May. 24th, 2009

yesimagenius: (dorky smile with glasses)
[What are the odds?]
[livejournal.com profile] shakeitup_pf verse. [livejournal.com profile] loveme_fearme is used briefly with love and permission.

His skin itches and it crawls; he’s too hot, he’s too cold. He’s too wired up to sleep. He doesn’t turn on the TV because when she’s not here it just irritates him. Usually a bath makes him relax but he can’t get the water temperature right and his knees stick out of the water so they’re cold. He leaves the bathtub half full, yanks on a pair of pajama pants and wanders around the apartment aimlessly. It’s too quiet, it’s too loud and he knows the exact location of the hydromorphone in the first aid kit under the bathroom sink.

Mozart lets him breathe, makes him think about something besides the quietcoldhotwiredhydromorphoneshe’snothere and gives his brain something to do. He starts out on the whiteboard, breaking down the music mathematically and soon he’s got the white board full. He pauses moment, time enough to make his brain scream at him that he’s getting behind then moves to the blank, white wall. He’s made his way through all the piano concertos and is onto Symphony 41 when she walks in the door. It’s a couple of hours to dawn and he’s worked his way around one corner of the living room.

“Miss me much, Brain?” she smirks, leaning her weight back on one hip as she observes his handy work.

He’s not sure if it’s the show of potential crazy or the smile on his face when she walks in but he notices she doesn’t spend as much time away after that.

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Spencer Reid

February 2010

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