Ahhh I love your work so much, do you think you’ll get back to writing?? I’m absolutely obsessed with everything you publish 🫶🫶🫶
hiii! omg this is so sweet thank you 🥺 to answer your question: yes! i’ve been really busy with my boring normal job and getting my romance novel (Metro Card! with a different title and altered + expanded details, ofc) published as a real book! but trust and believe i’m still working on Switchblade Faith and have some more ideas for new fics 💕 i’ll get back to posting as soon as i possibly can, i promise 💗 thanks again for this sweet message! i hope you’re having a fabulous week :)
summary: one month after joining the BAU, Clea is still settling in. between solving murders and getting acclimated to DC, the only comfortable thing in her life is her new friendship with Dr. Spencer Reid. (Baby Spence)
pairing: Fem!OC x Spencer
word count: 7.4k
content warnings: slight angst
A/N: Hi! AHH it's been so long! sincerely, I'm so sorry about that-- I've been thinking about this fic and honestly I got a bit stuck for a while and had to pull myself away to reconfigure my thoughts about it. but I'm back in it now and have been writing furiously lol. anyway, thank you for your patience on all of this. I see all of your sweet comments asking me to update and I HATE leaving y'all hanging so… this chapter is extra long (7.4k words? too much? probably!). I hope you're all living your best lives and thriving :) ok love you bye!
masterlist
despite working for the FBI, there is one crime I have committed.
I was never much of a partier in college, but when I started, it was nearly impossible to stop. like a snowball, my singular drink (which I'd initially decline) would morph into my fourth, fifth, and was complemented by a joint or two.
even before I had a job as serious as this one, I was high-strung and intense. everything was about making it to the top-- of my class, of my social group, whatever would get me to the point of success I craved.
but this also meant that slowing the momentum of my work at all was risking a complete spiral. I am, unfortunately, emotional when drunk. too many drinks and insecurity sets in, following me around with self-doubt and thoughts of grand failure. because what if all the work truly amounted to nothing?
I was anxious and self-medicating. this frequently resulted in my waking up in the fetal position on the floor of whatever apartment or house I was in, fists tightly clenched and memory foggy. smoking wasn't a stress reliever for me; it was sealing the fate on a terrible night. my brain chemistry seemed to reject the same drug that worked for so many others.
but I just kept doing it because those first few minutes felt deliciously worry-free.
one of these nights I was in a friend of a friend's apartment in college. I'd been drinking straight from the bottle because we'd just finished finals and every nerve in my body was fried.
I was aware of the slow nausea making its way through my stomach, the burn of alcohol in my throat. I was also aware of the twitching that often came with smoking too much. my fingers would clench and unclench, toes wiggle beyond my control. another reason not to keep doing it, and yet.
I barely knew anyone at the party. the friend of a friend was someone I had spoken to maybe once or twice. really, I had no relationship with anyone else there. but it hadn't seemed important at the start of the night.
despite the blur of the evening, I clearly remember having an existential crisis on their thrifted couch. everyone was talking and the music was loud, but the words were like sludge to my senses. I wanted to leave, but even through the haze I felt like maybe wandering the streets alone at night wasn't a good idea.
so I just wandered anywhere to get away from the noise. I tried several doors, a few of which were locked, until I pushed one open to someone's bedroom.
it was full of plants and smelled earthy, like dirt. it reminded me a little of home. although I shouldn't have gone into this person's personal space, I didn't have much sense of decorum at the moment. so I shut the door quickly behind me and walked over to a plant on the window sill. I sat next to it, pressed a large, healthy leaf to my nose and inhaled.
from my spot on the floor, I noticed a box under their dresser. it was old, like from their grandmother or something. polished wood with a gold clasp that held it shut.
my fingers raked over the carpet and grabbed it, pulling it towards me on the floor and, without a moment's hesitation, opened the box.
inside, there was a small collection of knives.
not kitchen utensils or huge murder-y serrated ones. they were lovely, delicate blades. the handles were perfectly molded to fit a person's hand, some of them carved with beautiful spirals and curls, some inlaid with silver.
I remember touching them with my fingertips and not worrying about them slicing my skin open; I was awed by how ornate they were. I wanted to slip them under my arm and leave.
I lifted one out of the box and handled it for a few seconds. it was a small knife-- the kind that's better for self-defense than anything else. the metal was cool in my palm, and the handle wooden and smooth with wear. the bottom was rounded and opalescent. the colors that refracted under the light mesmerized me, until I was tilting the weapon just to see each soft pink and blue and purple melt into the other. I was entranced like a child.
enough time passed there with my eyes glued to the shifting hues that my body stopped twitching and I felt more lucid. not sober, but not barreling into tearful realizations about my issues.
despite myself, I took the knife with me. I pulled off my hoodie and bundled it inside, carefully put the box back, and left the room without a backward glance. something cruelly sentimental inside me just needed to keep it. like a security blanket.
…
as I watch Spencer working through a chocolate-sprinkled donut, washing down each bite with a sip of coffee like clockwork, I wonder what he would say to my miniature crime. I suppose recreational cannabis use was also illegal, but that's far less interesting.
I remember Spencer's reaction when I pulled out the cute resin knife at the BAU Halloween party, and how I said there was no special reason I collected pretty blades. I still don't think it's that special of a reason. I just admire good craftsmanship and the illusion of safety.
Spencer catches me intently watching him eat and frowns at me mid-bite. there's a touch of chocolate at the corner of his mouth which brings a smile to my face.
JJ brought the pastries in for us from some famous LA donut shop, all wild flavors and frostings. she brought one normal one for Reid, though. he wouldn't have touched any of these other ones with a ten-foot pole.
I indulge in a Thai tea donut while Hotch catches us up on the plan for the day. yesterday, after talking in Lila's trailer, it turned out that we were too late to check on Michael. they found him dead in his office, very obviously the stalker's latest victim. I feel awful for Lila; they were close, and he genuinely cared about her wellbeing.
it's for that reason that Hotch has told us not to tell her just yet. it could make her reckless, and that might ultimately make it more dangerous for her until we catch this guy. we've settled for telling her Michael's been wrapped up in questioning and has to keep his distance for his own safety. I don't like lying to her, but it would be so much worse for her to do something impulsive and get herself killed, too.
it's best for me to keep my own distance from Reid as possible so I can stay focused. I try to stand near Prentiss so that Hotch will assign us together for the day, careful not to be next to Reid or Morgan. if anything, Derek will catch on further and bother me about my emotions. which are confusing and also irrelevant.
"did you want some of my donut?" Reid appears out of thin air next to me, ready to break off an untouched part of his treat to share. it's clear he thought I was checking out his food earlier.
"huh?" my brows knit together as I look down at his fingers. I suppress the elation at his willingness to share food. "oh, no, it's okay. I'm full."
he shrugs and I'm about to duck away from him when Hotch speaks.
"Reid, I want you to stay near Lila as much as possible. she seems to have a rapport with you," he says casually. the muscles in my jaw jump with irritation.
of course, part of me tries to logic my way through the irrational: Lila is a television star. it's not that she's out of Spencer's league or anything, but he's certainly not the type of guy people like her would be dating. I thought celebrities only dated each other.
I cling to this thought until Hotch's deep frown lands on me.
"Williams, go with Reid."
"why?" the question escapes my lips before I can think better of questioning my boss's orders.
"she's been apprehensive to protection already. having another woman around might help." Prentiss answers for him, her arms crossed over her chest. Hotch nods and moves on. there's something lacking in the explanation, but when we're dismissed, Emily makes a quick comment in my ear.
"if she decides to break protocol, do you really think Reid is gonna be able to stop her?" she lets out a chuckle at the end. I try to reciprocate the expression as my chest squeezes.
…
Spencer puts on his sunglasses in the car while we drive through the Hills to Lila's house.
"I feel like a movie star here," I say, turning down the music as I navigate the narrow roads.
"I actually think being a producer would be better," he replies.
"less attention?"
"less than an A list celebrity in most cases."
"same fat paycheck, though."
"exactly."
I laugh. the song fades into a different one, a popular one that I've had stuck in my head for a few days, and Spencer turns it up.
"you like this song?" I turn to look at him. he's drumming his fingertips against his thigh along with the beat.
"it's good."
I just suppress a smile and keep driving, trying my best not to comment when I see his head nodding to the chorus. but it's so cute, I can't hold my tongue.
"you're dancing!" I laugh.
immediately, he stops. "no, I'm not."
"Spence, it's okay to like it." I roll my eyes.
he ignores me.
"come on," I urge, turning up the volume even more. I have a terrible voice, but I sing along quietly for a second. he only joins in after a moment of hesitation.
we aren't screaming the chorus or even being very loud, but it's comfortable and fun to share the moment with someone else. despite the reason for our presence here, we're driving through the Hollywood Hills and how often does that happen for us? I let myself enjoy these three minutes.
sunlight glares through the windshield and hits our faces, that chemical boost that comes from warming air. our voices blend into the music, every memorized lyric coming out of us on instinct.
there's something pure about it, like we're sharing a secret. because it's funny that two FBI agents know a pop song this well, even funnier that one of them is Spencer Reid, Nerdiest of Them All.
my fingers tap on the wheel with the beat. at the risk of shattering this delicate moment, I glance over at Spencer. I can't help it.
he's smiling, cheeks flushed. the free-spiritedness of it unfurls something within me.
I realize that I've been collecting these seconds like diamonds, stuffing them in darkened corners of my mind, papered over with larger memories. they'll always burn through, though, moments when my eyes seek him out, the fewer ones when his seek mine. I'm hungry for the sight of him in a way that can't be sated; every glimmer in his pupils, every clench and turn of his chin— they accumulate endlessly.
I could live on this stretch of road forever.
but then I see our exit ahead, and I think of Lila's starlet grin. I'm reminded of every sinking feeling that's made up our time here. the song fades out, swallowing the sensation whole.
"what did Emily say to you earlier?" Spencer asks out of nowhere, after we've fallen into a sort of silence. my mouth opens and closes as I try to think up something to say.
"I--" the words dry up as soon as he looks at me. "I don't remember. it wasn't important, though, I don't think."
he nods, gaze lingering. he doesn't believe me. but I don't know what to tell him. his hands fidget in his lap. I can imagine the gears in his head turning, combining rational possibilities with his own insecurities.
