When you woke up the next morning, Spencer was already gone. You didn’t blame him. You didn’t want to have to deal with your hungover self either.
And so, the rest of your morning was abysmal at best. You got yourself out of bed and made yourself a breakfast that consisted of half of a banana and some toast, and then after a moment’s deliberation, added a full bowl of the sugary cereal that you only kept around for your nephews to your breakfast.
After you finished eating, you dumped the dishes into the sink and made your way back into your bedroom. The dishes would be a later problem, the throbbing behind your eyes ruining any plans you had for the rest of the day. Not too long after, you found yourself dozing back into the land of sleep--only for your phone to go off, ruining any tranquility and peace you had managed to find.
“Hello?” you said, wincing as your own voice caused your headache to spike. You would have taken another ibuprofen but you didn’t want to add an overdose to your to-do list.
“Hey, hot stuff!” came the cheery voice of Penelope Garcia over the phone. You didn’t understand how the woman was so energetic that morning, she had just as much to drink as you did… though she had been drinking water in between her shots. “How was your night with Dr. Spencer Reid? Did you get to see him with his shirt off?”
You could almost see her eyebrows wiggling up and down as she tried to pry any juicy details from your night spent with Spencer.
“Nothing happened,” you told her honestly, dropping your head into your pillows. You put the phone on speaker so you didn’t have to hold it to your ear. “At least I don’t think anything happened. I didn’t take him as the type to hump and dump.”
“I’m sorry, baby,” Penelope sounded more disappointed than sorry. “Are you still coming for lunch with Derek and I?”
You grimaced. You had forgotten your promise to go for lunch with the duo, having been too caught up in your own self-pity to remember the plans you had made nearly a week ago. Attending the bar last night had been a last-minute plan on your part.
“Of course,” you said, looking over to the bottle of ibuprofen on your nightstand. Maybe taking another wouldn’t be too bad. “What time again?”
“It’s a late lunch, so around three,” Penelope mused. You could faintly hear her kettle in the background. “I’ll text you the address in a bit.”
“Thanks, Penny,” you said, finger already hovering over the end-call button. If you were having lunch at three, you could get in a two-hour nap before then. “I’ll see you later.”
Penelope hummed. “See you later, sweet pea!”
You didn’t wait another moment before hitting the end-call button, creating an alarm for two o’clock and then discarding your phone to the other side of the bed.
You woke up two hours later, your headache mostly gone and your phone violently vibrating on the floor of your apartment. You were sure your downstairs neighbor hated you more than they already did.
After checking the time, you reasoned that you had enough time for a quick shower before you really had to leave. So after the quickest shower in the history of mankind, you managed to make it out of your apartment in less than thirty minutes.
Penelope was definitely going to have your head if you were late, which you were about to be. Maybe you should have set your alarm for earlier, then you wouldn’t have been in this predicament.
Sliding your sunglasses off your face, you entered the diner and made your way over to where Penelope was flagging you down. You took the seat on the bench opposite of the blonde, grinning as she started to scold you for being late.
“I called you and told you what time to be here!” she scowled, picking up the menu and propping it up in front of her to act as a barrier between the two of you. “You’re lucky you weren’t the last one to arrive.”
You picked up a menu as well, reading through the options and freezing mid-sentence when the words she said registered in your mind. “Wait--Penelope, what do you mean I’m not the last one to arrive?”
It seemed that the world was working against you that day because as soon as those words slipped out of your mouth, one Dr. Spencer Reid slipped into the booth right next to you. You tried to hide behind the menu much like Penelope had two seconds ago but found that your attempts to disappear were in vain.
You sent a glare at the blonde that sat across the table from her, going as far as to kick her shin under the table. You smirked in satisfaction as she jumped, hitting her knee on the underside of the table as well.
Your satisfaction didn’t last long. It was cut short when Derek sent a stern look at the both of you as Spencer settled into his seat and read through his own menu.
“Play nice,” he warned, causing you to bring your menu up further in front of your face.
It was one thing acting like a kid while you were drunk and it was a wholly different thing when you were sober. Still, you couldn’t resist the urge to lift your menu over your head and stick your tongue out at Penelope, who returned the gesture a second later.
“So,” Penelope started, laying her menu down in front of her. You brought the glass of water in front of you to your lips. “How was everyone’s night?”
Now, you didn’t normally embarrass yourself more than once in a day so it really came as a shock to you when you started choking on your water. You couldn’t tell if it was in reaction to Penelope’s intrusive question or the fact that you breathed in at the same time as taking a sip, but it caused you to go into a coughing fit nonetheless.
Penelope looked shocked, eyes wide as she watched you bring a napkin up to your lips as you fought to breathe normally. Spencer’s hand was on your back, rubbing soothing circles into the space between your shoulder blades as you stopped coughing. All the while, Derek had the audacity to look amused at the exchange.
“I’m okay,” you reassured Penelope, sending a grateful look in Spencer’s direction. “Just went down the wrong tube.”
“I’m sure that’s what that was, baby cheeks,” Derek teased, putting down his own menu. “But you’ve got me curious. How was your night?”
