Page 90 of Small Sacrifices

It sounds clumsy as soon as it leaves his mouth, but it's important to him that this is clear. He wants Everett to know that hewantsthis. He's just not brave enough to use those exact words. Yet.

"When we have sex," Everett agrees and winks at him. "But for real, it's actually a good idea. Sounds cheesy, but it's always best to figure those things out in a safe space. Who you are,what you want,whoyou want… stress can make you make weird decisions sometimes. It skews things."

The way he grows quiet after that makes Reid think he speaks from personal experience. And that's sad, but not nearly as alarming as the devastated expression that flashes across Everett's face a second later.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

"Sorry," Everett says. His smile looks tight.

Reid is about to ask about his expression when his stomach makes itself known. The loud growling noise is enough to rip Everett out of whatever funk he was in, and he seizes it as his opportunity to change the subject.

"Well, I guess we better make breakfast. Feed the beast before it feeds on us."

It almost feels patronizing when he pats Reid's thighs after saying that, only he looks so deeply confused about why he did it that Reid has to lean forward and give him another kiss. And then he gets up to go to the kitchen.

It takes Everett a bit to get over his initial confusion at discovering that Reid doesn't keep any cereal in his home.

"Like, at all?" he asks, his head tilted like the puppy he basically is.

Reid decides it's best to not dignify that with an answer. Soon, Everett is occupied with building himself another sandwich.

For a while, they eat in companionable silence. Until Everett sets his sandwich down so heavily that he almost upends his plate when his wrist hits its rim.

"Can I ask you for something?" His eyebrows are scrunched together in a way that almost makes him look like he's pleading. Strange.

"Sure," Reid says. "But I reserve the right not to do it."

Everett doesn't even respond to that. "Can you watch Max this evening?"

What? That doesn't make sense. Reid tilts his head. But that doesn't help him understand the situation any better. "Isn't Max about fifteen? I don't think you need a babysitter at that age."

And even if that wasn't the case—what is happening tonight that Max would need to be watched for?

"Yeah. But please? I just need to know that Max is somewhere safe tonight. We'll tell our father that Max is visiting a friend or something."

Safe?Not only does that not answer any of the questions whirring around in Reid's head, but it also creates even more of them. Like,"What the hell is happening at your house tonight that Max needs to be kept safe from?"and"Why can't you do it?"But this time, he doesn't ask any of them. He just stares at Everett until he hangs his head.

"I wanna try to get him to admit to stuff on tape while he's got his guard down. Today would be a good day, you know? I spent the night somewhere else, he always makes assumptions when I do that. He's gonna be disgusting about it, but probably less careful."

Hebeing Everett's father. Oh, Reid hates this so much. "And why do you need Max out of the house for that?"

Under the table, Everett's leg bounces. "I just don't want to risk someone walking in and ruining my progress. Our mother's at a gala at some museum. Please?"

Reid can tell it's nowhere near the whole truth. And maybe Everett can tell that Reid can tell, because his facial expression gets just a tad more desperate. "Please," he says. "I need to do this today."

Something is wrong, and Everett doesn't want to say what it is. Still, he's asking for help. Not in the way that Reid might like him to, but he is. This is important to him.

So Reid agrees. It lifts some of the clouds on Everett's face. "Thank you." He sounds and looks relieved, but there's still anaura of sadness about him. Or maybe it's resignation? Reid can't tell. But the emotion looks heavy. Everett's back is hunching under the weight of it.

Though it's clear that Reid won't get any more information out of him, it almost appears as though Everett is afraid that he’s going to keep asking questions. There's something defensive about the way his eyes dart between Reid and his hands, where he's picking at his cuticles in his lap.

So Reid says, "Of course," and slowly, deliberately, picks up his sandwich and takes a big bite out of it. He can give Everett space. Some of it, at least. Right now. This is weird, but it doesn't seem malicious. Everett is hurting about something. But he's a sensible person. He wouldn't do anything that would end up with someone being hurt, right?

Everett's initial shock fades as his expression softens. "Thank you," he whispers.

When they finish their breakfast, Everett just… doesn't leave. They hadn't discussed this—only that he'd stay the night. It's not addressed now either. Everett remains close, almost clinging to Reid's side, sometimes leaning on him or resting in his lap as Reid continues sifting through files.

The closeness is comforting, the warmth and pressure of Everett leaning on him is nice. But Reid can't shake the feeling that he's missing something important. He just hopes it's nothing too big.

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