"what do you think of her?" I try to make my voice sound level.
"of Lila?"
"yeah."
"I think she's nice."
"nice?"
"yeah. I don't really know any celebrities, so I was surprised by that," he shrugs.
"she's beautiful."
I wait for him to concur, or to dare to disagree. but the pause he gives is heavy and I know he's trying to select his words carefully.
lucky for him, we pull onto Lila's street before he can make any definitive statement about her attractiveness. I drive slowly, pulling into the dusty driveway of a beautiful home. it's modern, settled on a clearing that I'm sure boasts a beautiful view of the city.
I turn off the engine and glance over at Spencer, whose spine is suddenly so rigid that I nearly question the reality of his singing a song a few minutes ago.
"you okay?" I ask.
"yeah," he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and looks at the dashboard. "yes," he repeats.
"great. let's get this over with." I get out of the car.
Lila is already standing in the threshold of her house, watching the two of us.
"hello." she gives me a half-hearted smile.
"hi," I sigh. "sorry to keep you here tonight."
"I know, it's just for my safety," she shrugs and lets the two of us in. "hi, Spencer."
he gives an awkward wave and grips the strap of his messenger bag with a nervous tightness.
"did you bring work with you?" she laughs at the heavy-looking bag.
"yes," he says with total seriousness.
I clear my throat. "we should probably get the layout of the house first, Reid."
he purses his lips and nods. I catch Lila staring at him for a nanosecond too long, try to run the possibilities in my head. it's completely feasible that she's just trying to understand his awkward tendencies, like many of the people we deal with. I don't trust myself to draw conclusions about this particular thing, given how laced with bias they might be.
it's something of a relief as she shows us around the place-- it's not as big as it looks from the outside, but there's a pool out back that overlooks the hills. there aren't many points of entry and she, predictably, has a security system. my concern with modern houses like these is that there's usually tons of glass, creating a perfect opportunity for Peeping Toms and overzealous paparazzi.
sure enough, a decent portion of the back of the house is glass. the openness of it makes my hair stand on end a bit.
when I turn around, Spencer and Lila are looking at an art piece she's got hanging on her wall. it's a photographic collage, vertical slashes of brightly colored scenes that have been pasted together onto a long canvas. it's not very attractive, but judging from the way Lila explains its significance, it must be sentimental for her.
"I like it because it's like life, you know? like, obscure and difficult…" she trails off. Spencer nods in a way that could be understanding or unimpressed, I can't tell. for a profiler, I'm remarkably confused watching his interactions today.
"you should get a dog," he replies instead. "like a guard dog of some sort."
"allergic," she shrugs.
"Lila, have you ever had any security issues at this house before?" I break in. she turns to me and shakes her head.
"no, never. it's usually pretty quiet up here." her body language is relaxed. normally someone with a stalker would be more nervous, even apprehensive, about staying in a house with so much visibility. I know I would be. but she doesn't seem bothered at all. I guess it isn't that surprising, given how she's acted up to this point: refusing to stop work or change her lifestyle in any way. I still can't tell if I find this admirable or just stubborn. maybe a bit of both.
"can I get you guys some tea or something?" she smiles.
"uh, sure," I agree. my body is overactive right now and I need something to hold. Spencer declines her offer and waits until she leaves the room to speak again.
"the glass is a bit worrying." he points to the sliding doors leading out to the pool in the back.
"that's what I was thinking, too. maybe we can do a quick sweep and see if there are any other vulnerable spots," I suggest.
he nods and Lila walks back in. "your tea is steeping. do you want me to show you guys that layout now?"
"that would be great." it comes out sounding a bit sarcastic, though I don't mean it to. I'm still thinking about the glass and how creepy it would be to just have people be able to watch inside-- security system or not, I don't like the risk.
she guides us down the hallway, the walls of which are accented with random contemporary art pieces. the only real photos I see are in her bedroom-- framed pictures of her with her family, with her best friend. it's the same woman who works on her set and handed her that envelope earlier today. I don't remember her name, but it's obvious they're close.
there are only two bedrooms: hers and a guest room, which is tidy and doesn't seem to be used very frequently. I try to think of a polite way to say what I'm thinking.
"it doesn't look like you've decorated much here. did you move in recently?" my fingertips brush the wooden doorframe of the guest room as we start to make our way back to the living area. the small space is turning out to be advantageous; there aren't many extra points of entry or big windows that could be broken into.
"no, I moved in last year. I'm just not home very often since I work a lot. I'm sure you guys are familiar with that."
Spencer lets out something like a laugh and I give a half-grin. "we definitely get it."
she briefly takes us outside to give a better overview of the security system, and then we return to the main part of the house. Lila brings me my tea and we sit down to talk in more depth.
"there aren't a lot of opportunities for someone to break and enter," Spencer assures her. he's leaning his elbows on his knees. "we just need to watch out for a few things."
"the wall of glass, for example," I point to her backyard. "and we'll need access to your security footage from the past few weeks."
Spencer stands up and pulls out his phone. "I'll have Garcia get on that."
"great. if you have stuff you need to do here, Lila, you're welcome to do that. we're just going to be around in case you hear or need anything."
Spencer has gone to the kitchen to talk to Garcia, so it's just me and Lila sitting across from each other. the sun has started to set, pouring pinkish light into the room and making her hair appear even more brilliantly blonde.
"I just have to run some lines, really. maybe one of you can help me with that," she raises a brow and for a moment I can't tell if she's joking or being earnest.
"I'm not really sure that's a good idea. the whole reason Dr. Reid and I are here is to monitor the house."
"and me, right? what better way to do that than running lines?" her tone is flirtatious and it becomes evident that she just has this kind of personality. naturally playful. it's charming and I can see why people find it appealing. but right now, when her life is being directly threatened, it must be a way to deflect the fear. her pupils tend to dart around and it gives her away.
I soften a bit. her refusal to adjust her life set off alarm bells for me before, but now it's obvious that it's her way of managing the panic; if she doesn't shift her routine, it's easier to pretend it's not even happening.
thankfully, I'm saved from responding to her request by Spencer returning to join us.
"Garcia is running through the footage for any suspicious activity around here, but so far everything looks normal," he says. Lila smiles at this, this one a bit less showy and more as though processing everything.
this must be jarring for someone who doesn't work in this field. and she's only going to have it even worse when she finds out about Michael.
it's like a punch to the stomach when I remember we'll have to tell her soon. the sooner, the better. hopefully we can find this person within the next day or so; drawing it out is just cruel.
"so, Spencer, I was just asking Agent Williams if either of you would be willing to run lines with me to pass the time," Lila recovers from her moment quickly, tossing her hair and glancing between the two of us. the difference between her calling him Spencer and me "Agent Williams" makes me want to cringe.
"you can just call me Clea," I correct her. she brightens at this.
"right. well, my question still stands."
"I don't think that's really appropriate--" I start, just as Spencer replies with a shaky, "Sure."
we lock eyes and I frown. he can do whatever he wants, I guess, but having two agents on high alert is better than one. Prentiss's words from earlier come back to me: do you really think Reid is gonna be able to stop her? and she's right.
"I'll be fine, don't worry. if you want, we can just do it here in the living room. so it's easy to watch over me," Lila grins.
when she runs out of the room to grab her script, I turn to Reid.
"really? running lines?" I can't keep the annoyance out of my voice.
"what? we're supposed to be keeping her in our sight," he defends himself, voice pitching up a bit.
"yeah, but you're gonna be distracted. this isn't the time to flirt." it comes out of my mouth before I have a chance to think, the frustration of him not following protocol and this other, indefinable thing welling up inside me.
Spencer's lips part like he wants to respond, brows furrowing together, but then Lila comes back in and peeks between us.
"everything okay?" she's trepidatious.
my gaze cuts quickly to Reid, who is still watching me, then right back to her. "yeah, everything's fine. I'm gonna do another outside sweep."
it's sort of unnecessary to do one, but honestly, I just need some fresh air.
as soon as I'm out the door, I take several deep breaths. regardless of whatever strange sensation keeps pulling at my gut, I don't enjoy being on a different page from my partner. it doesn't matter if it's Prentiss or Morgan or Reid-- we're supposed to be a team, and the way Spencer just gave into her worries me.
I have faith in him, but I like control. need it, really.
the California air is dry and much cooler at night. not uncomfortable, but breezy as I step around the perimeter of the house. at this point, the light has faded to a soft plum. the lights of Los Angeles start to sparkle down below, making me somewhat isolated. something about it causes my skin to crawl.
my gun is cool in my hand. the primal instinct that I usually get when someone is around isn't there, so I let myself breathe. when I make it to the back area, Spencer and Lila are visible through the glass doors. he sits across from her on the couch, holding a script. she's standing in the center of the living room and speaking animatedly. rehearsing.
I shove down the part of me that is guilty about Michael in the same way that Reid seems to do. it can be so hard to draw the line between what emotions are appropriate to indulge and the ones that are too dangerous. where my own moral boundaries stand. I hate lying, and letting her go on flirting while her close friend is in a morgue drawer nauseates me.
Lila laughs at something Spencer says-- though he doesn't appear to be making a joke, given his stoic expression-- and comes to sit next to him on the couch. when she touches his shoulder in an innocent way, I turn away and decide to go back inside.
about an hour later, Lila goes to her room to change into pajamas and I'm left alone with Spencer. he hasn't seem fazed at all by the constant doting from Lila, aside from the occasional stuttering and shifting when she gets too close or compliments him in any way. as soon as he and I are alone, he nods at the phone on the couch beside me.
"any word from Hotch?"
"uh, no," I clear my throat, unsure of what to say. "actually, I should probably just call and make sure."
if I needed to know anything, the team would have reached out, but I get up before Spencer can reply. instead, I excuse myself to the hallway and dial Morgan's number.
"what's up, Williams?" he answers on the second ring.
"hi. nothing, honestly. I'm just calling to check in-- I haven't heard from any of the team members for a bit."
"we've just been at the precinct. has Lila been asking about Michael?"
"no, no. I think she was satisfied with what we told her earlier," I curl my fingers into my palm, nails digging into the skin. "how are we gonna break it to her?"
"I don't know. maybe Spencer can after this whole thing is over. she seems to trust him, so maybe it'll be easier to process."
my breath catches, but I nod as if Morgan can see me. "sure. yeah."
