part 2: Flightless Bird, American mouth.
Spencer Reid x BLACK!Fem! Reader + fluff.
Warnings: Mother!reader, Mentions of PTSD, Scopophobia, Flashbacks, fluff, Small banter, nagging Morgan, mentions of nightmares, PTSD reader. VERY VERY VERY LIGHT ANGST.
A/N: make sure u repost !! This is part 2 of the DOWN THE VALLEY series. find the official master list here! wc: 4.2K
ALL CREDS GO TO @lavendergalactic FOR THE BORDERS !
Hearing the bell of the elevator cling, she let a breathy sigh slip through her lips, clutching her purse, straightening her posture, and fixing her glasses. Once the doors opened, however, every ounce of confidence was slowly drained from her face as she stepped out of the lift. She looked around to see a lot of people whispering, some with smiles on their faces.
Some judging, obviously. Some people didn't look at all, it was mostly in her head. But as she continued to walk, it felt as if the hallways themselves were staring her down, her palms got sweaty and she started to breathe out with her mouth, her heart was pumping blood at a much faster rate and it had felt like her skin was too tight.
A slight halt came and went as she contemplated just walking out of the building, knowing it was immature but she was deathly trying to avoid all wretched and sympathy stares coming her way. It was unnecessary and frankly vexing. She didn't need anyone's pity, that's all the flooded her mind as she continued to step, not meeting anyone gaze.
The people staring don't mean any harm, some of them don't even know about the case. She tried to convince herself of it, but she couldn't. It was too soon to try and console her own self conscious.
She felt frustrated, like she was stupid for coming back. She thought of sending in a transfer request, more than once.
There was really no reason she did it, it would be a regular 9-5. She would have more time with her daughter of course, it was a no brainer in her own mind. But she didn't, there's no why, there's no long and useless explanation. She just didn't. And all she feels is regret. She's trying to convince herself that she feels regret because it was for her daughter.
But that's not why. In fact, when thinking about her career, her daughter never crossed her mind once.
Valley could never walk away from the BAU, call it scarcity mindset.
Her thoughts continued as she gave some awkward smiles through out the hall, a voice calling out from the distance. "Little Momma?". She stopped in her tracks and a breathy laugh escaped her lips, turning around to see the one and only Derek Morgan. Her eyes shot open, him walking towards her in a haste, flashing his pearly white smile at her.
She matched the pace he was going and opened her arms, wrapping them around his neck and his going around her waist. Val looked up at him at a lost for words, Morgan was smiling ear to ear and looked her up and down in admiration. "You look, wow.".
"Not so bad yourself," She responded with a smile. A soft kiss was planted on her head and she just felt at ease. It was as if all the eyes on her didn't matter anymore, because his were.
Derek and Valley were from the same neighborhood in Chicago. She moved there when she was 14, and he was the only person Valley would be around. He was 3 years older than her and he became an older brother figure towards her, he was there for her birthdays, he would drive her around when she needed to get out the house, sneak her out if her parents were fighting.
Anything she needed, he got.
They were always there for each other, no matter what. And her leave was actually his idea, he knew that after what happened she would need a break.
"Two years... I haven't seen you in two years." He said in complete awe, she stayed quiet as she nodded softly and hummed. She didn't know what to say honestly -- She just thought back to her rehearsal in the car.
Smile.
Looking at her with concern, Morgan rubbed her shoulder in comfort, "Hey, baby. You know you still got a few days left. You sure you up to this?" A genuine question, not rhetorical. He wanted a yes or no, and she wasn't dumb enough to ignore his question. But she was smart enough to avoid it, she just smiled and hummed once again. Until her face dropped and then picked back up again,
"Hotch... is he still?" Morgan cut her off,
"Waiting for you is what he is.". Turning her the other way, she looked up and saw Aaron sitting at his desk in his office, scrambling through paperwork. Still as overworked as ever... at least that never changed. She made way, with Morgan following close behind unconsciously imitating a body guard.
Smile.
A soft chuckle escapes Morgan's lips as the both of them began to walk up the stare case, she turned back with a curious look.
