𝓣𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓭
Synopsis: You are invited to a dinner party at David Rossi's house.
Tags: Dinner party, slight angst, mentions of Maeve, Maeve is alive btw, first actual interaction with Spencer.
Notes: I loved writing this chapter.
Chapter Word Count: 3,351
April 19, 2018
Mary Shelly,
This letter will be very small, and I apologize. I will be gone for a few weeks for work and won’t be able to access pen and paper like usual. I hope you aren’t too disappointed. Stay safe and positive. I will write to you again when I get back.
________________________________________________________________
Looking at yourself in the mirror had you second-guessing everything. You wore your nicest dress, as per Penelope’s request, but you didn’t feel very pretty. Instead, you felt sick with nerves. You hadn’t been out to party in a really long time, and you were starting to feel your palms sweat with apprehension. Before, you partied without a care. Too many drinks, too many strangers, not enough security. After your assault, you hadn’t even wanted to step one foot in the party scene.
You didn’t know what memories or feelings this evening would bring out, but you had to remind yourself that Penelope would be there for you. If anything, you’d shadow her all night and beg her to come over for a Twilight watch party instead. It was the cowardly thing to do, but Penelope would understand. She always understands.
A knock on your apartment door brings you out of your anxious train of thought. With one last look at your dress, you brush off some invisible dust and make your way through your home to answer the door.
“Sunshine! You look so sexy, oh my goodness!” Penelope does a little dance that ends with her bumping your hip with hers. It was a much-needed refresher for your brain.
“You don’t look too bad yourself, cutie. Are those new earrings?”
“Oh, you mean these?” She asks, dramatically brushing her blonde curls aside to show off the gold and pearl bubble earrings that dangle from her ears. “Someone very special to me got them for my birthday.”
You gasp, your hands flying to your make-believe pearls. “You mean there is someone else? What happened to the bond we share?”
Penelope puts a finger under her nose to mimic a mustache. “Don’t worry, baby-doll, she’s just a fling. You’re my one and only.” She wiggles her eyebrows as you press the back of your hand to your forehead.
Once the dramatics wind down, both of you are belly laughing; you lead her further into your apartment. “They look good on you, Pen. I’m glad you still wear them.”
“What else can I say? You have great taste. They’re my fancy pair.” She grins ear to ear over a cup of water. “Are you ready to meet my team?”
Her unspoken words, Are you ready to see Spencer, didn’t go unheard. “I think I’m ready, but don’t be surprised if I’m making an excuse to leave early.”
“Oh come on, sweetness. He won’t figure you out. All you have done is write letters to each other. I don’t think even the best profiler can figure someone out with just that.”
You sit down next to her, the pretty fabric of your dress complementing the pinks and magentas of hers. “It’s not about Spencer.”
She places a warm, comforting hand on your knee. “Honeypot, talk to me.”
“I haven’t been to a party since…” You avoid saying anything specific, but use your eyes and expression to try to convey what you were saying. She sighs, understanding overcoming her face in place of worry.
“This isn’t a club scene, hun. It's just a small get-together with very trusted and very safe people and their spouses. It’ll just be dinner and drinks. The only reason we’re even having this tonight is so we have some place safe to relax from the cases we’ve been stressing over. I thought it would be the perfect time to introduce you to them since all of you are all equally important to me.” She pauses and looks into your eyes. “You don’t have to come, you know. I know I can be pushy when I set my mind to something, but if you’re not ready for something like this, then no one will be upset if you don’t show.”
“I’m okay, Pen. I just needed a little pep talk. It's been way too long since I've met up with people and let loose.” You take a deep breath to gather yourself before standing and offering a hand to Penelope. “Come on, we’ve got a party to be fashionably late to.”
David Rossi’s house might have been the most magnificent house you’d ever been to: modern architecture, massive windows, multiple stories. The outside was lit with twinkling lamps lining the pathway from the glorious driveway to the extravagant front door. Impressed, you gape at the view while Penelope rings the doorbell. When the door opened thirty seconds later, laughter and smooth jazz filled your ears. Because of your awe at the property, your nerves had settled. Throughout the guided tour of the house, where you admired expensive art and impressive decor, you hadn’t thought much about meeting a room full of strangers.
