Over Your Shoulder
Smurphyse - Masterlist
Want to read ahead on ao3 or want to read the tags/warnings? Read it here.
Chapter 8: Snapshots
Summary: A flashback from their earlier endeavors, and some background on Jasper's team. Jasper brings some photos to work to show to the team. Jasper gets roped into girl's night!
CW: SMUT -our first! <3 a little dom/sub dynamic but not really. Just a firm Spencer Reid😉
CW: talks of torture, violence
Also, this is super freaking long, so take a sip of water or take a break if you've been reading for a while <3
I see Liam Gallagher as Sebastian Stan, like the Short haired Bucky from TFATWS
- Smurph❤
Moe’s Diner, Georgetown- 15 years ago
“Sweetheart, I need you to look at me,” Spencer warned, holding Jasper’s chin in his hand as he tried to catch her eye. “You need to be quiet.”
“I’m always quiet, honey,” Jasper giggled. She bit her bottom lip and stuck her chest out as she tried to goad him on. He simply glared at her, doing his best to be stern. Instead of backing down, she spread her legs further and pouted.
My Marine, he thought, stubborn to the core.
They were in the bathroom at Moe’s, Spencer standing between Jasper’s thighs as she sat on the counter. Her red dress rucked up around her waist, her soft face pink and sweaty from their make out session, her wild hair sticking to her cheeks.
Her underwear were already in his pocket, slipped off in their mad dash to get their hands on one another after Spencer dragged her into the bathroom, locking the door behind him and shoving her into the nearest wall.
Jasper had just returned from a two week mission, and Spencer couldn’t seem to help himself. He had fully intended to just take her out to a relaxing breakfast after she arrived, weary and tired, back home that morning, but she had been nothing but a flirty brat since then.
After her first mission three months ago, when she returned to duty after Iraq, they had spent nearly every free moment together. Between Jasper’s schooling and his profiling classes, they were very busy. The constant threat of Jasper being pulled away on another mission meant that time together was precious. It needed to be spent wisely.
Which is what led to Jasper teasing him in the booth, her hand softly running up and down his thigh until he could take no more, and all but tossed her over his shoulder to claim her at their favorite dive.
Spencer swiped a hand down his face and sighed, giving her a knowing smile, “Yes, sweetheart, you are a very quiet and reserved person… in every place but the bedroom.”
“Good thing we’re not in the bedroom, then,” Jasper whispered seductively, leaning in and licking a slow stripe up his neck.
She palmed him through his pants as he moved his hands to her thighs. He already knew that tomorrow she would have bruises from his fingertips, and he’d be deprived of these little sundresses for at least a week while they healed.
“Jasper…”
She slowly lowered his zipper, pulling down his boxers and freeing his length from the fabric. She stroked his cock in her small hand, firm and quick as she whispered in his ear. He kissed her neck and pumped into her hand, holding back hisses of pleasure.
“Please,” she whimpered, moving her legs higher up his waist and lining him up against her soaked pussy. He could feel the heat emanating from her core, and it drove him wild. “It’s been so long. I’ll be so good for you, honey. I haven’t had you in weeks and I need this cock ins-.”
Spencer slapped a hand over her mouth as he quickly thrust into her, muting her shocked gasp. She looked up at him with wide eyes, her tight heat clenching around him as she adjusted to his sudden intrusion. The feeling threatened to send him into a blind race to finish. It had been weeks, after all.
He sighed heavily, leaning his forehead against hers, trying not to buck up into her. It was all the willpower he had not to begin thrusting into her and never stop. She was hot and slick, addicting in the best and worst ways. He couldn’t imagine being anywhere else when he was inside her, and when they were apart, sometimes it was all he could think about.
“See?” he asked, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of her nose, “You can’t help yourself. My sweet Jasper, all mine. Always so loud, just for me.”
Jasper nodded, moaning softly against the palm of his hand as he slowly began moving. She ground down on his cock the best she could from her spot on the sink, rocking against him and squeezing him with every thrust.
Jasper tugged at the thin straps of her dress, shoving them over her shoulders and pulling the dress down to her waist. He moved his free hand under the crook of her knee and wrapped it around his hip, using the leverage to pick up his pace and fuck her harder.
Her soft caramel breasts bounced as he pounded into her, the delicate little piercings shining in the warm glow of the overhead lights. He leaned back to admire them as she shuddered and shook beneath him.
“I’m going to move my hand now, sweetheart,” he told her firmly, grunting quietly as she tightened around him at the sound of his pet name for her. “If you don’t stay quiet, I’m going to have to gag you.”
Her dark eyes lit up and he felt her smile behind his palm. Oh, Jasper. Sweet, submissive Jasper. She was always happy to be dominated by him, and he loved it. It had taken a few weeks for them to really flesh out their wants and needs in bed, as she had a hard time telling him what she wanted, but as her trust in him grew, so did her love of submission.
It made his heart swell to see that trust, to be one of the few recipients of her faith, and the only one to see her like this- sweaty and pink, flushed and wet and wanting in a shitty bathroom in Dupont Circle.
He was the luckiest man in the world.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he asked in a low voice, and she nodded desperately. “You’d like it if I gagged you with your own ruined panties in a public bathroom?”
Jasper’s whimper sent a shudder down his spine and directly through his cock. He could tell she was close by the soft twitching of her inner thighs and the fluttering of her sweet cunt as he kept his pace.
Spencer leaned her back on the counter, laying her flat and pulling the little scrap of lace from his pocket. When he removed his hand, she opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue for him.
He moaned quietly and leaned over her, giving her a sloppy kiss as he slowed his thrusts. She still tasted like the syrup she’d had with her waffles, the delicious nectar that was his Jasper mixing with the sticky sweet maple and nearly sending him over the edge.
Jasper groaned impatiently, rocking down on him harder, quietly begging him for more. Spencer smiled against her lips, full of pride at his girl, his girl, trying so hard to be good for him.
He gently stuffed the panties in her mouth when he pulled away. She arched her back and adjusted her thighs around his hips as she waited patiently for him to finish her off.
“Are you ready?”
Jasper nodded excitedly, moving her hands to clutch the edge of the counter for leverage. She squeezed him tighter in her impatience, always just a little bit of a brat.
This wasn’t the first time they had done this, but hopefully this would be the first time they did it without being caught.
Jasper had a tendency to absolutely shatter when she came, her whole body shaking as she shouted through her release. He loved it, as their first time together she had been so shy, hardly daring to ask him to touch her in the dim light of his apartment. Now, she demanded it half the time.