"You haven't met boy wonder yet."
She scrunches her face in confusion, "You know I haven't, who's--"
"Hotch got a new genius that he favorites. You'll know 'em when you see him.". Valley gave a confused scowl and nodded her head, continuing to walk up the stairs.
As she walked into his office, she got off track and unknowingly began to profile his space. The fragrance of air freshener, espresso. Hailey hates anything having to do with coffee, so she knew something wasn't right. Hotch is controlled, he's considerate he wouldn't knowingly come home smelling of her least favorite scent.
They're having issues. He doesn't have to worry about what she thinks, but the pictures on his office wall still hung up indicates that something in him wants to. He doesn't want to forget about any memories they made, and the picture on his desk of his son is pointed towards the door, not towards him. He wants people to see he's a family man when they walk in the door, it makes them feel more comfortable around him.
That might be why he still has the photos hung.
"Stop that." A low and raspy voice pleads, "we don't profile each other, not without saying hi first."
He arises from his wheeled chair, walking towards the young agent with a grin plastered on his face, his arms open as she walks right into them for a warm embrace. "You're back so soon... I thought you would be gone for another,"
" A week and five days, you thought right. But I knew I was ready." She lied, "besides, how long could this team go without me? I'm surprised that no ones practically begged for me back.".
"And offended.". She sarcastically put a hand on her heart, as if she was wounded, shaking her head slowly. A breathy chuckle parted through his mouth, following her head movement. "That would be selfish. You know, if you need anything--"
She breathed heavily out of her nose and blurted out, "Why does everyone keep saying that?" She said, trying to hide her hint of frustration with a smile. Her mouth slightly fell open and her eyes shut as she hastily tried to figure out a way to take that back. She looked at him and he already looked concerned. This is what she didn't want, this is what she was talking about. She didn't want to be pitied, and she knew that she wasn't. This was a friend looking out for another friend.
But for what? What did anyone gain from trying to "Help out" knowing that they're not going to be there when she actually needs help.
She's projecting.
"Sorry I didn't," She scoffed and shook her head. "I didn't, mean that. I'm sorry it's the first day nerves, if I need something I'll let you know." She nodded her head and he did the same.
"It's fine, I understand. Come, let's get you settled. Your cubicle remained untouched."
That was a lie, Valley's cubicle had obviously been personalized. She began to walk around it for a little. She was frustrated, her cubicle was no longer hers. She started to examine, or profile the area. The photos that were once there were no longer than. They were replaced with ones of an elderly woman, blonde with blue eyes. The sanitizer right next to the sanitizing wipes heavily suggests verminophobia.
Valley wrote books more than 32 books on profiling serial killers with mental disorders, this person only has 5 books on the same topic. Profiling serial killers with schizophrenia. This indicates that they may have experience with a schizophrenic serial or they have contact with someone in their personal life who suffers from the disorder. Her books are under 2 fictional books, so they might not want people to suspect what they're reading about, or why for that matter.
Male, from the inorganization but the clean freak nature of the desk, and the only evidence of organization is to hide an object that he may worry he will be viewed as weak if it came to light. But the obvious hiding place suggests that his peers already know, he just doesn't want it brought up.
Hotch put a hand over his face, out of embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, Brown. Just sit in the empty cubicle right here until we get this sorted out I'll have him move his things over momentarily."
She shook her head, "It's perfectly fine." She lied, again.
"But its not perfectly fine is it?" A voice called from behind her. She noticed Hotch's eyes follow the sound, and she looked behind her.
"You see, statistically speaking, human behavior is often driven by our innate sense of territory and possession, studies have shown that people tend to form attachments to objects, space, or even routines that they perceive originally belonging to them.".
6 foot 1 inch, 54kg. His hair flowed down to his shoulders, he talked a lot with his hands, his eyes staring off into the distance. He couldn't look at her in the face for too long. He was distanced, as well. He spoke with such confidence, he didn't do it to sound smart he was smart.
He was adorable, is what she thought.
He also, didn't stop talking.
