eyneyke

[eyneyke]

Main Masterlist & AO3 acc & other links

ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ᴀɴ ᴏᴘᴇɴ Asᴋ Bᴏx ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰɪʟᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴇsɪᴛᴀᴛᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ᴏʀ sᴇɴᴅ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛs (I ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴀ ꜰᴇᴡ ᴏɴᴇ-sʜᴏᴛs ʙᴜᴛ I ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ɪɴsᴘɪʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ)

AO3 acc

F1:

Max Verstappen

A Calm to my Storm -FINISHED!

- series (Max Verstappen x OC!Kjellberg, ft. Pewds, Jacksepticeye and others from F1 world + media and fans online) What if Max was secretly dating Pewdiepie's genius little brother that works as a Red Bull engineer

A Calm After Us -WORK IN PROGRESS

- part 2 series of ''A Calm to my Storm'' Follows right after the first series; it's finally the winter break and Max and Sam navigate their lives without the crazy of an ongoing season, some insecurities, meeting families and more

Medusa -ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ɴ̶ᴏ̶ᴛ̶ sᴏ sᴏᴏɴ!

- series (Max Verstappen x OC!Reikkonen, Max Verstappen & Christian Horner, Max Verstappen & the grid) Kimi joins forces with Sebastian to find out who is his eldest kid, and Sebastian's godchild, is dating in secret. Spoiler: it's Max. But when a tragedy hits England in the middle of the season, just before the Silverstone weekend, Max reveals something about his past that shocks the world. Warnings: past SA's, mentions of child molesting

Lewis Hamilton

Superhero Surprise -ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ sᴏᴏɴ!

- oneshot probably (Lewis Hamilton x OC!Holland, Lewis Hamilton & Max Verstappen & OC!Holland, ft. Esteban Ocon) Lweis Hamilton decides to join grid's secret santa again and pulls out a paper with Esteban's name on it! What should he get him?? His girlfriend helps him :)

Oscar Piastri

Secret Romance -ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ sᴏᴏɴ!

- SMAU (Oscar Piastri x girlfriend, Oscar Piastri & Lando Norris) Lando and Oscar are doing a radio interview after Oscar's first season and Oscar reveals he has a long term girlfriend and Lando in his typical fashion freaks out

Other fics:

Series (POSTED ON AO3): Revelations: Hidden Truths, Veiled Friendships and Secret Relationships (AO3 link) -ONGOING!

Criminal Minds; Marvel, Harry Potter, The Leverage OC & Spencer Reid

[scuderiamint]

wait shut up thats so cute, this sport does have its sweet moments :(((

[eyneyke]

Twitter

Pairing: Max Verstappen x PewDiePie!sibling Summary: F1 Twitter goes crazy during the winter break after they hear nothing since the big revelation that happened on the last race of the season part 4 of The Calm After Us Masterlist -> for this 1st story; Masterlist-> for this story; Main Masterlist

Two weeks.

It’s been two weeks since Christian Horner accidentally revealed that Max Verstappen had been dating Red Bull’s own Sam Kjellberg the entire season, and the internet still hasn’t recovered.

F1 Twitter spent an entire season trying to figure out who Sam’s “horrible” boyfriend was, and the reveal being Max freaking Verstappen sent everyone into a spiral.

Since the Red Bull’s official Instagram announcement confirming that Max and Sam are in a happy and committed relationship that doesn’t influence their work performance, there has been—

ABSOLUTELY NO UPDATE 

Max? Silent. Sam? Silent. Sam’s famous YouTuber brother? Not a single meme or cryptic tweet about Sam

And fans are losing their minds.

With no races to watch, no team drama unfolding on track, and nothing but Christmas content from teams to keep them entertained, fans are bored. And when F1 fans are bored? They do what they do best.

They start rumors.

@F1TeaSpiller 🚨 Rumors are flying that Max Verstappen has been seen at multiple luxury car dealerships in Monaco 👀 Could a big purchase be on the way? Or is he already preparing for a future outside of F1?  @FastLapF1 – Replying to @F1TeaSpiller I swear this happens every winter break💀 Y’all say he’s leaving F1 every year and yet he keeps coming back and winning championships left and right @RedBullRacingFan – Replying to @FastLapF1 He could literally just be seen outside on a bicycle and you guys would make it mean that he’s retiring.

@GridGossipThe streets are saying Max Verstappen has been suspiciously quiet since Abu Dhabi… 👀 What is he preparing for us??? @PaddockPrincess – Replying to @GridGossip Maybe he’s just enjoying his break?? Not everything is a conspiracy 😭 @TireDegEnjoyer – Replying to @GridGossip F1 Twitter every time a driver logs off for more than 24 hours: "THEY'RE QUITTING, DIVORCING, MOVING TO THE MOON, SECRETLY MARRIED, JOINING NASCAR, OR PREGNANT."

@MaxsAngel Winter Break Syndrome has y’all in a chokehold huh 😭

@F1GossipGrid Max Verstappen and Sam Kjellberg haven’t been spotted in Monaco since the Abu Dhabi GP. WHERE ARE THEY??? @RB19Nation – Replying to @F1GossipGrid Max went into hiding after getting exposed as Sam’s “horrible boyfriend” I just know it. @PaddockDetective – Replying to @F1GossipGrid Bro literally vanished. No Monaco sightings. No weird sim racing streams. No Sam posting them hanging out together. Nothing. This isn’t normal.

@LollipopLightsOut I love how not even Felix 'Blabbermouth’ Kjellberg aka Pewds - who streams every other day, has not mentioned Sam at all. And he used to do it all the time before. Now he’s literally just pretending not to see all the comments asking about Sam and if he met Max and whatnot… 

@TireDegEnjoyer Y’all need to CHILL. The man is literally just on break.

@NoGripAllVibesSo let me get this straight: - Max Verstappen has spent ALL SEASON roasting Sam’s mystery boyfriend and letting everyone think he was dating an awful man - Turns out his boyfriend was MAX VERSTAPPEN HIMSELF because CHRISTIAN HORNER has ACCIDENTALLY revealed their relationship during the Abu Dhabi GP - Max has not said a single word about it - Sam has also not said a single word about it - Felix Kjellberg, the world’s biggest blabbermouth, has also remained completely silent ?????? WHAT IS GOING ON. @MonacoStreetsWatch – Replying to @NoGripAllVibes At this point, I will accept a blurry paparazzi pic of them buying bread in Monaco. I just need PROOF OF LIFE. @RB19OnTop – Replying to @NoGripAllVibes I fear Sam has actually locked Max in his apartment

@FelixStanAccount Felix has gone WEEKS without making a joke about his brother dating a world champion. I’m actually scared. @MemeDealerFelix – Replying to @FelixStanAccount If Felix doesn’t post an “I Survived Meeting My Brother’s Boyfriend” meme soon, I’m calling the authorities. @RedBullChaos – Replying to @FelixStanAccount The silence is more terrifying than if they all just addressed it normally. @saamkj✪ - Replying to @FelixStanAccount The Big Brother and The Bad Boyfriend have officially met! I am reporting that all three of us are alive and well!! Felix HAS been forbidden from oversharing online though! @TireDegEnjoyer Replying to @saamkj✪ OMG SAM WE NEED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! @RearGunnersRB Replying to @saamkj✪ A SIGN OF LIFE!!! @MemeDealerFelix WTH Sam has replied to my tweet OMGOMGOMGGG

@F1SillySeasonCentral Let’s be real. If Max and Sam had actually broken up, Christian Horner would’ve somehow found a way to reveal it to the world @SamsSideEye – Replying to @F1SillySeasonCentral The fact that the only thing that’s telling us that Sam and Max are still together are RedBull’s PR post confirming the relationship and Sam confirming on twitter that he forbade Felix to say anything online about them to ensure their privacy… I can’t with this @PerezDefender – Replying to @SamsSideEye And also him showing us that he is the perfect boyfriend for Max by ensuring that their private life stays private and is not dragging his and Max’s relationship through the public eye… What a catch, and I repeat, What. A. Catch. Find yourself a man who respects you like that.

[eyneyke]

Showing some stability

Pairing: Max Verstappen x PewDiePie!sibling Summary: Is that...Max... showing some emotional stability?? part 3 of The Calm After Us Masterlist -> for this 1st story; Masterlist-> for this story; Main Masterlist

The door clicks shut behind Felix, and Sam lets out a quiet breath, rolling his shoulders like he’s shaking off the residual chaos of the morning. He lingers for a moment, listening to the muffled sound of Felix’s footsteps retreating down the hall. When the distant hum of the elevator signals his brother’s departure, Sam finally turns back toward the kitchen.

Max is still standing at the sink, his back to him, hands submerged in the soapy water as he rinses the last of the dishes. His movements are smooth, practiced—too practiced, if Sam’s being honest. There’s a certain stiffness in his posture, a quiet tension in the way his fingers linger under the running water just a second too long.

Sam doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, he steps forward, grabs a clean dish towel, and wordlessly takes a plate from the drying rack. He starts drying it off, placing it neatly on the counter next to him.

They work in silence for a bit. It’s not awkward—just quiet. The kind of silence that comes when one person is thinking too much, and the other is waiting for them to work through it on their own.

Eventually, Sam breaks it, his tone light but knowing.

“So. That went well.”

Max exhales sharply, not quite a laugh but not quite a sigh either. He shuts off the faucet and dries his hands on a towel before finally turning to face Sam. His expression is somewhere between amused and doubtful.

“Did it?”

Sam smirks. “Yeah, Max, it did. Felix likes you. He’s just terrible at processing things in real time.”

Max lifts an eyebrow. “Terrible at processing things or terrible at processing me?”

Sam snorts, tossing the dish towel onto the counter. “Both.”

Max shakes his head, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. There’s something unreadable in his expression, something thoughtful. “He didn’t know I was Dutch.”

Sam grins. “Nope.”

Max exhales a short laugh. “And he told me my English was good.”

Sam laughs outright at that. “That part was so funny.”

Max is quiet for a moment, his fingers absently tracing patterns against the smooth surface of the counter. Then, he glances at Sam, something softer in his gaze now. “I guess you were right.”

Sam tilts his head. “About what?”

Max hesitates for a second before shrugging. “Felix really doesn’t know much about me. And… I think I kind of like that.”

Sam watches him carefully, but he doesn’t push. He understands what Max means. It’s rare for him to meet someone who doesn’t already have a hundred preconceived notions about who he is. Most people either idolize him, judge him, or think they already know him based on headlines, interviews, or whatever version of him exists online.

But Felix? Felix walked in without knowing a damn thing.

And that meant Max didn’t have to prove anything. He just got to… be.

Sam bumps his shoulder against Max’s. “Told you.”

Max shakes his head, but there’s the smallest smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Sam studies him for a beat longer before his voice softens. “You okay?”

Max exhales, eyes flicking downward for a moment before he nods. “Yeah.”

It’s not a lie. Sam knows that Max isn’t the type to spill his emotions all at once, but the fact that he’s still here—still standing in the kitchen instead of disappearing into his own head—is enough.

Sam doesn’t push further. He just grins. “Good. Because next time, I’m making you teach Felix how to say something stupid in Dutch just to mess with him.”

Max groans, tilting his head back dramatically. “God, please don’t.”

Sam just laughs, nudging him again before stepping past him to put the last of the plates away. The kitchen is warm, the morning light filtering in through the windows, casting soft shadows across the room. It feels… settled.

Then, after a moment, Max shifts beside him, clearing his throat slightly.

“…Do you think we could have him and Marzia over for lunch one day?”

Sam pauses, looking at him in surprise. Max isn’t shy by any means, but he’s never been the one to suggest social plans.

Max rubs a hand over the back of his neck, looking vaguely embarrassed. “Like—just to hang out. But, you know… without me internally panicking the entire time. And they’re your family.”

Sam smiles, slow and warm. “Yeah. I think that’s a great idea.”

Max glances at him, studying his expression, then nods like he’s pleased with that answer.

Sam watches him for a moment longer before reaching out, hooking a finger into the belt loop of Max’s jeans and tugging him closer. “See?” he murmurs. “Told you you’d survive.”

Max huffs a laugh, rolling his eyes but letting himself be pulled in for a kiss anyway.And in that moment, everything feels right.

[eyneyke]

Breakfast

Pairing: Max Verstappen x PewDiePie!sibling Summary: Continues right after last chapter of A Calm to my Storm pt.1 part 2 of The Calm After Us Masterlist -> for this 1st story; Masterlist-> for this story; Main Masterlist

Felix steps into the kitchen with hesitant but deliberate steps. His heart is still a little unsteady after the wave of confusion that hit him earlier, but as he looks around the room again—at Max moving around confidently in his brother’s space, at Sam sitting casually at the table staring at his phone—he’s starting to get the impression that maybe, just maybe, he’s not completely out of his depth here.

Max glances up from the coffee machine as Felix enters, and his lips curl into a casual smile. "How do you like your coffee?" he asks, already in the middle of preparing one.

Felix blinks, momentarily taken aback by the ease with which Max has already slipped into Sam’s space. “Uh—just black, one sugar, thanks,” Felix replies, his voice a little more uncertain than he’d like, but the words come out anyway. He can’t help it—he’s still adjusting to the fact that his brother’s boyfriend is here, in his little brother’s apartment, making coffee like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Max doesn’t miss a beat, nodding like everything is normal and everyday thing, before moving to grab a clean mug. Felix watches him—Max’s hands steady as he adjusts the coffee machine, pulls the filter down, and sets the brew going. There’s something almost... domestic about it, and Felix’s brain short-circuits again. He’s used to seeing Max on the track, driving at impossible speeds, but this? This is... normal.

Before Felix can overthink it too much, Max pours the hot coffee into three mugs. One for Sam, who’s still glued to his phone, and another for himself. He places both mugs carefully on the table in front of them, and Felix notices the easy way Max does it; he's obviously  spent mornings like this before—sitting down for breakfast with Sam, sharing quiet conversations in the morning haze.

Max turns to Sam, finally placing his own mug before himself. “Eet smakelijk,” he says in a smooth, easy foreign accent.

Felix’s brow furrows, but Sam, without even looking up from his phone, responds, “Dank je,” in a similarly casual tone.

Felix stops mid-sip, completely taken aback. His eyes flick between the two of them, and for a moment, he just freezes. "What the fuck was that?" he blurts out, his confusion spilling out louder than he intended.

Max and Sam both freeze for a split second, and then—simultaneously—scoff with laughter.

Felix’s face turns a little red with embarrassment, and he just stares at them, blinking rapidly. “Seriously, what was that?” he repeats, a little quieter this time, his voice laced with genuine bewilderment.

Sam, gets himself under control. “That… Uhh, that was Dutch,” he explains between chuckles. “It means like, enjoy your meal, right?.” At what Max just nods. 

“Dutch?” Felix says slowly, still not quite processing. His eyes dart between Sam and Max, his brain trying to make sense of the sudden shift in dynamic. He looks at Max, and then back at Sam, who smiles cheekily at him. “Since when do you know Dutch?”

Max just shrugs, his smile easy and unbothered. “I’m Dutch, Felix…?,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

Felix’s brain stalls again. 

“Wait—what?” Felix says again, this time more in disbelief than confusion. “You’re Dutch?” He turns to Sam, still processing, still not quite believing his own thoughts. 

Sam snorts, clearly amused at his brother’s reaction. “Dude...” he teases. “You didn’t even Google Max before you came over? Not even a little bit?”

Felix’s face reddens in embarrassment. “I—I didn’t think I had to.! I read stuff about him in the comments all year round! I just didn’t—Google him.” His voice trails off, as the absurdity of his own statement hits him.

Max just smiles at Felix and continues eating.

