Spencer Reid and I have been dating for six months.

That is what we decide after I go over everything he needs to know at the basic level. Parents divorced when I was a teen and I moved to Quebec with my mother, who never wanted to join my father in New Hampshire in the first place. After a year there, we'd had enough of her negligence as siblings and moved in with my father, who was also negligent but at least it was less cold and he didn't yell at us as much. His brain tumour killed him when I was eighteen. We go over my schools and degrees and the friends I've made. It's actually easy enough since we are co-workers, and he already knows a few things about me.

"I kissed you at midnight on New Year's Eve, for the first time," Reid explains the plan. "When did you start to like me?"

"When we were forced to go to the Gala together," I tell him. "I'm stubborn, of course, so I was really in denial about the whole thing."

"I started liking you when you walked in on your first day."

That makes me roll my eyes, "that's too big of a lie."

"It's a more compelling story," he explains. "You came in, I accidentally offended you because I was distracted by how pretty you are. You took an immediate dislike to me and I spent the better part of the next year getting you to slowly warm up to me."

There isn't enough time to argue. We're parking the car.

"Everything else can just fall into place," Reid offers. "If anyone asks about the dates we've been on, we can just tell them I've been busy at work this past month, but otherwise we've gone to dinners, pubs, and galas. We like to play chess and read books."

"Exactly," I agree. I turn the car key and pull it out of the ignition. For the first time in hours, I look at him, properly this time. He offers me the smallest of smiles. "You also don't really shake hands, so no one will think our lack of PDA is out of place."

I turn past him, reaching into the backseat. I had to turn abruptly a while back, and my cardigan flew across the car. I struggle to reach it.

"Also, Stéphane knows it's a lie. Mylène won't, but like I said, I don't even know if her English is passable enough for deep conversation," finally with the cardigan in my grasp, I turn back to look at him.

He doesn't say anything. Reid swallows. His jaw is tight, but his mouth is slightly agape. His eyes are on me. It looks like he's about to ask a question. Maybe he does get sidetracked when he talks sometimes, and he rambles, but I don't ever notice him at quite a loss of words.

"You can back out," I tell him. "Caro will live with the disappointment."

Reid blinks, "it's fine."

We climb out of the car. The rehearsal is at the dinner sight, which is nice enough. One of the employees greets us and shows us where to meet the others. We end up in the farmhouse, in a room that clearly has been converted to accommodate us. At the very least, we aren't the last to arrive.

"Cole!" Bastien notices us first.

He stands up at his table. There are two empty chairs around it. I don't know the woman who is with him, but I hope she's military and not someone Cletus knows. He starts to cross the room. I hug him first. He lets me go and looks beside me.

"This is Reid," I explain. "Reid, this is Bastien."

Reid shakes Bastien's hand. I blink, hopeful no one notices my surprise. Only Reid would notice it anyway, I bet. He isn't someone who shakes hands easily.

I look past them. Caro sits at a table with just Cletus. So, I walk over. She stands up so we can hug each other. Even though it's not yet her wedding day, she does look so beautiful.

"You're glowing," I whisper to her, just before we pull away.

She laughs, and she seems to glow even more.

"It's a pleasure as always, Cletus," I manage just as Reid approaches. "Well, this is Reid."

Caro smiles, "it's funny. I had assumed your first name was Spencer. I forgot it could be a last name."

I feel my hands go cold, but Reid just laughs. At least he doesn't correct her.

Soon enough, the rest are upon us. Stéphane says hello, but he's met Reid and knows what's happening. We head over to their table. The room isn't crowded which is nice. The wedding party is made up of five people on each side, and it's a whirlwind meeting them all. Caro's friends seem nice. Eventually though, we are sitting at a table with my brothers and their dates and it feels tolerable.

Bastien pats the chair next to him, so I sit down. He leans in close to me, to whisper discreetly.

"She's gone full-crazy, you're lucky you only just showed up."

I roll my eyes, "it's her wedding day. She has the right."

"Do you think she would notice if I snuck out?" he laughs.

I freeze in my chair. It's May. It's May and I'm not sure anyone but me has noticed.

