justprompts: If you are not criticized, you may not be doing much. -Donald H. Rumsfeld

[letsdropin]

A/N: Takes place during the boys' freshman year at Harvard, the day after this. Pogue is lieutenantwitch, Caleb is theirgoldenboy, Tyler doesn't have a journal yet, but that's more and more likely to be remedied soon.

Reid was alone in his room, studying.

Well, he was technically curled up on the bed. Not... curled up in bed, no. Back against the headboard, legs drawn up, book balanced on top of his knees, held with one hand, the other down over the notepad on the covers, pencil tapping impatiently until it stopped to note something down.

He wasn't trying not to think about last night's... no, it wasn't a conversation with Caleb. More like a fight. Ish. He wasn't trying not to. He just wasn't thinking of it, really. After all, it wouldn't make any difference, right? Caleb was Caleb, and he wasn't going to change just because Reid wanted to be patted on the shoulder. Plus, the idea of Caleb just going and changing of them left a bad taste in Reid's mouth, too. Which, obviously, sucked for him. Not that he wanted Caleb's approval that much. He was doing just fine.

No, he wasn't thinking about that. Or the startled look in those brown eyes.

He wasn't even thinking of the much nicer times afterwards. Yeah, because that meant thinking of why he was down (he really didn't ... feel comfortable about explicitly asking for people's... attention. What with all those, 'never mind and go back to your room's.) Come on. The slender fingers slapped the pencil against the notepad. He really wasn't remembering about that, right? After all, he was grown up, now. At college. Rooming with Tyler. Who had been so worried last night, and then... well, that had been nice. Apartmenting (was there even such a word? Whatever.) with Pogue - Reid's lips twitched, a little brighter at the thought of things like the casual kiss on the top of his head at breakfast, strands of blond hair swaying briefly in front of his eyes - and Caleb.

Dammit. Stupid thoughts. Stupid circles.

He made himself focus on the book on his knees.

And then, of course, the apartment door clicked open. Maybe some of the three had forgotten something, whatever. Reid's head leaned forward, fingers picking up the pencil again. Yeah, he was studying. Shocking.

Sound of a bookbag dropped. And then Caleb's shoulders filling the doorway. Oh, great. Reid frowned. "What, you skippin' or something?"

"... yeah, as a matter of fact." The older boy actually ducked his head a little, embarrassed. "Wanted to talk with you."

"What about?"

Caleb gave him a very familiar look, and Reid's jaw clenched. "You know. What you said yesterday."

"Whatever."

"Reid..."

"Whatever, Caleb. It doesn't matter."

"Yeah, it does, actually." Words he expected. Except... the tone wasn't what he expected. Not the automatic snapping back. More... quiet, and warm. Almost a sigh. "I don't want it to not make a difference."

That... made Reid look up. Just the eyes. Then his chin jutted out. "What."

Caleb met his stare, and didn't look away. Didn't glare at him, either. Just... held his eyes. Then did sigh, and walked to sit on Tyler's bed (Reid was going to straighten it before he went out!), leaning forward. "Look. I... know that whatever it is I say right now will sound like I'm just saying it because you rubbed my nose in my doing something stupid and that hurt you--" Reid snorted. "-- but I mean what I say, and ... I'll work to make things better, alright?"

"I'm fine."

The older boy's mouth opened to retort, then he stopped himself. Corners of his lips drew in. "Yeah. It's me who's not been doing you justice. I'm... sorry. No, I am." He held up his hand, let me finish. "You haven't been doing anything truly bad, and I don't disapprove of you. You're one of us, you've always been there when I or any of us have needed you. You're good at whatever you put your energy into, and you can do something which I pretty much suck at, which is bring cheer when things look like shit. And I've been a moron who's kept telling you you're doing wrong things, only mentioning stuff when I think you're fucking it up - but everybody fucks up, and... I... It's not all I see you're doing, man. It's not. I've just ... failed big time letting you know it's what I do think."

Reid wasn't looking at him, now. Wasn't looking up at all, focusing at some point on his jeans, very close to his face. Words. Shit like what he'd wanted to hear since he was fucking sixteen. Words. He swallowed. "Whatever." His peripheral vision caught Caleb's flinch. Right. He'd fucked it up, again. Here it comes... Reid! Listen when I tell you things, please...