That distracted calm went out the window as soon as you entered the kitchen. Gathered around a marble-topped island was Penelope’s team. The heart of the BAU. They were all beautiful and intimidating all at the same time, arm in arm with equally handsome pairs that matched so perfectly. You felt like a sore thumb. If it weren’t for Penelope and her amazing fashion sense, you would have felt silly.
“My friends!” Penelope shouts. All eyes turn to the two of you. You only recognized one pair of stunning hazel eyes, but you refuse to meet them. “I have brought a prize to share with you all!”
Penelope leads you closer to everyone, and you awkwardly wave. “Hello.”
“Guys, this is my bestest friend in the whole wide world.” She turns to you to give you a wink, then starts introducing everyone by their names. “This is Derek Morgan, my Chocolate Thunder; you know him. Jennifer Jareau, or J.J, or literally the sweetest woman on earth. Aaron Hotchner, our boss. Emily Prentiss, badass number one. Tara Lewis, badass number two. David Rossi, playboy extraordinaire. And last but not least, our Boy Genius, Spencer Reid.”
Everyone waved or politely shook your hand. They were all so nice and bright and smiley; so far from the idea of intimidating FBI agents that you had in your head. It wasn’t nearly as awkward as you expected it to be, as they were all warm and welcoming. Despite that, though, you still felt very inadequate. Who wouldn’t be in a room full of FBI agents and their spouses?
David claps, drawing attention to himself. You internally thank him for taking the spotlight off of you. “Alright, esteemed guests, make your way to the backyard for drinks while I finish dinner.”
Penelope loops her arm with yours and excitedly drags you out into the backyard with the rest of the team. Everyone splits into different groups on the back porch, the hum of conversation taking over the crickets. You end up in a circle with Derek, Emily, Spencer, and, of course, Penelope.
Derek was the first to start talking, directing the conversation from work to you. “So what do you do besides work in a morgue?”
“Well,” You start, unsure of what to say to avoid sounding lame. “I like reading and baking. And I like collecting different types of tea.”
You want to slap yourself for saying the most boring thing, but Emily chimes in before you can backtrack. “I got way into tea while I was in London. What's your favorite?”
“I have an extensive Chai collection. I can’t get enough of the stuff, but my favorite was a limited-edition French Vanilla Chai I found at the grocery store. Do you have one?”
Emily enthusiastically nodded. “I have a fondness for Earl Grey, but when I was traveling as an Interpol agent, I was introduced to Lemon Basil Oolong that stole my heart.” She ended her statement with a wink.
“I’ll have to give that one a try, then.” You were slowly becoming more relaxed as the conversation flowed between the five of you. The five of you talked like all adults did: new TV shows, interesting news, grocery prices. You were slowly settling into your skin, your shoulders dropping to a more comfortable position as you followed the conversation and chimed in when you had something to add. It wasn’t long until the conversation was steered back to you.
Spencer was idly wringing his hands as he stood under the porch light, his features haloed in a way that made him seem almost untouchable. “You said you liked reading? What kind of genre do you prefer?”
It was odd to hear him talk. His voice was not far from what you imagined: warm and bright. Kind. You thought for a bit, unwilling to settle on an answer that would lead him to figure out who you were. “I’ve dabbled in quite a few genres; modern and classic romance, young adult, fantasy, and mystery. But I like a book with a unique element.”
“What defines unique to you?”
“Well, I read this book a while ago, about a girl who makes a deal for immortality and freedom in 1714 France. The catch? She is cursed to be forgotten by everyone she meets.”
Spencer’s eyes widen a fraction, and the smile that crosses his face would outshine the sun itself. “That is very interesting. I read a book recently about a woman who fights to bring magic back to her oppressed kingdom. It's deeply rooted in African culture and folklore. I had such an amazing time reading it.”