"you alright?" his voice softens slightly, and it only reminds me that I need to clean up my behavior right now. it's hard to hide things from him, and the last thing I need is to have him needling me about my relationship with Spencer after we close the case.
"yeah, sorry," I smile, prepared to change the subject, when a sudden noise jolts me out of my thoughts.
a splash-- loud, from the other room.
the pool.
"shit, I gotta go." I hang up, running out to the living room area.
the doors are open, and there are two heads bobbing in the rippling water. Lila slicks her hair back and it's only then that I realize the other person in the water is Spencer.
Spencer, whose wet hair sticks to his face and who is still fully clothed.
my heart stops and restarts in my chest at the abruptness of the situation, but it starts hammering as I stand in the threshold. Spencer flips his head around to me, innocent, like he didn't mean for this to happen.
"she pulled me in!" he brushes the hair out of his eyes and seems to plead with me. Lila smirks at him, fully locked in on his expression.
I'm speechless. I believe him, but Lila's erratic behavior is starting to irritate me more and more. she's reckless and flirting with an FBI agent while he's on the job-- yanking him into the water when her own life could be at risk.
I know people cope with things in different ways, but there has to be a line.
"your gun." my voice comes out softly as I point to Reid's torso. the weapon is still submerged.
his face goes even paler than usual and he practically leaps to drop it on the cement by the edge of the pool. as he finds the underwater steps and trudges out, my gaze finds Lila's. if she realizes that I'm irritated with her, she makes no indication of it.
"sorry." her laugh is bubbly. she's wearing a bikini, I notice, as she slowly makes her way to the steps to come join us. the "pajamas" she went to change into earlier.
"you know, you've aged me ten years in the past 48 hours." Reid pulls the hem of his button-up out of his pants and wrings it out. his hair, dripping, hangs around his face.
I try not to notice the way the wet fabric clings to his body.
"I just thought you deserved to have five minutes of fun," Lila replies, as if we're supposed to be chatting over cocktails instead of keeping her safe.
"yeah, well, fun isn't part of our job description tonight." my tone is sharp, but at this point I don't care. she's frying my nerves, and Spencer isn't putting his foot down enough.
"do you have towels?" Reid is practically shaking in the cool evening air.
"use mine." Lila grabs the one she must have brought out with her and hands it to my coworker.
I spin on my heel and go back inside. I'll have to tell the girls about this when we're back in Quantico; they'll understand.
Morgan calls me as the two of them get changed into warm clothes-- Spencer's thin, lanky build apparently makes him the perfect fit for Lila's old sweats.
"what the hell happened?" he asks immediately.
"nothing. Lila pulled Reid into the pool, and it just made this big splash noise that startled me. everyone is fine."
"why'd she do that?"
"no idea. she's been acting like this whole night is prime time for flirting with Reid." it takes everything to keep the venom out of my voice.
"that's weird. maybe she's just trying to distract herself."
"maybe. I don't know, Reid should still be more strict with her. I feel like I'm insane."
"you're not insane. he's just awkward around people. but I get it-- I'll talk to him when we get back." Morgan's voice is soothing over the phone. my fists unclench a bit and the muscles in my back relax. he always has my back.
"thanks," I let out a long exhale. "I just wanna catch this guy so we can go home."
"we will. stay focused. Reid's a good partner-- I think he's just been thrown off his game by the added social factor here. victims aren't usually trying to get into his pants."
I try to let out a laugh, but my cringe causes it to come out strangled. even the thought of that makes me physically ill. "true."
Spencer wanders back into the living room with a hoodie and sweats on, hair still air-drying.
"I should go, Morgan. I'll call you if anything interesting happens."
"I'd hope so, pretty girl. stay safe."
"how's it going with him?" Spencer asks, plopping down.
"fine. I was just explaining Lila's little prank earlier."
"she didn't mean any harm by it." Spencer watches my features as though he can see right through me.
I dislike that, so I avert my gaze and straighten up in my seat. "just be careful. one wrong move and either of you could end up with a bullet in your head. this guy is obviously the jealous type."
Spencer winces at the harshness of the image, but nods as he leans his elbows on his knees and stares down at his clasped hands. "you're right."
"sorry. I guess that was extreme," I bite my lower lip. "I just don't want you to get hurt."
his eyes lift to mine for a moment. they're so pretty and dark, ringed by long lashes. his mouth is set in a soft but steady line. for the first time in the last few hours, I don't want to glance away. he doesn't seem to, either.
but then he catches sight of the artwork from earlier behind me, the one with the strips of different photographs arranged in a puzzle-like way.
his pupils flicker rapidly between the images and I turn to see what he's trying to piece together.
"Lila?" his voice resonates through the house and the woman in question emerges from the hallway. she's wearing a silk robe.
"yes?"
"you went to Julliard, right?"
"yeah, why?"
"and you lived on Houston Street."
"mhmm."
Reid stands and inches closer to the piece. with his brows furrowed, it's easy to see the gears turning in his mind. "I think I see images of you in this. I need to take it apart."
Lila keeps peeking between the agent and the photos, as if trying to discern exactly what it is he sees, but it's a waste of effort to try. his brain is beyond explanation.
"sure, yeah, I guess," she agrees.
before long, we're leaning over the counter as Reid rearranges every slice into a series of complete pictures. my chin rests on my fist as I try to make out what I can from the composite.
"it looks like someone's been stalking you for years, Lila," I say gently. "this is, like, your life story."
"movie theaters, theater playbills, everything since college," Reid continues. he points to the respective scenes, including several dramatic shots of the actress in different performances.
Lila's hand covers her mouth. she points to one of the pictures. "that's our country house."
"who gave this to you?" I frown.
"Parker Dunley. we met a while ago. he runs a gallery here in LA." she points to another person's face in the piece, a man in one of the corners.
I pull out my cell and call Garcia.
"at your service, madam," she answers.
"Garcia, I need a sheet on a guy named Parker Dunley. can you send it to Morgan and Prentiss and have them go to the address?"
"absolutely. new suspect?"
"yeah. he gave Lila some collage a while ago and it's literally full of pictures of her."
"oh, ew." she replies, then hangs up.
I push my phone into my pocket and try to give Lila a reassuring smile. for the first time, she seems truly shaken. with a face to attach to the monster, it must be more real.
"we'll get the guy. don't worry." I infuse my voice with as much certainty as I can muster.
she nods, stays silent. Reid glances at her, clearly not sure how to comfort the woman.
unfortunately, all we can do for the next few minutes is wait as the rest of the team goes to talk to Dunley. Reid and I continue to look over the art in case there's anything important we might have missed, but Lila just paces back and forth across the kitchen floor.
it takes maybe fifteen minutes before I get a call from Hotch.
"hello?" my voice wavers slightly.
"Williams. it's not Dunley. it's a woman named Maggie Lowe."
my heart falters. "wait, what?"
"Dunley lied. Maggie made the collage and told him to give it to her. she's a crew member on Lila's show."
"oh. okay, thanks," I say stupidly, then hang up to address Lila. "do you know someone named Maggie Lowe?"
"Mags?" Lila pauses in his pacing and frowns at me. "yeah, of course I know her. I've known her for years. I got her a job on my show."
my mouth opens as I prepare to tell her that her close friend is, in fact, her stalker, when her own phone rings.
Spencer glances between the two of us. "what is it?"
"that's her calling right now." Lila's eyes drift from her screen up to us and my stomach knots up.
"is she calling from a cell?" Spencer asks.
"yeah."
"Lila, we think Maggie's the unsub," I break in.
"the what?"
"the stalker."
"what? no way." she shakes her head.
"answer the phone." I gesture to the device, which is still ringing.
"that's crazy. she wouldn't do that." Lila ignores me, coming over to the counter.
"answer the phone. act completely natural," Spencer approaches her earnestly. "keep her on the phone as long as you can. the longer she's on, the more likely we'll be able to trace the call."
she gives him a disbelieving look. the ringtone continues to blare, and I watch as Spencer puts his hand on her arm. it's kind. "trust me."
as she brings the receiver up to her ear, I walk away to call Garcia.
"oracle of Quantico," she answers. "speak if you deign to hear truth."
"Garcia, I need an emergency trace on a call to Lila Archer's phone."
"sure, go ahead."
Spencer grabs my phone and rattles off Lila's number-- which I've, of course, forgotten-- and hands it back to me.
"okay, just keep her talking," Garcia instructs over the sound of her fingers on the keyboard.
I turn to Lila, who has a concerned expression as she walks around the living room and speaks to Maggie.
"you're tired?" she asks softly over the line. "Mags, I saw you today."
there's a pause, and then she continues. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Spencer leans against the counter and gives me a worried look.
"Maggie," Lila sounds hurt and confused. "that was only for a weekend."
"Williams," Garcia speaks again, full of dread. "is Lila's address 6028 Pike Street?"
my stomach twists. "yeah." the word drags out of my slowly. there's only one reason she'd bring that up right now; I know what she's going to say next.
"she's calling from inside the house. I must have missed her on the security cams while I was talking to Hotch-- I'll get you some backup."
"thanks, Garcia."
my body is still slack for a second before I get Reid's attention, who seems to understand me without a word. we both turn to the actress.
"Lila," I whisper.
she raises her brows at me.
"Maggie is in the house."
"how did she get in?" Reid asks her.
"she has keys," Lila swallows, now off the phone. her stalker must have dropped the call.
Reid and I both reach for our guns.
"Lila, just stay with us," I instruct, trying to figure out where to search first.
she must have snuck in when we were out by the pool and just waited inside. maybe she's in the bedroom?
we start to move into the hallway, Lila between Reid and me so that she's covered on either side. I can hear our collective breaths, Lila's shaking. for a second, I feel crushing pity for her. the only paternal figure in her life and her own best friend, both gone in different ways.
this flies out of my mind, however, as we make our way into the bedroom. it seems undisturbed, a large space with a balcony that looks out over LA.
we're nearing one of the hidden corners of the room, where her walk-in closet resides, when there's a rush of air behind me. I spin around just in time for Maggie to smack my gun out of my hand.
it all happens so fast, I barely have time to register the movement. instead, I watch uselessly as the weapon thuds to the ground just a few feet away. but I can't go grab it, because her own gun is pointed right at me.