You took a sip of water, successfully this time, and shrugged. “It was a night,” you said, careful not to look in Spencer’s direction. While you were hurt that he hadn’t stuck around that morning, you couldn’t exactly fault him for leaving. You’d met the guy maybe once or twice before, mainly in passing. Whatever schoolgirl crush you were harboring on him was bound to pass sooner than later.
“‘It was a night?’” Derek asked. “So you didn’t get to see the boy genius without a shirt after all?”
“No, I didn’t,” you responded cooly, trying to fight the heat rising in your cheeks. You shot Spencer a wink despite yourself. “Though I wouldn’t have complained if I did.”
Spencer flushed red at your words, stammering out your name.
“I’m just teasing,” you nudged him with your shoulder. The tension between the two of you grew at your words, awkwardness settling over your shoulders like a well-worn coat. Thankfully, the waitress came around just in time to take down everyone’s orders.
After that, it didn’t take long for the food to come out, seeing as you were one of three patrons in the diner that evening. You kept up conversation with Penelope, listening intently as she told you about the new boutique that opened up near her place.
“I’ll have to check it out,” you said. You took a bite out of your sandwich and swallowed. “Maybe I can set up my cards there.”
“Y/n is a personal tailor,” Penelope provided the side note about your profession to the two men that were struggling to keep up with the conversation the two of you were having. It was worthy to admit that both you and Penelope talked at the speed of light when you were together. Words often slurred together until you were speaking an entirely different language altogether.
“She’s also the woman I consulted on that case three weeks ago,” she continued to provide context.
“The case in Oregon?” Derek asked through a mouthful of fries. “Heathridge Manor?”
“That’s the one!” Penelope replied cheerfully, stealing a fry off of Derek’s plate. She dipped it into his pile of ketchup before dropping the cooked potato into her mouth. “Honestly, Y/n’s like the Spencer of the fashion world. She knows practically everything about clothing, it’s insane!”
You flushed. “I wouldn’t say that I know everything.”
“Tell us about Spencer’s blue sweater,” Penelope ordered.
You glanced at Spencer’s outfit, zeroing in on the blue--no--cerulean V-neck sweater he had on layered over a button-up and a tie.
“It’s not blue,” you gave in, choosing to entertain her, “it’s not turquoise or it’s lapis either. It’s actually cerulean. In 2002, Oscar de la Renta did a collection of cerulean gowns. And then Yves Saint Laurent showed cerulean military jackets. After that, cerulean showed up in the collections of eight different designers, all of varying designs. The word cerulean as a color actually goes back to 1590, though. It’s derived from the Latin word caeruleus, which means dark blue, blue, or blue-green.”
“Which, in turn, probably derives from the word caerulum,” Spencer finished for you. “Diminutive of caelum, meaning heaven or sky.”
You nodded, taking a sip out of your vanilla milkshake. “Exactly. It’s also why cerulean is most often used in pieces and collections revolving around the sky and the divine. And sometimes the ocean, but that’s just color association.”
“Oh, God,” Derek blanched, “there’s two of ‘em.”
“You’ve had Spencer for ten years?” Penelope said, swirling her straw around in her cup, causing the ice to clink together. “I’ve had Y/n for nearly thirty. And trust me, it was worse in high school.”
“Expose me, much?” you rolled your eyes playfully, taking a sip of your milkshake. Over the meal, you’d gotten much more comfortable around Spencer. “I could always just tell them about--”
“No, thank you!” Penelope interrupted you, pulling out her wallet and handing you the amount for both her and Derek’s meals. “But I totally forgot that Derek and I had something very important to do and it’s happening in ten minutes so I’ll see you later, baby cheeks. Kisses!”
The blonde ushered Derek out of his seat, tugging at his arm as she slung her bag over her shoulder. She sent you a bright smile, waving Spencer a goodbye before making a beeline for the front door. The bell jangled as it opened and closed, leaving you and Spencer at the table together.
You chuckled, folding up the money she had given you and replacing it with your card. “At least she didn’t leave us to pay for the whole thing.”
Spencer pulled his wallet out as well, handing you the money for his meal as well. “Here, this is for my food--”
You pushed his money away. “No, Spencer. Think of this as my treat for, uh, getting me home safe last night. It’s the least I could do.”
“Oh,” Spencer bit his lower lip as you waved the waitress over to your table. You handed her your card, thanking her for her hospitality.
“If it’s bothering you that much, you can take the tip,” you offered, taking his silence for offence. “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything by paying for the bill.”
Spencer shook his head, his brown-colored curls bouncing with his movements. “No, it’s not that. I mean, yeah, I’ll take the tip. It’s only fair. I just--I’m sorry for leaving you this morning.”
You waved him off. “I didn’t expect you to stay the night. I’m a grown woman, I should be able to take care of myself.”
Once again, the blanket of awkwardness settled over the two of you. Spencer fiddled with the sleeve of his cerulean sweater as you messed with the plastic cap of your milkshake. The waitress came back around to give you back your card and you thanked her yet again, taking your time to put your card away.
