The Fruit of The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil (And Other Forbidden Things) Spencer Reid x Reader
Chapter One
Masterlist
He had finally found it; the man at the gas station meant what he said when he said you would know the house when you saw it.
The mansion was rather imposing. Old yet well-kept, it had a Victorian feel. It had a wraparound porch, turrets, and archways with stained-glass windows. The brick that structured the building looked like each piece had been individually cleaned. Then there were the roses. Well-trimmed rose bushes lined the pathways up to the house. If he squinted, it seemed like there were little stone statues between each set of bushes.
He sat there momentarily, unsure of what to do with himself. It was nostalgic; he swore his mother had read to him about a place like this. He sat there for a while but didn't know how long it would be before he finally shut the car off and got out. His feet didn't even touch when the doors to the house slammed open.
"Doctor Spencer Reid!" the voice of a tall, strong-looking man rang deep and rumbling with a southern drawl that sounded like it belonged in a period of peace in the 1800s. We have been anxiously awaiting your arrival." The man approached him in a friendly manner.
He shook the man's hand. "Good to be here, sir. Thank you for welcoming me into your home." Spencer gave him a polite smile while he shook the man's hand. He could only assume that this was Mr. Abernathy. Only the man of the house could behave in such a confident way. He was well put together in a clean, pressed three-piece suit. His dark hair was combed to the side.
"It's always a pleasure to entertain guests," Mr. Abernathy answered with a smile. His eyes were sharp and slightly intimidating. "Especially critically acclaimed academics like yourself." Spencer nodded. He may have been flattered, but a question lingered in the back of his mind.
"How exactly do you know Rossi?" He asked as he went to the back of the car to grab his bags. The only connection that he could possibly imagine them having was the wealth that they both had.
"Oh, don't you worry about your bags, Doctor; I'll have my sons take care of that for you." Spencer was about to continue, to open his mouth and say that he was more than willing to carry his own bags. He was a grown man. He could handle his own baggage. But the man had a pension for talking and kept going without a second thought. He began walking up the front porch path, and Spencer figured it would be best to follow. "David and I were in boot camp together. We still talk from time to time."
Spencer nodded, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he walked up the cobbled path to the porch. Then, he realized the little statues between each immaculately cared-for bush were little stone cherubim.
"I have to say, Doctor Reid, when David called, I was apprehensive to let you come." His words sounded like a warning—polite, but a warning nonetheless. You see, my family and I are very private. We tend to stray away from having strangers around for long periods. But David holds you in high regard."
They reached the porch, but Mr. Abernathy stayed in front of the door, blocking the entrance. He looked Spencer up and down, trying to figure out what he was about. "I assure you, sir, I am going to do my best to stay out of you and your family's way. I have no intention of causing your family harm… just needed to get away for a while". Spencer nodded, his words holding a sense of truth. He had gained a fondness for solidarity within his lifetime.
Mr. Abernathy seemed satisfied with Spencer's words, and he opened the door for Spencer, allowing him access to the house and another century. There was an ornate chandelier that hung in the foyer, a grand winding staircase that led upstairs, a hallway leading to the kitchen, and doors that granted access to the sitting room.
"My children should be in the sitting room." Mr. Abernathy said, guiding Spencer to the large oak doors and opening them with a flourish. Clearly, the man was wealthy and didn't mind showing it off when he was given the chance.
The men were sitting in the room, all varying ages, indulging in varying activities. They were all large, strong-looking young men. The one who seemed to be the oldest was playing chess, the one Spencer assumed to be the middle child was reading, and the youngest seemed to be translating Latin.
"Boys. Come greet Doctor Reid. Don't be rude." Like a drill sergeant, Mr. Abernathy spoke in a deep, commanding voice that immediately had all of his sons'son's attention. They immediately fell into line in a creepy synchronicity. "These are my sons; this is my oldest, James." James was tall, taller than his father, maybe even taller than Spencer. He had a muscular build, one that was intimidating. "This is my middle child, William." William was the shortest of the group, with circular wire-framed glasses and bright blue eyes. "Then this is my youngest son, Jude." Jude was taller than William but was shorter than James. He had this look of mischief behind his eyes and a Cheshire cat grin.
Mr. Abernathy froze, looking between his sons and then around the sitting room. "Where is your sister? I told her that I wanted her here when Doctor Reid arrived."
The brothers looked at one another. Jude was the first to speak up, though it came out as more of a mumble than anything else. "Maybe she's trying to stick her head in the oven again." He snickered, and James quickly stomped on his toes. He seemed to be the more responsible one of the bunch. That comment alarmed Spencer, who was unsure if he needed to take that with a grain of salt or be alarmed.
"She was in the garden by the lake," James said, earning a disgruntled noise from Mr. Abernathy.
"I'll be back in a moment." Mr. Abernathy murmured before leaving Spencer with the three sons.
"So, have you killed anyone?" Jude asked eagerly. The moment his father was away, James reached around and smacked him on the back of his head. He gave him a look that told him he needed to shut up. An awkward silence ensued until Mr. Abernathy returned, guiding a young girl with him; she walked in front of him with his hands on her shoulders. He had a grip on her that didn't look painful, but it was like he was worried that she was going to just run off.
She seemed… different, at least from the girls that he was used to seeing in Virginia. Her hair was a mess, and her white dress seemed dirty. Her father whispered in her ear; Spencer could only make out bits in pieces.
"I was just out playing Daddy," She murmured as he brought her into the sitting room. Mr. Abernathy just pushed her to go stand with her brothers.
Mr. Abernathy gave a deep sigh, motioning towards the girl. "This is my youngest… y/n." Despite the fact it seemed the girl was intent on causing her father trouble, he looked at her with a fondness that he didn't have for the boys. "James will show you to your room and explain the rules of the house… Jude and William will get your bags for you."
James walked past Spencer, heading up the stairs and motioning him to follow. "Your room is next to y/ns… She is usually rather quiet, so she won't bother you."
The room was spacious and well-decorated. It had a four-poster bed made of dark oak, a desk for him to work at, and overall room for his belongings and the books that he had brought.
James went over to the window and opened the curtains. "Dinners at 6:30… we usually dress for dinner, but nothing too formal."
Spencer nodded his eyes, following the young man. He had a certain quality about him. "We go to church on Sunday mornings, and the maids come and collect the laundry on Thursday morning. We don't drink or smoke, and we don't bother Father in the study when he's working."
"Well. I'll leave you to get ready for dinner." James said, giving Spencer a respectful bow of his head before leaving. At some point, William and Jude had left his bags at the bedroom door.
As he went to get his bags, he looked up and saw that the door across from his room was open. He didn't mean to stare but couldn't help but look. The room was pink, very pink. That soft pastel kind. The room, from what he could see, was lined with cream-colored bookshelves that were completely full. By her window sat a small table with a chess set. He shook himself out of it and went back into his room to unpack and prepare for dinner.