Felix stammers for a second, still caught in the whirlwind of realizing who exactly is sitting in front of him. “I didn’t even—God…?” He chuckles awkwardly, trying to process it all.

Sam smiles, his eyes soft, as he leans back in his chair. “See? I told you that he doesn’t know anything about you. You’ve had nothing to worry about.”

Max blinks, looking at Sam with something close to wonder. Felix doesn’t miss the way Max’s gaze softens just a little as he looks between the two of them. For a second, it feels like maybe there’s something more here than just the quiet, no-emotions racing superstar. Maybe there’s... comfort?

Felix doesn’t have the time to dwell on that thought because breakfast is happening, and suddenly the atmosphere shifts—there’s this easy back-and-forth between Sam and Max, the familiarity between them. Max takes another sip of his coffee, and Felix watches him, noticing how his movements are calm, collected, and unhurried and controled. This guy, this man who has been thrust into the spotlight for years, doesn’t seem like he’s trying to impress anyone right now. He’s just here with Sam, and that seems to be enough.

The breakfast conversation continues—lighthearted, comfortable. Max and Sam talk in that way that only people who’ve known each other for a long time can, their voices blending in a language Felix doesn’t understand. Felix just watches, feeling more like a quiet observer in their world.

When the last of the food is finished and the table starts to clear, Max stands up, clearly ready to get the cleanup underway. He grabs their plates and walks toward the sink without a word, not waiting for anyone to tell him to do so.

“Max… Everything is good, yeah? No stress,” Sam says, his voice gently chiding, but Max doesn’t answer, already too focused on scrubbing the dishes.

Sam, watching him, opens his mouth to protest, but Max murmurs something under his breath and keeps moving, clearly not taking no for an answer. Felix can’t quite make out what Max said, but there’s something in his tone that suggests this isn’t just another part of the routine.

Felix, still slightly on edge, looks to Sam. “Is everything okay? What’s happening?”

Sam gives a small sigh and motions toward the living room. “Come on, let’s step out for a minute. I’ll explain.”

Felix follows, though he can’t help but feel his stomach tighten. This whole situation has been a whirlwind, and now with Max cleaning up, things have gone from weird to uncomfortably normal.

Once they’re in the living room, Sam sits down and motions for Felix to do the same. “He  just got a little overwhelmed,” Sam begins quietly. “He’s... working through some shit at the moment. You did nothing wrong.”

Felix blinks. “What’s… Is he okay?”

Sam looks away, exhaling deeply. “It’s complicated, alright? Max doesn’t really like being fussed over, and sometimes he gets—well, overwhelmed so he isolates himself to calm down. As I said, not your fault.”

Felix feels a sudden jolt of guilt, but Sam waves it off before he can speak. “Look, just... don’t overthink it. Max will share things with you if and when he’s ready. He just needs a little time.”

Felix still doesn’t completely understand, but he nods, trusting his brother’s words. “So, is everything alright?”

Sam looks at him seriously, his expression more guarded now. “Everything’s fine, I promise. He just... needs some space to work through it.”

Felix wants to ask more, but something in Sam’s tone tells him it’s not the right time. Instead, he stands up. “Alright. Well, I’ll leave you two to it then. We’ll text later, yes.”

He steps into the kitchen, calling out, “Hey, Max!”

Max, still standing at the sink, glances over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

Felix smiles, feeling a little less uncertain. It was nice meeting you, man. Thanks for breakfast.”

Max nods, not turning fully around, but his voice is warm. “Yeah, no problem.”

Felix heads for the door, Sam trailing behind him. The two of them make small talk as Felix grabs his jacket, and soon enough, he’s out the door.

As he walks down the hallway, Felix feels a little lighter than when he walked in. Maybe this whole thing wasn’t as bad as he feared. Maybe, just maybe, Sam’s boyfriend wasn’t the terrifying, distant figure he’d expected him to be. Instead, he was just another person—quiet, intense, but with a soft side that Felix never would’ve guessed.

He pulls his phone out, texting Jack that he’ll be in touch soon, and for the first time, Felix feels like things might actually be okay.Maybe he didn’t screw this up after all.

[eyneyke]

Hi! I'm your brother's nightmare of a boyfriend

Pairing: Max Verstappen x PewDiePie!sibling Summary: Continues right after last chapter of A Calm to my Storm part 1 of The Calm After Us Masterlist -> for this 1st story; Masterlist -> for this story; Main Masterlist

As soon as Felix ends the live stream and Jack ‘leaves him to deal with family shit’, the apartment is left in an almost deafening silence. The shift in atmosphere is so stark that it takes a moment for anyone to react—like the world had been moving at full speed and someone suddenly hit the brakes.

Max is still leaning against the kitchen counter, the same smug, self-satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, clearly reveling in the fact that when Felix had barged in, he and Sam had very obviously been in the middle of a snog session. The only reason Felix hadn’t noticed immediately was because he was too preoccupied with the fact that his little brother was standing next to a four-time Formula 1 World Champion live on stream. But now, the moment is different—quieter, more personal.

Sam, standing beside Max, lets out a quiet exhale before turning to face him. With an easy familiarity, he places a hand on Max’s chest, fingers brushing against the soft fabric of his shirt. Max instinctively straightens a little under his touch, the playful glint in his eyes softening ever so slightly. Sam tilts his head up, presses a quick kiss to the corner of Max’s mouth—gentle, brief, but affectionate—and murmurs, “Finish breakfast, okay? I need to say hi to my brother properly. Don’t burn the toast.”

Max makes a quiet noise of acknowledgment, his smirk finally dimming into something more neutral. There’s a flicker of something in his expression as he watches Sam step away—nothing dramatic, just a hint of unease, like a small part of him wishes he could be somewhere else. Still, he turns his attention back to the pan on the stove, falling into the background as Sam strides toward Felix and then pushes him in the direction of his living room.

Felix, for his part, hasn’t moved much since ending the stream. He’s still standing there, brow furrowed in something between confusion and lingering disbelief, arms loosely crossed as if his brain is still trying to process what exactly just happened.

Which is why Sam wastes no time launching into an exasperated rant.

“Felix,” he starts, voice tight, “what the hell was that?”

Felix blinks, thrown by the sudden shift in tone. “What?”

“You barged into my apartment without knocking, without texting, without anything. I invited you for dinner, not for breakfast!,” Sam snaps, arms flailing in frustration. “I am a grown-ass adult. You cannot just show up unannounced like that! And livestreaming too! I could’ve been—I don’t know—asleep, or having someone over, or—” He suddenly freezes, eyes going wide, and for the first time, he looks genuinely horrified.

Felix watches as Sam’s gaze flickers briefly toward Max before snapping back to him, realization dawning all at once.

“Oh my god,” Sam breathes. “You are so lucky that we’ve been outed by Christian because I would’ve been so mad right now if you outed us. What if you had walked in five minutes earlier, eh? We’ve literally just got out of bed.”

Felix blinks again.

And then, slowly, it clicks.

His eyes widen slightly as he glances back toward the kitchen—toward Max, who still looks completely unbothered, effortlessly flipping whatever he’s cooking in the pan. Max had been smug when Felix first walked in. But so was Sam. He had been very comfortable standing there, watching the chaos unfold with an infuriatingly relaxed expression. And judging by how good he is doing in the kitchen right now, this is also not his first time here.

“Oh.”

Felix swallows.

“Oh.”

A horrifying series of possibilities flash through his mind, and suddenly, the embarrassment he had felt over the first few seconds after crashing while livestreaming is nothing compared to the sheer panic flooding his system now.

Sam glares at him. “Yeah. Oh.”

Felix drags a hand down his face. “Jesus, okay. Maybe I should’ve knocked.”

“Maybe?!”

Max lets out an amused chuckle from the kitchen at Sam’s over exaggerated dramatics, and Felix shoots him a quick, unimpressed look before turning back to Sam.

“Alright, alright, my bad,” Felix sighs, raising his hands in surrender. “I’ll text first next time, or call. Or ring a doorbell, whatever. Happy?”

Sam huffs, crossing his arms, but ultimately just shakes his head. “Yeah, greatly.”

There’s a pause, a beat where Felix expects the scolding to continue, but instead, Sam’s expression shifts slightly—less irritated, more thoughtful.

“I am actually glad you’re here, though,” he admits, his voice softer now.

Felix raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Sam nods, glancing briefly toward Max before looking back at Felix. “Yeah. Now that the season’s over, Max is finally free until next year, so you can finally meet my boyfriend properly.”

And then, just like that, he turns on his heel and walks back into the kitchen.

Leaving Felix frozen in place.

Max Verstappen.

His little brother’s boyfriend.

Felix had known—of course, he had known. He’d heard the name before, had vaguely processed it when Jack started losing his mind on the call. But now that he’s had a second to think—now that the chaos of the livestream is over and he actually has time to absorb what’s happening—the panic starts settling in.

Because Felix doesn’t follow F1. He never has.

But the moment he realized Sam was dating Max Verstappen, he did what any normal person would do—he Googled him.

And from what he found?

Well.

The guy was intense.

Felix had gone through video clips, interviews, articles—every single one painted Max as one of the most competitive, cutthroat drivers in the sport. 

And Sam has been dating him for god knows how long…

Felix swallows hard.

Sure, Sam was an adult. He could handle himself. And they’d been together long enough that it clearly wasn’t just some casual thing. But still—Felix knows his brother. Sam is warm and easygoing and kind. He thrives on humor and affection and making people laugh.

How the hell does a guy like that end up with Max Verstappen?

Felix exhales, trying to shake off the nerves, but as he takes a step toward the kitchen, he pauses—because from where he’s standing, he can hear their voices.

“He’s probably having a little freak-out in the living room,” Sam says, amusement lacing his words.

Felix freezes.

“Oh?” Max’s voice is quieter than before.

“Yeah,” Sam hums. “Not in, like, a bad way. Just—you know, I’ve never introduced anyone to him before.”

Silence.

Then, Felix hears Max take a slow, steady breath. “Thanks, that helps.”

“Relax,” Sam murmurs, voice soft. “He’s gonna love you.”

A pause.

“Hopefully,” Max mumbles, so quiet Felix barely catches it.

Felix frowns.

That… doesn’t sound like the cold, ruthless Max Verstappen he saw online.

Then, even softer, Max mutters, “Just hope he doesn’t follow the sport or anything connected to it online. Otherwise, I’m a really bad choice to date someone’s little brother. You do realize that, right?”

Felix barely has time to process that before he hears the distinct sound of a kiss—soft, reassuring.

“Hey,” Sam says, firmer now. “None of that. He’s a youtuber. He is also a public figure. He knows how haters can get. I love you, and he will like you. Just be yourself and I’ll kick him if he acts like an ass. You have nothing to worry about.”

Felix exhales slowly.

That doesn’t sound like a man incapable of love. That doesn’t sound like the ruthless competitor the internet made him out to be.

That sounds like a guy who’s genuinely in love with his little brother.

Felix swallows down whatever nerves are left, squares his shoulders, and decides—right then and there—that he’s going to start fresh.

And with that, he steps into the kitchen.

[eyneyke]

The Calm After Us - masterlist WORK IN PROGRESS

This is a part 2 of A Calm to my Storm so go read that one first <3

- 1: Hi! I'm your brother's nightmare of a boyfriend - 2: Breakfast - 3: Showing some stability - 6: Twitter

[eyneyke]

Continuation of A Calm to my Storm

Check out part 2 of A Calm to my Storm story called The calm after us

-> link to the masterlist of The Calm After Us

*this one is not finished before posting so bare with me and my crazy schedule <3

[eyneyke]

(17) New York

Part 9 of Revelations: Unveiling the Veiled (RUV for short) Summary: Spencer's few days in New York after the last case.

The city never slept.

Spencer had always found comfort in the steady hum of New York—the constant thrum of life moving forward, indifferent to the chaos and tragedies hidden beneath its surface. It wasn’t home, not really, but it had always been Z’s home. Home was wherever Z was. And right now, that was the closest thing he had to familiarity.

He just quietly said goodbyes to the team and headed to Z’s apartment.

It was empty, of course. It had been since she left almost a month and a half ago.

The furniture was still covered in a thin layer of dust, the bed as they left it. There were  clothes in the closet, books left open on the table as if Z had only stepped out for a moment. Spencer stood in the middle of the apartment, staring at the untouched space, feeling the weight of her absence settle over him like a heavy fog.

He spent the night there, surrounded by ghosts of memories, and woke up with the lingering ache of dreams he couldn’t quite remember.

*

The next day, he made his way to Hell’s Kitchen.

Matt’s apartment was as unassuming as ever, big and clean in a way that felt like it could be a magazine cover. The scent of fresh coffee mixed with the crisp cold air from the open window, and despite everything, Spencer felt himself relax slightly.

Matt Murdock leaned against the counter, effortlessly composed as always, nursing a cup of coffee in hand, his infamous red sunglasses covering his eyes, while Foggy sat at the kitchen island, flipping through some legal paperwork that had long since lost his attention.

“Long night?” Matt asked, tilting his head slightly.

Spencer huffed. “Sure. Let’s call it that.”

Matt didn’t push. He never did.

They spent the better part of the day talking, catching up between coffee refills and half-hearted debates about whether Spencer should just accept that yes , jazz could be enjoyable and no , statistics weren’t going to change Matt’s mind.

It was comfortable, easy—until Matt finally asked, “Any news on Z?”

Spencer didn’t answer right away. He only shook his head, the movement small but heavy with meaning.

Matt exhaled quietly and didn’t ask again.

Foggy, however, frowned between the two of them, clearly picking up on something unspoken. “Okay, not to be the odd one out here, but who the hell is Z?”

Spencer and Matt shared a look.

Foggy’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, come on .”

Spencer set down his coffee cup, choosing his words carefully. “Matt and I met through Z.”

“That’s all I get?” Foggy scoffed. “Seriously?” He looked at Matt, exasperated. “This is exactly the kind of nonsense that made a mess last time ‘round. You, lying, to me.”

Matt didn’t react, his face carefully neutral.

Foggy’s expression shifted, irritation laced with something quieter. Hurt. “Really, Matt? Again?”

Spencer could see it—the tightness in Matt’s jaw, the guilt in his posture. This wasn’t like the last time Matt had kept something from him, but it was the first time Foggy had noticed straight away.

Before Matt could formulate an answer, Spencer sighed and stepped in. “It’s not Matt’s decision whether you get to know.”

Foggy turned to him, eyebrows furrowed. “Then whose decision is it?”

Spencer met his gaze evenly. “Z’s.”

Foggy’s frustration wavered. “And where is this mysterious Z?”

Spencer didn’t respond.

The silence stretched between them until Matt, quiet and resigned, finally said, “We’ll make sure you meet them… when we find out if they’re alive.”

Foggy stilled. The irritation drained from his face as realization settled in, slow and heavy.

“Oh,” he said quietly.

Spencer looked down at his coffee cup in his hands.

Matt pressed his lips together, expression unreadable.

Foggy let out a slow breath. “I… sorry.”

Matt gave a small nod, and Spencer forced a tight smile. “Yeah,” he said, voice quiet. “Me too.”

The moment lingered, heavy but not unkind, before Foggy cleared his throat and clapped his hands together, forcing some lightness back into the room. “Alright, well. That was sufficiently depressing. Someone pass me another coffee before I start crying in your living room Matt.”

Matt huffed a quiet laugh.

Spencer nodded and got up to grab the coffee pot.

They moved on after that, the day slipping back into easy conversation. But the weight of what had been said remained, lingering beneath the surface, a quiet reminder of the missing piece none of them could bring themselves to talk about for too long.

Z.

And whether or not they would ever get her back.

*

The second day of his NYC stay was reserved for Fury.

