting while he refilled their glasses. Then she raised hers, and offered a toast.

"To the return of good times, and celebrating with good friends. And, hopefully, a little peace."

She noticed that his smile didn't quite reach his eyes as she touched her goblet to his. Her own words reminded her that he'd been her friend much longer than he'd been her subordinate. And 'friend' Emily had rarely been anything but direct with him.

"Spencer….are you okay?"

He paused, fork in hand. "What do you mean?"

"Well, maybe it's nothing, but… you seem troubled. And I just …. I wondered if there was something you wanted to tell me. Something you wanted to say."

His eyes begged her not to push it further, while his mouth denied that there was anything to push about.

"I just invited you because you mentioned that Mendoza was out of town, and I thought you might like the company. Besides, we haven't had much chance to visit with each other since you've been back."

And because it gave me an excuse not to go to JJ's for our usual dinner.

Which had been happening every second Friday since the day Henry was born.

He'd felt bad about declining, and he hoped he would get to a point where it wouldn't feel so awkward and, truth be told, painful, to be around JJ in the circle of her happy family. But, just now, it was too soon.

Which is totally weird. I mean, a week ago, I didn't even know about it. Well, not officially. But now….

Now, his world had been thrust into tumult, even if he'd told her that everything was okay. He hadn't lied, exactly. Everything would be okay, because he would make it so. But right now, Spencer Reid wasn't so okay.

Emily's skills were too finely honed for her to miss the conflict reflected in his features. She gave him the space of time by taking a bite of ravioli.

"Oh, my God! Oh, my God, Spencer, this is to die for! Forget that new Thai place. I'm putting 'Wednesday' right at the top of my take out list!"

He smiled, taking a bite himself. "I'd already planned to offer you the leftovers."

"You'll get no argument from me. This is delicious, really."

"I'm glad you like it. So, " steering the conversation away from him, "tell me more about Mendoza. Does he make you happy?"

She smiled warmly, telling him all he needed to know. "We're still getting to know one another better. Our schedules have prolonged that process, as you can well imagine. But, yes, he does. He makes me happy."

Reid nodded approvingly. "Good. Because I didn't want to have to sit him down for a talk on how to treat one of my best friends."

The image evoked made both of them laugh, and it felt good.

"I'm so glad we did this, Spencer. It reminds me of old times. Good Indian food, some soft jazz, and lots of good conversation."

"In several different languages." It had been something both of them had enjoyed, stretching their linguistic muscle. "But I think we also had some pretty bad Indian food, too."

She laughed "I had already taken them off my list, but it turns out I didn't need to. They're out of business."

"As they should be. Hey, do you remember that Ethiopian place, the one that took three hours to deliver….."

"Oh, yeah. But, I have to tell you, that was one of my favorite dinners with you. Mostly because we talked about everything under the sun, and…."

And that began a visitation with a shared past, and memories of friends no longer with them, and some just too distant to be a part of their every day lives. That had been true of the two of them, for a time, and they were each grateful that it was true no longer.

Coffee and dessert were long gone when they realized the time, and Emily prepared to leave. As promised, Reid presented her with a container of leftovers, and prepared to walk her to the door. But she had a mission, and Emily Prentiss did not shy away from a mission, no matter how awkward. So she placed a hand on his chest, to stop his forward movement.

"Hey…I'm asking again. Are you sure you're okay? I'm not asking as your unit chief. I'm asking as your friend. Is it your mother?"

He shook his head. "Mom is fine. Or, as fine as she can be. I'm okay, Emily. Everything's okay."

She squinted her disbelief at him. "You left the wedding awfully early. Were you not feeling well?" Then remembering the case that preceded it. "Did something happen at the jewelry store? I know you hurt your hand, but…" Reaching out to examine it, she upended his right palm. "….it looks like it's nearly healed. Did something else happen?"

Realizing that the friendship between Reid and JJ would make each protective of the other. If something had happened, and they didn't want her to know, she doubted she would find out about it. As a friend, that was okay, if disappointing. As a unit chief, though….

"Listen, if something happened, and it's affecting you, I probably do need to know about it. But I'm going to respect your judgment. If you think I should know, please tell me. If not…."

"Everything's okay, Emily."

She didn't believe him but she'd already told him she would respect his judgment. So she turned, and went to the door. Once there, she tipped up to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"You know I love you, don't you? No matter what."

His smile was wry. "I know."

A memory rose in her brain. "Do you remember that time we were in the middle of a case and we were talking about what makes people love, and you started talking about pheromones, and I was talking about chocolate, and then you said.."

"Peas! I said 'Peas!', and that was one of probably a thousand times that Hotch told me to get back on track. Yes, I remember."

She laughed. "Well, I don't know if It's chocolate or peas or pheromones, but I do love you, Spencer Reid. And I only want what's best for you."

Reid went internal for a few seconds, emerging with, "It's chemistry."

"Huh?"

"Love. Just like cooking, it's chemistry. And maybe electromagnetics. But it's not something you can control, is it?

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you can't control who you love, can you? And should you even try? I mean, it's love."

Eureka! Emily felt like she'd made a discovery. "Spencer, have you met someone? Have you fallen in love?"

Is that what you've been trying to tell me? Why have you not been able to?

"I .. no….no, I haven't met anyone. I was just… I was just reminiscing, like you were."

He reached behind her and opened the door, and she had no choice but to leave. But not before she gave him one last chance.

"You know, I'm not the most experienced. And maybe not the most successful at it. But…if you've found someone to love, I might have a good listening ear. And if there's something that troubles you about it…"

"Everything's okay, Emily. But…thank you. I'll see you on Monday."

He gave her a buss on the cheek, and waved as she made her way to the stairwell. Then he closed the door and sank back against it, repeating the words as a mantra, hoping to make them be true.

Everything's okay. Everything's okay. Everything's okay.