One of the first times she’d pulled him in here, she’d moaned so loudly her voice cracked before Spencer could cover her mouth, and Moe all but broke down the door, worried something untoward was happening in her little diner.
Spencer gripped her hips tightly, pulling almost all the way out of her before plunging deep into her heat. He thrust hard and fast, just the way she liked it, mesmerized by the way her soft muscled body shook.
Jasper’s back arched as her thighs began twitching again. She brought one hand up to her mouth, desperately trying to mute the whimpers and cries that poured from her.
“Bite down, Jasper,” Spencer grunted, smiling when her jaw clenched around the fabric. “That’s it, good girl.”
Spencer’s thumb circled her clit, rubbing the aching bud fast and hard. Jasper’s eyes rolled back as she mindlessly fell to pieces. Her thighs shuddered as her pussy clamped down on his dick, a rush of liquid fire coating him as she came hard, her little groans turning to whimpers as she clutched her mouth tightly with her palm.
He did his best to ride her through her orgasm, that familiar heat rising in his cheeks and neck as he held himself back long enough for her to finish.
“Fuck, that’s my girl,” he gasped through clenched teeth, his head swiping at the scorching heat that coated his cock, “You’re all mine, huh, sweetheart?”
She nodded, lazily rocking down on him. He only made it a few more thrusts before he let himself go, spilling into her and collapsing against her chest.
“Oh, good girl,” he muttered, licking sloppy kisses between her breasts. She released her deathgrip on the counter and her face, carding her fingers through his hair. She sighed softly, her legs still twitching around him as his belly brushed against her sensitive clit.
They both groaned as he pulled out of her, standing straight and stuffing himself back into his pants. He admired her, flushed and red, her dress hiked up around her waist and pulled down nearly to the same spot as she laid dazed beneath him. Spencer rubbed her thighs affectionately, smiling down at her.
“We gotta go, Jazz,” he chuckled, cleaning her up and tugging her dress back down. He slowly helped her sit back up, laughing as she opened her mouth. He pulled the panties out and stuffed them back in his pocket, grateful he had already cum, because the sight of the drool connecting the ruined lace to her pretty pink lips would have made him shatter right there.
She pulled the dress back up, looping her arms back through the straps. She smiled sheepishly at him, as she always did after sex, a blotchy blush spattered across her freckled cheeks.
Spencer leaned down, pressing his lips to hers sweetly. Jasper sighed and melted against him, tugging him closer by the shirt. He regretfully pulled himself away, untangling her hands from the fabric and kissing her forehead.
“You go first,” he said, whispering against her hair, “I’ll wait thirty seconds and meet you back at the car.”
“Okay,” she said, back to her untalkative self. He pulled away to look at her, his heart caught in his throat at the content smile draped across her face.
She hopped off the counter and unlocked the door. He reached out and swatted her ass, grinning like a lovestruck fool when she yelped, swinging the door shut behind her.
He was still grinning as he exited the bathroom and turned the corner toward the booths. It fell off his face in an instant when he saw Moe herself, standing tall and stern, one hand around the back of a red-faced Jasper’s neck, the other holding a mop and bucket.
Jasper’s hand covered her mouth as she struggled to keep in her embarrassed laughter, the other arm wrapped around her waist, trying to curl in on herself.
Moe’s fire-red hair hung around her shoulders as she glared at Spencer, an amused smile on her face, somehow looking very fierce in her little blue diner getup.
“I told you last time,” she laughed, loud enough for the whole diner to hear, “Next time I catch you, you’re cleaning up your mess.”
She handed the mop and bucket to a mortified Spencer, who began to sweat as all the patrons turned to stare at him. Some let out little ‘whoops’ and ‘good jobs’ as they leered at Jasper in her tiny little dress, others laughing into their coffee mugs.
“I wouldn’t have even realized if you hadn’t slapped her ass on the way out,” Moe muttered as she passed him, clapping his shoulder with a firm hand, “You almost got one by me, kid.”
“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”
“Home,” Georgetown- Present Day
Emily gave them the rest of the week off, and despite a few hours of paperwork over the weekend, Jasper was supposed to be resting. Instead, she was working with the Misfits.
It had started out as a joke, made by Jack, that eventually stuck. Jasper hated when that happened. Why couldn’t she like anything ironically without it ending up in her daily vocabulary?
She and Jack had been lounging in bed, basking in the soft light of the evening sun as she told him her plans for a covert ops team, one made up of convicts with a ‘heart of gold’ like them, now that Eli was in prison and they were starting their life together.
“They’ll be misfits, baby, just like you and me. Hey, I like that name. What do you think? The Misfits,” Jack asked, wiggling his fingers in an arc above his head as he said ‘Misfits.’
“That’s the dumbest name I’ve ever heard. How fucking melodramatic can you be?” she laughed, her hand on her chest. She turned the little band on her left ring finger as she looked at him, laughing again at the stupid smile on his face.
He took her hand and kissed her palm, swiping his thumb over the little diamond set in gold.
“Hey, you married me, kid,” he grinned. “You knew exactly what you were getting into.”
She missed Jack.
They would never have made it, not as a married couple. The two were better off as friends who loved each other, and had been content living as such until they both almost died in Iraq. Taking a bullet to the head and surviving tends to put one’s priorities front and center, and she didn’t want to live another day without Jack by her side.
She had lost Sam, been thrown away by Spencer, but Jack was always there. It was cruel of them both to be with one another just because they were there , but neither had ever been known for their capacity for kindness.
It had worked, for the most part, until Eli had found them again.
After she lost Jack too, she put together her little team and called them the Misfits. She thought it was fitting, for all the dirty shit they had to do. They were the government’s little secret, a dangerous hit squad that gathered information against the very seat of power that employed them just in case.
They couldn’t be too careful. They’d all been recruited from prison, saved from serving life sentences in a six by six cell, their violent skills honed and trained to the point of perfection.
As stupid as the name for her team was, it never quite left her brain. The Misfits were her only family now, with Jack gone in a fiery blaze, Sam cold and stiff in a tomb in Louisiana along with her childhood, and Spencer far away in D.C. It’s not as though she were settling for less, as these were the only people in the world who truly understood and loved her.
Jasper met Baheera Noor during her first tour to Iraq, and they became fast friends. She was originally an interrogator at Gitmo, but was investigating claims from a prisoner in Mosul while Jasper was stationed at Camp Claiborne.
Jasper had been called in to view an interrogation Baheera was conducting. Jasper came into the dark tent, which held little respite from the hot sun outside under the thick tarping, and there stood Baheera, tall and dominant. Blood dripped from her knuckles but she showed no hint of exhaustion as she laid into her prisoner. Jasper was struck by her, by her poise and control in a situation that would’ve called most men to anger or disdain.