"For example when someone sees a close friend forming a new, significant friendship person it often triggers feelings of irritation or jealously. This reaction is--" "Rooted in the psychology of territoriality and social bonds, which are instinctive behaviors found in many animal species including humans. The original friend may feel a sense of loss or displacement, as the time and emotional space once dedicated to their friendship is now being shared with someone else." He looked at her with shock, and slight annoyance. He let out a breathy laugh and smiled. "How did--"
"The Psychology of Ownership and Territory. I know it like the back of my hand." He still looked confused, he looked up at Aaron for answers.
"Reid this is Valley Brown, Agent Brown this is Dr. Spencer Reid."
Spencer's eyes dropped to yours, an awkward smile coming from him as he waved his hand. She stuck her hand out for a handshake, out of curtesy.
Her hand stayed there for around 10 seconds before she realized he wasn't going to shake her hand, she looked at him with a weirded look before just accepting it. She then pieced it together. "Boy wonder," She muttered under her breath. He hummed to the nickname usually used by Derek, to which she just shook her head and placed her bags down on the cubicle that was directly in front of his.
She took a split second to examine him. The way he crossed his arms, his veins running all the way down to his wrist as branches would, his hair messy but presentable enough for no one to say anything about it. He kept one tucked behind his ear out of convenience. It gets in his way, but he won't cut it. He's been busy so he never has time to.
The eye bags under his eyes suggests he hasn't gotten a proper night of sleep, but he's energized enough to be be able to infer its because lack of comfort, not lack of melatonin produced. He gets cold at night, he isn't able to be comfortable when its cold. He has multiple layers on top of his button up, long pants which suggests he's trying to keep himself warm.
His eyes were at war, both the earthy sage and chestnut hue blending together to make a perfect hazel. His cupids bow was soft yet filled, each time he laughed he did so breathy. His scent is what struck her the most. It was almost natural, it didn't go away or get underwhelming. It wasn't cheap cologne or cologne at all; he burns cinnamon and mint in oil to make his house smell of fall. And she hoped he never stopped.
The voices in the back of her head, telling her to force a smile slowly begun to disappear.
The Valleys world was drenched in a sepia hue, a distorting filter that twisted the familiar into the grotesque. She was back in the labyrinth of the past, a cruel maze of memories that refused to release her from its clutches. It began the same way each time – a quiet house, the crackling static of a forgotten radio, her parents' laughter floating down the hallway like a haunting melody. Then came the monstrous shadows, the screams echoing off the cold marble floors, the metallic scent of blood flooding her senses.
Her heart pounded against her chest as she watched the nightmare unfold. Her parents, their faces twisted in fear, lay sprawled on the floor, lifeless. The laughter that had once filled the house was replaced with a chilling silence that seeped into her bones, a silence so profound that it threatened to consume her. She was a little girl again, hiding behind the grandiose drapes, her small hands clasped over her mouth to stifle her sobs.
The assailants were faceless, like wraiths in the night, their identities shrouded in mystery. They moved with an eerie grace, their bodies gliding across the room as they ransacked the house.
One of them turned towards her hiding spot, his eyes glowing like twin embers in the darkness. You could almost make his eyes out his appearance effortlessly; if it wasn't for the mask he wore.
He was a brunette with long greasy thin hair, his eyes where a soulless dirty blue which were surrounded by a black eyeshadow. A shudder of terror coursed through her as he moved towards her, his steps echoing ominously in the silence.
As he grew closer to her, she couldn't see his face. She had closed her eyes and prayed it would be over... he spoke.
"Brown,". She could only look at him with fear, and confusion.
"Brown, are you okay.". She shook her head, closing her eyes.
A shrill voice tore through the fabric of the dream, pulling her back to reality. Valley jerked away as she looked around to see the lights mostly off, it was just her.
And, boy wonder. He stared down at her with a twinkle in his eyes as his hands sat in his pockets. He sat down in his cubicle chair and took a nude colored file from his desk, beginning to search through.
That's when he looked back towards her and noticed her eyes.
They drifted off into the distance, as she tried to get back in touch with reality. She desperately tried to -- she was so focused on what she dreamt about that she couldn't.