S.H.I.E.L.D.’s New York headquarters was as imposing as ever.

Spencer had been here before, but every time he walked through the towering glass doors, he felt that same quiet sense of displacement. He was an agent, sure, but wasn’t part of this world—not the way Z was. He was not an agent on this level. But it didn’t matter. He would keep coming back for as long as it took.

Security was tight, but they knew him, he’d come around with Z enough times before for security guards to reckognise him. And Z was high enough in the organisation and dangerous enough for them not to question her bringing him with her. Before he could even step forward to check in, a familiar voice called out.

“Dr. Reid.”

Spencer turned to see Coulson approaching, his usual calm demeanor in place, though his expression was lined with something softer—concern, maybe.

“Coulson,” Spencer greeted, adjusting the strap of his satchel.

Coulson offered a small smile as they fell into step. “It’s been a while.”

Spencer huffed a quiet breath. “Not long enough.” Coulson knows that he doesn’t mean it in a mean way. He knows how tired Spencer is.

Coulson gave him a sidelong glance but didn’t argue. Instead, he asked, “How are you holding up?”

It wasn’t just a question out of politeness. Coulson had been Z’s contact for years, the one who kept an eye on her when she worked with them. He had known her before she became who she was now. He was the one who even invited her in. And, by extension, he had known Spencer—had seen him over the years Z and him were growing up and later when Z was working closely with Coulson..

“I’m as okay as I can be,” Spencer said, and it was the closest thing to the truth he could manage.

Coulson nodded, as if he’d expected that answer. “And Draco?”

Spencer hesitated only briefly before replying, “He moved in with me.”

Coulson raised an eyebrow but didn’t look surprised. 

“We’re both just… alone. It made sense.”

Coulson didn’t comment right away, just pressed the elevator button and waited. The doors slid open, and they stepped inside.

“I worry about you, kid,” Coulson finally admitted, voice quieter now.

Spencer turned to him, surprised. Coulson had always been level-headed, a master at keeping his emotions tucked neatly away. But there was no deflection in his tone—just honesty.

Spencer swallowed. “There’s nothing to say. The situation is what it is.”

Coulson nodded again, though he didn’t seem particularly happy about it.

The elevator dinged. They stepped out into the hallway leading to Fury’s office.

Coulson stopped just outside the door and gave Spencer a measured look. “Good luck.”

Spencer huffed a small, humorless laugh. “Yeah. He’s going to need it.”

Coulson knocked once before pushing the door open.

“Sir.”

Fury was behind his desk, reading something on his screen. He barely looked up. “Let him in.”

Coulson gave Spencer a small nod before stepping away. Spencer squared his shoulders and walked inside.

The office was sparse, as always—functional, no wasted space. Fury finally turned his full attention to him, one eye sharp, scrutinizing.

“Dr. Reid,” he greeted.

“Director,” Spencer returned, his voice even.

Fury leaned back in his chair. “I assume you’re not here for pleasantries.”

Spencer didn’t waste time. “What are you doing to find them?”

Fury exhaled slowly, tapping his fingers against the desk before answering. “Everything I can.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Fury’s eye narrowed slightly. “You think I’d sit on my ass while one of my best agents and one of MI6’ are missing in a war zone?”

“No,” Spencer admitted. “But I also think you’re not telling me everything. Which you are supposed to do as it says on the paperwork both Z and I signed.”

Fury studied him, saying nothing.

Spencer pressed on. “You have the most advanced intelligence network in the world. You have resources no one else does. And yet you still don’t know anything ?”

Fury’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t as simple as pulling up a file, kid. Agents 66 and Agent Potter aren’t just missing—they vanished. No traces. No breadcrumbs.”

Spencer’s patience, already stretched thin, snapped. “You’re acting like I don’t know how this works. Like I don’t understand how S.H.I.E.L.D. operates. But I do, and I know you know this. You’re just not acknowledging it. And don’t pretend they are just another two agents under you. We both know that Z is more.”

Fury’s silence was answer enough.

Spencer took a step closer, voice lower now, but no less sharp. “You trust Z to handle impossible missions. You send her into hell and expect her to come back all. The. Time. And now that she’s the one who needs help, you’re keeping me in the dark?”

Fury’s expression remained unreadable.

Spencer let out a sharp breath, shaking his head, voice shaking with emotion. “You’re being unfair.”

Something in the air shifted.

Fury’s fingers stilled against the desk. His eye flickered—not in anger, but in realization.

Unfair.

It wasn’t often someone said that to him.

It wasn’t often someone could .

But Spencer wasn’t wrong.

Fury had underestimated the kid—again. Had treated him like an outsider, when the reality was, Spencer had been part of Z’s life for longer than S.H.I.E.L.D. had. Z had probably told him shit nobody except her was supposed to know. And if the situation were reversed, if Spencer was the one missing, Z wouldn’t hesitate. She would burn the world down to bring him home.

Fury exhaled sharply, leaning forward. “You think I’m not doing enough?”

“I know you’re not doing enough,” Spencer corrected. “Because if you were, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Fury was quiet for a long moment. Then, finally, he nodded. “Alright.”

Spencer blinked. “Alright?”

“You want the truth?” Fury said, tone lighter, but still serious. “Fine. Sit down.”

Spencer hesitated, then pulled out the chair across from him.

Fury leaned forward, lacing his fingers together. “Here’s what we do know—”

And just like that, Spencer finally got a step closer to some answers.

*

Spencer’s footsteps echoed softly through the sleek corridors of S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ as he made his way toward the exit. His conversation with Fury was still replaying in his head—his frustration, the lack of answers, the weight of nothingness .

He was so lost in thought that he almost didn’t notice someone falling into step beside him.

Almost.

He turned his head and saw Coulson walking with him, hands in his pockets, looking as composed as ever.

Spencer frowned. “Are you following me?”

“Nope.”

Spencer narrowed his eyes. “Then why are you here ? Don’t you have work to do?”

Coulson didn’t even look at him. “Because I was instructed to bring you with me once you were done with Fury.”

Spencer slowed, scrutinizing him. “By who?”

Coulson remained silent, just kept walking toward the exit.

Spencer sighed. “That’s not ominous.”

Coulson just smiled—that infuriatingly unreadable Coulson-smile.

-

The cab ride was short, and Spencer spent most of it staring out the window, trying to figure out where they were going. When they finally pulled up in front of a quiet apartment building, he shot Coulson a side glance.

“This doesn’t look like another S.H.I.E.L.D. facility.”

Coulson, already getting out of the car, simply said, “That’s because it’s not.”

Spencer followed him inside, still confused, as Coulson led the way up a few flights of stairs and stopped in front of an apartment door.

As Coulson pulled out a key, Spencer leaned against the doorframe and smirked. “Coulson,” he said, voice smooth and teasing, “are you bringing me home ?”

There was a loud clatter from inside the apartment, followed by a yelp.

“What the… Phil?!”

Before Spencer could react, there was a flurry of motion, and then Clint came barreling out of the kitchen, pointing dramatically at Coulson with a spoon like he’d just caught him in the act of seduction.

“That was not what I was thinking about when I told you to bring Spencer home with you!”

Spencer blinked. Then, ever so slowly, a smirk spread across his face. “So you were thinking about it?”

Clint grinned . “Doc, I think about a lot of things.”

Coulson sighed heavily, as if he were reconsidering every life choice that led him to this moment.

Spencer, enjoying this far too much, turned his teasing attention back to Coulson. “So, Phil, was this your grand plan? Sweep me off my feet, take me home, and then introduce me to your boy toy play with me?”

Coulson didn’t even flinch. “Wouldn’t be the worst idea.”

Spencer let out a low whistle. “ Well, well, well. ”

Clint, still pointing at Coulson, gasped in mock betrayal. “Phil, are you cheating on me already ?”

Coulson, deadpan as ever, said, “We just established that you were the one thinking about Spencer first.”

Clint gasped again, clutching his chest dramatically. “Wow. Wow. Throwing my own words back at me? That’s cold , Phil.”

Spencer chuckled, crossing his arms. “You know, if this is a lovers’ quarrel, I can leave and let you two work it out.”

Clint recovered immediately, waggling his eyebrows. “Or we could work it out together .”

Spencer teased back in no time. “ Is that an offer? ”

Coulson sighed again, rubbing his temples. “ Why do I put up with both of you?”

Clint beamed. “Because you love us.” Me. Clint definitely meant ‘me’ and not ‘us’.

Coulson didn’t deny it.

Spencer, catching the way he didn’t deny it, narrowed his eyes slightly. He glanced between them, gears turning, before realization dawned .

“Oh my God,” he said, pointing between them. “ Finally .”

Clint blinked. “What?”

Spencer gestured wildly. “You two! When did that happen? And you guys are living together. Oh my god!”

Clint and Coulson exchanged a glance.

Then, in perfect unison, they both said, “Z.”

Spencer let out an incredulous laugh. “Of course it was Z.”

Clint groaned, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah, she cornered us both, pushed us into a broom closet in HQ and basically forced us to deal with our unresolved shit .”

Coulson, unbothered, added, “She was very persuasive.”

Spencer grinned. “She always is.”

They all laughed, but underneath it, there was something heavier. The kind of weight that never truly left—not when something, someone , was missing.

Spencer exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright,” he said, “so what am I actually doing here?”

Clint smirked. “Dinner.” Then he held up his phone. “And to tell us what you got out of Fury, since someone texted me saying the whole HQ could probably hear you yelling.”

Spencer groaned, covering his face. “Oh, my God.”

Coulson, ever the professional, patted his shoulder. “It was very passionate yelling.”

Clint grinned. “Which means it was very loud yelling.”

Spencer scowled. “You two are the worst .”

Coulson, unfazed, nudged him toward the dining table. “Sit.”

Spencer muttered something about ungrateful spies but let himself be herded toward the table while Clint grabbed the food.

As they settled in, Clint leaned forward, elbow on the table. “Alright, genius. Spill.”

Spencer rubbed his temples. “There’s not much to spill.”

Clint raised an eyebrow. “Define ‘not much.’”

Spencer sighed. “Fury doesn’t know where Z and Harry are. No leads, no trail. It’s like they just… vanished .”

Silence.

Clint’s smirk faded, his expression hardening. Coulson, ever composed, looked displeased in a way only someone who had mastered the art of emotional control could.

Coulson looked down at his plate. “That’s it.”

Clint exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Damn it.”

Spencer nodded. “Yeah.”

No one spoke for a moment.

Then Clint sighed again and picked up his fork. “I hoped he had something and was just not telling us.”

Spencer let out a breath, a small, tired smile forming. “No, I guess we’re not that lucky. You know that things with Z never go easy.”

And so, they ate.

For now, that was all they could do.

*

The rhythmic hum of the train filled the quiet space around Spencer, the gentle sway of movement lulling most of the passengers into their own thoughts—or in some cases, a light sleep. He wasn’t tired, not really. Exhaustion had settled so deeply in his bones over the past few months that it had become a permanent part of him.

Still, he stared out the window, watching the blurred landscape rush by. The city lights had faded behind him, replaced by open fields and clusters of buildings that all felt too far away to reach.

His mind kept circling back to New York. To Matt and Foggy. To Clint and Coulson. To Fury.

To Z.

No answers. No leads. Just an aching absence that no amount of strategy or intellect could fix.

Spencer sighed, rubbing his temples.

He needed a distraction.

And maybe… a reminder that not everything was lost.

-

Hotch’s neighborhood was quiet, the kind of suburban calm that felt entirely separate from the darkness the BAU encountered on a daily basis. It was one of the few places Spencer could go where things felt normal .

When Hotch opened the door, he wasn’t surprised to see Spencer standing there, hands in his pockets, looking exhausted.

“Reid,” he greeted, stepping aside to let him in. “That was not a long trip.”

Spencer shrugged, toeing off his shoes. “More than enough.”

Hotch gave him a knowing look but didn’t press. Instead, he led him through the house until they reached the living room, where Jack was playing with his toys, completely immersed in his own little world.

The sight of him—small, innocent, untouched by everything they had to deal with—made something in Spencer’s chest tighten.

Jack looked up, eyes lighting up instantly, running and hugging Spencer’s legs. “Uncle Spenc!”

Spencer froze.

For a second, he didn’t know what to do. His throat closed up, and he had to blink rapidly to stop himself from embarrassing both of them.

Hotch noticed. He always noticed.

But he didn’t say anything.

Instead, he sat down on the couch and gestured for Spencer to do the same when Jack released him.

Spencer did, still trying to swallow past the lump in his throat.

Jack, oblivious to the emotional impact of his words, went right back to his toys.

Hotch leaned back slightly, watching him for a moment before turning to Spencer. “So,” he said, voice quiet, “what did you find out?”

Spencer exhaled. He had been expecting the question— of course Hotch would ask. He had known Spencer was meeting with Z’s people in New York. He had known about Fury.

Spencer gave him the same answer he had given Clint and Coulson.

“There’s nothing,” he admitted. “No trail, no signs. It’s like they just… vanished .”

Hotch nodded, absorbing that information the way he always did. Calculating. Measuring the weight of it.

“I’m sorry,” Hotch added after a beat.

Spencer’s gaze flickered to him. “It’s not your fault.”

Hotch let out a humorless chuckle. “Doesn’t make it any less frustrating that it’s happening.”

“No,” Spencer agreed, “it doesn’t.”

For a while, they just sat there, the quiet filled only by the sounds of Jack babbling to himself about something very important in his game.

Then, Hotch—because he always saw more than people realized—asked, “Does JJ know you’re back?”

Spencer tensed slightly.

Which, of course, Hotch also noticed.

Spencer sighed. “I assume she does. Garcia probably told her the second I got on the train since she got me the ticket.”

Hotch smirked slightly, but it faded quickly as he studied him. “You know she has feelings for you.”

Spencer pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s obvious , Hotch.”

Hotch nodded. “And you don’t feel the same way.”

“No,” Spencer admitted.

Hotch tilted his head. “You going to tell her that?”

Spencer exhaled slowly. “She hasn’t said anything. So technically, I haven’t had to.”

Hotch gave him a look.

Spencer groaned, sinking back into the couch. “I know .”

“I won’t tell you what to do,” Hotch said simply. “But eventually, she’s going to say it outright. And when that happens, it’s better if she isn’t blindsided.”

Spencer rubbed his temples. “Great. Another thing to look forward to.”

Hotch chuckled under his breath before glancing back at Jack, who was now talking  animatedly to his action figures and showing them to Spencer.

Spencer followed his gaze, his expression softening, nodding at Jack and his game.

“You’re good with him,” Hotch noted.

Spencer blinked. “I don’t… do anything.”

“You do more than his mother does. Did you know she leaves him with her sister when he’s on her time..”

Spencer had no response to that.

And maybe he didn’t need one.

After a few more minutes of quiet, he finally stretched and stood. “I should go. Draco’s probably wondering where I am.”

Hotch nodded, standing as well. “He seems like a good person.”

Spencer smiled faintly. “He is.”

Hotch walked him to the door, pausing before opening it. “Reid.”

Spencer looked up.

Hotch’s voice was steady, reassuring. “They’ll come back.”

Spencer swallowed past the lump in his throat again. “I hope so.”

Hotch gave him a small nod. “Get some rest.”

Spencer nodded back before stepping outside.

The world felt a little heavier on his shoulders, but at least for now, he wasn’t carrying it alone.

And for tonight, that would have to be enough.

Now he had to get home and show Draco that he also hasn’t vanished while in New York.

[eyneyke]

(17) A Real Rain

Part 8 of Revelations: Unveiling the Veiled (RUV for short) Summary: The team is in New York. Since the Unsub is a vigilante, Spencer is concerned that one of his vigilante friends hasn't lost their brownies. He meets an old acquaintance and JJ makes more advances towards Reid.