The officiant steals the room and so I hope he doesn't notice my lack of reply. We order food from a reduced menu, and I point at the first thing on the list, barely whispering the items. The officiant goes over the instructions for the day of the wedding, and I'm not actually aware of them. I'm fucking this up. Caro will never forgive me. It's May and it's like I'm not even here. And no one would notice. No one did notice.

No, I'm making this up, I decide. This day is Caro's not mine. And I'm doing this as some sort of cruel sisterly vengeance. She picked May for the best day of her life, so close to the anniversary of the worst day of mine, and I'm subconsciously making a scene to purposely fuck up her life. Just as I've done every day since the first May of my life. I grip the edges of my chair.

Reid's fingers touch the back of my hand. He gently pries my grip off the chair, taking my hand and folding it in his lap. He doesn't even look over as he does it. His thumb rubs the back of my knuckles.

Hospitals and back rubs and hand holding. Garcia shot on a date, and Reid kidnapped and tortured. And me. It's May. I think I'm going to die. It's May and He's out of prison. No one but Stéphane knows, but Stéphane didn't even notice That Night.

The food comes out. The sight of it makes me feel ill. I stomach through a few forkfuls. People start to talk. I'm aware that I'm replying. The room feels kind of vacuous.

At some point, Reid stands up and makes an excuse. I follow him into the hallway, his arm holding mine as we leave the room. He leads us down a corridor and then out onto the porch. The cold hits my skin. I forgot my cardigan inside.

Reid guides me up against the railings of the veranda. I feel the wood against my hips. He doesn't let go of my arm, standing between me and the farmhouse, close and tall and everywhere.

"You're not breathing regularly," he says. Of that much I'm sure. "Cole, I think you might be having a panic attack."

He's right. I don't think I can speak, or even nod my head. I tighten my grip on his hand, holding it tighter. This is all so stupid.

"Do you want me to get one of your brothers?"

"I'm fine." Those words come easy. I grit my teeth. My mouth tastes sour.

Reid shakes his head, "you haven't spoken more than three consecutive words in the last forty-five minutes, you can't eat the food, and you're holding me so tightly I've lost the feeling in my fingers."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine."

"I'm fine."

"Cole," Reid breathes in, then he exhales. "Don't lie to me. You don't have to tell me the truth, but please don't lie."

I am aware of my pulse. It feels like it's going to jump out of my neck. The whole world feels like it's spinning. I'm close enough that I can smell his cologne. I try to hold onto that more than his hand. It's him. He smells like cedarwood, and something citrus. And he's here. He's always so close.

My head feels light. I let go of him, turning to grip the railing with both my hands. I brace myself against it, and I hear the wood creak under my weight. I close my eyes and I try to count.

He steps away, and my hand shoots out backwards to grab him.

"I'm not fine," I manage, glancing back at him. "Don't leave me. Please."

Reid looks at me. I turn my body toward him, teetering a bit. The sun is getting lower in the horizon and within the next hour it will be dark. I want to be able to see him.

"Come on. Let's go back."

"We can wait," Reid bends down a bit, so we are at eye level. "Cole..."

"It's Caro's wedding," I tell him. "You'll need to explain the instructions I missed from the officiant on the ride back. We can't miss anything more."

Reid nods. I shift myself so we are walking arm in arm as we head back to the room. The panic is waning now. I realize it because I'm deeply mortified by this entire situation. Showing this side of myself to Reid is far worse than talking about my family, or my degrees, or any number of things.

We round a corner and Stéphane is in the hallway. His face is entirely white. He hurries over to me, stopping just in front of us.

He noticed I was gone. Of course, he did. It was always him that noticed, even in the beginning. Just like then, he noticed a second too late.

I let go of Reid and grab Stéphane, hugging him tightly.

"Is Sebbie worried?" I whisper.

"No," he answers back. "Just me."

I let go of Stéphane. The three of us return to our table and sit down.

Bastien grins at me, "that was fast. Was Reid a premature baby too?"

I kick him under the table. It doesn't even seem to bother him. I don't think anyone else heard but Reid's face is bright red. Then again, mine might be too.

At the table next to us, Caro's face certainly is the colour of fire.

~~~~~

And I oop. Like, big oop. Fun stuff is coming hehe. Also, they are sweet. Do you think Cole actually knows she likes Reid? How deep is her denial?