"why'd you have to bring these people here?" Maggie sneers, eyes shining with tears. she's disheveled, blonde hair wild as she scrutinizes us.
we're silent, Lila too shocked to speak first.
"put the gun down, Maggie," Spencer uses a gentle tone with her, but I know what he's doing without even looking. setting his gun on the ground; with a barrel pointed at all three of us, it's too much of a risk to have some kind of stand-off.
"don't call me Maggie," she scoffs. "you don't know me."
I want to speak, but I don't know what will defuse the situation. she's got the weapon leveled right at my face, and she's obviously impulsive. the wrong thing might just make her lose it.
"you shouldn't have brought them here. we have to get out, now, baby," Maggie continues instead, for a second twitching the gun at her intended victim. "come on."
"Maggie, don't hurt her," I raise my hands and move just enough to step in front of Lila. "you don't need to hurt her."
"you don't know anything," she replies with exasperation. when she walks over to Lila and pushes a piece of hair behind her ear, my spine goes rigid. the difference between how she speaks to use and how she speaks to the object of her desire is like two different people speaking from one body. "I would never hurt you. I created you."
"no, you didn't." Lila keeps her attention on Reid as Maggie brushes a hand over her locks, down her back.
"yes, I did." her tongue pokes the inside of her cheek, holding back her own rage. "I know I did. you stupid, ungrateful--"
with her laser-focused on Lila, I realize that she's completely forgotten about me. it would be easy to grab my gun, but I really don't want to shoot her. especially not in front of Lila; she's lost enough. I wrack my brain for another option.
"I can't believe that I loved you." Maggie's voice is breathless as she pulls away to aim the gun at Lila. she's shaking with anger.
I have no idea if she'll actually go through with it and shoot, but I can't risk it. my body lurches forward and I use one hand to grab her gun, the other to grab her wrist, and shove my shoulder into her body.
we topple to the ground, the gun easily falling into my possession. her grip was so weak; too anguished to be effective.
Reid pushes Lila behind him as he leaps to my side, grabbing the gun from me and putting it in his waistband. Maggie tries to wrestle with me, screeching like a banshee, but I weigh more than her and I've already got her wrists pinned to the ground.
mascara stains her cheeks. "kill me," she begs with the desperation of a cornered animal. "fucking kill me. please. I'll be so much happier."
I can't find the words to reply. the entirety of my short time in the BAU, nobody has ever asked me to kill them after being caught. it's awful, the sensation it causes deep in my chest.
for a second, I'm almost overwhelmed with the sadness and nausea that wrestle within me. I would never kill her like this, but part of me wishes I could take her out of her misery in some other way. I wouldn't want to live if I was haunted by this, either.
instead of giving her an answer, I bite down hard on my bottom lip until it bleeds inside my mouth. she tries to wrench herself away and I have to press my nails into her skin, breaking it. despite being small and weak, she's scrappy.
I'm not sure how long we're there, our gazes digging into each other, before I hear sirens and the team enters the bedroom. Reid pulls me off of Maggie. I'm slightly limp, so he pulls me into his chest to steady me.
my knees are like jelly, but I watch them take her out of the room in handcuffs. Lila is standing in silence by the balcony door, blankly staring as Morgan tries to help her regain herself. the fabric of Spencer's sweatshirt is soft against my cheek. I have no idea why this is affecting me so much; I can't relate to her in any real way, yet I can still feel the tiny amount of blood that I drew from her wrists under my nails. it makes me feel dirty.
"are you alright?" he asks quietly. his hands move to my arms, wrapping around them, and I realize how pathetic I must appear right now.
"yes. yeah, sorry, I think my arms and legs fell asleep from holding her there." I force out a laugh and pull away as if it's easy. he's so warm.
"oh, sure." his features are contorted with worry as he looks down at me.
I can't deal with the intensity of it, so I shift my body and he drops his hands from my body. a shiver runs down my spine that I also can't identify. the world is moving slow and fast all at once, nearly blurring the edges of my vision.
"let's go home, yeah?" I plaster on a smile and give his shoulder a short, friendly squeeze. we still have to somehow tell Lila that Michael is gone, but my body physically can't take that thought right now. it'll have to wait until tomorrow.
when I walk away without waiting for his response, there's an elephant's weight on my chest.
taglist (add yourself here or lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @reidsconverse @donald4spiderman @awritingtree @gingeraleluke @bewitchedbibliophile @xoxospencerreid @spencerreidat3am @azuriteannie @written-disasters @si1verscreens @pleasantwitchgarden
i don’t know if you’re still on here or if this is a side blog but just wanted to say your writing is so underrated and metro card deserves so much more credit and attention than it got. Anyways hope you’re doing well :)
this made me night thank you sm 🤍 i loved writing metro card and it means sm that you liked reading it omg! i’m hoping to be a bit more active on here and do more writing— it’s been at the back of my mind tbh 😭 i hope you’re doing well too :)
summary: fem!reader brings her new boyfriend to meet the team for drinks, but she doesn't know why Spencer keeps acting up and presses him for answers. part 1 here!
pairing: fem!reader x spencer
word count: 3k
content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, SoftDom!Spencer, Doctor kink, slight exhibitionism, dirty talk, slight angst, mentions of torture (case).
A/N: hey everyone! i hope you're all doing well. i was so excited to write this tonight and i hope you enjoy it :)
masterlist
the rest of the evening blurs. part of you is tense with anger. how could he say something like that right now? when he knows that you're with somebody else, and when you're at a party with all of your friends? it's irresponsible-- a word you would never normally use to describe Spencer.
Penelope's home is lovely and cozy and the perfect place to spend an evening with cheese and wine. it also feels like a swiftly shrinking, inescapable box. Reid doesn't interact with you for the rest of the evening. you can still smell the light, crisp scent of his cologne in your mind as Wren rubs your arm.
it's too much to bear. you leave first, unable to parade around the apartment like a good partner when Spencer is so obviously standing there. you feign a headache and hug your friends goodbye. as Reid begins to make his way over, you pretend to be busy gathering up the (now empty) Tupperware and slip out.
"are you okay?" Wren asks as soon as the door closes behind you. his cute brow is furrowed. your chest squeezes with guilt.
"yeah, I'm okay. I'm just..." you wrack your mind for an excuse. "thinking about a case that hits close to home. sorry for acting weird."
he slides his arm around your shoulder and holds you, your head landing on his shoulder. it feels nice. "don't apologize. do you wanna talk about it?"
"not really. thank you, though." all you can think about right now is what a terrible person you are-- for thinking of someone else when you have this person in front of you, for not telling him about Spencer's confession, for thinking you could want anyone besides Reid at all.
all of it is too much to organize in your mind right now; you want to go to bed and try again tomorrow. maybe your head will be clearer when you're not full of wine and candied oranges.
...
if your job wasn't so important, you would take a couple days off. seeing him is bound to mess with your head. but there's simply no justification you can think of that would make you feel comfortable with letting down the team. plus, you know Spencer would never spend work hours trying to breach the subject; he might have bad timing, but even he knows better than that.
things between you and Wren have been strained as well; after the Friday evening at Penelope's, you've been avoiding him. he's understanding, but you can tell that he's getting concerned. it's wrong to keep letting him think you're invested in the relationship.
if anything, it's become abundantly clear that you aren't in a space to date Wren. maybe anyone.
the breakup moves more smoothly than you expect, in the privacy of your apartment. you tell him that you've got a lot on your mind right now and can't give him the attention he deserves. it isn't a lie. you don't mention Spencer.
Wren gives you a reassuring smile and says that he understands.
as soon as you close the door behind him, you find yourself crying without a clear reason. the tears come down all at once, a combination of guilt and sadness and feelings leftover from your case. it's been too long since you went to therapy and holding everything in has formed a lead weight in your stomach.
you think about how you're going to have to see Spencer at work tomorrow morning and how it's going to affect you. how distracting it will be to possibly be paired off with him and to smell that cologne and know just how tightly he grabbed your wrist and the terrible relief that bloomed in your chest when he said he loved you.
all of it hangs over your head like a sword.
washing your face and gathering up your bag, you go to the one place you know Spencer will indubitably be on a Sunday night.
...
he's leaning back in his chair, spinning slightly from side to side as he studies some paperwork. for a second, you don't go inside. you just stare through the glass doors at the back of his head, the pen he keeps clicking in his hand. most of the lights in the place are off, except for the lamp on his desk.
you take a deep breath.
Reid turns around as soon as you walk through the door. he looks surprised to see you at first, eyebrows raising briefly before he clears his throat.
"hi." he says.
something about the casualness of it fills you with a mix of emotions. "hi? that's what you have to say?"
he purses his lips and frowns. "I didn't expect you to be here."
"me, neither." you walk over to your desk and throw down your things with an impertinent slam. without waiting for a response, you walk over to the kitchenette and pour yourself a cup of coffee from what he's already brewed. you notice the container of sugar that he's left out, then think of the three full scoops he always uses.
"I wanted to give you some space, Y/N." he offers. you peek around the corner to see him still in his chair, watching you intently.
"how gracious of you," you say sarcastically. "after confessing to me at a party with my boyfriend that you're in love with me, you wanted to give me space."
the chair squeaks as he stands up and joins you in the kitchenette. he keeps a safe distance.
"I'm sorry. that wasn't the right time to tell you that. I just didn't know what to say when you asked me why I was acting different."
"I only asked why you were acting different because you were being an outright asshole to someone I cared about." you stir your coffee with one of those little wooden sticks and resist the urge to snap it in your hands.
Spencer's gaze moves from your drink to your hands to the cabinets, obviously trying to come up with more excuses.
"cared?" is the only thing he says.
"what?"
"you said cared, in the past tense." he meets your eyes and holds them. your jaw clenches.
"and?"
"you don't care about him anymore?" now he's just needling.
"we broke up, Spencer, Jesus Christ."
"why?" he frowns, genuinely confused this time.
you're silent.
"why did you break up?" he repeats. his attention is so intense, you nearly look away. it feels like every nerve in your body is frozen. you don't want to tell the truth, but you can't think of any lie that someone as smart as him would believe.
"Spencer." it's the only thing that you can say. but it's charged.