Hotch is going over the last victim, cabbie Walter Derbin. “He was blindfolded and shot once in the chest. Death was caused by a knife stabbed through his ear. The UnSub broke off the handle with the blade lodged in his brain.”

JJ says that he’s the third victim. “It's the same signature as two other murders. Rachel Holman, 24, found in her apartment three weeks ago on the Lower East Side. And Kaveh Surrani, 30. Police found him two weeks later inside his painting studio in Hell's Kitchen.”

Hell’s Kitchen? How the hell did Matt miss this?

The team continues discussing the case around him.

“Different locations, different victimology. It's possible we're looking for someone who will hunt indiscriminately.” Hotch hands Reid the picture. Spencer knows he should probably say something now but something is just not feeling right about this case.

“NYPD have any leads?” Well, Elle, if they did, why would they call us then?

“Guy's a ghost.” Everybody can be a ghost in New York City. Like it’s hard. Honestly, Hotch..

“He kills at night. There's no witnesses.”

“Is the NYPD feeling the strain?”

“Well, they've withheld details so the press hasn't sniffed out a link between the murders.”

“With no discernible victim patterns, a killer's practically impossible to stop.” Now that even Derek said something it’s going to be weird if I keep quiet. Damn it, I’ve got nothing. Say something, say something…

“Did you know the original Zodiac Killer actually continually changed his victims? Young, old, men, women, white, black.” How the hell is that helpful? What am I even talking about?

“Exactly. And he killed for 30 years without ever being caught.” Okay, nevermind. What a beautiful save, thank you Gideon. This did not help because now everybody’s looking at each other even more concerned than before. Shit.

Let’s hope that I’ll manage to disappear for a coffee break or something while we’re there. And that Fury won’t know. I just can’t deal with him right now.

*

“This is not how I planned to spend a few days home in New York,” she muttered.

JJ sighed wistfully. “I’d kill for an afternoon at Barneys and dinner at Il Cantinori.”

Reid, walking slightly behind them, glanced around. The towering skyline was nothing new to him, yet there was an odd sense of detachment as he took it in. “I’ve been to New York before,” he said absently, “but I’ve never really seen New York.”

Morgan turned to him with a skeptical look. “Wait—you’ve been here, but you’ve never done the tourist thing?”

Reid shook his head. “Not really. I usually just visit a friend or something and my schedule is full.”

Morgan let out a short laugh. “So, what—you just fly in and hole up somewhere?”

Reid gave a small shrug. “Pretty much.”

Morgan shot him a look like he couldn’t quite believe it, but before he could press further, Hotch spoke up. “I thought you were going to talk to Reid about taking some vacation time,” he said to Hotch.

Gideon, as expected, barely reacted. “What’s vacation time?” he said dryly.

Morgan huffed, shaking his head in amusement before refocusing on Reid. “You do realize it’s a one-hour flight, right?”

JJ, sensing an opportunity, nudged Reid’s arm. “Well, if we have some time, I’ll show you around properly.” Yeah, ‘cause that’s just what I need now. 

Morgan wasn’t done with his interrogation. “It’s a three-hour train ride, man. You could’ve at least walked through Times Square once.”

Reid’s lips twitched, his voice dry. “I don’t think my friend would’ve appreciated me going off alone to explore tourist traps when I’m here visiting.”

Morgan narrowed his eyes playfully. “This mystery friend of yours keeps you so busy that you had no time to walk down the street sometimes?”

Reid smirked, a hint of mischief flickering across his face. “You’d be surprised.”

Morgan chuckled but let it go—for now.

At the front of the group, Hotch remained quiet, listening. He didn’t add anything, didn’t comment. He didn’t need to. Because unlike the others, he already knew exactly who Reid’s friend was.

Gideon is giving out the profile.

*

“Because he chooses the imagery of Lady Justice, it's possible we're dealing with someone who works in or around the criminal justice system. Lawyer, paralegal, bailiff, even a judge. We'll crosscheck unsolved murders against suspects in assault cases and victims who work in the system. Whatever the UnSub's job, he's someone who's a cog in the machine. He's overworked, undervalued. He's used to not being noticed. His sense of theatrics is a way to enhance his own self-esteem.”

Well shit. I really should call Mat. Or Foggy, just to be safe that it’s not Matt that has snapped. And to check if this is Pool… Naah, it’s way too clean to be Pool. But I should check on Matt though.

*

The team sat crowded around a small table in a bustling New York restaurant, the comforting scent of soy sauce and spices filling the air. Various containers of takeout were scattered between them, their work never truly put aside, even over dinner.

Hotch leaned slightly forward, his expression as unreadable as ever. “So, you know there was a big hole in the profile you presented back there.”

Across from him, Gideon didn’t even blink. He reached for a container, opening it with practiced ease. “Can you pass the moo shu, please?”

JJ, perched next to Reid, frowned. “What’s the hole?”

Gideon finally met her gaze, his voice even. “I left out the possibility that our unsub might be a cop.”

Morgan let out a low hum. “Well, they do know the system. Overworked, underpaid… Makes sense.”

Hotch nodded. “They see so much injustice every day, it wouldn’t be hard to imagine one of them deciding to take matters into their own hands.”

Reid, who had been struggling valiantly with his chopsticks, finally spoke up, though his focus remained on the food that kept slipping from his grasp. “When someone like our victim is killed, police sometimes refer to it as a public service murder.”

Elle exhaled sharply, setting down her container. “You know how many rapists I saw walk during my Sex Crimes days? Either the victims didn’t want to press charges, or the jury decided she was asking for it.” Her fingers clenched slightly. “It was enough to make you explode.”

JJ pursed her lips. “It’s a long way from feeling like that and actually committing murder, though. Don’t you think?”

Hotch didn’t hesitate. “Oh, not really.”

Reid, still struggling, lifted a hand to wave down a passing waitress. “Excuse me, could I get a fork, perhaps?”

Morgan barked out a laugh. “Man, you don’t know how to use chopsticks, do you?”

Reid shot him a flat look. “Did you know that experts credit Confucius with the advent of chopsticks? He equated knives with acts of aggression.”

Morgan shook his head, grinning. “That doesn’t explain why you can’t use them.”

Reid huffed. “It’s like trying to forage for dinner with a pair of number two pencils.”

JJ, smirking, grabbed another pair of chopsticks and a rubber band. “Okay, here—let me help you.” She quickly assembled a makeshift training set, handing it to him.

Morgan grinned as he watched. “Oh, the rubber band trick.”

JJ nodded. “Yeah, the rubber band trick.”

As the team ate, Morgan leaned back in his chair. “New York City cops do have a lot of pressure on them. Every move they make gets scrutinized.”

Gideon nodded, picking up where Morgan left off. “One of the first cases of criminal profiling actually happened here, when a New York cop asked a criminal psychiatrist friend for help with the Mad Bomber case.”

Reid perked up slightly. “The Mad Bomber was a major inspiration for the Unabomber. He eluded the NYPD for sixteen years, starting in 1940. But he kept his promise—never set off a single bomb during the Second World War.”

Gideon continued, his voice smooth and matter-of-fact. “Psychiatrist James Brussels developed a profile so accurate that he predicted when they caught the Bomber, he’d be wearing a double-breasted suit—and that it would be buttoned.”

Reid exhaled, shaking his head. “We’re in New York, and even when we’re not talking about our case, we end up talking about another profiler.”

Hotch let out a rare, almost amused breath. “You’re right.”

The moment of levity was short-lived, though, because Elle—who had been watching Reid with a knowing look—suddenly smirked. “So, Spencer,” she said, far too casually. “Are you seeing anyone?”

Reid’s chopsticks nearly slipped from his hand as his head snapped up. His wide eyes darted between the faces around the table, all of whom were now watching him with varying degrees of amusement.

JJ smothered a laugh behind her hand. Morgan just grinned.

Reid, horrified, turned to Hotch, silently pleading for an out.

Hotch, to his credit, did take mercy on him. Though his voice remained calm, he smoothly steered the conversation back. “Gideon, why didn’t you tell the cops that it might be one of their own?”

Gideon, unfazed by the shift, took another bite of food before responding. “If we’re gonna catch this guy, we need all the help we can get. The last thing I want to do is accuse one of them of murder.”

Reid let out a breath, relieved, while Elle and JJ exchanged glances, their curiosity far from satisfied.

The conversation carried on, but Reid had a sinking feeling he hadn’t heard the last of that question.

*

Of course. Of. Fucking. Course. I had to bump into Clint on the way out of the restaurant. Thank god that I was the last of the team getting out so none of them saw me get pulled to the side alley by a weird blonde shorty wearing all black. 

“What are you doing in New York? I thought you worked in Quantico.”

“We have a case here. The vigilante homicides.” Spencer looks around at the team standing nearby having a discussion. Thank god that I was already quiet this case so they hopefully won’t notice that I’m gone soon. Clint still has a hold of my forearm. “Clint I don’t have much time before my team sees that I’m not with them.”

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock. The tall, brody one is already looking at me like I’m about to kill you.” Clint is now eyeing the group that is formed by the team near the parking lot. Hotch is looking over their heads subtly at Spencer and an unknown man that has all but kidnapped one of his team members. As Hotch nodds at Clint still having a hold of Spencer’s hand, Spencer tries to nodd back that he is alright. 

“That’s some mad nonverbal you two have going on.”

“Clint, what do you want? I don’t have time for your games right now.” I am becoming slightly pissed off and this idiot is not helping. 

“Chill bro, sorry.” Clint lets go of Spencer’s arm. “Have you heard anything from Z?” What?

“No I haven’t. I hoped you heard something when you jumped me on the street. Please tell me that Fury doesn’t know that I’m in New York.” For fucks sake I’m almost whineing at him.  

“I don’t think he knows. He’s been focusing on trying to find Z and the other guy from MI6. He is not telling me anything because I am ‘not family or emergency contact’ so when I saw you right now I hoped you might have heard something?” Clint sounds desperate and Spencer feels a bit guilty. He knows that Z was fairly close with him as he was Z’s first S.H.E.I.L.D. partner. And one of the only ones Z didn’t want to kill because of their ‘incompetence’ before the mission even started. 

“Sorry man but I don’t know anything. Just that if Z and or her brother show up or give anyone any sign of life in the next month, they’ll both be pronounced KIA and that’ll be it.”

“Shit. Shit Z’s brother?! Shit.” Now I feel extra bad.

“Look Clint, I have to go now, this has taken way too long and Hotch won’t be able to stall for me much longer. I’ll try to see if Fury has something and we’ll talk then. Find me when we close this case, I’ll stay in New York for a few days longer anyways.” Clint just nodds and leaves and Spencer goes and quietly joins the rest of the team that was just finishing the fierce discussion about a name of some dish they just tried. Hotch gave Spencer a look that he knew meant that they will be talking about Spencer being jumped by a weird blonde guy in front of their restaurant.

I need to call Fury.

*

Called Matt. Didn’t pick up. Called Foggy. Foggy told me that Matt has been bed-ridden since last week after a bad night. So it’s not Matt. Good. Asked if he or Matt heard from Pool. Foggy got confused but thank God for Matt’s hearing since he shouted that Peter said that he and Wade were hanging out when the last murder happened, so while that’s good, I am greatly concerned for Peter. Foggy got me to promise that I’ll visit as soon as I can and then we ended the call. Of course, because of course, not before Matt managed to ask about Z. I hung up before he could ask again.

I still need to call Fury.

*

The case if done. The Unsub was shot. The last victim will be okay. The team is moving around in front of the building where everything went off. Hotch is standing alone by one of the police cars.

Reid was pacing, rolling his shoulders, trying to shake off the tension that had been building all day. He pulled out his phone as soon as it began to ring and the unlisted number told him everything about the caller. 

When the line picked up, his grip on the phone tightened, emotion clear in his voice. “Tell me something good.”

The voice on the other end, Fury, but the two of them didn’t know that, must have given him bad news, because Reid’s jaw clenched. “What? That’s it? That’s not good enough.”

At that moment, JJ and Elle stepped outside, laughing about something, but the moment they heard Reid, they slowed to a stop. 

“I don’t care about your excuses,” Reid snapped, running a hand through his hair. “You said you’d call me, then you went silent for 2 weeks, and now you’re just telling me to wait ? I think I waited enough.”

JJ’s eyes widened. “Oh my God,” she whispered.

Elle frowned, concerned. “Didn’t take him for the dramatic argument type.”

Reid pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing harshly. “No, I don’t need to talk to someone, I need you to actually do what you promised instead of just—ugh.”

JJ mouthed backup? to Elle, who barely stifled a laugh.

“No, I don’t want to do this right now,” Reid continued, his voice lower but still sharp. “You always do this. You disappear, you don’t tell me anything, and then you tell me to what? Just sit and act like I’m fine with it?”

JJ covered her mouth, eyes practically sparkling with scandal, clearly enjoying this.

Elle, concerned for her friend, leaned closer. “Oh, he’s mad mad.”

Reid exhaled through his nose, turning slightly away. “I don’t care if it’s hard or complicated. I just need to know if you’re actually going to fix this, or if I’m wasting my time—” He cut himself off, gritting his teeth as he listened to the response. Then, finally, he muttered, “Fine. Whatever. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And hung up.

A beat of silence.

JJ and Elle exchanged a look.

“Oh my God,” JJ whispered again.

Reid turned around and headed towards where Hotch was standing. His brows furrowed. “What?”

JJ fought a smirk. “Rough night?”

Reid blinked. “Excuse me?”

JJ gestured vaguely at his phone. “I mean, we get it. Relationships can be complicated. Although they don’t have to be if it’s the right person.” Seriously, what…? Even if I was dating someone, which she obviously thinks, it’s so disgusting to still flirt and try to get in my pants while thinking so. Eugh…

Reid opened his mouth, then closed it, utterly lost. “I—what—?”

Elle patted his shoulder. “It’s okay, Reid. Just ignore it.”

Spencer approaches Hotch, finally. They stand in silence for a while. Then Spencer breaks the silence. “Would it be okay if I stayed behind in New York for a few days?”

Hotch finally looks at him. “Of course. Finally taking some of the off days you meticulously keep collecting?” They both huff a laugh, “Who was that guy that grabbed you in front of the restaurant last night?”

“One of Z’s acquaintances. Friends? Colleagues? He wanted to see if I knew anything because he can’t get anything out of their boss since he’s not Z’s family or ECs.”

Hotch nodds and doesn’t say anything to that. If Reid wanted to talk about it he would. “We’ll talk when you get back?”

Reid just nodded as the rest of the team came to join them. Morgan is first to speak up, “What’s going on?”

Hotch looks at Reid and then turns to the team, “Reid is not flying back with us. He’s finally going to use some of his vacation days.” 

Gideon smiles and nods before getting into the car. Morgan pats my back and smiles at me before joining Gideon in the car. Elle tells him to call if he gets lost which makes everyone laugh and then Hotch sees her give a look to JJ. JJ who looks positively gleeful. Like a kid on a Christmas morning. “I have a few vacation days too, Hotch. I can stay and show you around Spence, what do you say? Just you and me and New York.” Her intentions clear and out there. Hotch turns from her to me and raises his eyebrows at me.

“Uh, sorry JJ but I was invited by a few friends here to stay with them and hang out. So maybe next time?” Spencer answers sounding only half sorry. Thankfully, Elle sees my uncomfortable expression and saves me by leading JJ in the car and distracting her with some crazy story. Hotch and Spencer say goodbye and Spencer leaves in the direction of the closest tube station. 

