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Partner.
Okay, right there. That word. That was not a word either of them had ever used before. In all honesty, Jason didn’t think they were there yet. Yes, the weekend Sam had spent at Jason’s bungalow, he’d suggested they move in together. But he had also admitted he wasn’t sure it was a great idea and that the offer was largely driven by concern for Jason’s welfare.
Not the most persuasive of arguments for sharing a coffeemaker and Pandora passwords.
That said, they were on the same track. Sam had articulated what Jason wanted. Jason just needed to be sure Sam wanted it as much as he did and not merely because WWWD.
“This isn’t the conversation I wanted to have,” Jason admitted.
After an alarmingly quiet moment, Sam said, “What does that mean?”
That we’re wading into deep water.
Jason struck back toward the safety of the shallows. “That you’re right. I’ve been hesitant to ask for help. That’s on me, not you.”
After a moment, Sam asked, “Are we past that, or is this still a problem?”
Earlier that evening, Jason had been dead set against asking Sam for help ever again, but that was not rational or reasonable. Sam—the BAU—was a valuable resource. Nor was it fair when Sam was doing his best to make up for his perceived failings.
“We’re past it.”
He hadn’t realized how tense Sam was until he heard the relative lightness of his, “Why don’t you tell me about your case?”
Jason sighed and stared out the glass windows at the scattered pinpoints of light. The city was slowly waking up to another day.
“Well, the first thing is, I’m pretty sure it’s murder.”