"I'm sorry for telling you at the party, but I don't regret it." there's a rawness to the way he says it.
you think about the time when you and Spencer were paired together for a case in rural Georgia and he started behaving strangely. everyone on the team was strangely gentle with him and you had no idea why, until the case was over and the two of you got a drink back home. he said he'd been kidnapped by an unsub, held captive in a barn and tortured.
the whole time he talked about it, it was like he was telling a story that wasn't his. there was distance in it, the kind victims sometimes have when recounting a trauma. you felt terrible for asking, but he insisted that it was better you know. you didn't know exactly what he meant by "better." he walked you home that night and, when you asked if you could hug him, he nodded. he'd held you so tightly, you can still feel the pressure on your ribs if you try.
he's watching you now, your fingertips burning against the hot mug of coffee. his hazel eyes have that same tumultuous quality, chaotic and seeking all at once.
"I..." you trail off. there are so many things you want to say.
Spencer inches closer, his movements awakening something in your chest. your heart flutters, despite all the frustration recently.
"what are you thinking about?" his voice is so soft. you know exactly what you're risking by doing this. you don't want to lie anymore.
"I love you, too." the words float. they're long overdue. Reid's expression changes to something lighter, a slow smile.
"yeah?"
"yeah."
there's a moment where you look at each other. there are so many ways you could proceed-- decide to leave it alone and keep working together, or give up the act and give in to what you truly want.
but Spencer doesn't waste any more time, pressing his lips to yours in the barely-lit kitchenette. he does it so fiercely, you have to lean back with a slight giggle to accommodate him. you set down your mug. his hand reaches around to the small of your back and pulls you in closer, your own arms wrapping around his neck.
he cups your face, thumb brushing gently over your cheek. he tastes like sugar and his lips are soft, the kiss increasing in desperation as he presses you against the counter. you let out a sigh at the weight of him.
"Spencer." you lean back and breathe out his name as he attaches his mouth to your jaw, the tender part of your throat, down to your collarbone. he sucks harshly at your jugular, at the heavily thudding pulse you're certain he can feel. you want it to last forever, but you're feverish. so many missed opportunities brought back to the surface.
"I love when you say my name." he murmurs against your skin.
you can smell his cologne again, and your fingers tangle in his hair. when you tug on it, he lets out a groan.
"fuck..." you gasp as he grips onto your hips and holds you against him. the erection in his pants strains against your stomach.
"I need you." he rocks against you. you bite your lip and try to keep from giving in right here and now.
"not in the office." you smirk. the thought excites you beyond words. you moan as his teeth graze your collarbone.
"I'll have Garcia delete the footage."
"we shouldn't..." but you're fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. he kisses you on the mouth again and quickly lifts you up just enough to rest on the edge of the counter. every fiber of your being is devoted to this moment.
"okay then." suddenly, he pulls away and runs a hand through his hair. he pretends to turn to walk away, but you laugh and grab onto his wrist and yank him back.
"no!" you whisper. he grins playfully, triumphantly. you kiss the smile off his lips. "shut up."
"that's what I thought." he chuckles and slides his hands up your thighs, kissing you more softly. you can feel the pressure building between your thighs, the heat that makes you wriggle in your seat.
his fingers dig into your legs, amused by your eagerness. he pushes your skirt up and his thumbs brush over your inner thighs.
you think about how at any second, someone could walk in. normally, this would give you anxiety, but there's something exciting about having Spencer pushing your legs apart in the BAU office.
"come here." he grunts. you shiver and let him use one hand to pull you closer to the edge of the counter and the other to flutter over your panties. you inhale sharply at the sensation. he isn't giving you exactly what you want, and it's soaking you.
"please--" you whisper, hips bucking against nothing.
"you want me to touch you?" his cockiness is surprising. hot.
"mhmm."
"you're sure?" he grazes his fingers over your panties. you wonder if he can feel how ready you are for him.
"god, Spencer, please." you sigh and grab onto his shoulders. he finally does as asked and begins to rub your clit, finding it with ease when you moan.
foreheads resting against each other, he looks at you and increases the pressure. his eyes are dark and deep and inviting, so different from how he normally looks. for all his teasing, he wants it just as much as you do. if anything, he's struggling to hold back.
he leans down and kisses your neck. "you like that, huh." his voice is lower.
you let out a breath in response, then gasp as he slides your panties to the side and dips his finger into your wetness. he groans. "I bet that boyfriend of yours couldn't make you feel like this."
"Spencer--"
"Dr. Reid." he corrects you with authority. it turns you on even more, how dominant he's getting, and you melt into him. he takes this as a sign to keep going. "who do you really think about when you wanna cum, Y/N?"
you bite your lip to hold back the moan building in the back of your throat. part of you wants to play hard to get and pretend that on late nights you don't find yourself breathing out his name with your vibrator between your legs. that he isn't the only one who can truly make you lose your mind.
"I--" you're about to tease him when he starts fingering you with one curved finger and rubbing your clit with his thumb. all sane thoughts fly out the window. you throw your head back. "fuck, Dr. Reid."
"I'm gonna take my time with you when we get home." he whispers into the shell of your ear before kissing your temple.
for some reason, this tender motion and the combination of his word-- the implication that there will be more of this-- sends you in a spiral. euphoric and intense, the orgasm sends shocks through your body. words try to come out of your mouth, but they're incomprehensible. your hold on him is vice-like.
your legs shake and your pussy tightens around his fingers, desperate for him to keep touching you like this. he groans. "god, that's so sexy."
you're grinding against his hand as you try to ride out the high. "Spence, please just fuck me."
"awfully needy." he chuckles and slowly removes his fingers. just as he presses his mouth to yours, you pull away and move to slide off the counter. it takes every ounce of willpower, but you're nothing if not bratty.
"okay." as if you're going to leave.
"hey!" he laughs and wraps his arms around your waist to pull you back into him.
you grin. "doesn't feel good, does it?"
"I'm sorry." he settles you back into your position. you run your hand through his hair, staring up at his perfect face. you don't want to be anywhere else in the world.
"you've said that a lot tonight," your hand finds Reid's cheek. mouths centimeters apart. "show me how sorry you are."
he reaches down and unbuttons his pants quickly. your eyes lock as he pulls out his hard dick and tugs your panties to the side, positioning himself at your entrance eagerly.
"this okay?" he's resisting the urge to slide into you, and you're beyond ready. you scoot closer to him and nod.
"yes, please."
Spencer holds eye contact as he sinks into you, the pressure and pleasure melting together with excitement. it's new and delicious. as soon as he's fully inside and his jaw tightens, you throw your head back. he's too beautiful to look at.
after you've adjusted, he starts to move. the sensation stretches you out and you moan, fingers digging into his shoulders with abandon. he grabs onto your hip and starts to slowly push.
"oh my god..." you sigh to contain the mix of emotions in your body.
"how does this feel?" his breathing is shallow and a vein in his neck is visible as he tries to keep his pace reasonable.
"so good." you buck up against him and he reads your body language perfectly, sliding back in.
he gets about two more thrusts in before you really begin to build your rhythm, his body slamming into yours greedily. he's groaning against your shoulder, straightening to kiss you and breaking it to catch his breath. you wrap your legs around him.
"harder." you beg. he listens and starts fucking you recklessly, with pent-up desire.
"you're so fucking perfect." he growls as he kisses your neck sloppily. when he starts to suck on it again, you feel the tension building tightly in your stomach.
"right there, oh my--"
"good girl, come on, take it." he starts pulling you closer to meet his thrusts and the sound of his moans makes you even wetter than before. he's needy, too, grabbing at you like he'll die without it, fucking you relentlessly.
"I'm gonna cum, Spence." you writhe against him. his grip tightens.
"good," he urges you on. "I wanna fill you up."
the thought of this completes you, your body squeezing around him desperately. you let out a load moan and scratch at his back while you cum.
"keep going, keep going." you beg. he slides a hand between your bodies and rubs your clit again, nearly overstimulating. the pleasure is overwhelming, crashing over you until your eyes roll into the back of your head.
you hold back a scream and he bottoms out inside you, groaning your name as he fills you up and rocks against you again. he slows down.
the two of you stay there for a while, drawing out the moment for as long as possible. it's perfect, the way he fits with you. his breath on your cheek, the feeling of his heart through his chest.
although you're both still dressed, it feels more intimate than any sex you've ever had. just knowing each other for so long has created such a tight knot within you that you're ready to keep undoing.
"I'm not done with you." he whispers against your lips.
"good." you reply.
"let's go back to my apartment?" his tone is weighted with desire. your stomach flips. you can't wait for what he's going to do to you.
"mhmm." all you can think about is how quickly you're going to rip off his clothes when you get him home.
“friends kiss each other all the time, right? “ with Hotch please 😩🙌🏻
it's 10 pm when you decide to finish up for the night-taking the imminent rumbling of your stomach as a sign to leave and get some dinner. you’re quick to pack your things away, your mind distracted as you tried to decide what you were craving.
you switch your desk light off, leaving the bullpen in almost complete darkness - apart from the scattered lamps and the unmissable glow coming from your boss’s office. you took a moment to debate whether to disturb hotch so late and before you had come to a conclusion your feet were dragging you up the short steps and you were knocking on his slightly ajar door.
“hey, are you busy?” you ask, regretting the words as soon as you saw the piles of paperwork on his desk and the look of frustration on his face. you opened your mouth, ready to apologise for bothering him when he puts his pen down and gestures for you to enter.
“is everything ok y/n?” he asks, his gentle tone taking you by surprise - you’d expected annoyance or a dismissive gesture. but all you saw was his shoulders relax, and his eyes widened slightly with intrigue.