[eyneyke]

(10) The Popular Kids

Part 7 of Revelations: Unveiling the Veiled (RUV for short) Summary: Reid opens up to Morgan about his nightmares and Morgan breaches that trust.

Morgan is teasing Reid.

And it’s not like Reid is not used to it. He is. He really is. 

Or he was.

Until he started having these stupid, stupid nightmares and he started sleeping less and less. Now every little thing gets to him. It was bad not knowing where Z was and if they were okay since they disappeared somewhere in a war zone territory. And that's fiine. Not the first time and probably not the last one. Unfortunately for his good ol’ little worrying heart. But they did disappear in the territory that has turned into a war zone since the date of their disappearance. And it’s not like he doesn’t know that there was always a possibility that Z will once go on a job and not come back. He was prepared. Ready for that. Z and Reid talked about that many times. 

What he didn’t prepare for though, were nightmares. 

And he is not talking about the same old nightmares you had sometimes or like that. 

No, of course they weren’t.

And Dray has been living with him for a week now and Reid knows his days are numbered just by the looks he gets whenever Dray finds him in the living room surrounded by the books, wide awake.

… at four in the morning.

… or five-thirty.

… or, on that one chance, at 2 in the morning.

So when Morgan catches him in the breakroom one day putting so much sugar in his coffee that could make you a diabetic just by smelling it, he, obviously, and rightfully, is concerned.

MORGAN: Easy there, tough guy. Have some coffee with your sugar.

REID: I need something to wake me up.

MORGAN: Late night?

REID: Very.

MORGAN (smirks and is proudly shocked): My man.

REID: Not that kind of late night.

MORGAN: Okay, so tell me, what does keep young Dr Reid awake at night? Wait, let me guess. Memorising some obscure textbook? No, no, no. Working on cold fusion. No, I got it, I got, I got it. Watching Star Trek and laughing at the physics mistakes.

REID: Actually, there aren't that many scientific errors in Star Trek. Especially considering

how long ago it was made. There are certain improbabilities, but not that many outright errors.

MORGAN: Right…

REID: Hey, Morgan? Do you ever have dreams?

MORGAN: I'm sorry?

REID: I guess nightmares would be a more accurate description.

MORGAN: Is that what's keeping you up?

REID: Yeah… 

MORGAN: What are they about?

REID: Stuff… Just, things that happened recently but my brain makes them the worst possible scenarios. Do you have nightmares?

MORGAN (hesitantly): Reid, I'm not sure if I'm the right person for you to talk to about this.

REID: Why not?

MORGAN: It's just, uh… Did you ask Gideon about it?

REID: No…?

MORGAN: You should.

ELLE (shows up just then and just to quickly grab Spencer and Morgan for the newest case): Hey. Hotch wants everyone in the Round Table room.

ELLE (looks at Reid’s vulnerable and hurt expression and at Morgan’s closed-off one): Something up with you two?

MORGAN (turns to leave): No.

Reid is left standing awkwardly in the break room with Elle, coffee in hand and not knowing what to say. There goes his wishful thinking about having a best friend on the team. He really hoped that Morgan would like to be his friend and they have been getting closer the past few weeks but apparently not if the hardened refusal to help or talk to Spencer about what’s bothering him is anything to go by. And now he told Morgan about his nightmares and Morgan probably sees him even weaker than before, Elle is looking at him weirdly and he is just standing there looking like someone pissed in his coffee. He sighs and motions with his coffee towards the door and he and Elle leave for the meeting room.

Great. Just great. He wishes Z comes back soon. He doesn’t know if he can continue running on fumes of coffee and Dray’s hopes anymore.

*

When the whole team meets at the Sheriff’s department after Elle finds the message, Reid finds out that Morgan is a snitch. 

He is re-reading his notes with Hotch when he jawns. He is tired, yes, but in his defense he also usually takes a power nap during the plane ride over before they start working the case but since this time it was just a half an hour flight, they barely had time to review the case let alone for him to have his nap.

HOTCH: Tired?

REID: I'm fine.

HOTCH: We all get them sometimes.

REID (playing stupid but still having hope that Morgan didn’t snitch): Get what?

HOTCH: Nightmares.

(Reid eyes Morgan on the other side of the room talking with Garcia on the phone.)

REID: It's not that bad.

HOTCH: If you want to talk about it, you know where I am.

REID: You know I do, I just… 

JJ (comes in from the other room, eyes Reid talkin to Hotch and interrupts them): They're ready.

HOTCH: Okay.

REID: I’ll talk to you later.

They give out the profile.

*

Back at the old Jensen house, Reid and Morgan are keeping watch. After a cop agrees to bring Reid some coffee and Morgan makes an unnecessary comment, Reid decides to confront him about snitching to Hotch about nightmares.  

“Morgan. You knew I didn’t want you to tell Hotch about my nightmares.”

Morgan exhaled, turning to face him. “Reid, that’s something they need to know about.”

Reid’s brows furrowed. “‘They?” he echoed, suspicion creeping into his voice.

Morgan hesitated for half a second, then admitted like it was not Reid’s end of the world, “Hotch and Gideon.”

Reid’s stomach dropped. “You told Gideon, too?”

“Yeah.” Morgan held his ground, his expression steady, hands out like Reid was some sort of a scared animal. “And it’s okay, kid.”

And that just pissed Reid off more. His fingers clenched into fists at his sides. “What if they think I can’t do my job?” His voice rose slightly, a rare edge of panic in it. “What if they want to pull me off the team?” This team is all he has now that he has no idea where Z is.

“They won’t,” Morgan said firmly.

Reid scoffed. “Oh, yeah? How do you know that?”

Morgan sighed. Reid knows that Morgan didn’t see how this could be a problem for him. He  just knew that Morgan didn’t understand.

“I just do.”

Reid let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You had no right, man. I confided in you.” His voice was raw, hurt. “You know, this is exactly what I get when I trust someone. It gets thrown back in my face.” Happened enough times in my life to not be surprised by it happening again.

Morgan closed his eyes briefly. Oh, so now he feels guilty.

“Mine started six months after I got into the BAU,” he said, his voice quieter now, the weight of old memories pressing down on him.

Reid frowned. “What?”

Morgan didn’t look at him. Instead, he leaned against the car, staring past Reid, lost look in his eyes.

“We were working a strangler case in Montana. Four victims.” He let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “I was still pretty young at the time. I was feeling myself—cocky, arrogant.”

Reid remained silent, listening. Still angry but wanting to hear where the story was going.

“The locals didn’t have anything,” Morgan continued, his voice distant. “So I stepped up. Told them, ‘I can nail down a profile for you just as soon as I get what I need.’”

Reid’s stomach twisted. “More victims.”

Morgan nodded. “Yeah.” His jaw tightened. “She was found the next day.”

There was a heavy pause before he continued.

“So I went down to the scene to do my thing. And as I was looking over the body… that’s when I saw them.” His expression darkened. “Her eyes, Reid.”

“They were wide open,” Morgan said, voice barely above a whisper. “And there was something different about them. Like… like they were looking right at me. Like she knew.”

Morgan exhaled slowly. “I asked for a victim,” he said bitterly. “Well, there she was.”

A silence settled between them, heavy and suffocating.

Morgan rubbed a hand over his face. “That’s when they started for me,” he admitted. “Night after night, I’d fall asleep and I’d see those eyes. Dead eyes. Accusing eyes.” His fingers twitched at his sides. “And it got to the point where it was happening even when I wasn’t asleep.”

Morgan let out a shaky breath. “Everywhere I went, I saw those eyes.”

“What did you do?” he asked quietly.

Morgan gave a tired smile, one filled with old pain. “Gideon.”

Reid blinked.

“He knew,” Morgan said. “I didn’t tell him. I was like you—I didn’t want anybody to know. But he just… he knew.”

Reid’s heart pounded in his chest. Morgan was not like him at all. Morgan was being haunted by his memories, not a mistake per se. Spencer was being haunted for being a concerned friend who knows way too much about the dangers of the friend’s job even when not told details.

Morgan gave a small shrug. “He sat me down. Talked me through it.”

Reid swallowed, his voice barely above a whisper. “And?”

Morgan’s expression softened. “I still have the nightmares,” he admitted. “Just not nearly as often. But when they come back… I know how to handle them better.”

Look, Reid is glad that Morgan got help that he needed from Gideon and that he is doing better and all that, but there was still an existing issue.

“I don’t want to sound like I don’t care Morgan, because I do, I’m glad that worked out for you and I know that you don’t share with people easily so I’m grateful for the trust, but neither do I Derek, and you breached that trust. I came to you as my friend, as you call yourself often, and you gave me a back off-ish stance and then told two of my superiors about something I told you in confidence. We both know that nobody would’ve known if I hadn’t said anything because it’s not affecting my performance at work so let’s just not pretend like it was a must for you to tell them. So, if you don’t want to act like a friend then don’t, but then also stop calling yourself that.”

“I thought you and Hotch had a better relationship than him being your superior,” Morgan said as if Reid was the one that breached his trust and told half of the team about something confidential.   

Reid laughed at himself, and that’s when Morgan knew he fucked up. “We do. But I wanted to believe that you were concerned for me this morning as a friend and would at least talk through it with me.”

Morgan was quiet for a minute and couldn’t look at Spencer in fear of facing the disappointment on his face. Just as he was about to say something that could be the beginning of an apology, a car drove into the driveway of Jensen house.

On the flight back when nearly everyone is asleep, Reid is idly staring at the wall. Gideon opens his wallet and shows him Deborah, a 13 year old who was abducted and they rescued. He reminds him that it’s important to think about the people you save, because that is what can help you push on.

Reid closes his eyes as he sees Morgan stand up from the other end of the plane and looks like is about to head towards him. Spencer really doesn’t want to talk to him right now so closes his eyes and relaxes into his chair. He wouldn’t fall asleep, that he knows, but will instead think of happy times with Z and their family when life was easier. He hears Morgan sigh and back down and head back to his seat. Spencer knows that he will be going home with Hotch to detox from work with him and little Jack and they will be having a talk in the morning but he also knows that Hotch won't let go of what Morgan did and will let Spencer deal with it how he wants to.

*

The ‘going to Hotch’s house’ thing never came to as Reid saw that Hotch seemed pretty tired so he decided to just go home to Dray.

Spencer fumbled with the key in his apartment door, exhaustion weighing heavy on his shoulders. It had been a long, draining day—physically, mentally, emotionally. His mind buzzed with everything that had happened: the case, Morgan’s story, the gnawing ache of missing Z, and the ever-present uncertainty of what had happened to her.

With a quiet click , the lock turned, and Spencer pushed the door open, stepping inside the dimly lit apartment. The familiar scent of tea and parchment—Draco’s influence, undoubtedly—greeted him. He barely had the energy to kick off his shoes before closing the door behind him.

From the couch, Draco looked up from his book, immediately catching sight of Spencer’s slumped posture, the dark circles under his eyes. He set his book aside, expression softening.

“Long day?” he asked, voice carrying that familiar drawl, though it had lost much of its earlier sharpness over the years.

Spencer exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair before nodding. “Yeah.”

Draco’s eyes flickered with understanding. “Shower,” he ordered, already getting to his feet. “You look dead on your feet. I’ll make tea.”

Spencer wanted to protest—he was too tired, didn’t want to move—but Draco had that look on his face, the one that meant don’t even try arguing with me . So, with a resigned sigh, Spencer trudged toward the bathroom.

By the time he emerged, hair still damp, wearing an old t-shirt and loose sweatpants, the warm scent of tea filled the apartment. Draco was curled up on the couch, two steaming mugs sitting on the coffee table in front of him. He handed one to Spencer as soon as he sat down.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, Spencer letting the heat from the tea seep into his hands, grounding him. Eventually, he exhaled, tilting his head back against the couch.

“Morgan told Hotch and Gideon about my nightmares,” he muttered.

Draco hummed, taking a sip of his tea. “Not surprised.”

Spencer huffed. “I am . I told him not to.”

Draco arched an eyebrow. “Morgan did what he thought you needed. It’s not like he knows that you do have people to talk his shit you constantly go through with. He wasn’t going to sit by and pretend nothing was happening.”

Spencer shook his head, staring into his cup. “I just… I trusted him, you know? And then it felt like—like it got thrown back in my face.”

Draco’s lips pressed together in thought before he said, “Did he throw it back in your face, or did he do what he thought was best for you?”

Spencer let out a humorless chuckle. “That’s exactly what Morgan said. And I think that’s what’s bothering me the most. That he did it and didn’t even seem to think about it before.”

Draco hufs.

They fell into a comfortable quiet, the only sound was the occasional clink of ceramic against the table when one of them set their cup down. The weight in Spencer’s chest hadn’t disappeared, but it was lighter now, the burden of carrying the day’s events slightly less heavy in the presence of someone who understood .

Then, softly, Spencer said to the room, “I miss Z.”

Draco stilled. A heavy sigh escaped him. “Yeah.”

Spencer turned his head slightly, watching Draco, who was staring into his tea, fingers tight around the handle. It was then that he noticed the faint glisten in Draco’s eyes, the unshed tears threatening to spill over.

Spencer felt his own sting at the back of his throat. He swallowed.

Draco cleared his throat. “Did you ever tell her? Before they got lost on this last mission I mean.”

Spencer frowned. “Tell her what?”

Draco looked at him then, eyes searching. “That you love her.”

For a second, Spencer was caught off guard. Then, he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Z has always known I love her.” He smiled slightly, eyes distant. “And I always knew from her, too. Just… not in the way everyone else thinks.”

Draco blinked, slightly startled by that answer. “What do you mean?”

Spencer laughed under his breath, setting his cup down. “What Z and I have—it’s great. But it’s in no way what you and Harry have.”

Draco’s entire body went still.

Then, ever so slowly, a deep blush spread across his face. He glanced down at his lap, fingers tightening around his cup.

Spencer watched in amusement as Draco’s lips parted slightly, hesitation flickering across his face before he mumbled, “How’d you know about Harry and me?”

Spencer smirked. “Z told me.”

Draco’s head snapped up.

Spencer grinned, a rare thing after the past few weeks of sorrow. “She said everyone knew you and Harry had the hots for each other since you basically met . That true?”

Draco’s ears turned red. “Yeah. We just weren’t ready to admit it until recently actually…” He trailed off, flustered.

Spencer finished for him. “We knew you got together. If that’s what you are getting at. We’ve known since it happened, basically.”

Draco gaped at him. “How?”

Spencer shrugged. “I noticed. And when I brought it up to Z, she just said, ‘Oh, yeah, I’ve known for weeks.’”

Draco groaned, dropping his head back against the couch. “Of course she did.”

Spencer chuckled.

Draco rubbed a hand over his face, still blushing. “She always knows everything before anyone else.”

They sat there for a moment, both lost in thoughts of Z—her knowing smirk, her effortless ability to understand things before anyone even said a word and keeping it quiet until the person was ready to come forward with whatever it was.

Then, Draco sighed overly dramatic. “Maybe I should check the family books when I go back to the UK. See if there were any Seers in the family.”

Spencer laughed. “Wouldn’t be surprised.”

Draco huffed, shaking his head with amusement before finishing his tea. Silence settled between them again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just… filled with memories.

Finally, Draco stretched, standing up. “I’m off to bed.” He glanced down at Spencer. “And you should go too, no matter if you’re off tomorrow.”

Spencer rolled his eyes but nodded.

Draco hesitated for just a second before saying, softly, “Z and Harry will be back.”

Spencer met his gaze. “I know.”

Draco gave him a small nod, then turned toward the hallway. Just as he reached the doorway, he glanced over his shoulder.

“Oh, Zabini called today.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow.