Baheera taught Jasper a lot during the nine months she was in Iraq, and even appeared at her bedside after the IED. When Baheera was arrested a few years later for war crimes, a charge Jasper found to be false, an agenda pushed on the Afghani-born interrogator to cover up another crime, Jasper took the time to bust her out and give her a new life. Baheera never left her mind after their first meeting, always filed away for Jasper to pull out when she daydreamed about her own team.
When she lost Jack, her first stop on her way back to the States was to Guantanamo Bay for Baheera. She was happy to join Jasper in her mission, and Jasper was grateful to have her. Even more of a hardass than Jasper, Baheera was known affectionately as ‘Mom’ to the group. She was the eldest, and she hovered over them like most of their own mothers should have.
Billy Vasquez was actually a member of Luke’s Ranger Regiment when she and Jack were in Balad twelve years prior and Mosul a year before that. She, Jack, and Luke’s Regiment had just come back from a particularly devastating mission when Billy lost it on an officer, sending him first into a coma, and then to the grave.
She’d leaned against a post, arms crossed as she watched it take seven Army men and Jack to pull Billy Vasquez off the man. She’d been impressed by his technique, though she supposed she should have been horrified to see him pulverize another man’s face, but she was trained to notice such talent and opportunities.
Billy was sent to Fort Leavenworth, and after creating the Misfits a few years after their meeting, Jasper headed to Kansas to recruit him. It was disturbingly easy to fake his death and wheel him out of there.
A few years later they were in Afghanistan, looking for a terrorist when a sniper round shattered her left femur. She had been hospitalized and sent to recover in Germany while Billy and Baheera hunted down Wren Carter. They held him in a discreet base in Afghanistan until Jasper could hobble her way back to the Middle East. She’d never forget the look on his face as she rolled into his cell in a wheelchair.
If you’re going to kill me, do it quick.
Oh, I’m not here to kill you, darlin’. I’m here to offer you a job.
Oona had been an easy find. The teenage daughter of an army general hacking into the Pentagon tended to raise a few eyebrows. Being a black daughter of an army general? That led to less leniency, and Oona spent the last two years of her childhood in a maximum-security juvenile facility for dangerous teens.
She was only eighteen when Jasper got her, and almost three years in a federal juvenile facility had threatened to break her spirit. Her eyes were stained with exhaustion, skin hanging off her bones as she struggled to stay alive in the harsh prison environment. Oona had never been anything but gentle, her only crime was that she had too much faith in her government’s love for confidence and bravery.
There was little doubt to Jasper that, like Baheera, if Oona had been white instead of brown or black, she would’ve been easily recruited into the FBI or CIA instead of sent to prison. Even though her father was a former Army General, she wasn’t lucky enough to stave off a lifetime sentence for hacking the Pentagon. When she left the facility, Jasper could physically see the weight lift from her shoulders.
You’re gonna see some shit, maybe do some shit, that’s gonna give you nightmares.
Will I be helping people?
Yeah, not in any way you’ll see really, but you’ll be serving your country, if that matters.
Does that matter to you?
No, this country has never done anything for me. I’m mostly in it for the money, the thrill, the dream of one day retiring in Italy while a cute man rubs my feet and a beautiful woman feeds me wine and cheese.
Sounds dope. I’m in.
Jasper had done all she could to shield Oona from the harshest realities of this life. When the rest of them retired, Oona would likely still have plenty of time to keep working. Wren was the closest to her age, but even he was still a good half decade older than her.
Oona was the only one who wasn’t damaged like them. Her father had loved her, and so had her mother, and she had just wanted to show the world what she could do when she breached the Pentagon. She wanted to help, and Jasper did her best to make sure she saw the people she helped.
When they found Abd El-Kader’s wife, Aaliyah, Oona had played with her toddlers as the rest of them asked her questions. Aaliyah, who had likely been through something like this before, was relieved nobody was there to hurt her, and watched fondly as Oona made faces at the children.
Jasper pretended not to notice when Oona gave Aaliyah a thick envelope, which she knew to be full of passports and money, and told her that Italy was always lovely this time of year. She held Oona’s head against her chest during the car ride back into Mosul after they buried Kader’s body, as she cried telling Jasper what she’d done, and how she hoped Aaliyah and the kids were safe.
Oona just wanted to help. Jasper was just grateful she hadn’t ruined her.
Taqib Ahled had been her favorite, though she never told him that. He was just some street kid from Las Vegas who had learned to con his way to success. Unfortunately, he was defensive and had a temper, which led to his committing murder. Jasper found he was the most like her, but unlike her, he still had the ability to change. He had the time to have a normal life eventually. But it was taken from him, just like it had been taken from her so many times before.
They were loyal only to her, only to their team. It was not loyalty based on ‘owing’ anybody anything like it had been with Eli. He had lorded the power of saving their lives over every Church recruit, but Jasper would never do that. She was hard and uncompromising with high expectations, but she treated each member of her team as an equal, and though she had the final say in what they did, she took each member’s situations and fears into account.
They were a family. A fucked up, blood and violence obsessed family, but a family nonetheless.
Jasper and her Misfits were currently sitting in their office space in Georgetown, trying to figure out where to start looking for Liam Gallagher.
Every base of operation they set up was called ‘Home,’ as it was a vague enough term that anyone listening to their conversations wouldn’t know where exactly they were talking about. It was also like a home to each of them, as their family was always there waiting for them.
Their ‘murder board’ of sorts was actually the length of one of the walls, paper and dossiers on the Gallagher Clan pasted out strategically. They were on their third day of deliberations, staring at the board for so long it seemed to blur together entirely.
“We’re getting nowhere,” Baheera sighed, tossing down a file onto the end of the conference table. Wren and Oona were sitting side by side, thighs touching and legs swinging as they both wearily glared at the board. Billy laid on the floor, his back stretched out on the carpet while his feet rested in the seat of a chair, blinking blearily at the popcorn ceiling.
Jasper sat in the middle of the conference table, her legs crossed and her jaw held up by one of her fists. She was exhausted too, her body aching for sleep, but they needed to use this spare time before going back to the BAU to set up a roadmap to the Gallaghers.
“We’re too involved in this mission,” Jasper said, biting her bottom lip. She stood abruptly and walked over to the board. Her eyes shot daggers into it as she stood with her hands on her hips, unable to pull apart the mess of their work and Liam’s crimes.
“We need to start from scratch. Let’s pretend we were never a part of this, that we’re an outside team coming in to investigate.”