“oh i was -uh- just wondering if you wanted to get dinner.” you almost winced at the way you stuttered and his eyebrows raise slightly in what you could only detect as amusement. you took this as a sign to continue, “i just mean, we’re the only ones left and its late and i dont really feel like walking out on my own.” a sigh left your lips as you finished - that couldn’t have come out worse if you’d tried.
you were almost certain he’d tell you to leave, that he had far too much to do. instead, he looks at you for a moment, not saying a word before standing up. “ok.” he says, and now it was your turn to be surprised. he places a few items inside his bag and walks over to you. “let’s go.”
the plan was to walk over to the restaurant, eat your meal and walk back to your car and drive home. simple, almost impossible to go wrong. but of course, it did, you got there just slightly after 10:30 - your heart sinking slightly as you saw them closing up the sit-in area for the night. “takeout only.” the guy at the counter said, before heading back into the kitchen.
you turned to face hotch who didn’t seem at all phased by the unexpected hurdle in the plan. “we can find someplace else.” you whispered, feeling bad for dragging him out of his office and away from his work.
but he only shook his head, “no, it’s fine - we’ll figure something out, " he said before picking up a menu and reading through the options, leaving you to wonder what he could propose as a solution.
it wasn’t until you’d left the restaurant, two bags full of takeout boxes that he’d let you in on his plan. and that's how you ended up here, sitting on the floor in the living room of your boss’s apartment- reruns of various 90s shows playing on the tv as you both divulged in the best Thai food DC had to offer.
“this is really good, i can’t believe i’ve never been there before.” he said, adding some more green curry to his plate. you let out a small laugh, reaching over to take the box from him and add the rest to your own - already full - plate.
“not too many people know about it, i found it my first week here when i was scoping out the area and it’s been my little secret ever since.” you admit.
“well, thank you for sharing it with me.” the way he smiles as he says it makes your stomach flutter, and you’re grateful when his attention moves back to food and away from you - the ridiculous grin on your face becoming almost impossible to hide.
it's hard enough trying not to look at him with metaphoric heart eyes but you can’t help it - it all feels surreal, you never thought you’d be here, indulging in such a domestic moment with him. it was no secret you’d been in love with hotch since your very first week at the bau. it sounds ridiculous, especially since he’d barely looked your way but there was something about him - a magnetic energy that pulled you in.
the vibration of his phone shook the table slightly, interrupting the comfortable silence. He sighed and stood up quickly, mumbling a rushed 'one second' before walking to the kitchen. the hushed conversation couldn't be heard, but the disappointment on his face as he came back out to the living room told you the evening was coming to an end sooner than you'd like.
"is everything all right?" you asked as he approached you. you observed how he didn't sit down again and how his shoulders had tensed, his demeanor moving from comfortable to...well, how he typically was, guarded.
“that was jessica, jack not sleeping well, so she’s going to bring him home, I'm sorry." he explained, but you were shaking your head before he could continue speaking.
"there's no need to apologise, hotch; dad duty comes first." you smiled at him, and he returned a small one. "let me help you tidy this up, and I'll be on my way." you quickly began to close the nearly empty containers, and he didn’t hesitate to help.
“do you need want to me to drop you home?” he asked, as he put away the last if the dishes.
“my apartment is only a few blocks away, I can walk.” you replied, watching as he turned to face you, eyebrows furrowed with concern. a giggle escaped your lips before you could stop it, “i have my gun, and pepper spray. I’ll be fine.”
his eyes glittered with amusement, “i don’t doubt that, i’ve seen you throw your fair share of punches.” he laughs, and you feel your heart clench at the sound. it's silent for a moment, before he continues. “thank you for dragging me out of that office - can’t imagine having dinner with your boss was how you wanted to spend your evening.”
“‘are you kidding? thank you for keeping me company, i really appreciate it.” its true, you were grateful for the company - it was easy to you feel isolated from others because of your job, and it wasn't until this evening that you realised how much you'd missed socialising outside of work. “and you’re not just my boss hotch, you’re my friend.”
he tilts his head for a moment, his eyes skim across your face quickly, and you don’t miss the way they linger over your lips. “friends?” he whispers, as he moves closer to you, your back pressing against the island as you take a step back - unsure if you’d be able to hold yourself back, if he got any closer.
‘friends.” you repeated, and before the words had finished leaving your mouth you felt yourself reaching up, your hands were on his shoulders as your press your lips against his. you close your eyes before you can see his reaction, and pull away, not waiting for a reponse. “i’m so sorry - hotch i shouldn’t have…” you whispered, moving away from him and towards the door, if the earth couldn't swallow you up from the ground - the next best option would be to run out of his door.
‘y/n.. y/n wait.” he followed you, quickening his footsteps and grabbing hold of your wrist to stop you moving any further. he drew you close to him and reached up to touch your face. His hands were startlingly cold next to your heated cheeks but you couldn't bring yourself to care. “friends kiss each other all the time, right?” before you can reply, he’s kissing you and this time there’s no hesitancy, no confusion - its perfect, your lips mould together as though they were made for this…like you were made for each other.
despite wanting to freeze the moment, and live in it forever - you pulled away. ‘i- i should go, it’s late and jack will be back soon.” you say, and he nods in response - you’re acutely aware of his hands still holding your face. you bring your own hands up, to place over his. “but we should do this again… as friends.” you smile, as you walk away and open the door.
“or maybe more?” he asks, taking you by surprise for the third time that night. your lips meet his again, for a brief moment, before answering.
“or maybe more.”
-
thank you so much for this request and I'm so sorry it took an eternity to get it done. please send me some more requests, i can't believe how much I have missed writing.
hi!! i couldn’t find your ask limits or anything so i hope i don’t offend you or anything. :) i love ur work and was wondering if you could possibly write something about prof!hotch x law student! fem! reader?? maybe he’s her prof or she interns for him or something? lowkey would love smutty prof hotch i think
hi hi!! omg i’m sorry my ask limits were hard to find they should be in my masterlist but here it is if not!
oooh i’ve never written hotch before but i’ve been curious about starting! i love the idea of smutty prof hotch YES! 💕
summary: one month after joining the BAU, Clea is still settling in. between solving murders and getting acclimated to DC, the only comfortable thing in her life is her new friendship with Dr. Spencer Reid. (Baby Spence)
pairing: Fem!OC x Spencer
word count: 3.4k
content warnings: slight angst
A/N: hey everyone! i hope you're all doing well. i'm so sorry for the late update but i'm really excited about where this chapter is headed. see you soon <3
masterlist
I watch the sunlight hit the wing of the jet and reflect off the metal. before we've even landed, I can practically feel the warmth of the Los Angeles sun in my mind. even though we're here for a case, all I can think about is how much nicer the weather will be.
"the light will damage your eyes." Reid's voice across from me jolts me back to reality. he redirects me to the chess board, where he's apparently already made his move and is waiting for me to do the same.
I frown. "whatever."
normally, there'd be some kind of clock to keep track of our moves, but Spencer has been keeping our progress slow. it's appreciated, as I'm still familiarizing myself with the rules of the game and different playing strategies. of course, I want to be good, but it's much easier said than done.
"looking forward to LA?" I ask to bide my time while the doctor stares at the board. he rests his knuckles beneath his chin, then looks up at me. the dimming light catches his eyes in a honeyed tone.
"it's okay, as long as we're not outside often."
"okay, Dracula." I tease. he sighs the kind of sigh he does when he has a lot to say but doesn't want to compact all of it for the rest of us ordinary people to understand.
"I just don't like the heat."
"good thing you moved to DC." I reply sarcastically.
he seems like he wants to say something in response, then decides against it. instead, he taps a long finger on the wooden board. "pay attention."
"I don't wanna do this anymore, Spence." I whine. just then, JJ passes by with a cup of coffee and rests her hand on the top of my seat.
"do what?"
"chess," Spencer gives her a look asking for help before turning his gaze back to me. "you can't just give up every time something gets hard."
"I can if it's something I don't care about," I roll my eyes. "he keeps beating me, too. it's defeating."
"then play smarter." Reid gives me a challenging smile.
"give her a break, Reid." JJ musses his hair as she walks past him and to her own spot. as Spencer fixes it with a blush, I push down my frustration. I know this is his specialty, but it's not mine and I'm tired.
I give him something of a pleading expression before leaning back in my seat with arms folded. he stares at me for a minute-- or through me, really-- and then to the board. I try to reorient myself and give it another shot, my fingertips pressing impatiently into the surface of the table.
"queen to h4." it comes out while Spencer coughs, the directions clear as day. he lifts his attention to me again and I look at him with confusion. is he really going to let me win? do I even want it?
I want a nap more.
with a satisfying click, I do as he says and trap him. Spencer shakes his head and lets out a breath. "wow."
"shut up." I pick up the pawns and slide them back into the little velvet pouch that they came in. Reid pulls a book out of his bag and opens it, but not before sneaking a small smile over the rim of the pages.
he knows what I'm going to say. "thanks."
"mhmm." he goes back to reading.
the smugness lingers in the air until I eventually doze off to the sound of the engine and the turning of pages.
JJ wakes me up later to fill us in on the case. Hotch has been in the city for a few days already for a conference, but told us to come after a detective friend of his requested our help on a series of murders in the area, all execution-style shots with a .22 caliber handgun.
"the first two victims were Wally Melman and Chloe Harris," she says. "they were both killed in public places. Chloe was killed while walking her dog on the beach in Santa Monica, which she did every morning. Wally was killed outside a massage parlor, which he went to every Tuesday."
"if he knows their schedules he must follow his victims for a while," Morgan frowns as he flips through his file. "and no witnesses for either... he must be able to blend in."
"meticulous." I rub my eyes.
"the most recent victim is Natalie Ryan. she's an actress and there's been tons of media coverage about the murder, so I'd be cautious about paparazzi while we're there." JJ warns us as she settles onto the couch.
I've never worked on a celebrity case before, so this puts me off slightly. the idea of everyone's eyes on us while we work makes me anxious, especially given the nature of LA paparazzi.
...
the coffee is terrible at the precinct. I'm perched on the edge of a desk while Hotch paces back and forth, the detective situated across from the team.
"you think he's an assassin?" he asks dubiously.
Prentiss nods. "there's no obvious links within the victimology-- all the murders were clean except Natalie's boyfriend, Jeremy, who we think was just collateral damage."
"there's no evidence left at any of the crime scenes or any signature, either." Reid rests his chin on his knuckles, eyebrows furrowed. his watch glints under the light. the guy still looks unconvinced, though, so I speak up.
"you're looking for a Type 4 assassin, someone who suffers from a major mental disorder. they're usually delusional."
Reid opens his mouth, likely to explain the other types of assassins, when someone knocks on the doorframe. it's a short, stocky man.
"excuse me," he looks at all of us cramped in the tiny office. "is there a detective Kim here?"
"that's me." the detective stands.
"you're in charge of the Natalie Ryan murder investigation, right?"
at this, my ears perk up. everyone stares at the man.