"Y-you've, uh." He starts, swallowing before his eyebrow furrows and his head slowly begins to nod. "Been here for... 780 minutes." He finishes, continuing to flip through the files,
She thinks for a few seconds tops, before scrunching her face. "I've been here... 13 hours?". Instead of answering her question Spencer kind of chuckles and scoffs simultaneously.
"You can calculate that, that quick?" He asked, genuinely surprised. "You can't?" She remarked, a soft smirk playing on her face as she looks at all the paperwork on her desk. She groans, realizing she can't go home until its filed.
It was already starting. She scrambled through her duffel bag, undoing her tie and letting it stay wrapped around her neck as she desperately searched.
She pulled out her cell, dialing a number with haste and the line picking up just as fast. Short words were exchanged, ultimately ending with. "I know, I'm sorry just... make sure she gets to bed on time." In a quiet whisper. Before the line ended.
Spencer looked back up at this, confusion written all over her face.
"Sister," She lied. Something she was doing awfully a lot for the first day back, "I watch over my sister sometimes, if our aunt doesn't take her." She nods.
"That-tuh, sounds like a lot." The brunette adds, his tongue clicking.
She nodded her head, assuming that there was nothing left but an awkward stream of silence between them before one of them eventually left. "D-do," Valley looked up at him, her hand tracing the words of the file coming to a halt as Boy wonder began to speak up.
"Do you find it, stressful?" He asks, curiously. She shakes her head no, with a smile deepening her dimples more and more.
"Of course not," She begun, chuckling softly. "The most stress I get from her is when she won't let me leave the house if she's not going."
He laughed and nodded. After a bit he stood up to go get some coffee, she stared a little at his desk when he did. She skimmed across it before seeing a candle in the corner of it.
Spencer came back and set one on his desk, and another on hers, a few sugar packets and creamers if she needed them.
He pulls out a container of what she knew to be was sugar and a cinnamon stick. Spencer begins to pour the sugar into one of the cups. The long crystal stream didn't seem to stop, and when it did it left her concerned if not confused.
"I don't know, which question to ask first. Who keeps a container of sugar in their back pocket, or if you were planning on putting that much in mine?" She joked, opening up one of the packets and 4 of the creamers to dump into her. The creamer taking a swan dive and engulfing its self into the dark brown liquid. The color became more light, more smooth looking.
She picked up another cream, and noticed a stare from mister Reid.
"You're not gonna finish that if you add another one," He says, putting the cup to his lips and slowly slurping. She watched as his Adam's apple bobbed back in forth as if the beverage was ice cool and not steaming, and she also rolled her eyes. "I never finish my coffee,"
"Because you add more cream then needed, studies show that Consuming too much dairy can cause nausea, stomach pains, and diarrhea, even if you're not lactose intolerant. Drinking or consuming too much dairy too quickly can actually cause vomiting because your body cannot process and digest it quick enough, but you see your body recognizes this before you do so without realizing your brain signals you to put it down and you're not gonna wanna pick it up again," He says and just as he's about to finish his sentence she interrupts him.
"You know, consuming too much sugar throughout the day is linked to chronic diseases and premature death. TAHA recommends that men consume no more than 9 teaspoons of added sugar per day. A teaspoon of sugar can add 16 calories to coffee, and you've added 49 teaspoons into yours which is very much over a cup of sugar." She'd say, scoffing softly. She could see why he was Hotch's new favorite, he had the habits she had. Just in different fonts.
"I'll go with my puking rather than your extremely high heart rate thank you very much."
He scoffed, and laughed. But your words obviously meant enough to him for him to put the cup down on his desk. "I got my habits from my old friend, Ethan. We went to school together,"
"Close friend?" She asked, he nodded his head and hummed. "For a few years now, actually. He uh, moved to New Orleans not too long ago though."
"Did you take any other habits, like ones that aren't taking 5 years off your lifespan?" She questioned with a chuckle and a smirk.
He thought for a moment, and before he could say no he realized. He looked down for a bit and nodded. "Music,"
She looked at him and put the file on her desk, "Like?"