“Learn something from your new profiler buddies?” Wren asked cheekily, grinning at her as she glared at him over her shoulder.
“They theorize a lot, imagine what it would be like to be the bad guy. Well, we are the bad guys, and the good guys sometimes. Let’s look at this like we’re people who’ve never murdered for sport before.” Jasper stared at the board for another moment, then began taking the papers down.
“You want us to pretend?” Wren asked incredulously, “What are we? Ten years old?”
“Just do what all those poor women do when they let you into their beds,” Baheera chuckled, coming up next to Jasper and helping her organize the files.
“Hilarious,” Wren mumbled, crossing his arms across his chest. Oona placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and squeezed him tight. It seemed to make him feel better, as he flashed Oona a sheepish grin and a blush. Baheera and Jasper just glanced at one another and smiled. Wren had been in love with Oona since she joined the team six years ago. They were sure Oona as of recently shared his feelings, and had been watching the two dance around it for a while now.
They finished pulling the pieces from the board and set them on the table. Jasper nudged Billy with her boot, and he sat up grumpily, halfheartedly smoothing out the wrinkles in his flower patterned shirt.
“Okay, let’s begin.”
Baheera stepped forward with a photo of Liam and his cohorts, pinning them to the clean board in an organization pyramid. “Liam Gallagher first hit Interpol’s radar when he and his brothers began working for Ian Doyle shortly before he was imprisoned at Camp 22 in Korea. The Gallagher Clan is composed of Liam, the eldest at forty. Ewen is the second oldest, and second-in-command. Then it’s the foot soldiers, Casey, Jamie, and the youngest, Gaelan.”
“When Doyle was killed in FBI custody, Liam took over his arms dealing outfit. The Misfits were tracking Abd El-Kader,” Oona started, tacking on a picture of the man they killed a little over a week ago to the board, “when we made the connection between Kader and Gallagher. Kader was little more than a pawn, a broker between the different fields of trafficking. We focused on Gallagher, as he was beginning to expand into more than arms.”
“We sent the Boss in undercover, a waitress with a heart of gold who won over Liam and became one of his little beggar bunnies,” Wren chuckled, ignoring another glare from Jasper. “She dated Liam for about three months, then we sent in Taqib to be a foot soldier for the outfit. Eight months later, someone in the FBI, according to our sources, told Liam there was a snitch in his Clan.”
“Gallagher spent two months slowly torturing and killing most of his staff in order to find the snitch, ending when he finally turned on the Boss and Taqib. Somehow, he’d pieced together that they were a team. Over the course of three days, he tortured the Boss before finally testing her resolve and...:” Billy sighed wearily, tacking a picture of a smiling Taqib to the board, “killing Taqib by taping a stick of dynamite in his mouth and forcing Boss to watch as his head exploded.”
Jasper remembered it clear as day, struggling to keep her cover as a dumb blonde mob bunny. The acrid smell of sizzling flesh and Taqib’s blood in her mouth. While her rage stayed beneath her skin, her grief was real, sobbing and struggling against her bonds. After a few moments, a blood and guts soaked Liam untied her and wrapped his arms around her, shushing her and smoothing her hair as he apologized for forcing her to go through so much.
“I love you darlin’, I’m so sorry. I had to make sure, I had to be sure,” he hushed, kissing her blood soaked temple. Tears poured from her in waves, her chest heaving as she blubbered in the arms of a psychopath. “I’d rather lose all my men than you any day, even my brothers. You and I, love. We’re meant to be.”
She vowed right then and there to make his death slow. He would suffer for weeks, no. Months! She would drag it out as long as possible, using all the strength left in her to rip Liam Gallagher limb from limb.
“I got out a few days later,” she mumbled, not going into detail on how the team had pulled her from the mission. They had decided over her head to fall back and regroup on finding the rest of Liam’s contacts and buyers. They’d had a big enough haul over the last year, they could wait a bit longer to fully take him down.
“Why come to D.C.?” Billy asked. “He could’ve gone anywhere, worked with terrorists and murderers from all over the world like he had been for years. Why come here and work for the U.S. Government?”
“He’s working for the IRA, maybe getting an American contact will help their cause. The U.S. has never sided with the IRA in the Troubles or their causes after,” Oona offered, though she knew just as much about the Troubles as most Americans did. It was such a complicated conflict, full of countless years of religious and political problems from a culture they would never really understand.
“Maybe,” Jasper said. She bit her cheek, glaring at the picture of the man she’d slept with for almost a year. Liam’s square jaw and cold blue eyes glared back at her. Had she joined the mob instead of the Church, she suspected she might be a lot more like Liam, perhaps more successful. The thought chilled her to the bone. She’d take her years of murder on behalf of the government over that any day, though Liam was doing just the same thing for his own loyalties.
“The payday must be worth more than the risk. A contract, even if it’s not an official contract with America, would pay out in the billions if the buyer had enough money. Most FBI guys that high up make a shit ton of money, and usually come from Blue Bloods themselves. We need to look into the arms contacts we know of in D.C.”
“That at least gives us a starting point,” Oona agreed. "We should look into how Gallagher started working for Doyle in the first place. "
“I wanna know everything you can tell me about Doyle. His life, family, contacts. Everything.”
“Let’s get on it, then,” Billy shrugged, tired of looking at this stupid Irishman’s face.
“Can’t wait,” Baheera sighed.
“I can’t wait to take out these Irish fucks one by one,” Wren chuckled, rubbing his palms together and looking predatorily at the board.
“I’ve got a date with the FBI,” Jasper nodded, checking her watch. “Speaking of which, I’ve gotta go. I have work tomorrow.”
BAU Headquarters, Quantico- The Next Day
“Good morning!” Garcia sing-songed as Spencer walked through the glass doors of the Bullpen. The rest of the team stood with her, surrounding Jasper, who was sitting on the edge of his desk.
“Jasper brought us some goodies,” Lewis chuckled. Jasper flashed him an embarrassed smile from her perch, a shoe box sitting across her thighs.
“Do I even want to know?” Spencer asked, passing the little group and plopping down at his desk. Jasper turned on the ledge, propping her feet up on his armrest.
“I was going through my storage unit and found these,” she chuckled, shaking the box gently toward him. “Thought it might be fun for everyone on a Monday.”
Spencer squinted at her, a little unsure by the gleeful look on her face, “What is it?”
“Well, you remember that camera I used to carry around all the time?”
Spencer’s face fell. He did remember that camera. He’d taken a few photos with it himself, of a scantily dressed and provocatively posed Jasper. She mostly took pictures during their time together, always snapping a handful of him, Jack, and anyone around them and Spencer had tried to let the memories she captured be of them having fun together. This would no doubt be an embarrassing trip down memory lane for him.
