Jinxed for FF account

Criminal minds, don't own it, never will, no profit from this, not much from anything else. Fan-fic. Slash. Hotch/Reid. M/M erotica-eventually.

This was initially started in response to a kink meme prompt, about Reid being mute...but, it's not very smutty smut. Originally posted on my dA account gallery/38994730 - the chapter breaks are a little different, and the text and time line are a little clearer in this version. It ends well, honest, thought you needed to know because it doesn't start out so happy...

"It's only the dentist." JJ pointed out. "Henry goes every six months. You should take him sometime."

Reid looked puzzled.

"It's a joke, Pretty Boy—she's right you know, it's only the dentist."

Reid continued to look worried.

"Reid man, just go. What the worse that's going to happen? A cavity?"

Reid helpfully educated everyone on the likelihood of cavities.

"Reid, really, you're not likely to die from a trip to the dentist."

Aaron smiled as he walked past the bull-pen. This was an ongoing argument in the Hotchner-Reid household; only when Jack joined in on the dental strike was Spencer forced to make an appointment as an example.

"Reid's not joining us." SSA Aaron Hotchner sounded too practical.

"Everything ok Aaron?"

"He's just sitting this one out Dave, a lot going on at home." That was an understatement.

Rossi glanced at Aaron. "Why don't you just tell me what's between you and Reid?"

"Because there's nothing to tell."

"Aaron."

"Leave it Dave, he doesn't need a nursemaid, and neither do I."

Spencer despised the dentist, not this one in particular—just in general. He was uncomfortable, and he couldn't talk, and he was helplessly prostrate, and the dentist had an excuse to hurt him. Overall, this didn't seem like something one should agree to participate in.

"Everything looks good." The dentist paused, "There is a small irregularly shaped spot just under your tongue, I'd like to schedule an appointment for a biopsy."

Spencer recited statistics as fast as possible to an astonished Dr. Jones.

"Dr. Reid, it's a precaution."

Everything went downhill from there.

By the time Aaron was sitting on the jet practicing being fine Spencer was sitting at home with an icepack on his jaw, instructions about baby-aspirin and not easting solid food. Spencer had a copy of his file on his desk and was reading medical texts as fast as he could. This wasn't happening.

By the time the jet had landed Spencer was calling Aaron with news sugar coated as best he could—because Aaron didn't need any more loss in his life, and because Spencer didn't want to be that loss. Now might be a good time to let Aaron move on.

They had never defined what they were to each other. They had lived together for over two years. They cared about each other, and for each other. Spencer and Jack had formed a close bond. There were nights when they needed one another to be close. Laying together in Aaron's room, on his bed, in his bed, still clothed, hold gently, soft kisses, deepening, tight against each other, feeling the other's desire meeting their own, still not admitting out loud the truth; but they were definitely something to each other. There were pecks on the cheek in the kitchen and touching hand briefly in the living room. Maybe it was time to let go—of the nothing that was between them.

Aaron was working hard on looking unconcered. Spencer had a biopsy that was all. That was all Spencer had told him. Aaron knew that Spencer was capable of keeping things close to the vest, he was outright good at lying, all addicts were. Years of experience with Spencer told him that Spencer was keeping something, and not something small from him. Maybe now was the time to say something to him, to not let him go through another crisis alone.

Aaron was desperate with worry. Spencer sounded muffeled with his injured mouth, and he certainly wasn't telling Aaron everything. Jack and Spencer were having a wonderful time it seemed—with Spencer and Jack learning to sign—just because Spencer was having trouble being clear. Jack was so quick and Spencer delighted in Jack's ability to learn along with him. Aaron smiled, his boys, it just seemed like he had failed to protect Spencer again. Not that he could protect Spencer.

Then a long phone call, and a barrage of stastics, and facts and opinions and options that were well beyond Aaron. Spencer was sick. That's all he could say to himself. Sick.

Spencer listened to what the surgeon and the oncologist and radiologist had to say—absolutely quietly. Then he asked for references, and papers and numbers—and felt sick to his stomach. Aaron he could tell he was moving out—didn't want to have Jack watch this, didn't want to impose on Aaron any longer, it was time for Aaron to have his own life without Reid and his problems holding him back. He played with his fingers, "I can sign, you know." He told there collected doctors. There was his decision then.

Jack didn't get it. He got most things. But Spencer didn't usually lie to him. Jack pulled a face—he knew something was horribly wrong.

The flight back was unbearably long. Aaron couldn't sleep, and he couldn't very well call Spencer and demand that Spencer allowed himself to be cared for. He knew that Spencer would have spent the previous evening with Jack—explaining things to him. Aaron's eyes clouded briefly—he did agree with Spencer, Jack couln't loose anyone else.

Jack had covered his ears and closed his eyes as Spencer had tried to explain.

"You can't leave." Jack yelled as Spencer left him with Jessica.

Aaron set his go bag down at Jessica's door. "Where's Spencer?"

"Aaron, your boyfriend is in surgery and you don't know where he is?"

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Jack said you share a bed." She said it as gently as possible.

"He's straight."

"And you Aaron?" He had expected some resentment; there was nothing there, just empathy.

"He can't go Jessica, its not fair to Jack." Aaron's face was a mask.