“I’m so glad you liked it!” Your lips moved faster than your brain could, and you scrambled to fix your mistake. “I- I mean, I’m surprised you liked it. From what Penelope told me about you, you like ancient books in their original language, not young adult fantasy.”
You could hear Penelope giggling from beside you, but before you could chastise her, she was walking away with Derek and Emily. You were officially alone with Spencer for the first time. His attention was still on you, so you schooled your features from panic to nonchalance.
“I also enjoy many different genres. I actually recently took to reading more contemporary books rather than ones that were written decades ago.” He looked more relaxed than he did that day in the morgue. You couldn’t lie; you enjoyed this version of him far more than the others you were used to.
“Have you got a favorite?”
Enthusiastically, he nods his head. “Yes, a friend of mine recommended The Hunger Games. I know I'm late to the party, but I love it so far.”
You choose to ignore any mention of your paper persona just to save face. If you didn’t plan on revealing anything, at least tonight, you can’t fixate on anything he says about ‘a friend’. “I love that series too. I really like the way Susan Collins takes the horrors of today and spins it into a commentary on the government and how the future will look if we don’t do anything.”
Spencer blinked once. Twice. Then laughs. The sound was magnificent, and you found shame in your hesitation to start things with him. He was obviously a kind guy, so you didn’t have the excuse of him being a closeted douche bag. And though you two have different tastes, you clearly have a lot in common. Which was refreshing compared to the people you interact with nowadays. Maybe you shouldn't hide in the shadows as you planned.
“I tried talking about the nuances of The Hunger Games with Derek, and he shut me out because it was a ‘teenage girl’ book. I mean, the series literally exists because Susan was channel surfing between war footage of Iraq and reality TV.”
“Right!” You say a little bit too loud. “I heard her say that in some interview. Just because it's in the point of view of a sixteen-year-old girl doesn’t make it ‘teenage trash’. It's obviously a comment on our state of the world in the form of an easily digestible pill that she can get away with telling in the face of power.”
“Exactly! I’m so glad someone gets it.” There is a lull in conversation where the beat of your heart is louder than your thoughts. Spencer was just looking at you, his eyes slightly narrowed and his expression unreadable. “Have we met before?”
A chime of a bell saves you from having to answer Spencer’s question. David stood in front of the sliding glass door with a bowl of pasta in his hands. “If you will proceed to the dinner table, dinner is served. Morgan and Prentiss, can you grab the salad, the bread, and the wine?”
As Derek and Emily head inside to gather the rest of dinner, you use the distraction to separate from Spencer and find Penelope. She was already sitting at the table in the middle of the backyard, laughing at what J.J was commenting on. When you sit next to her, she elbows you playfully and leans into your space to whisper.
“How did it go? You and the genius looked like you were getting along?”
Still a bit stunned from the heart attack Spencer unknowingly gave you, it took you a while to form the words. “He asked if we had met before.”
“Oh,” Penelope states. “Well, he is a genius for a reason. And you were talking about books. Isn’t that like one of the big things that got you letter-sending in the first place?”
“Yeah.” You thought on it for a bit. It wouldn’t be so bad to even be Spencer’s friend. It doesn’t have to evolve into anything. “I think I'm going to tell him who I am. I mean, he’s going to figure it out anyway.”
Penelope could barely control her squeal of delight. As the rest of dinner was retrieved and distributed amongst everyone, she thankfully kept her mouth shut. That didn’t stop her from trying to sneak in questions every time the attention was focused elsewhere.
“When are you going to do it?”
“How are you going to do it?”
“Are you going to make it a grand gesture?”
There wasn’t really a plan. You just wanted it to be by the end of the night. Or maybe in your next letter, in a confession safe from immediate rejection. You texted her from under the table, telling her that you’d keep her in the loop from now on but made her promise not to ruin anything. The rest of the night went on without a hitch. You sat next to your best friend, ate some amazing food, and had great conversations with some fascinating people. It was the most you’d done socially in a really long time, and you had forgotten how good it felt.