"my client-- I'm sorry, is there anywhere we can talk about this in private?" he eyes us warily, suddenly uncomfortable with the amount of people around. I'm more intrigued than ever.
"we're all working this case." Kim replies.
"oh," he clears his throat. "well, my client received a note-- I told her not to worry about it, but--"
"where's the note?" Morgan cuts him off.
he hands over a magazine clipping, an article on the Natalie Ryan murder, which has "YOU OWE ME" written in red marker across the page. Morgan gets up.
"where's your client?"
"she's in the other room."
"Reid, Williams, let's go." he follows the man out, Spencer and I trailing quickly behind like ducklings.
there's a separate office tucked into the corner of the precinct, where the man gestures to a young woman sitting in a chair. I don't recognize her, but she looks like a celebrity herself.
"this is my client, Lila Archer." the guy tells us. he must be her manager. the woman turns to see us standing there. she's obviously distraught, silent while we introduce ourselves and until Morgan begins to ask her questions about the note. every question flusters her further.
eventually, the rest of the team comes in to hear her story, and it's clear that the unsub is committing the murders on what they believe is her behalf. once she realizes this, though, she gets overwhelmed and excuses herself abruptly. a few of us glance between each other. Lila's manager, Michael, looks like he's about to go after her, but Hotch asks him to stay for a few more questions and asks one of us to find her instead.
something in my chest flares when Reid volunteers and practically runs out of the room. my eyebrows pull together in confusion and I sense Morgan looking at me, but I don't say anything. instead, I turn my attention to Hotch.
neither of them return for a good ten minutes, and when they do, we're packing up. tonight will be spent putting together a preliminary profile and tomorrow we'll have to figure out what to do. I've been less on my toes than I'd like, too preoccupied by how quickly he offered to find her.
she seems better, if not slightly jumpy. Spencer says something to her and she walks over to Michael. he puts his arm around her shoulder comfortingly. the three of them talk to Hotch in hushed tones and I try to keep from staring.
I'm throwing out the remains of my coffee when Spencer sidles up next to me as if nothing happened. we walk out with the rest of the team into the night air.
"they gave her a security detail, right?" he asks me.
"of course," I wonder what he said to her to calm her down. Spencer has never seemed inclined to console a stranger. "how'd you convince her to come back inside?"
"well, I told her that this person likely started out as a stalker and that these cases usually either culminate in the stalker killing themselves or the object of their desire." he states. my eyebrows fly up.
"you said that?"
"yes," he pauses when he sees my expression. "what?"
"nothing. I'm just surprised she looked so calm when she came back." I shake my head.
"I also said we'd assign 24/7 security to her in the meantime, so that might have helped."
I adjust my bag further up my shoulder. "that was nice of you, to go make sure she was okay."
Spencer smiles at me and any strangeness I was feeling before melts away. something is seriously wrong with me; here he was, just being a nice person, and I was making it about myself.
"are you okay?" he breaks the quiet between us. the team is talking behind us about the case, but I realize that I haven't said anything for a good thirty seconds.
"I think I'm just tired. that coffee was undrinkable."
he laughs. "do you wanna get a new one?"
"are any places still open?" I look at the silky sky above, starless but punctured by the lights of office buildings all around.
"it's 8pm. I'm sure there are." a small grin tugs at his lips, this one rather teasing. I roll my eyes before turning to tell the team we'll meet them at the cars in a few minutes.
we find a small café about two blocks down, filled with twinkling lights and Frank Ocean playing over the speakers. there are plants crammed in every windowsill, their leaves taking on a deep green in the dim, romantic light.
a couple people are situated at the tables. I peruse the fancy options as Spencer grumbles next to me about how stupid it is to have this many choices when ordering coffee.
"you know, I usually disagree when people complain about 'the good old days,' but I really do agree in this particular case." he tells me.
"yeah?" I suppress a grin.
"yes." he folds his arms over his chest. "banana coffee sounds terrible. who is ordering that?"
the person in front of us finishes up and leaves.
"me." I say as I step forward to the register, half out of spite and half curiosity. frankly, it does sound terrible, but this café looks popular so maybe it'll be good.
I can feel Spencer's eyes boring into me as I order, then his pointed, "just a medium black coffee, please," when it's his turn.
"are you paying together or separately?" the barista asks us.
"I am not paying for that." Spencer turns to me. I laugh and hand over my card.
"together, thanks."
he shakes his head at me as we walk to the other end of the bar to wait for our drinks.
"you're gonna regret that flavor, I'm calling it now." he says offhandedly.
"be nice to me, Reid. I paid for your drink."
"I didn't ask you to!" his voice goes up an octave. I nudge his shoulder, and, to my surprise, he nudges mine back. heat rushes into my cheeks and then our coffees are on the counter and I taste it as we walk back out into the street.
it takes everything in me not to wrinkle my entire face up.
"how is it?" Spencer is watching me intently. I can see the triumphant smile threatening to break out, the light in his eyes making me feel a bit better about earlier.
"it's good." I lie through my teeth. Reid sees right through me, however, and grabs the cup out of my hand. to my astonishment, he takes a sip with the same straw I was using. he nearly gags.
"oh, that's bad." he laughs and it sounds almost like a giggle, which is infectious.
"it tastes like if someone took a banana and straight espresso and then smashed them together without any sugar."
"it just tastes like tar."
"will you pay me $5 to finish this?" I hold it up like a trophy, like drinking it will be a feat.
"absolutely not," he shakes his head. "I'm not paying for your mistake."
the rest of our walk back to the car is lighthearted, our laughter floating up into the city air like the heat. Spencer brags about how delicious his coffee is, how unmarred by silly flavors, and I feel our bodies growing closer together.
the sidewalk is somewhat wide, but we're walking pretty much shoulder to shoulder, our hands brushing once by accident. I feel like a middle schooler, the way I withdraw my touch as if it's shocked me. it's hard not to notice, though, when Spencer is usually someone who prefers more space. here he is, knuckles grazing mine while we chat.
our friendship is so new, yet so much has happened since we met. this job compresses time and fills every day with something freshly horrifying. there's something about working with Reid that makes me feel like we've known each other forever, though. I spend so much time with him that I'm now highly aware of all his habits and tendencies, what the different pitches of his voice mean and the secret preferences he harbors about the most minute things.
something about it is terrifying, how easily he has threaded himself into my life, but thrilling as well. all I can think about is how after I showered at his apartment and fell asleep on that plush couch, how I woke up to the sound of him washing our mugs in the kitchen sink and didn't want to be anywhere else in the world.
he sticks close to my side until we see the team standing by the cars, their moods much more austere than our own. for a second, I had forgotten why we're here.
"ready to go?" Prentiss looks between the two of us.
"yeah, we're good." I find myself moving away from Spencer, realizing how inappropriate our chumminess right now might seem.
I can feel Spencer's eyes on me as I go to get into the car, mine meeting his right before I get inside. I bite down on my tongue.
...
the next day is just as sunny as the previous one when we arrive at the studio where Lila is shooting for her television show. everyone around us is moving in a hurry, the chaos of which I can tell puts Spencer on edge. his attention darts between crew members and the beach setting they're using.
"why is she even working right now?" I lean over and ask Prentiss as we make our way to Lila. she's in a bikini, sitting in a chair while Michael talks to her. as a makeup artist slides a kabuki brush over her cheek, I notice that she seems far more composed than she did last night. she laughs at something he says.
"she said she refuses to be stuck in a hotel room until we find the guy." Emily shrugs. I raise an eyebrow but don't push it further.
Michael leaves her when another woman comes over in a headset and hands Lila an orange envelope. they have a short conversation, but she too disappears quickly. Spencer and Emily and I approach the actress in the chair while she reads the sheet of paper that was in the envelope. her expression changes to something much more concerned.
"Lila." Reid calls to her. she glances up and sees the three of us, smiling weakly.
"Spencer." she says his first name like they're close.
"everything alright, Miss Archer?" Prentiss notices Lila's body language.
"um," she hesitates. "my assistant just said this was posted on my door."
Prentiss takes the paper from her and reads it, then passes it to Reid and me.
"Lila-- I've always been so good to you. why would you go to the police?" is the only thing on it.
my stomach drops. Prentiss and I share a look and I know what she's thinking before she hands the sheet back to Lila. "would we be able to go to your trailer, Miss Archer? Detective Kim is on his way here and it would be better to discuss this in a private space."
she nods and we walk to her trailer. the inside is simple, just a couch, TV, and a vanity that also has a couple framed photos of the actress with friends and family. Spencer and I sit on the couch while Emily stands by the door. Lila has her arms crossed anxiously over her chest, silent, when Kim arrives.
we tell them that based on the wording of the note, the stalker is likely someone she knows. at the idea of stopping her work for a little while, Lila prickles and argues that she only has one more scene to shoot.
the woman who brought her the note earlier pops her head into the trailer and tells Lila they're ready for her on set again. she turns to all of us serenely.
"I'm staying at work." she walks out of the trailer, leaving us sitting there. I notice Spencer's eyes following her with a surprised expression, maybe impressed.
I clear my throat as soon as the door closes behind her. "look, I didn't want to freak her out more, but mentioning the police might mean this guy is altering his agenda."
"what do you mean?" Kim frowns at me.
"she didn't go alone to the police." Emily finishes my thought, the one we shared when we first read the paper. she straightens. "I'm gonna go check in with Michael."
"we'll keep an eye on her." I get off the couch.
"I'll hang back, too." Kim nods.
we end up on the set again, waiting for Prentiss to finish up with the manager while drinking sodas. Lila is at the snack bar in a robe, making herself a cup of coffee.
"I'm gonna go talk to her." Reid tells me. I nod and watch him go in front of one of the enormous cameras, accidentally bumping into one and apologizing profusely.
despite myself, I watch them. she sees him coming and offers a friendly smile. his back is to me, but he's rocking slightly on his toes, his usual poor posture making him look even more awkward. I can practically feel the nervous energy crackling around him.
something twists in my stomach, but I try to brush it aside. I shouldn't be staring. there's not much else for me to do, though. I see her take a sip of the coffee, make a face, and immediately reach for his Coke.
she asks him something, he shakes his head, and she drinks from the bottle. my jaw nearly drops. this time, I can't help gaping at the sight. it only gets worse when she tosses off her robe and walks back onto the set, looking stunning in her bikini. Spencer isn't looking at her at all, but it sets something immaturely evil off inside me.
