Reid My Mind

21. Cold as Ice (smut, fluff)

"Of course you do, Sherlock," Morgan said, shaking his head in mild disbelief.

"It's so cold," I whined when we stepped out of the plane and into Fairbanks, Alaska.

"It's not that cold," Prentiss said.

"It was so hot in Virginia and now it's so cold."

"It's like thirty-five degrees. That's warm for Fairbanks," she challenged.

"Anything below fifty is cold," I asserted. Morgan scoffed.

"You forget she's from California," Rossi reminded them, stepping past me on the landing pad.

"It's only going to get colder," Reid said, "It's supposed to get below freezing."

"Maybe if you dressed for the weather you wouldn't be as cold," Prentiss teased.

"I'm wearing all the layers I have," I shot back. A tank top, followed by a long sleeve shirt, and two sweaters. And a pair of grey plaid pants, which I had even worn tights underneath. That was as good as it was going to get for my California wardrobe. I still hadn't really gone shopping since I moved here.

"Californians," Rossi mussed playfully.

At the station, Morgan's name flashed on my phone as it buzzed. I picked up.

"What's up?" I said into the receiver.

"Hey, doll. There's a detective outside with Alicia Lancaster's file." That was the latest victim, a drug addict found stabbed seventeen times.

"And you want me to grab it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'm on it."

"Thanks, Maya." With a beep, the call was over. I braced myself for the cold and stepped outside. I saw an occupied police car parked at the curb in front of the station. I hurried up to it.

"Here it is," the man said with a smile, handing my a manila folder.

"Thanks so much, detective," I said and gave a half-wave goodbye. The car sped off before I had straightened all the way up.

I turned back and ran directly into a police officer. Unlikely for me, it wasn't just her I ran into. She was holding a big blue bucket filled to the brim with water.

I yelped like a puppy who'd been stepped on as cold water hit me like a wall. Most of it landed on my chest, but a decent amount managed to get my legs and my shoes. It was so cold, soaking through both sweaters and every layer underneath, even dripping down my stomach. I didn't want to move, lest more of my wet clothing touch me so I stood like a scarecrow, arms slightly aloft.

"What the hell, dude?"

"I'm so sorry, really, I-" the woman started, but I cut her off.

"No, sorry, it's fine. Don't worry about it." I immediately felt guilty for my overreaction. Wincing, I shook my hands, sending a small shower of droplets from my fingertips of my right hand. I was still holding the case file.
"I'm really sorry," she emphasized and scurried off back into the building. Presumably to get more water. Just then Reid poked his head out of the door and saw me.

"What happened to you?" he asked, laughter on his lips.

"Some lady spilled her water on me." I did not share his amused attitude.

"Must've been a big glass," he teased, referring to the puddle.

"It was a bucket," I grumbled, "Will you take the case file? I don't want to get it wetter." He obliged.

"C'mon, let's get you inside. You're going to get sick."

"Who needs a bucket of water at a police station?" I asked grumpily as I let him lead me back inside.

"I don't know."

"Maybe she's defrosting something."

"I think they just use salt for that." Every time I took a step my socks squished in my shoes.
When we were inside we took an empty conference room. I peeled off my both sweaters at the same time.

"You're going to have to take that off too," he said, motioning at my waterlogged long sleeve, which was three shades darker than usual.

"And wear what?" I groaned, wringing out the end of my hair.

He slid out of his own sweater and handed it to me. It was black.

I looked at him for a moment, a thousand incomplete thoughts running through my mind, and then took it.

"Thanks." Without a word, he left the room so I could change, a minutely ridiculous act, I thought, after the events of two days ago.
His sweater was soft and it smelled like him.
Stupid, gentlemanly Reid. Stupid me, who couldn't stop thinking about him.