Jasper slid the top of the box off and set it aside. She rummaged around for a moment, a huge grin splashed across her soft face, pulling out an old Polaroid. She laughed quietly before passing it to Garcia, who was quickly surrounded by the rest of the team.
“Oh. My. Gosh,” Garcia gasped, her mouth agape as she stared at the photo. “Reid, you’re a fetus!”
Spencer reached over Jasper, snatching the photo from Penelope’s hand. It was a photo of him and Jasper, dressed as skeletons on Halloween. Both their face paint was smeared around their lips, a drink in each of their hands. He remembered the night fondly.
Jasper had dragged him out to Animal House, the bar they’d met in. Jack wanted them to go to the party with him and let loose a bit. Jasper had sat on Spencer’s lap in the living room, slowly painting his face, her tongue tucked between her teeth as she concentrated. He had messed it up long before they left the apartment, kissing her sloppily every chance he got.
They both wore skeleton onesies as they grinned at the camera. Jasper had taken it, stretching her arm as far as she could to capture them both. Her eyes were closed, her grin taking up her whole face while Spencer smiled so dreamily at her, he almost didn’t recognize such a soft look on his now hardened and tired face.
“Oh, here’s one of Luke,” Jasper breathed with a smile, handing the photo to Garcia. Spencer decided to stand and join the mob, easily seeing over his shorted co-worker’s shoulders.
It was Luke, Jasper, Jack and four others that Spencer didn’t recognize. His chest squeezed tightly at the sight of Jasper’s dead husband, but he wasn’t sure why. They were obviously in the Middle East, on a base somewhere. They were all smeared with blood and dirt, weary smiles stretched across their faces.
Luke looked so young, though Spencer knew this must have been his second or third tour. Jack had each arm slung around Luke and Jasper, his crooked grin flashing at the camera from a distance as they all lounged in the dirt.
“Geeze,” Luke grunted, shaking his head. “I haven’t thought about those assholes in years.”
“Who are they?” Garcia asked, smiling softly at Luke. He smiled just as delicately back at the tech analyst, taking the photograph from her.
“Well, that’s Jack, Jasper’s husband,” Luke said, pointing to the tattooed Marine. “The rest were a part of my squad at the time.”
“Garfield, Pendleton, Vasquez, and Delano,” Jasper nodded, “I think they’re all dead now.”
“Yeah, Vasquez died in prison, but the rest died on tour over the next few years,” Luke agreed. A sad look crossed his face for a moment, but he quickly shook it off.
“Prison?” Walker asked, taking the photo from Luke for a better look. He looked at it intently, studying the men in the photograph like they were a case file.
“He beat an officer to death on base. They sent him to Fort Leavenworth, but he died a few years after. I guess he got in a fight in the yard, shivved right in the chest.” Luke looked away from the group and rubbed one hand down his face. Jasper plucked the photo from Walker’s hand, flashing a concerned glance at Luke.
“Jack’s really handsome, Jazz,” JJ offered, squeezing her shoulder. Jasper smiled softly, a little bit sad.
“See that crook in his nose? I broke it three times during training. He kept coming back for more,” Jasper waved the photo once more, pointing out the not-so-little notch in Jack’s nose. She smiled at it once more before setting it aside.
“Here’s a good one,” Rossi said, pulling another photo out of the mix. It was a photo of Jasper and Diana at her sanitarium in Las Vegas. Spencer’s mother had her arms wrapped tightly around a young Jasper, their smiles brightening up the drab hospital walls behind them. One of Jasper’s hands was placed gently on Diana’s cheek, their faces pressed together as they both beamed at the camera.
Spencer was loving and hating looking at these old memories. Seeing his mother and Jasper together reminded him too much of the past. His mother had told him once that Jasper was the type you married, not the type you dated, and he’d agreed.
Diana still asked about Jasper, sometimes, in her less coherent moments. She called her Jazz, and wanted to continue the knitting lessons she had been giving Jasper. She asked about the wedding, about their lives together, about when they would give her grandkids...
“Spencer took that one. I think it was during Christmas.”
“I can’t believe Diana liked one of your girlfriends. She’s so protective of you Spence,” Emily ran a soft hand over the photo, smiling fondly at his mother.
“She loved Jasper, actually. She wanted to hate her when I first told her about us, but as soon as they met it was like they were best friends.” Spencer spared a glance at Jasper, but she was smiling sadly at the photo.
“How is your mom?” she asked, her eyes trained on the younger Diana, so much less tortured than she was now, so much less hurt because of him.
“She’s in town now. I brought her up here last year. She likes her new facility.” He didn’t want to go anywhere near the truth- that his mother was suffering so much, that he’d made her suffer visiting him in prison, and even more at the hands of Cat Adams and her band of psychopaths. He could barely handle the guilty thoughts that plagued him each time he visited her, so he was going less and less.
“Good,” she said, setting the photo gingerly aside, like it was a treasure close to her heart. “I think about her a lot.”
“Jack was such a preener,” Luke laughed, pulling a photo out of the box. It was of Jack, sitting on a king size bed, sheets tangled up around his legs as he flexed his muscled chest and arms at the camera.
“Yeah, he was real proud of those tattoos,” Jasper chuckled along with him, gazing happily at the photo. She had always loved Jack, and Spencer had known it when they were together. At the time, he knew it was merely a platonic love, one built on years of trust and understanding, but it still stung to know that that feeling grew once she was away from him. At least she was happy with Jack, and she wasn’t alone when she left D.C.
“Here,” she handed Rossi another photo, one Spencer recognized immediately. A copy of it hung on his fridge for years before he tossed it into a drawer.
He and Jasper were at their booth at Moe’s, sharing a milkshake. His hair was short, hers pulled into two low pigtails. Their straws were clenched tightly between their teeth as they grinned like loons. Spencer was looking into the camera, but this time it was Jazz who was watching him softly. In the corner he could see the remnants of a pancake hut. The soft haze of the diner glowed around them in the dimming sunlight, capturing their youthful excursions in a perfect memory. It was a week to the day after they first went to Moe’s together.
Spencer had come in just after the lunch rush, only to find Jasper sitting in his booth, feet propped up on the seat with a book in her hand. She was sipping on a coke, wearing his Caltech sweater, totally absorbed in Pride & Prejudice when he sat down.
You’re in my spot.
Hate to break it to you, honey, but you aint’ gettin’ this back either.
But he had gotten the booth back. After Jasper left, he’d reclaimed his lone booth in the corner, reading books by himself and forgoing pancakes for eggs and bacon these last fourteen years.