"No its no specific g-genre but when he uh," He swallowed, pierced his lips together for a moment and leaned back on the desk. "When he was packing, he was playing a specific song. I can't remember the name. And I have an eidetic memory," He laughed, somewhat disappointed.
"I play the song in my head, everyday. I can remember all the lyrics, just not the name. And it's my favorite." He taps the desk softly.
"I think about it a lot, like it replays uh... in my head."
"Well, what are the lyrics? Or, what's the melody." She asked. If she was good with anything, it was music. He begun to hum softly, a little too softly out of being shy about it but she caught on.
As he slowly begun to get more vocal with it and then stopped, her mind thought back to that broken radio from the dream. Her face got drained of all color. What are the odds.
It was playing that same song: Flightless bird, American mouth.
She said it out loud, to which Spencer's face lit up, nodding in agreement. "Y-yes! That's the one--" He stopped abruptly when he noticed her face didn't light up as his did. He wasn't gonna press her on it, he just thanked her.
For a bit, they talked. He cracked jokes, she made sarcastic remarks.
She smiled, a lot. At him. And he smiled a lot, at his random facts and statistics he continued to consciously recite.
As they were walking out of the building, he volunteered to walk her to her car.
To which she only appropriately responded by offering to give him a ride home so he didn't have to ride the subway. As they were in the car, he was fascinated by how reckless someone could drive yet still be obeying all traffic laws. However, he was used to it. Morgan drove a lot. And his thoughts wandered off for a bit before being pulled back into reality, "Just make a right off I-195." He nodded softly.
He began to think again, before Valley turned on the Radio, switching through the channels because for whatever reason most of them were coming out as static.
"Hey,"
"Hm?" She responded.
"TPOT, is debatably one of the most detailed and hard to remember psychology books of all time. Mostly because of how specific it is."
"It's still a best seller," She added.
"Its still hard to remember. Especially to be able to cite it, like you did. I have an eidetic memory, so I guess what I'm asking is... what's your excuse?" He said jokingly. "How do you know it like the back of your hand, as you said it." Valley just shook her head, laughing it off as she stopped at a red light.
"C'mon I'm serious!" He said while smiling, licking his chapped licks and then staring at the window, then back towards her. "The Psychology of Ownership and Territory is one of my favorite books of all time, I just got to make sure I have no competition."
She looked at him and laughed, stopping at the red light. "Isn't that kind of contradicting? Your territorial about a book that literally teaches you why it is dangerous to be territorial?" She chuckled as she was speaking, the conversation genuinely interesting her for the most part.
She put one of her elbows on the glass, one hand on the wheel and rested her head on her fist.
"I wrote it." She says bluntly, his eyes widening as he turns to her. "But, the author reads as--"
"Vinny, Brown." She finishes for him, "Well, that's typically a masculine name.".
"Doctor Reid, what do you think my middle name is? I had to use it, I had to." She said, tapping the wheel as she got back on the highway. She thought about it and shook her head. "In a man dominated field who would take a book by a woman serious if its not about sexually motivated crimes?" She asked him, intending for it to be rhetorical.
He stayed silent for a bit before turning his head to look at her, just to look back forward. "Me," He begins. "And with a book that great, I'd, well I'd make sure everyone did too.. Her stomach felt a certain way after that sentence. It felt soft, fuzzy. And lingering first day jitters were gone. Any thought of the flashbacks, gone. The irking feeling of the dream she had to deal with, was gone.
She had never been talked about in that way, and anytime it was made it known that a woman wrote the books; all interest faded. He was different though. All she could do was smile.
The radio frequency began to scratch the noise irritating her ears before a calming melody begun playing. But, it didn't affect her anymore. It was as if he took that away too.
She laughed and so did he, as the conversation begun flowing between the two again.
Morgan was right... He really is a wonderful boy. What are the odds.
NOW PLAYING: FLIGHTLESS BIRD, AMERICAN MOUTH.
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(I LAZILY PROOF READ THIS AND ENGLISH ISNT MY FIRST LANGUAGE IM SORRY)