Draco smirked. “He said he’s taking both of us out tomorrow ‘cause he’s ‘tired of us sulking inside like two wallflowers’ whatever that meant, so be ready for that.”

Spencer groaned, already regretting whatever Blaise had planned but quite excited, too.

Draco just chuckled, disappearing into his room, shaking his head.

And for the first time in weeks, Spencer felt just a little bit lighter.

[eyneyke]

(06) Under Fire

Part 7 of Revelations: Unveiling the Veiled (RUV for short) Summary: The BAU is called to Des Plaines, Illinois, to track a Long-Distance Serial Killer who wounds rather than kills his victims. During the briefing, Reid casually demonstrates surprising knowledge of sniper tactics, drawing suspicion from Morgan, Elle and JJ. But Spencer is relentless. He brushes it off as "just something I read," but nobody believes him by the end.

HOTCH: On SWAT we broke shots down into three steps.

One: front sight, focus on the front sight, not on the target.

Two: controlled trigger press.

Three: follow through, after the shot, you come right back to the target.

Now, what did you do wrong?

REID: I didn't follow through.

HOTCH: Right. You came off the target to see where you hit.

REID: Hotch, my firearms qualification is tomorrow morning. I barely managed to hit the target.

(Hotch takes the gun and demonstrates.)

HOTCH: Front sight, trigger press, follow through. You do those three things, you'll hit your target every time.

(Reid tries again. Shoots the target on the crotch.)

HOTCH: Did Elle teach you that?

REID: No, Z did. They're going to take away my gun.

HOTCH: Huh… Profilers aren't required to carry.

REID: Yeah, and yet you carry two of them.

(Hotch takes his second gun and shoots the target three times in the chest.)

HOTCH: When I joined the BAU, Gideon said to me, "You don't have to carry a gun to kill someone."

REID: I know. You forget who taught me how to defend myself.

HOTCH: Yeah… What's going on with you anyway? You’re usually better than this..

REID: Z’s been working a case for the last 3 months. Something big. International. She went undercover 2 months ago and nobody’s heard from her for the past month. They are thinking of declaring her KIA.

HOTCH: You know that she is okay, she always is. You told me that. If I remember correctly you said she was ‘too snake-y to catch and or kill.’

REID: Yeah but that was before she went completely 0 contact with me. Until now, she always managed to somehow get the message to me that she’s alright or alive and then I would have to tell the agency. It’s eating me alive.HOTCH: We both know that whatever I tell you know is not going to ease your worries but I will remind you that she will do absolutely anything to get back to you. You know that. She wouldn’t want you to worry so much that you can’t even hit the target.

REID: Yeah, I guess so…

HOTCH: Good luck tomorrow.

*

(Next day. F.B.I., Behavioral Analysis Unit, QUANTICO, VIRGINIA)

ELLE: Reid failed his qualification.

GIDEON: Well, he can re-test in two weeks.

ELLE: Yeah, but he's going to be embarrassed about it, so let's not mention it.

GIDEON: Yeah, let's not, huh?

MORGAN: Not a word.

(Reid enters. Morgan walks to his desk.)

MORGAN: Hey. We're all here for you. I'm serious. If you ever need anything… Just blow on that. (Reid hurriedly takes the whistle off his neck and rushes away. Elle and Gideon look at Morgan with a ‘Are you actually serious right now?!’ look. Morgan shrugs. They are joined by JJ and Garcia.)

JJ: Where is Spence going?

GIDEON: Morgan teased him about his gun qualification.

ELLE: I told HIM not to mess with Reid. And he does what? He messes with Reid as soon as he sits down at his desk. And gives him a whistle! What a jerk! I will never understand men. 

Garcia makes a horrified sound and slaps Morgan on his hand, “Let’s go find him. We have to check if he’s alright!”, and pulls Elle and JJ with her following where Spencer ran off. 

They get to the smaller hallway that leads to empty offices and old storage rooms. As they get closer to the door they see Spencer holding a phone to his ear, his back turned towards them as he nervously walks back and forth and runs a hand through his hair. They hear him speak into the phone 

“...need you back, I am barely functioning right now. Hotch is getting concerned and the team is a bit edgy with me.I failed my qualification this morning. It’s such a failure, but I just couldn’t get a voice from this morning out of my head telling me that they are petitioning to start ‘killed-in-action’ for you and Haz if you don’t get back in two months. Fury called me yesterday afternoon to tell me. And Dray, too, I’m assuming, as he showed up at my door not even an hour later.” Spencer says into the phone and sighs.

JJ, Elle and Garcia, hidden by the door, look at each other confused and concerned for their friend. Garcia sees JJ looking a bit green as she asks if they know who Spencer is leaving a message to.

“I don’t know but it sounds bad. I mean, killed in action?” Garcia says as she looks at Elle and eyes back JJ She sees Elle giving her a subtle shake of her head, a sign telling her not to ask anything. “And who’s Dray? And Haz?” Just as Elle shrugged and was about to comment Reid spoke again, now sitting on the floor, looking crushed, knees bent up and hand that was going through his hair earlier resting on them as it held his head up.) 

“He took one look at me and pushed me to take a shower and get ready. He took me out to this restaurant and it was really nice and the food was really good but I just couldn’t focus on him 100% and then he took me back home and we watched movies until we fell asleep. Thank god for his internal clock because I would’ve slept in and then I would’ve been late for work and qualifications. Not that it really mattered.” He laughs to himself self-deprecatingly and bangs his head into the wall behind him as he hangs up. “Maybe I should’ve just stayed in bed today.”

“Oh that's so sad. He’s so sad, he’s like a sad puppy. I’m going to cry.” Garcia whispers and Elle can see her eyes actually filling up with tears so she shushes her and hugs her. Spencer would be really angry if he found them listening in on him right now. Probably. Maybe. She doesn’t really know anything about how Spencer would act right now with everything that’s going on. 

JJ huffs and can’t help herself but to comment, “So he’s sad about this person missing but is telling them about his date with this ‘Dray’ person?? I don’t understand him.” 

“JJ what–”  Elle stops herself and Garcia from asking JJ what she was talking about when, just as JJ opened her mouth to continue, doors on the other end of the hallway opened and the three of them saw Hotch walk in, take a look at the figure of Spencer sitting by the wall in the middle of the hallway and sigh loudly.)

Spencer panicky looked up and when he saw that it was just Hotch there he relaxed again. Hotch walked up to him and asked “Still nothing?” 

“No… I got the call yesterday that they announced the beginning of the 2 month period in which if they don’t make contact with anyone on our side, they’ll be pronounced killed in action. I don’t want to lose them, Hotch. Haz went undercover too and I’ll lose two of them to that damned case and then Dray will leave back to the UK because being here will be too painful and I’ll be alone.” Girls see Spencer get more and more distressed as he speaks and Hotch slowly walks towards him. He holds his hand out for Spencer to grab to help himself up from his position on the floor and they hear him say “Both of them will be back. Haz probably got himself into something and had to be saved and that’s why both of them are AWOL. You know Z knows the rules and will make sure to make contact before the 2 months are up.”

“I know, but it’s still hard. I just got used to having Z close by and able to answer my calls whenever. We were supposed to go to the UK for the anniversary, you know…”

“Hold up boy genius, what anniversary?”

“Anniversary?!” Elle quickly motions to Garcia and JJ to shut up and quiet down.

“You mentioned it a few months ago, I think. Did you tell their brother? What’s his name…” Hotch asks, now both of them are standing, their backs to the place where the girls are hiding.

“Eliot. And no, I haven't called him yet. Dray and I will do it together tonight. There’s no way I would be doing that phone call alone. I mean how do you tell someone that both of their siblings are gone, presumed KIA. And I know he will be angry because he knew something was wrong even before anyone else did. And then he says to me that whatever powers twins have don’t translate to triplets too.” Spencer laughs in a way that tells the girls that this was a known argument between friends.

“He’ll survive, he has his friends, Dray has you and other friends, and you have him and me and Jack. And the team is there for you too, you know that. Now come on, meeting room 3 awaits. We have a new case.” Hotch says to Spencer and patts him on the back, but Spencer notices he said the last part with some apprehension. 

“Why’d you say it like that?”

“It’s a complicated one. And it might hit you harder considering the circumstances right now, so I need you to tell me if it starts being too much, okay?” Hotch tells Spencer looking at him with a serious bur compassionate face.

“Yes sir!” Spencer says with a smile and then more seriously, “Thank you for checking on me. And for the pep talk.” And they both walk out of the hallway.

“Seriously what the hell is happening? I mean why is he hiding stuff from me?” JJ comments as all three of them straighten out from their hiding space.

Elle and Garcia look at each other but choose to ignore the jealous undertone in JJ’s voice. 

“He’s so sad. And scared. And we haven’t even noticed. We have to show him that we care too!” Garcia swears and her brows knitted together, gaze turning sharp, like she silently made up her mind and that’s that.

Elle looks around and then at her watch, “Let’s go before they start looking for us. Hotch said we have a new case.”

*

JJ briefs the BAU on the latest case- the shooting at Franklin Park. We later learn that three victims were actually shot at the park, and that this attack has been the third shooting in two weeks. Victims are as follows- Henry Sachs (only fatality), Doug Miller, Kevin Parks, and the three at the park- Jerry Middleton (JH teen), Kate Murray, and Tim Reilly. All victims were shot long distance, in the abdomen, and we learn that one of the latest victims (Doug Miller) has a bullet still in him and is still in recovery at a local hospital. Unsub is using ammo that breaks upon impact, making ballistics impossible to recover, so being able to extract this bullet will be huge.

*

(In the plane)

HOTCH: L.D.S.K.s are so rare we haven't been able to build a standard profile. Here's what we do know: they're always male, they frequently have law enforcement or military experience, and they always contact the police or the media.

ELLE: To take credit or relive the experience?

GIDEON: Both. All serial killers attempt to relive the ecstasy they get from their killings. Some use souvenirs taken from the victims, and others return to the dump site to interact with the body. Both modes require contact with the victim. Contact which, by definition, long distance serial killers don't have.

REID: The Beltway Shooters in 2002. left a tarot card at one of their crime scenes. Later they called a tip hotline.

HOTCH: Which ultimately led to their capture.

MORGAN: But our UnSub hasn't contacted anybody.

HOTCH: He will.

ELLE: Until he does, what do we have?

GIDEON: Sometimes it's not what the UnSub does that reveals the profile. Sometimes it is what they do not do.

REID: He doesn't kill his victims.

GIDEON: "Underkill" is a unique signature.

HOTCH: Question is, does he shoot them in the stomach intentionally, just to wound them or is he just aiming at the biggest part of the target? Specifically, does the UnSub lack the skill to make the head shot, or simply the will to take it?

(Reid looks up from the file in his hands and almost absentmindedly stares at something far away in the plane, thinks aloud)

REID: If he had formal sniper training, he'd know to aim for center mass, but stomach wounds are inefficient if he's trying to neutralize a target. A trained marksman would favor the thoracic cavity—higher probability of stopping power without a headshot. Stomach wounds are painful, but they take longer to incapacitate. Too long.

*

(The team turns to look at him. Reid blinks, realizing he's said too much.)

MORGAN (raising an eyebrow): And you know that how?

REID (clearing his throat, shifting slightly): Ballistics research. Case studies. The FBI sniper training manual has an entire section on wound ballistics.

(The team says nothing to that, they all saw that it was not completely the truth but Spencer also didn’t lie, they knew he read all those books, so they kept quiet. Hotch watches him carefully but says nothing. Gideon smirks faintly, obviously knows something, but the team knows better than to question him.)

(At the scene; The whole team goes to the Franklin Park)

DETECTIVE CALVIN: Agent Hotchner?

HOTCH: Detective Calvin, this is Agent Morgan, Agent Reid.

CALVIN: Thanks for coming. Follow me. The cones mark the places where the victims were.

HOTCH: So we know he fired from somewhere in this area. Close enough to hit all three victims, but far enough away not to be seen.

ELLE: If he's wounding his victims intentionally, we would classify him as a "sadistic killer."

(The team looks at her)

CALVIN: That would help us?

ELLE (shrugs): Well, we know a lot about sadists.

MORGAN: But most want to be close to their victims to watch them suffer.

REID: A powerful scope would allow him to observe it from a safe distance.

(Hotch looks at him, but without saying a word turns back to the park and watches where the victims were when they were shot.)

CALVIN: Well, how do we determine if he's a sadist?

GIDEON: We spend some time in his shoes, and we let him tell us.

ELLE: "Yeah, but how’s he compensating for wind and elevation so perfectly on every shot? Even trained shooters need adjustments."

REID (absentmindedly, first looking around, then down at the park): He’s probably using a bolt-action rifle, maybe a Remington 700 or an M24. Standard sniper platforms. Or… Marine Scouts use M-16. Depending on the scope, he’s accounting for Coriolis effect, bullet drop, wind drift, and mirage distortion. Given the grouping and impact angle, he’s firing from at least 500 yards out—probably more. (Continues looking around. Stares at the building behind them.)

(Silence. The team stares at him. Detective Calvin whispers a barely heard ‘What the-’ and eyes Reid up and down appreciatively which weirds Morgan out. He looks at Spencer and then back at the detective and she realises what she did and turns around embarrassed.)

JJ: Okay…

HOTCH (looks around in the direction where Spencer is staring at): This handicapped spot couldn't be further away from the entrance to the building.

MORGAN: Yeah?

HOTCH: It also has line of sight to all three victims and the flagpole .

JJ: What are you thinking?

HOTCH: As Reid just said we know that the UnSub would have to factor in wind direction and speed as he shot. To do this, he needed a spot with a wide field of fire, where he could see the flag to judge how the wind would affect each shot.

GIDEON: He came here before the shooting, decided this was his spot, and ensured that it would be empty when he came back. 

JJ: So he's shooting from his car.

MORGAN: Well, that would mean he wanted to get away from here quickly, that he didn't stick around to watch his victims suffer.

ELLE: So he would not be a sadist.

CALVIN: What would he be?

HOTCH: A very smart, very resourceful, very paranoid sociopath.  

GIDEON: Let’s go to see what they have in the hospital. There is a victim that still has a bullet in them.

(In the car as they are driving to the hospital.)

MORGAN: So we're dealing with a sniper who doesn’t miss, except when he wants to. Great.

ELLE: And Reid, Hotch knowing about snipers I can get, the man was on S.W.A.T. team at one point, but you?

REID (just now realizing what he did, fumbling slightly): Oh. Uh, well, it’s basic physics. Ballistics is just applied mathematics. And I may have read some military manuals.

JJ: But why Spence? And where did you even manage to find a military manual about all that?

(The team exchanges glances but moves on as if they know they won’t get the full truth out of him and they have arrived at the hospital.)

*

The team regroups as they all arrive at the hospital. It is decided that Gideon, Elle and JJ will go in and talk to the doctors while the rest will head back to the station to start working on the profile.

Gideon, Elle and JJ witness two doctors fighting about the dangers of the surgery.

Later, the egotistical Dr. Landman brings them the bullet and says that the patient will recover just fine.

*

While Gideon and the girls are at the hospital, Hotch and Spencer are looking over the case board with Detective Calvin while they wait as Morgan talks with Garcia.

HOTCH: We think the shooter has intimate knowledge of law enforcement procedures.

REID: Detective Calvin, how far out of your jurisdiction is crime scene number two?

CALVIN: About a sixth of a mile. Why?

REID: If he knew how difficult it is for local police departments to interact with each other, he may have intentionally crossed jurisdiction lines.

CALVIN (smiles in disbelief as she gives Reid and Hotch a stink eye): Y'all are saying the shooter is a cop.

HOTCH: We're saying it's a possibility. He scouted and prepped each crime scene.