“You two were so cute together,” Lewis mused, earning a round of agreement from the team. Spencer and Jazz shared a glance, and he could have almost convinced himself that her gaze held as much longing and painful memory as his own.
“I have this one in my wallet,” Luke spoke up. They had each gathered a handful of photos and were passing them around. Most of them were of Jack, Jasper, Luke and Spencer, though there were a few unfamiliar faces and landscape portraits Jasper had taken on her journeys around the world. There were a few in big cities like Paris, Berlin, Tokyo and New York. Some were of the countrysides from Ireland, Italy, and Afghanistan with its poppy fields. Jasper always had a talent for photography.
The picture Luke was referring to was a flurry of pink and white confetti. Jack and Jasper stood in the middle, lips locked in a passionate embrace. Jasper wore a long white dress made of lace and silk. Jack was in a black suit, a little bow tie settled at his throat. Spencer could clearly see the diamond on Jasper’s left ring finger.
It was their wedding day.
Now he knew why his chest hurt to see Jack. This is how Spencer had begun to imagine his life fourteen years ago, saying his vows in a church with Jasper, since she was a good Catholic even if she’d never tell anyone, having her look at him like that, captured forever and hanging over the mantle of the house they would share together.
Maybe they’d have a kid or two by now, but Jasper had always been nervous about becoming a parent, so maybe they would still be getting to that point. Jasper would leave coffee mugs in the shower and he’d be the one to pick them up. Spencer would pile books in corners and on tables, and Jasper would organize them in a way that his scattered brain would understand later on. She would decorate the place, and he would do all the dishes because Jasper hated doing dishes. Jasper would help him pick out clothes like she used to, finding clothes that actually went together, which took him years to figure out on his own, with a little help from JJ and Emily. He would wash and detangle Jasper’s hair, because it was the least favorite part of her routine, but she loved her curls. They would help each other, love each other, support each other.
A whole unlived life passed in front of his eyes as he looked at the photos of Jasper and Jack. What life would they have had if Jack lived? Would she have ever come back to D.C.? Would he have ever seen her again?
These what-ifs were going to kill him.
There were two more photos, one of them saying their vows in the little pastel church, the other of them walking back down the aisle hand-in-hand. Jasper looked incandescently happy, tears forming in the corner of her eyes as she smiled at her new husband.
Spencer prepared himself to walk away, to turn around and leave this trip through their shared and unshared memories, until he saw Jasper’s face. Her jaw was set tightly, her eyes glassy and tired as she looked at the photographs of what should’ve been one of the happiest days of her life. But instead of the grinning girl in the photos, he only saw an exhausted woman weighed down by the heaviness of memory.
“We barely survived that IED in Iraq, and three months later I get a letter from Jasper with these inside,” Luke laughed happily, passing them photos around. “They went down to Atlantic City and tied the knot without telling anybody.”
Jasper sniffed quietly, then placed a careful smile on. She didn’t look at Spencer, instead focusing on Luke recalling some memory of a hospital in Germany with Jack and Jasper.
“That’s where this one was taken, after the IED,” Luke continued, waving a photo of him, Jack, Jasper, and three of the others from the group photo around a hospital bed. They were all beat up, but Jack was laid up in the bed, his leg bandaged heavily and hanging from a traction mechanism. He looked exhausted, a tired smile slapped on his war-torn face. The rest of them looked just as tired, all their feet propped up on the sides of the mattress.
Jasper had a huge bruise on the left side of her face, wearing only a tank top and a pair of cloth shorts. Bandages peeked through the edges of her shirt, bruises littered her long legs. The scar Spencer had seen on her thigh in Alabama wasn’t there, but he did notice something high up on her upper thigh, scarcely visible underneath the fabric of the shorts and the drab hospital lighting.
The word honey was tattooed in red ink on her right leg. Spencer’s heart exploded in his chest, almost sending him reeling away from the group. It was her pet name for him, marked forever on her body. She had saved a piece of him on her skin.
If she noticed the flash of the tattoo, Jasper didn’t show it. She was laughing with Luke about them stealing Jell-O cups from the kitchen and hiding them in Jack’s room while they all recovered.
“This is when you got shot in the head, remember?” Luke asked, and Jasper just laughed.
“Of course I do, it took weeks for that bruise to go away. The bullet I took to the chest gave me this beauty,” she motioned to the scar between her breasts. “It broke a few ribs tearing it’s way through me and my lung.”
“I don’t understand how you can walk around with that many scars, Jazz,” Rossi said, shaking his head. “I saw guys come back from Vietnam with some crazy injuries and barely make it back into the world.”
“I made a deal with the devil,” Jasper shrugged, giving him a coy smile. “I can’t die.”
Rossi tapped the side of his nose, and the two laughed at some joke the rest of them didn’t really understand.
JJ handed Spencer her handful of photos. One was Jack and Luke on a base, assembling guns together in their desert camouflages. Jack’s were green, Luke’s were tan, their military issued clothing just different enough to show which branch they served.
There was a picture of Jasper underneath that one, lounging on his bed and obviously naked beneath his thin sheets. The sun pouring in from the windows illuminated the room, and the shadow of her curved body shone through the cream colored fabric. He was grateful JJ handed this to him instead of passing it back around the group. Jasper smiled softly at the camera, laying on her stomach and watching him over the lens with her deep brown eyes. She looked like she really loved him in this photo.
She hadn’t looked at him like that since she came back.
The next one in the stack was of Jasper and Luke in a bar. From the German written on the bar mirror, he assumed this was during some of their leave time. Luke held Jasper in a tight hug from behind, his chin resting on the top of her poofy head. One of the men he assumed to be Vasquez, as he was the only Latino-esque man from the group photo, sat next to them on a stool Jasper was holding his feet in her hands while he pretended to fall off his seat.
Jasper had been so serious since coming back, it was odd to see how goofy she used to be in these old photos. Her grin wasn’t held back by reserved emotion, no contempt for Spencer was held in any of the photos of the two of them.
“Oh, Stick,” Jasper giggled, covering her mouth with one of her hands. “Do you remember this night?”
She handed him a Polaroid. He was dead asleep in his bed, drooling face down on the pillow, a curtain of hazy sunlight filtering in the window behind him. Jack was passed out next to him, snoring on his back. Despite how stupid they looked, it was a really beautiful shot.
“Ugh,” he laughed, shaking his head to dispel the memory of the hangover that followed that night. “Unfortunately.”
“Spencer and Jack went out to do their ‘male bonding,’ or whatever,” Jasper said, making air quotes with her fingers, “and they got so drunk I had to go down to Animal House and take them home. They kept arguing with me, trying to get me to order some pizza. It was all I had to get those two idiots up the stairs and into bed.”