... except it didn't. Silence, and Reid could hear blood beating in his ears. Somebody yelling something on the outside, probably a causal game of football there. Yeah, sounded like it.

Caleb rose, crossed the step or so, and sat on the edge of Reid's bed. His voice, when it came, was quiet. "Reid... I know... that right now, it's ... just words. Just me saying things to patch things up, or something like that. But... I mean it."

He couldn't help himself. The words were out of his mouth before he thought about stopping them. "Yeah, like I've never heard that before."

"What? I haven't--"

"No, you haven't. Never mind."

"I..." Soft, the voice sounded soft. "Reid. Tell me, man."

Great. Just... great. Great way to keep attention away from himself, from shit he was away from right now and helped the bile that seem to come up to his mouth. He swallowed, didn't look up. "Tell you, right. And you'll listen, and nod, and be sorry." Just like his parents, so very many times. With each other. When he'd tried to talk with them. Over and over and over again... "And then I'll do something just for fun, and you'll snap at me again--" Caleb tried to say something like, 'but I laugh, too,' but Reid had gathered momentum. Talking to his knees, because it made more sense like that than trying to meet or avoid those brown eyes, meeting the disappointment in them again, the resentment, "-- like it's something big. Or I come up with some of those spell twists, you know, like the one about the night vision that doesn't get disturbed if they suddenly flash a light in your eyes? And you'll just pin me and ask about how much I was using, have I been using after or before, and then like that time..."

Words were spilling out, flooding out, strong, quick, bitter. It didn't make the bile subside, it didn't make any of it better, but he couldn't stop, he couldn't think of stopping, until he felt a shift of the bed, and suddenly there was an arm around his shoulders, strong and warm, the hand on his head; and another around his knees, pulling him towards an impossibly (except it wasn't impossible, and it was also kind of familiar) warm and broad and steady hug, strongly, decisively, and he tried to straighten up, flailed, attempted to pull away, "gerroffme..."

But Caleb didn't. The arms around him tightened, held him steadily, and after a breath or so, Reid choked, and curled into it, tight, tense. The older boy tucked the blond head under his chin, and just... held him. Slow words, quiet, deep voice that the younger boy could hear rumbling in Caleb's chest. "Hey. I won't. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Reid. I've just... I worry, and it's hard for me to stop using when I have, and I know... I should have known how awesome is to figure out a new use. And that was pretty awesome, you know. It keeps the Use levels low, and it's just... good. I should've said it back then, but ... I won't. I'll do better, I promise. I really promise. I'm sorry."

Slowly, very slowly, Reid relaxed. He ... he could tell that Caleb really meant that, somehow. And it was... soothing. By the end, his arm was around Caleb, too, hugged into him, and breathing ... easier. Somehow, easier. It... might, actually, really make a difference. Get better. Yeah, right. Well... maybe.

Caleb's voice trailed off, but neither of them really pulled away. After a while, wide fingers started weaving slightly into the fair hair. It felt nice. The bile started to subside, overwhelmed by the familiar scent of... being here. Wherever 'here' was. Just, feeling right. That didn't usually work at home. But... with his boys, yes.

In a bit, Caleb shifted slightly. One hand lowered - the one around his knees - and Reid could hear the whisper of his fingers pushing the pencil away from the notepad; the sliding of that against the bed covers. The blond found himself frowning at what might have caught Caleb's attention there, then he tensed.

Doodles around the writing. Of course.

Caleb sighed a little at the tensing, but didn't really let go, and his tone was still low and close. "You always designed your own tattoos, didn't you?"

"Well... yeah. What about it?"

"I like them, you know. I mean... I never said that, but..."

"Oh. I thought--" Reid's head popped up to look at him.

"-- that I didn't approve? Hey, you've seen enough of Sarah's back. I do find tats hot. And I do, indeed, like yours." Small smile. It was... well, Reid had never talked about being the one who drew his own inks originally. Caleb seemed to really be paying attention. Wow... nice.

A bit later, they kind of awkwardly disengaged, Caleb's eyes on him still, careful. "You okay, man?"

"Yeah... better, at any rate. Sorry for the--" Rant.

"'s okay. I more than deserve it." Another smile, and he rose to head out, eyes falling on the next bed. "He never did get into the habit of making it in the morning, did he?"

"Caleb."

"What?"

"You're doing it again. Even if it's not me..."

"... oh. Right. I'll just..."

That wasn't an organized retreat. But it was alright.