REID: He chose an elevated position with excellent enfilade, and perfect field of fire.

CALVIN: That's textbook military practice.

HOTCH: True.

CALVIN (Interrupts Hotch as he was about to continue): Yeah, but maybe he was in the Army.

(Morgan hangs up with Garcia and joins them.)

MORGAN: He was probably a Marine, Ranger or other specialized unit. Garcia says the bullet was a .223 fired from an M4 variant of the M16. So our boy-genius was right. (Looks at Spencer weirdly proud but at the same time royally confused with how he knew.)

HOTCH: All the services use an M4.

MORGAN: : It's got a shorter barrel than the M16. (Calvin rolls her eyes at him and Derek is confused as she looks at Reid with admiration as he starts to explain. What the hell… )

REID: It's less accurate, and it's a lot harder to fire, especially at these distances. This level of skill indicates specialized training. 

MORGAN: If he has specialized training, he knows exactly what he's doing.

HOTCH: He intended to wound them.

MORGAN: The "underkill" is deliberate. (Calvin rolls her eyes at him again as Horch continues on.)

HOTCH: Everything he does is deliberate, but it's as if he needs to show us how smart he is.

MORGAN: Well, since the crime scenes aren't centered around one single location, Garcia can't get a geographic profile without additional data.

CALVIN: What kind of data?

MORGAN: More crime scenes. ( Now she’s concerned?? )

HOTCH: She's going to get them. This guy's got something to prove.

CALVIN: What now?

HOTCH: Now we are going to wait for the rest of the team to come here and go over everything with them again.

*

Hotch set the case file down, his sharp gaze sweeping the room "We’re looking for someone with formal training—law enforcement, military, or a background in marksmanship. These shots are too calculated for anything else."

"Doesn’t fit the profile, though," Elle comments. She drummed her fingers against the table, her brow furrowed. "Why wound and not kill? If he has the skill, why hold back?"

Reid, who had been quiet until now, absently tapped his pen against the desk "It’s not uncommon for some long-distance shooters to practice control rather than lethality. In fact, in certain military circles, there’s a belief that wounding a target is more effective than killing as it forces more resources to be spent on them, causes more panic in a unit. But this isn’t a battlefield."

Morgan gave him a side-eye "Okay, hold up. You said that way too casually. Since when do you know ‘certain military beliefs’ about sniper strategy?"

Reid froze for just a second too long. It was barely noticeable, but everyone caught it. Morgan leaned back, watching the young genius carefully.

Reid cleared his throat "It’s… just something I’ve read."

Elle snorted "Right. Just like you just read about wind compensation and bullet trajectory?"

Hotch cut in, his tone firm "Regardless of how Reid knows, he’s right. Our unsub isn’t just a lousy shot. He’s choosing his shots carefully. The question is why."

JJ, Elle and Morgan grumble quietly but get back to reading the files.

Gideon tapped a photograph of the crime scenes "Look at where the victims were shot—each one close to a hospital. He’s wounding them, but he’s leaving them near immediate medical help. Almost like he wants them to live."

That changed the angle. Not a spree shooter. Not a traditional L.D.S.K. A new pattern, something different.

JJ pulled out a file and flipped through some notes "That means we’re likely looking at someone with medical knowledge. Someone who understands trauma wounds but isn’t aiming to kill outright."

Reid sat forward, something clicking in his mind "An ER nurse. Someone with military training and access to hospitals. That would explain both the precision and the choice of locations. And the ER nurses work the exact same shifts as cops do."

Morgan raised an eyebrow "And where exactly did you pick up on how ER nurses think?"

Reid looked at him blankly, this time prepared for Morgan’s tease. "The same place I pick up everything else—books. You should try reading once in a while."

Morgan shook his head, grinning slightly "Yeah, yeah, real smart.."

Hotch, already moving, ignored them "JJ, get Garcia to cross-check military personnel with medical licenses in the area. If we’re right, we don’t have much time before he strikes again."

*

By the time they reached the hospital, tension thrummed in the air like a live wire. They had a name now — Phillip Dowd, a nurse with a history in the military who used to pick up shifts at Arlington station before he was fired just before the shootings started. It all fit too well.

The ER bustled with activity, doctors and nurses moving between patients, the controlled chaos of a busy hospital masking the real danger lurking inside. Hotch and Reid moved in quietly, scanning the room while the rest of the team was outside waiting for the S.W.A.T. team to come.

And then they saw him.

Dowd stood near the nurse’s station, his posture too stiff, too alert. He was watching the room, eyes calculating.

Reid barely had time to process the situation before Dowd moved. The gun was out in seconds, pointed right at them.

"Put it down," Hotch ordered, his voice steady.

Dowd only smiled, shaking his head. "You don’t understand. This isn’t about killing." He shoots the lights out which started the alarm that would tell the team outside that something was happening in the ER.

Reid swallowed hard. He could see it—the erratic look in Dowd’s eyes, the kind of controlled delusion that came with someone who had rewritten their own reality.

Then, suddenly, Dowd moved, grabbing a nearby doctor and pressing the barrel of his gun to the man’s head.

"Nobody moves," he warned. "Or I start making real kills."

For a second, nobody did. Reid’s mind raced, processing every detail. The weight of the rifle in Dowd’s hands, the stance he took, the way he adjusted for leverage. He had studied this before—not in theory, but in the way someone else had once explained it to him, long ago.

A voice in his head. Never pull, always squeeze the trigger. Anticipate the recoil. Control the shot. Make it count.

Reid turned his head slightly, speaking low to Hotch quietly as the cries of hostages made it impossible for Dowd to hear him. "If you get a shot, take it. But he’s going to expect a standard response—center mass. If you go for the shoulder instead, you can disarm him without risking the hostage."

Hotch barely flickered an acknowledgment. But he had heard.

A fraction of a second later, the shot rang out.

What they didn’t expect was Dowd having the rifle on full auto. Hotch did shoot him in the shoulder but as Dowd was falling down, he pulled the trigger. Hotch saw Reid jump to take the gun away as soon as Hotch pulled the trigger on his gun but now Dowd’s trajectory was full point and center - Reid. So Hotch tackles him out of Dowd’s range and in all that mess falls down and promptly uses Reid as a cushion. Reid manages to take his second gun and shoots Dowd before he could get the gun in his other hand. 

S.W.A.T. bursts in and Reid crumples down onto the floor, wind knocked out of him by Hotch falling on him, trying to calm his breathing. For a second, Reid just lay there, stunned.

Hotch crouched beside him, voice calm but firm "Reid, what did I tell you about staying down?"

Reid coughed, wincing "Not to move?"

"Not to move." Hotch repeated, standing up.

Reid groaned as Morgan reached down to haul him to his feet "You know, there are better ways to make a point about qualifications than shooting down the unsub in a hostage situation.."

Hotch just gave him a look before he went towards the rest of the team, but not before telling Reid to get checked by the doctors.

The scene buzzed with activity around them—officers swarming in, securing the area. But something in Hotch’s gaze lingered, just for a moment, before he turned away.

Reid exhaled slowly. It was over.

*

Reid sat in the back of the ambulance, still catching his breath. The sting in his ribs where Hotch had landed on him was more annoying than painful.

"You did well." Hotch walked over, arms crossed.

Reid glanced up, surprised "I did?"

Hotch nodded. "You made the right call about his shooting pattern. And about where to aim." A pause. "But if you ever move like that again when there’s an active shooter, I will be the one you’ll be scared of, not the unsub."

Reid smiled slightly "Duly noted."

Hotch studied him for another moment, then shook his head "Where did you learn all that?"

Reid just eyes him and then does the ‘are you for fucking real right now?’ look and tells him that she has made dinner for the whole team.

“Ah… Of course, I don’t know why I didn’t connect it immediately.” Hotch says and Reid just smiles at him “You did better than I expected with the proceedings of the case considering…”

“Yeah, just needed a good distraction.”

HOTCH: You all right?

REID: Yeah.

HOTCH: Nice shot.

REID (Jokingly): I was aiming for his leg.

HOTCH (Eyes wide): You what!?.

REID: Kidding, kidding…

HOTCH: You better: Well, I hope I didn't hurt you too badly when I fell on you.

REID: Hotch, I was a 12-year-old child prodigy in a Las Vegas public high school. You falling on me felt like being kicked by a 9-year-old girl. (Tries to give Hotch his gun back.)

HOTCH: No, keep it. As far as I'm concerned, you passed your qualification.

They leave and when they walk by Morgan, Reid throws the whistle he gave him at the beginning of this case ono Monrgan’s chest, hard. 

“ Touché, kid. ” Morgan admits.

[eyneyke]

(07) Moving

Part 6 of Revelations: Unveiling the Veiled (RUV for short) Summary: The BAU hunts a serial killer who invades homes, controls families, and ultimately murders them. The team profiles his psychological patterns, leading to his capture. Meanwhile, Reid is unusually distracted, frequently texting Dray, who is staying at his place. JJ and Elle spot the name on his phone and, with Garcia’s help, assume Dray is his secret girlfriend. Later, they overhear Reid telling Hotch that Dray is moving in, solidifying their theory. JJ is subtly jealous, Elle is exasperated, Garcia is thrilled, Morgan is confused, Gideon doesn’t care, and Hotch—ever the father figure—seems to know more than he lets on.

The BAU team is in Quantico. Hotch came to work with Hailey and baby Jack so that the team can meet him for the first time even though he was born almost a year ago. Small baby Jack reaches with his hand towards Spencer as he reckogises him from all the times Spencer came over to Hotch’s house or to babysit him when Hotch was out. The team just assumes it was random and Reid covers himself by calling Jack bald and wrinkly. Hotch and Hailey laugh but are thankful for his fast thinking. They don’t want the team to know yet that they are divorced. They have been for some time now. Hotch signed the papers just two weeks before Hailey called him that she was pregnant. After a lot of her threatening that she was going to abort the baby, in the end she found out it was too late for that and told Hotch that after the baby was old enough to go without her, he would have to take him in full time or she was going to leave him somewhere because she didn’t want the baby after all. So they agreed that after Jack turns two, Hailey will leave him with Hotch and that will be that. After Morgan jokes about sticking to practise, everybody laughs without noticing the sad look on Hotch’s face and how Hailey gets a bit uncomfortable.She and baby Jack leave quickly after. 

JJ briefs the team on the Crawford family case. The whole Crawford family was found dead in the basement of their home three days ago, and that Maryland state police believe it was a murder suicide. However, the BAU is not so sure. A month ago another family was found murdered in the basement of their home- the Millers. The Millers were also supposed to be away on vacation when they were found. Both these families were discovered five days after their vacations were supposed to have started, but the coroners had ruled the death was only 24 hours previous to discovery. Meaning that the unsub stayed in the house with the families for five days.

A possible suspect is Eric Miller- the ex husband, who was found hiding in Virginia with the blood of his children on him. His ex wife had a restraining order on Eric because he was physically abusive to her. However, there is no evidence that Eric knew the Crawfords and none of his DNA was found at their crime scene. As the team was discussing all that Reid was distracted, barely following the conversation. His attention was more on his phone, badly hidden under the table. As the team gets up from their respective spots to head to the crime scenes, Reid stays seated not realising it because of his phone. 

JJ, walking towards him and trying to see the screen of Spencer’s phone “Spence, what’s so important on your phone?”

Reid startles and Morgan snickers at that. “Nobod- Nothing! Just… research.”

Elle snorts and snickers again with Morgan who comments “Right. Because researching is done with a tiny smirk on your face. Who you texting, kid?” 

Reid answers “No one.” way too fast again and locks his phone as he realises that JJ is trying to be subtle and look at his screen. 

Gideon, who has been ignoring them until that moment finally speaks up when he realises that Hotch has already left and there is nobody left to stop them from messing around. “Let him be. We have a case to solve, and he’ll be too busy questioning the ex husband to stay distracted by his phone.” 

“You want me to talk to him?” Reid stutters and shows his phone quickly into his bag.

“Yeah, you've done interviews before with other agents running point. You can go solo.” Gideon just continues giving orders to the rest of the team “Morgan, the Crawford house is a fresh crime scene.”

*

Hotch and Elle review the Crawfords' crime scene photos, noting Christopher Crawford’s missing wedding ring. Meanwhile, at the crime scene, Gideon and Morgan observe signs of financial strain—an overgrown lawn, a neglected car—contrasting with private school tuition and designer furnishings.

Gideon remarks "Allison spent money on what her friends could see and neglected what they couldn’t." He also spots a black-and-white drawing by Emily on the fridge.

Morgan examines the electronic dog door, large enough for someone to crawl through, linking it to the Miller case. Testing the neighborhood's response, Gideon screams for help, triggering barking dogs and porch lights. Yet no one heard the Crawfords. He concludes the unsub isolated each family member to maintain control.

The BAU learns that the Crawfords had been seeing a therapist, which could mean they were dealing with personal or family issues. However, instead of leading them to the therapist’s office, their investigation takes them to the home of Freddy Condore.

When the team arrives at Freddy’s house, they immediately notice a colorful painting stuck to his fridge—one that Emily Crawford had drawn. 

Gideon examines the painting later, analyzing its colors and design. He determines that Emily’s use of bold colors and strong strokes suggests she was a self-confident, outgoing child with above-average intelligence.

As the team continues questioning Freddy, they discover that he is Allison Crawford’s brother. Hotch and Gideon are joined by Reid in the interrogation room while the rest of the team is watching.

As soon as the door to the interrogation room closed after Reid, JJ’s hand flies out towards the table where Reid has thrown his phone before he went in. She takes it into her hand which drags Elle’s attention towards her “Are you serious?”

“What? It’s not like you’re not curious.” JJ says as she powers up the phone

“This feels invasive…” Morgan comments as he realises what JJ is doing and Elle gives him stink eye “Oh, now you have morals? Unbelievable.”

But soon, without giving them any time to think about this, the decision is taken out of their hands as Spencers phone, still with JJ, lights up with a new message:

Dray : Before we get swallowed up by the chaos of me moving in this weekend, do you want to grab dinner after work today? I can get them to save us a table at Sam’s

JJ reads the message aloud. Elle facepalms but whispers one small confused “Dray?”, while Morgan whistles and says “Damn our boy got the moves.”

“Whatever. If Reid has a secret girlfriend he never told us about, it’s none of our business.” Morgan loses the smirk and nodds at Elle but JJ, however, looks slightly irritated, crossed arms and everything. “But why wouldn’t he tell me? I mean, unless there is something wrong with her or something. Or she looks way too similar to me so it’d be awkward.”

“Yeah, like right now is,,,” Morgan murmurs to Elle but they can’t discuss it further as Reid returns from the interrogation room. He looks around the room, then starts patting himself up and down, obviously looking for his phone. His phone that JJ is still holding. JJ, who decides it’s such a great idea to tell her coworker with an eidetic memory that he forgot his phone by the coffee machine.

*

They watch Spencer thank JJ with a confused look on his face until he unlocks the phone and sees the message. Three of them watch him smile at his phone before unconsciously nodding and texting back. Then he pockets his phone and turns to continue watching the interrogation. 

The team has found out more about Freddy. He struggles with manic depression and has been off his medication, making him somewhat unreliable as a witness. However, he mentions that he had recently visited the Crawfords’ house. This revelation is crucial as it reveals that Freddy unknowingly saw the unsub while he was inside the house. When asked to describe this “friend” who was having dinner with the family, Freddy gives an odd answer:

"A really tiny man with red hair."

The room goes still. The BAU exchanges glances. They finally have a description of their unsub.

*

The case is finished. They got him. The team is packing up, getting ready to leave the office.  Reid stands by his desk, ready to leave but distracted by his phone. Hotch and Gideon stroll down the stairs from their respective offices. Gideon says goodbye to everyone and leaves but hotch approaches Reid and stands beside him. “You good?”