Spencer was only a few chairs away from you on the opposite side of the table. Now and then, the two of you would chime into the conversation or hold a little bubble of your own. It was really nice to hear from him within seconds rather than waiting days. Plus, his voice was so nice to hear; you felt like you could listen to him talk for hours and never get bored. At one point, after dinner was over but everyone was still chatting at the table, you excused yourself to the bathroom. You touch up your makeup, adjust your outfit, and make sure everything looks presentable so if you gain the courage to confess to Spencer, you don’t look like you’d slept in your outfit. On your way back to the party, you take your time to admire David’s home.
It was obviously lived in, but decorated sparsely. There were paintings, statues, and vases that screamed wealth. You were insanely jealous of this man’s home, but nothing can compare to the little apartment you’d worked on for years. Everything in your home was just the way you liked it; a little slice of paradise you curated with your bare hands. You were walking across the grass back to the table when you overheard the conversation that was taking place.
“I mean she’s doing fine. We don’t really talk, though, after what happened. I hear she’s teaching somewhere on the coast.”
The air had gone from playful Truth or Dare to somber. It was just one ten-minute bathroom trip. You sat down and noticed the tight-lipped grimace on Spencer’s face before he abruptly stood and politely excused himself. He said he just needed to use the restroom, but from the look on his face, he was upset.
You turn to Penelope, who was watching Spencer leave with a sympathetic face, and nudge her with your shoe. “Is he okay? What happened?”
“Someone,” She said pointedly, her eyes narrowed at an obviously drunk Derek. “Mentioned his ex.”
“It’s been a year; I didn’t know it would still be a sensitive topic.” Derek had his arms up in defense before he deflated and laid his head on the table before him. “I feel bad.”
“Oh,” You felt your heart drop a bit. Sure, it had been a year, and you weren't exactly looking to start anything romantic with him, but the thought of his still being hung up on someone sent a little pang of jealousy through you.
“It was so long ago,” Penelope whispered. “And it didn’t really end well.”
Apparently, she wasn’t whispering nearly as quietly as she thought she was because Aaron clasped his fingers in front of him and joined in for the first time in what felt like all night. “It’s a shame. I don’t blame her for leaving, but she was so good for him. I’d never seen him so happy. Life just got in the way.” His tone was melancholy, like he understood, firsthand, what Spencer had gone through.
“I never saw Spencer as the type to get in a relationship,” Tara commented as she nursed a glass of red wine.
“Oh, she was perfect,” J.J said, and Emily nodded her head before also including herself.
“She was smart enough to keep up with him, and she never treated him like a dictionary. They were literally soulmates in my opinion; I wish they could have worked it out.”
The conversation was now happening without you, the team going on and on about how perfect and amazing Spencer’s ex was. It was like a punch to the gut. She was nothing like you. Where she was elegant and poised, you were awkward and clumsy. She was on Spencer’s level, enough to keep up with his genius and even challenge him. You can barely do math in your head.
There were too many emotions to deal with: disappointment, jealousy, doubt. While your plan was to tell him who you were and hope for friendship, a part of you was hoping for more. These past six months you’d gotten to know him a fair amount, and you liked what you knew. And meeting him, having an actual conversation with him, was maybe the best and worst thing you could have done for these growing feelings.
Things should have stayed on paper.
You regret even allowing Penelope to get your hopes up. Pretending to check your phone, you make a show of noticing the time and exclaiming you had plans and needed to get home. Penelope gave you a look that told you she knew better, but you kissed her forehead and said goodbye to the team. Spencer was still inside the house, and he was clearly upset, so you left through the fence gate on the side of the house.
All throughout your drive home, Penelope blew up your phone. You ignored her, and not just because you were driving. The party was fun while it lasted, but it was obvious you didn’t belong in that kind of life. Everyone was so extraordinary while you were just…ordinary.