“I got the feeling that Jack and Spencer didn’t get along,” Lewis mentioned, giving Jasper a shrug as she looked through her own handful of photographs.
“They liked each other at first. I’m not sure what happened, neither of them would tell me.”
All eyes turned to Spencer, who bit his lip tightly as he decided whether or not to tell. Jasper looked at him expectantly, her eyes a little hesitant, but still questioning.
“We had… words,” Spencer began, swiping a hand across the back of his neck. “He said you wanted to stay in D.C., but that you had an important job to do. He wanted me to convince you to go. I thought it was your choice to make.”
“Oh,” Jasper whispered, looking down at her hands. She pushed her thumb into her opposite palm, pressing hard as she thought.
“Well,” she finally decided, flashing him a sweet smile. “I’m glad I came back. I missed… this place. I missed the good in this place.”
He had always called her ‘the good in this place,’ and was startled that she used the phrase back to him. Did that mean she missed him like he’d missed her? Did that mean she left the place she was happy when she left him?
“I’m glad you came back,” he said, shifting uneasily on his feet, all too aware of the rest of the team watching them. Jasper seemed to ignore them, watching him gently instead. “This place missed you, too.”
Jasper beamed at him for a moment before turning back to the box. The smile fell from her face as she picked up a photo. Spencer moved closer to see it, and the little hope he had for his and Jasper’s relationship shattered in an instant.
“Who’s that?” Garcia asked, moving in between Jasper and Spencer, as if she could sense the tension. Jack, Jasper, Spencer, and a blonde woman were lined up in a booth at Animal House. The woman sat next to Jasper, the two of them clinking their glasses together while Spencer had an arm thrown around Jack.
“That’s me, Jack, Spencer… and Alyssa,” Jasper muttered, speaking her name with such disdain, the rest of the team quit their perusing and glanced cautiously at one another.
“I don’t remember meeting her,” JJ broke in, looking up from her stack of photos, looking intently at the woman who had destroyed Spencer’s bliss with Jasper.
“They were pretty close,” Jasper sighed, handing the photo off to her and standing from the desk. She walked over to the coffee pot in the kitchenette, leaving her photos behind. Luke followed quickly behind her, the other dispersing from the bullpen quickly as the air shifted from somewhat warm to icy cool. JJ and Garcia stayed behind with Spencer while Luke and Jasper made a few cups of coffee.
“That’s the woman you cheated with, isn’t it?” JJ asked quietly. Spencer’s head snapped toward her in shock.
“She told you about that?”
“Well, she was heavily concussed at the time, but yeah she mentioned it.”
“You cheated, Reid? I never would have thought of you as the type!” Garcia gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth as her voice raised.
“No,” he growled, harshly snatching the photo from JJ and tossing it into the trash. “I never cheated. I would never do that, especially not to her. It was all a big misunderstanding… Alyssa came to the apartment while Jasper was off on some mission and she came home early… She took one look and walked out the door and never came back.”
“She left just because you had a woman in the apartment? She didn’t even ask what she was doing there?”
“I never would’ve thought of Jasper as an insecure, jealous girlfriend.”
“Alyssa might have been coming out of my bedroom… partially nude.”
“Oh,” they said together.
“Yeah I would’ve left you too,” Garcia affirmed, then backtracked when she saw Spencer’s glare. “I mean, maybe she could’ve come back and asked for an explanation… I’m not sure what I would’ve done, actually… I'm actually surprised she didn't punch you before leaving.”
“Didn’t you try to talk to her? Explain what happened?” JJ asked, always the voice of reason.
“I called her all night, tried to find her in all our spots. Jack said he hadn’t seen her, but looking back I’m sure he was lying to me. I called her the next day but her phone was disconnected, and when I went to the base to see if I could get her to talk to me, her commander told me she took a post overseas and was unreachable.” Spencer groaned, scrubbing his face with his hands. He looked pleadingly at his friends. “I never got the chance to tell her what happened. Alyssa just… showed up and ruined everything like she always does. I shut her out of my life completely after that, I haven’t talked to her since.”
“You should explain now,” JJ told him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and squeezing. “Even if it doesn’t change anything, you should tell her anyway.”
“She won’t believe me, and it’s not like I have any way to prove that nothing happened between me and Alyssa.”
“It would be a start,” Garcia said, and gave him a tight hug. She squeezed his middle tightly before abruptly letting him go, her eyes catching a battered photo in the corner of the box.
It was him and Jasper, sitting on an armchair at some party. Jasper was draped across his lap, her arms thrown around his shoulders. They were kissing, Spencer’s hand was underneath her flimsy silk shirt, holding her close with his hand on her spine. One of Jasper’s hands was curled into his hair. He couldn’t remember exactly when this was taken, but felt the attraction between them. It wasn’t a sexual embrace, though it could easily be misconstrued as such. Instead, it was loving, a passionate kiss, each the sole focus of the other, even though they were surrounded by people.
“I remember that night,” Jasper’s voice came from behind them. They turned to see her smiling, as was Luke. “That was your birthday. Your hands up my blouse because I was wearing that red lingerie set you liked so much.”
“Red lingerie, huh?” Luke asked, snagging the box and rifling through it, “You got any pictures of that?”
“Somewhere,” she confirmed, giving him a sly smile, “but not here.”
“Shameful, hiding that from us,” Garcia giggled. She gave Jasper an exaggerated wink, causing the other agent to turn bright red.
“Yeah, well, I don’t have that body anymore.”
“What are you talking about? You’re hot!” JJ told her, motioning to her lithe body. It was true. In Jasper’s tight jeans and snug shirt, her curves were easily visible and on display.
“Back then I only had one scar, and I could hide it with my shirts. Now, I’m just covered in them. I can’t even wear a bikini anymore without being stared at.”
“That’s not why they’re staring, hon,” Garcia said seriously. “They’re looking at all those muscles! Who wouldn’t look?”
“I guess,” she shrugged, “They’re pretty gnarly though.”
An awkward lull weighed heavily in the air. Spencer agreed, they were gnarly, but they were Jasper’s, and to him she was the most beautiful woman in the world, just as he had thought back then.
“You wanna get dinner tonight? Look at some apartments?” Luke asked, breaking the silence.
“Oh, no,” JJ told him, wagging her pointer finger at him. “It’s girl’s night, and Jasper’s coming with us tonight to Shaw’s.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Jasper laughed, holding her hands out to ward the two women off. “I’m not much of a girl’s gal if you know what I mean.”