“Yeah, getting there. Cases are a good distraction.” Reid sighs. The rest of the team subtly slows down with packing up, wanting to hear their conversation.

“You know where my office is if you ever need a break. Need a ride home?” Hotch asks Spencer as he puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, no, I’m good, thanks. I’m meeting Dray for dinner at the restaurant close by and we’re going to ride together back to mine after. We wanted some peaceful dinner before the chaos of moving in drops this weekend.” Reid explains to Hotch as he finally pockets his phone. They both turn and leave the offices towards the elevator. 

Back by their desks, JJ stands frozen, shocked as Elle carefully watches her and Morgan and Garcia stand and smile, both proud of their boy genius but for very different reasons.

“Eek! Boy genius has a live-in girlfriend” and “Damn boy genius’ gettin’ some!” followed by

“Eugh, Morgan!”

[eyneyke]

(05) Identical Stranger

Part 4 of Revelations: Unveiling the Veiled (RUV for short) Summary: The BAU investigates a case involving identical twins, while Spencer's mysterious connections outside the team continue to raise questions. As Morgan and JJ dig for answers about his friends that they have never heard about before, Reid remains tight-lipped, leaving them to wonder just how much they don’t know about their teammate.

GIDEON: Euripides said: "When a good man is hurt, all who would be called good must suffer with him."

*

HOTCH: Everyone familiar with the father?

REID: Evan Davenport, U.S. Attorney, Executive Assistant, Southern District, New York. Widower. Assigned U.S. Marshals three times in the past 10 years due to death threats.

DEREK: Is the protective detail still current?

HOTCH: Around the clock. But um, Trish declined protection when she turned 18.

DEREK: Too bad for the boyfriend.

REID: But why kill him?

DEREK: But if I wanna kill someone I know I have to take out whoever’s with them. 

(SIGHS)

DEREK: Says here she’s got a sister.

HOTCH: Cheryl.

DEREK: Any problems? Were they close?

REID: Yeah. They’re identical twins. You know, birth rate statistics for identical twins have remained stable over the years, despite the overall increase in twins and multiples since the late 1980s. The odds of having identical twins is about 3 in 1,000, whereas the birth rate for all twins is about 33 in 1,000. So, identical twins are more unusual than fraternal twins.

ELLE: Why do you know that?

REID: I… I know a pair of identical twins. And I had a phase… 

DEREK: Why does that not surprise me

*

ELLE: Do you think Cheryl’s a wack job because she thinks, she claims, she can feel her sister’s anxiety?  

DEREK: I never said wack job.

REID: Actually there may be a physiological basis for it.

DEREK: Don’t ask.

REID: Reversed asymmetry monozygotic eggs split late. Between nine to 12 days. The DNA matches right down to the very last stranded code. And there's sporadic documentation of shared physiological pain.

DEREK: And you believe it?

REID: I’m saying that I saw it happen a few times. It could have just been just them messing with me tho, but I’m saying that I believe it’s possible. I don’t know everything. I mean, despite the fact that you think that I do.

DEREK: You actually know a pair of identical twins? And also, I never said that. When have I ever said that?

REID: Every day since I've met you.

ELLE: This morning at breakfast.

HOTCH: Yesterday when he beat you at cards. We've got one minute.

DEREK: Anybody ever heard of sarcasm?

*

“So our Wonderboy knows a pair of twins. You ever heard of that before?” Morgan asked as he slides in between Elle and JJ.

“He doesn’t talk much about friends that he has outside of the bureau. He could know twins, why couldn’t he?” Elle asked while turning to face Morgan.

“He never said anything to me, but then again, whenever we hang out he usually just lets me talk and mentions his mom sometimes.” JJ said as she realised that she doesn’t really know Reid as well as she thought. 

“I mean, maybe he’s just trying to make us think he has other, actual, friends? I say he’s just making it all up.” Elle said and walked away while laughing. 

“I don’t believe he’s keeping secrets from me. He still didn’t tell me who he called when we were in San Diego. And Hotch told us to write that Garcia managed to track the perp in our reports, what was that all about? I don’t get it. Why is he talking to Hotch and not me when Elle and Gideon said that he has a crush on me .” JJ ranted at Morgan while he just kept thinking about his friend having a secret friend group. As JJ turned around to make herself a new cup of coffee he slowly walked away to Hotch.

*

“So, Pretty Boy, you gonna tell me about this secret friends that you’ve been hiding from us?” Morgan asked as he sat down next to Reid on their plane ride back. Reid, who was messing around on his phone ‘till now, turned it off and looked up at his friend.

“I’m not really hiding them, it’s just that I don’t see them as often as I would like so I don’t mention them that much either.”, Reid answered as his phone lit up with a new text.

“Yeah? Where’d you meet them? They cool?”

“I met them through a mutual friend, actually, they all went to school together. And I would say that they are cool, although I will deny it if they ever ask. They love playing funny but big scale pranks on their family and friends.” Reid said with a big smile on his face.

“Yeah? You ever fallen victim to one of those pranks? God, I would love to see that.”

“Thankfully just some minor ones. They are too scared of our mutual friend’s retaliation to prank me but it’s always funny to see their faces when they realise that they accidentally pranked me as they know that the revenge will be sweet.”

“Should I even bother asking for more? Or are you still keeping quiet?” Morgan asked kinda hopeful but also knowing that he’ll get nothing about this same as it happened during the last case. At that moment Reid’s phone rings. “Saved by the bell, huh?”

“Sorry, I have to take this.” Spencer said as he got up from his seat and answered the call on his phone.

“Hey, you guys okay? Clint texted me about what happened. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’ll be back around midnight I think so you could wait out for me to get home so we can say goodbye before you disappear, yeah?”

“I’ll be fine, I know you guys have a job that you have to do and that this was expected to happen. And I’ll have work to distract me from worrying too much.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll talk to Hotch, see if he can give me some more consults and I’ll be good. Just take care of yourself and I’ll see you at home.”

Morgan pretended to be listening to music while looking out of the window as he heard Reid's side of the phone call. He assumed this was that mysterious Z person that they were introduced to a few weeks ago. If that could even be called an introduction. As he was still thinking about Reid’s mysterious friend, as his eyes were closing from the lassitude he felt, he watched Reid sit next to Hotch and start a quiet, but what seemed like a serious  conversation.

[eyneyke]

(04) Finishing Conversations

Part 3 of Revelations: Unveiling the Veiled (RUV for short) Summary: Hotch and Spencer talk during breakfast the next morning.

The morning sunlight filtered through the windows of Hotch’s house, casting a warm glow over the kitchen. The scent of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air as Spencer sat across from Hotch at the breakfast table, absently stirring a spoon through his scrambled eggs.

Jack was with Hailey until later that afternoon, leaving the two men alone in the quiet house. Spencer had barely touched his food, a sure sign that his mind was elsewhere. Hotch, ever observant, let him sit in silence for a few minutes before deciding he couldn’t wait any longer.

“Spencer,” Hotch said, setting his coffee cup down. “I need to ask you about Z.”

Spencer’s fork hesitated mid-air before he placed it back on his plate. He let out a slow breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hotch, I—” He sighed. “There are things I can’t say. Not because I don’t trust you, but because it’s not my place to say them.”

Hotch nodded, unsurprised but still slightly frustrated. “I understand that. And I won’t push you to betray that trust.” He hesitated before adding, “But I would like to know if you’ve heard from them. If they’re safe.”

Spencer’s expression darkened slightly as he shook his head. “I haven’t.”

Hotch’s face hardened in immediate concern. “You—Wait, Spencer, you don’t know if they’re okay?”

Spencer sighed again, but this time there was an edge of resignation to it. “I would love to tell you that this is unusual, but it happens more often than I’d like to admit.”

Hotch stared at him, horrified. “Spencer, that’s—” He stopped himself, unsure of how to phrase his concern without making it sound like he was doubting Spencer’s choices.

Spencer gave him a small, understanding smile. “I know how it sounds, Hotch. But I promise you, I’m fine. Worried, yes, but fine. What Z does is dangerous, but so is my job. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to wait, and it won’t be the last.”

Hotch still didn’t look convinced, concern evident in the way his brows furrowed. “That kind of stress—combined with the stress we get from our job—it's not something anyone could live with.”

Spencer shrugged slightly. “Z started working dangerous jobs long before I did. We had time to talk through everything, to adjust, to prepare ourselves for these kinds of situations. It’s not easy, but it’s what we do.”

Hotch studied him carefully, then finally gave a small nod. “I admire the way you look at it. But still, it must be hard. Look how Hailey and I ended up and I was the only one working a dangerous job.”

Spencer smiled, a flicker of appreciation crossing his face. “It is. But I trust Z. And I know they’ll reach out as soon as they can.”

Hotch leaned back in his chair, considering his next words carefully. “I’d love to meet them one day. Someone this important to you—I’d like to know them, when you’re both ready.”

Spencer’s smile softened. “You’re first on my list of people to introduce Z to. But right now… they’re going through something personal, and with their injuries from the last job, I don’t know when that will happen.”

Hotch nodded again, this time more slowly. “I get it. Don't worry, I won’t push. But whenever the time comes, I’ll be here.”

Spencer gave him a grateful look, picking up his fork again. “Thanks, Hotch.”

Hotch simply lifted his coffee cup in response, taking a sip as the morning sun continued to warm the quiet space between them.

[eyneyke]

(04) Muffled Concerns

Part 2 of Revelations: Unveiling the Veiled (RUV for short) Summary: Plane ride home. Hotch checks up on Reid and Morgan and Elle listen in.

The case was over. The unsub was caught. The victims would get justice.

And yet, as we boarded the jet, exhaustion settling deep into our bones, I felt no relief.

Everyone was drained—physically, mentally. The weight of the job still hung heavy in the air.

Elle and JJ had claimed a two-seater, their heads resting against each other, fast asleep. Across from them, Morgan slouched in his seat, eyes closed, headphones drowning out the world. Beside me, Gideon had taken over the couch, a book still open on his chest, though his steady breathing told me he had long since succumbed to sleep.

The soft hum of the jet was the only sound.

I turned my phone over in my hands, staring at the darkened screen. Still nothing.

I had lost count of how many times I had tried to reach Z. Each call went unanswered. Each text unread.

My stomach twisted with unease.

The last thing we had heard over the phone—gunfire, a muttered curse, the line going dead—played over and over in my head like a broken record.

I sighed, finally switching my phone off and placing it on the small table in front of me. It was pointless. If they could answer, they would have.

That’s when I noticed Hotch watching me.

His gaze was unreadable, sharp but not unkind.

As soon as I met his eyes, he gave me a small nod and gestured for me to join him. He was seated at a smaller table, slightly secluded from the rest of the team, paperwork spread out in front of him.

I hesitated for half a second before grabbing my book and phone and making my way over.

“What’s up?” I asked, offering him a small, tired smile as I sat down.

Hotch set his pen down, folding his hands together as he studied me. “Are you okay?”

The question caught me off guard.

“I know you said you can’t tell us much,” he continued, voice measured, “or more like, anything. And I’ll respect that, even though I’m not exactly pleased about it. But after what we heard over the phone today, I just want to know if you’re okay.”

His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes. Something genuine.

I swallowed. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, Hotch.” I exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of my neck. “I just… I can’t risk it. Not with the team.”

Hotch didn’t react, just listened.

I glanced around, lowering my voice. “What Z does… It's dangerous. Not many people they interact with know what they look like, or even their real name. The only reason you even know their name is because I wasn’t careful. And because we needed their help.”

I expected him to push, but instead, he surprised me.

*“Reid, relax. I understand that. I wasn’t asking about them. I was asking about you.”

I blinked.

Hotch leaned back, gathering his paperwork into a neat pile. “I know I don’t have the clearance to know who they are, or what exactly they do. And frankly, I don’t care about that.” He looked at me carefully. “I just want to know how you’re handling this.”

I hesitated.

I could tell him.

He probably had enough clearance to find out on his own if he wanted to. But even so…

No.

Not yet.

I sighed. “You probably have clearance to know at least something about them. Or close enough.”

I debated telling him everything—how Z wasn’t just some contact, how they meant more to me than I ever let on.

But before I could even begin, Hotch interrupted me.

“It’s fine, Reid.” His voice was calm. “I don’t need to know their name, or what they do. I just want to know what your relationship with them is.”

I stared at him, searching for any sign of judgment.

There was none.

“If you don’t want to talk to me about it, that’s fine,” Hotch continued. “But just so you know, you can talk to Gideon. Or Morgan. Or anyone on this team. You know they’d never judge you.”

I looked down at the table.

I know that.

I trusted them. I did. But…

“No, it’s not that.” I exhaled, forcing myself to meet his eyes again. “I trust them with my life, Hotch. But you…”

I hesitated, searching for the right words.

“You wouldn’t pity me like JJ. You wouldn’t joke about it like Morgan or Prentiss.”

Hotch’s expression remained unreadable, but I could tell he was listening.

“I know I could trust them,” I admitted. “But this… this is different. It’s—” I exhaled sharply. “It’s sacred.”

Hotch nodded slowly, his expression softening.

It wasn’t the first time we had conversations like this.

At first, it had been Gideon who tried to help me through the harder cases. But he had quickly realized that it wasn’t working. So he told me to seek out Hotch.

Of course, I hadn’t.

So Hotch had sought me out instead.

He had cornered me, forced me to talk to him—not by pressing, but by sharing. About his early cases. About his time before the BAU. About the weight of the job, and how sometimes it crushed you when you least expected it. About his divorce with Hailey and about little Jack.

And somehow, somewhere along the way, we had started opening up to each other.

I wasn’t sure what exactly our relationship was. Not quite a father figure. Maybe an older brother, though the age gap made that a bit strange. But there was trust.

There was understanding.

And as Jack’s godfather, I had been around enough that it just… made sense.

Hotch studied me for a moment longer, then, his lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smirk.

“So… who’s Z?” he asked casually. “You’ve never mentioned her before.”

I barely had time to register his wording before—

From the corner of my eye, I caught movement.

Morgan and Prentiss.

Their backs were turned, heads tilted slightly.

Eavesdropping.

They hadn’t heard the start of the conversation, but they had sensed something.

I bit back a smirk and turned back to Hotch.

Mouthing: Later.

He glanced toward them, then nodded in understanding.

Still—his smirk lingered.

“Just a friend, huh?” he repeated, voice deliberately light.

I narrowed my eyes slightly. I knew what he was doing.

“I’m not saying anything you didn’t already hear.” I smirked. “You’re smart enough to connect the dots yourself, Hotch.”

From the other side of the plane, Morgan and Prentiss stiffened slightly.

Hotch gave a small, approving nod, amused but satisfied.

“Alright,” he said, his tone shifting back to something more serious. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay after today.”

I hesitated, then sighed.

“I’ll be fine once Z gets back.”

That was the truth.

“Once they’re safe. Once I know they’re okay. Until then… I’m coping.”

Hotch studied me for a long moment, then nodded.

I took that as the end of the conversation.

Leaning back in my seat, I opened my book.

Beside me, Hotch returned to his paperwork.

And for now, that was enough.

[eyneyke]

Revelations: Unveiling the Veiled (RUV) -masterlist

Season 1: Revelations: Unveiling the Veiled (AO3 link) -> (e04): (pt.1) Dialing Secrets, (pt.2) Muffled Concerns, (pt.3) Finishing Conversations -> (e05): Identical Stranger -> (e06): Under Fire -> (e07): Moving -> (e10): The Popular Kids -> (e17): (pt.1) A Real Rain, (pt. 2) New York

- ONGOING