I toss my Sprite into the trash and go to wait somewhere in this studio that's as far as possible from them. I'm nauseated. I need to keep her in my sight as part of my job, but I'm sure Reid has that covered.
taglist (add yourself here or lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @reidsconverse @donald4spiderman @awritingtree @gingeraleluke @bewitchedbibliophile @xoxospencerreid @spencerreidat3am @azuriteannie @written-disasters
summary: femme!reader brings her new boyfriend to meet the team for drinks, but she doesn't know why Spencer keeps acting up and presses him for answers.
pairing: femme!reader x spencer
word count: 1.9k
content warnings: casual drinking, lots of angst.
a/n: this is based on this ask i got a while ago that i really loved! i didn't make it long enough to include all the parts of the request, but i really loved writing this and i'd be super down to write more parts if y'all like it.
masterlist
you're immediately enveloped in a sweet-scented hug as soon as you enter the door of Penelope's apartment. she's hosting drinks tonight for the team, and you've been looking forward to it all week. although after-work plans are usually very tenuous due to the demanding nature of your jobs, you've been craving some bonding time with everyone.
moreover, you're hoping for a chance to talk to Spencer. he's been incredibly stand-offish for the past week. every time you try to have a conversation, he either makes an excuse or the two of you get called in for work. a few days back, you were supposed to go to the international cinema downtown to see a film, but he texted you last minute claiming he was catching a cold. it feels like he's avoiding you.
"welcome, welcome!" Penelope grins as she steps to the side to let you into her home. it looks like it usually does, purple walls with twinkling lights and knick-knacks in every corner. a throw blanket tossed over the couch that reminds you of a hallucinogenic trip. some of the team members are already here, gathered around Garcia's counter with drinks in their hands.
Spencer isn't here, though, and you frown until Garcia clears her throat loudly. "Y/N? aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"
you're jolted out of your thoughts when you remember that you brought a date tonight. "oh, sorry. Pen, this is my boyfriend, Wren."
Wren reaches out a hand to your smiling colleague, but she waves it away and immediately hugs him too. "we've heard so much, Wren. it's so great to meet you!"
Wren gives you an optimistic smile over Pen's shoulder and, when he's finally disentangled himself from her friendly embrace, offers up the Tupperware he's carrying. "I brought candied oranges. I thought they might go nicely as a dessert."
Garcia's jaw drops, her pink-glossed lips catching the light. "you are an angel--" she turns to you. "he is an angel, Y/N."
you let out a satisfied laugh, happy that he's already made a positive impression on one of your friends. granted, Penelope tends to like everybody, but you don't care. you've been seeing Wren for a few weeks now, and it's been nice to have someone to make plans with. even if you end up rescheduling more dates than you actually go on because of cases.
"come meet everyone!" Garcia gestures for the two of you to follow her to the kitchen, where the team looks up. they're so different when they're not wrapped up with files and evidence. much friendlier faces.
"this is Wren, guys." you thread your fingers with his.
"Wren!" JJ grins enthusiastically and comes forward to shake Wren's free hand. Garcia takes the top of the Tupperware off and sets it in the middle of the counter.
"and he brought us snacks." Penelope points to the small treats. people reach for the candied oranges at once, all of them biting down and making noises of approval.
there's a flurry of activity as each member of the team introduces themselves to Wren, but he looks incredibly at peace with the attention, and his eyes sparkle when he's quickly brought into the circle of chattering friends. naturally, he charms them with his dimples and quick jokes.
you're on your second glass of wine when Spencer arrives, his hair wet from the unexpected rain outside. Garcia hangs up his raincoat and brings him into the kitchen to join the festivities.
the first thing he notices is you, your eyes meeting across the island as Prentiss hands him a glass of lemonade. he's later than he usually is to group events, and part of you wonders what he's been doing. but then he catches sight of the arm that is casually snaked around your waist, and the person attached to that arm.
it could be a flickering kitchen light, but you swear his jaw tightens for a millisecond. his gaze bores into Wren's face, then neutralizes when he notices him. of course, because Wren is the life of the party, he immediately approaches Spencer with an outstretched hand.
"you must be Spencer. I'm Wren. Y/N talks about you all the time."
you forgot to warn him that Reid isn't one for physical contact, so you go with your boyfriend and push his hand down. Spencer's gaze flickers between you, Wren, and the hand that now rests at his side.
"Spencer doesn't really shake hands." you murmur in his ear. Wren is fast to replace his guilty expression with a more jovial one.
"you're the genius, right?" he starts a conversation that you know Spencer will hate. the profiler is constantly getting questioned on the job about his intellect and age.
part of you doesn't care, though. Reid has been an ass all week, and this newly sour attitude with your boyfriend really pisses you off. you were already nervous about Wren meeting such important people in your life, and Spencer possibly lashing out at him will send you over the edge.
"technically speaking, yes." the profiler responds with a clipped tone.
"Wren is a graphic designer." you insert yourself into the conversation. Wren looks at you affectionately, then at your colleague.
"yeah, I actually just moved here from LA."
"from LA to DC for graphic design?" Reid's words have an edge to them. he's already trying to piece together your boyfriend like a puzzle, the gears behind those hazel eyes working swiftly. something tugs in your stomach.
"weird, right?" Wren chuckles good-naturedly. "I just started at a non-profit that's based here."
"ah." Reid replies. he eyes Wren sharply, as though to cut him down to size. he makes no effort to continue the conversation.
before you can watch more of your coworker behaving like a petulant child, you clear your throat. "hey, Wren, can I talk to Spence for a second? I just remembered I have a question about one of our cases."
it's a bullshit excuse, but it works. Wren knows virtually nothing about your job, so he returns to the rest of the group after planting a kiss on your forehead and leaves the two of you alone.
the energy between you shifts immediately. for a second, you can't figure out what to say; you're angry, sure, but you're more hurt than anything. there are so many words crammed unintelligibly together in your mind. all of them are inappropriate for a kitchen conversation. instead of saying something, you grab his wrist and yank him into the hallway so the others can't hear.
"what the hell was that about?"
"what are you talking about?" he feigns confusion.
"you're being an ass to Wren."
"how? we've only talked for a minute."
"and that minute was you being unwelcoming. he's just trying to be nice and you can't even spare, like, five minutes of pleasantness."
Spencer doesn't respond to this at first, instead pursing his lips and looking down at his feet. you roll your eyes.
"look, Spence, I don't know what's going on with you. you can be mad at me for whatever reason, but don't take it out on him. he didn't do anything."
Reid's expression changes several times in the dark hallway, the silence thick. it becomes even more clear that this was the wrong place to confront him. you just want him to say something. this game he's playing is childish.
"I'm not mad at you." he keeps a level tone, though you can feel the undercurrent of frustration beneath it. his eyes are darting from the quirky paintings on Penelope's wall to your face, as though weighing his options.
you realize how well you know each of his facial expressions, his body language, even in the dark.
"that's even worse, Reid. we used to tell each other everything, and now you won't even be in the same room as me." as you say the words, they pierce you in a way you've been trying to avoid.
there were nights when the two of you would just walk and talk, your first days at the BAU when it seemed like everything was happening too quickly and you considered quitting. amidst all the chaos, you craved the free moments because he was there. a page break in every ceaselessly violent chapter.
you knew you loved him then, but loving Spencer is like looking at Saturn through a telescope. you could stare forever and never have enough, but you'll never be able to touch. the proximity is a delusion. especially when he pulls away like this.
"I just..." he seems affected by your words, those slender fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides.
"you just what, Spencer? I'm really getting sick of chasing you after your tantrums. I've got enough to worry about." you hope your eyes aren't as shiny as they feel, but you need to go. you can't have a breakdown at one of Garcia's parties, and you certainly can't keep spending time in a dark hallway with Reid when your boyfriend is in the next room.
you push past him, shoulders brushing as you blink back your frustrated tears. until you feel his fingers wrap around your wrist with a surprisingly iron grip, pulling you back to him.
you stumble a bit, free hand steadying yourself on his chest. angry words are in your throat, though they get stuck. instead, your mouth is open in surprise. he's never touched you like this, like he needs you to stay. it sends a shiver down your spine.
you think about one time a few weeks ago, when the two of you were heading home late and he bought you a croissant from a café. you sat at a tiny table and talked, played tic tac toe on a napkin. it was stupid, but you didn't want to be anywhere else. you liked how he laughed and held a pen.
his face is so close to yours, you can see the light gleaming in his eyes. his lips are parted. you know what's coming next, feel it in your bones.
"I'm in love with you." the words seem to fill up the entire hallway, pressing on the walls. your heart is hammering in your chest, the weight of it all seemingly coming down all at once.
you know you can't. you've never cheated, and you never will. but something inside you crumbles to ancient ruin, some rational part that would remind you that Wren is kind, and funny, and likes you a lot.
Spencer loves you; it repeats itself in your head like a mantra, burning through every cell in your body. he's still holding onto you, his skin bleeding warmth into yours as you hold his gaze. you love his eyelashes and the shape of his mouth. you can feel his breath on your lips, the magnitude of a possible kiss resting between you.
you inhale sharply, trying to remember every curve and slope of this moment.
"I can't," you whisper. your eyes flicker to his lips. how easy it would be. "I'm with someone else."
the fire in his eyes flares. he drops your wrist, defeated. you stay for a moment. it's the last shred you can keep.
"Y/N?" the sound of your name jerks you out of this stupor. you turn to see JJ at the end of the hallway, a half-bitten candied orange in her fingers. "is everything okay?"
"everything's fine." you straighten and put a false smile on, walking over to her. your limbs feel like lead, even as she links your arm with hers.
"I really like Wren. he's so funny." she laughs.
"isn't he?" you chance a look behind your shoulder, at Spencer in the dark. he doesn't look away this time. he knows just as well as you do that you aren't finished.
hey i just wanted to lyk that in ur most resent post, you state the reader is gn but the description uses she pronouns referrring to them.
omg you’re right im so sorry i edited the blurb to be gender neutral last night but i must have just missed that part 😭 i’ve fixed it now thank you for letting me know ☺️