“Too bad, you’re ours for the night.”
She looked first at Luke for help, but he just shook his head. She turned to Spencer for relief, but he just smiled at her. “You’ll have fun, I swear.”
“Fine. But I’m leaving after one drink,” she relented, shoulders sagging in defeat.
“We’ll take good care of you, sweetie, don’t worry,” Garcia laughed. Her and JJ looped their arms with Jasper’s, leading her off toward the Round Table Room for their debriefing. She shot Luke and Spencer a glare over her shoulder as she was taken away.
Moe’s Diner- Midnight
Jasper trudged up the little concrete steps to the familiar diner, holding onto the railing tightly. One drink had turned to six or seven… maybe eight, she wasn’t sure. When she finally left the bar, she found her feet taking her straight to the familiar hovel in which she and Spencer had spent so much time together.
She sucked in a deep breath as she reached the door, tugging it open and stepping foot inside.
Nothing had changed.
The blue pleather backed stools still sat underneath the counter in the center of the diner, fourteen of them to be exact. A line of booths led off to her right, another identical set to her left. She could hear soft music coming from the kitchen and someone singing along to it. The bathrooms where she and Spencer had enjoyed more than a few quickies were off the right side of the kitchens.
A waitress in her twenties sat behind the counter, looking bored as she scrolled through her phone. There were a few early birds sipping coffee at the counter, night shifters coming out before they headed to work at the nearby restaurants and factories. She turned left to claim her old booth in the corner, the one where she could see all the entrances and exits, but someone had already taken it.
As she approached, she recognized the figure in the dim lighting. Spencer Reid sat curled in on himself, biting the nails of one hand as he held a book in the other. A stale cup of coffee sat on the table in front of him, an empty plate next to it.
He didn’t notice her, and smiled to herself.
Some things never change.
“You’re in my spot.”
Spencer looked up sharply, snapping the book shut. After a moment a grin broke out across his gentle face, “You’re not getting this back, sweetheart.”
Maybe it was the bourbon, but warmth spread throughout her chest, filtering it’s way down her arms and legs, her fingers and toes tingling as she smiled at Spencer.
“Can I join you?”
“Of course,” he said, motioning to the seat across from him. She slid into the booth and sighed. It had been a long walk to the diner and her feet were aching.
“How was girl’s night?”
“Oh, it was good,” she nodded, “I’ve never been asked by my coworkers what my ex’s penis looks like before.”
“What?”
“Don’t worry,” she shook her hands at him dismissively, thoroughly enjoying the beet red color his face was turning. “You were always generously well-endowed. I told them the truth.”
He stared at her for a moment in shock, then said, “Are you drunk?”
“I’m a little toasty,” she admitted, nodding slowly.
“Okay,” Spencer sighed, then chuckled to himself. “I’m gonna buy you a cup of coffee and a waffle.”
He flagged down the young waitress and soon enough, a plate of hot waffles and a mug of steaming heaven were placed in front of her. Spencer had his old plate swapped out for a fresh one of pancakes and a new cup of coffee.
“Ohhh,” she groaned, patting her belly as she took a bite, “I haven’t had waffles in years.”
“They don’t have waffles in the Middle East?”
“Not-so-surprisingly, no,” she told him, waving around her fork as her words slurred slightly. She clicked her teeth and continued, “It’s mostly military rations of potatoes and what they say isn’t Spam, but we all know is Spam.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t move around more, get out of the desert for a bit.”
Something was stirring in her stomach, and for a moment she considered excusing herself to go throw up the rest of her bourbon and half the plate of waffles. Spencer was giving her a smile, that smile, the same one he used to give her every time they sat in these booths. Except this time it was worse.
It was midnight and the diner was clouded in darkness and shadows, but he was looking at her like she was the fucking sun.
“Oh, I went all over,” Jasper nodded, swallowing thickly as her heart began to thunder in her chest. “I just always ended up back in those areas. In fact, a few weeks before I came back here I was in Paris for a few days. I was at a café, and on the other side of the window there was this old man, scrawny as all hell, wearing a purple button up and a sweater vest and playing chess with himself… reminded me of you.”
The words spilled out of her quickly, like she had to vomit it out before the sober part of her mind forced it to stay inside. Drunk Jasper liked to talk, especially to Spencer.
“I think about you all the time,” he said quietly, twisting his coffee mug with one hand as he stared into the table. “Every time I come here… when I’m at home… talking to my mom because she still brings you up… If I didn’t work so much, I think being home might drive me crazy.”
“You could just move,” she offered, unsure what else to say, how to help. Diana asked about her? It made Jasper feel heavy with regret, knowing she had just left Diana behind. She had held onto hope that her illness would wipe Jasper away the longer she was gone, but it only seemed to have cemented her in the woman’s brain.
“No I can’t,” he whispered. “Then, the memories would just be up in my head, and I might start to forget.”
They looked at each other for a long time. Jasper’s brain was struggling through a drunken slush, trying to process this information and respond, but she kept hitting a wall. The thought of Spencer, living all these years in a tomb surrounded by her, was unbearable. At least she’d been able to run from her thoughts, to hide her emotions deep and pretend to be people she wasn’t. But now she was back, and her emotions were betraying her, urging her to reach out and comfort him, to ease the pain she must have caused him, despite the pain he’d caused her.
“We should be friends,” she said suddenly. Spencer’s gaze snapped to her, a confused look marring his soft features. His stupid eyebrows were cozying up to one another again, and it was all she had to not press her thumb between them.
“I’d like that,” he said after a moment, giving her a sweet smile that sent the heat in her chest from a simmer to a boil.
They finished eating, making quiet conversation about the team. Apparently, there was a betting pool going around the BAU about them, about whether or not they’d get back together or not. They talked about some previous cases. Spencer told her about getting shot in his knee protecting a doctor from a revenge killer, and how he had to use a cane for almost a year. It was around the same time she’d been shot in the leg by Wren and had to use a cane herself, and they laughed about how they still did things together, even half a world away.
“Hey friend,” she giggled sweetly, feeling the heat that was no doubt spreading across her cheeks under the neon lights of the diner.
“Yes, friend?”
“Remember when we had sex in that bathroom?”
Spencer threw back his head and laughed loudly, and Jasper felt that familiar tug deep in her stomach. She would later blame it on being dumbly drunk and hanging out with her ex, but she knew the truth.
She was in real danger of falling back in love with Spencer Reid.
Had she ever really fallen out of it? She didn’t want to answer that.
Best not to try that until she was sober.
Notes:
Let me know what you think! It really helps me keep writing <3 I wanna know all your thoughts! <3
- Smurph❤