“Penelope didn’t really have anywhere to be, did she?” Spencer asked, breaking the awkward silence between the two of you as he pulled his messenger bag over his head.
You laughed, shoving your wallet back into your bag. “Yeah, no. She used to do this all the time in high school. She’d invite me out for lunch along with whoever I was crushing on at the time and then ditch when it got close to getting the cheque.”
Spencer raised an eyebrow, a smirk settled onto his lips. Gone was the awkwardness between you two and back was the confident Spencer Reid from the night before. “And that worked?”
You found yourself flushing yet again as you realized that you’d just inadvertently admitted to your crush on him. “I--Well--” you tried to come up with a viable explanation.
Upon realizing that there wasn’t one, you gave in, bashfully admitting that yes, it worked. You looked up at him, lips pressed into a line as you tried to sink back into whatever hole you originally crawled out of.
“I think it’s cute that you have a crush on me,” Spencer finally said, looking down at you. He had stopped next to your car, which he must have recognized from the time you drove Penelope home--one of the times you’d met in passing.
“I do not--” you struggled with the words, eyes darting away from his own as you shoved your hands in your pockets in search of your keys. “I mean, I do, but it’s not--Spencer,” you said exasperatedly.
“So you do have a crush on me,” he bent down a bit, moving so that he was in your direct line of sight.
“Well, when you say it like that,” you grumbled, freeing your keys from your pockets. “It makes me feel like I’m in high school all over again.”
“I never had the high school date opportunity,” Spencer confessed.
“Never?” you inquired. Spencer shook his head.
“Never.”
“That’s a shame…” you unlocked your car, opening the door and throwing your bag into the backseat. “You don’t suppose you’d want to try it then? The whole high school date opportunity? A shitty movie theatre date with shitty movie theatre popcorn, and maybe, if you’re lucky, a shitty makeout session in the back row.”
“Are you offering?” he asked. You looked up at him, running a hand through your hair as you squinted through the sun that was positioned right behind his head. He moved slightly to his left, blocking the sun’s rays from your eyes.
“If you want,” you shrugged. “I think everyone deserves to experience at least one crappy high school date. Plus, I don’t think it’d be terrible to make-out with you.”
“I--I’d like that,” Spencer stammered out, any confidence he had leaving his body. You thought it was cute how the second the tables turned, he was back to being the shy doctor that you had met the night prior. “Not the making-out part, though I wouldn’t be opposed. I mean, I’d like the high school date experience.”
“Great,” you beamed. “Are you free tomorrow?”
“If we’re not called away on a case,” he confirmed, pushing a stray piece of hair back behind his ear. “Otherwise, I have no prior commitments.”
“Then it’s a date!” You slid into the driver’s seat of your car, rolling down the windows so you could finish making plans. You leaned over so that your head was stuck out of your car, tilting your gaze upwards so that you wouldn’t finish the conversation talking to his dick. “I’ll pick you up at five, okay?”
It didn’t take much for Spencer to agree, a grin overtaking his features as he gave his response. After all, there were worse ways for him to spend his Sunday night.
7 months. It had been 7 months since that fateful day. Janet would never forget it. She was still haunted by those words. "The captain of the football team is rejecting you." and "Go find a place to rot." They still stung, even now. She knew she deserved them and the anger behind them. And yet, hearing them from Eddie had destroyed her.
Over the last 7 months, Janet had tried to put her life back together. She had been surprised how ingrained Eddie Latekka was in her life. Her work life was different now. Sully's was still very much his bar, so Janet simply went about her day, doing her job and making sure to stay out of his way when he and his friends were around. After all, he'd been hanging out there long before Janet ever started working there.
She hadn't slept in her bed in seven months. She couldn't. It haunted her too. Instead, she'd taken to the couch, making it her new home. Just herself a bundle of blankets and a few pillows. She barely remembered what her bedroom looked like. She wanted to banish the memory of Rooster. He never should've been there to begin with.
She had stopped asking Eddie to talk to her. She had stopped trying to speak to him altogether. She realized it was a lost cause. Until, one day it wasn't. Shortly before Hannah's wedding, the impossible had happened. They'd actually had a civil conversation for the first time in months. Janet had asked him if he was going to Hannah's wedding and he had given her a civil reply. He then told her they could have a drink. One drink, over which they could talk about things.
Her heart soared. For the first time in months, Janet felt hope. Life had been so dark without him. Although she'd never actually told him, she knew she loved him. She'd been so worried about getting hurt but she never imagined she'd be the one who hurt him. They hadn't set a time or date, but at least he was willing, that was the most important thing.
Hannah's wedding day came and went, though no wedding had actually happened. It seemed that Janet's best friend realized Ray Cataldo was not the man she wanted and pulled a Julia Roberts. Janet wanted Hannah to be happy more than anything, but she was also tired of the constant back and forth. She just wanted life to settle down.
Leaving the non-wedding, she slid into a booth at Sully's, smoothing down her bridesmaids dress. "I'll have a gin and tonic." She told the waitress who had come over to take her order. She was grateful she had the day off because she didn't really feel up to working right now.
