#( also i feel like jj would just get migraines every time there's a case in manhattan )

[clochanamarc]

okayokayokay but what if i added jenn.ifer ja.reau as a muse? as like, the agent assigned to keep an eye on things relating to aisling and her family? what then?

[oneshotnewbie]

Emily PrentissxJennifer JareauxReader:

The reader is working for the BAU and has a really bad migraine (She has chronic migraines but didn't tell anyone). She is really mad and distant toward her friends (you can include the boys too but make me girls main please) and they notice it and have a little intervention with her. After that a lot of fluff where Emily and JJ care for her

Authors note: Unfortunately I don´t have an Emily Prentiss x Daughter reader story, but I have added a new one to write. Until then, there is only one Emily Prentiss x Jennifer Jareau x Reader story from me today

ᕚ---ᕘ

You could say that you were a person with enormous stamina and a high tolerance level. Something that was a must for anyone who worked as a Supervisory Special Agent for the Behavioral Analysis Unit and under Aaron Hotch. Many people admired you for not jumping off the next cliff under the unbearable circumstances of this job.

And you yourself sometimes admired your own achievements. But everyone had their limits and it was a recurring thing that happened during your work hours. You ignored the first triggers. You exceeded your physical limits and your migraine appeared.

You could have guessed it when you got back on the plane from Oxford. The terrible serial killer and the panic it caused in the city, the fact that he had abused and murdered seven women. This case had taken more of a toll on you than you would have liked and you tried to deal with your problems in your own way. Which meant you threw yourself into the work, no matter how mundane every clue was and no matter what wall you hit.

“Y/n, maybe you should take a break?” begged Emily, noticing that you were doing everything you could to get Oxford out of your bones as quickly as possible. You, however, waved her off without saying a word and continued to stare at the white board on which every clue was hanging. "Do not need a break, I am fine." The black-haired went along with it, stayed by your side and tolerated your moods even when they drove her crazy.

Non-stop, without a break and with lack of sleep and malnutrition, you battled the nagging headaches and mild nausea. You became more and more tired, yawned and became increasingly sensitive to the loud noises of the office. Something you could tolerate skillfully. But Emily and your colleagues not.

You clearly knew you were on the verge of a migraine when you started seeing visual symptoms of a migraine aura. Your vision became distorted, sometimes weaker, sometimes sharper. For a few minutes you only saw white in your left eye, but you kept going, not giving yourself a break. You knew that no other woman could die because of you.

Hour after hour you were exhausted and just trudged from the office to the coffee machine. With a nasty headache and feeling like you might throw up, you swallowed it all and sat down on a chair while Penelope talked loudly to Derek. You felt like your head was going to explode at any moment from their voices. "Could you PLEASE shut up or at least go to another room to flirt with each other?" you huffed and massaged your temples, their sighs ringing like a hurricane in your ears. "Some people want to work here."

"Babygirl, are you okay?" he asked, surprised at your momentary outburst. He had never been allowed to see you like this, you had never snapped at him. A sharp pain shot through your temples and you hastily stood up. "Hey, cutie pie? What is going on?" the technical analyst also chimed in and waited for any kind of answer.

"I am fine, just leave me alone." your words came out of your mouth hastily and probably slurred, but you did not care. You had to go to the toilet immediately. Without turning around again, you quickly walked out of the office and stumbled in the direction you were heading. Every time you made contact with the ground, the headache got worse and you begged not to throw up on the way. You saw distorted vision in your right eye while small white flashes danced in front of it.

Rushing into the bathroom, you stood in front of the sink, panting and swallowing convulsively. Having migraines was terrible and right now you could not use one. You sighed in relief when you did not throw up, as long as you did not, it was not all that bad.

Loud footsteps sounded outside the door and a knock made your head explode. “Oh, y/n.” A rough voice spoke and you looked in the mirror. Emily and JJ had pushed through the door one after the other and were now standing with their backs to you, their arms crossed over their chests. Furthermore, you paid attention to your reflection in the mirror, which said that any idiot could see that a corpse in pathology looked healthier than you. So did the trained agents on your team. "What is wrong?"

You did not even hear half of the sentence, the second word was the end of it. You ran into one of the stables, fell to your knees and managed to bend over the toilet just in time. You squeezed your eyes shut as tears streamed down your cheeks and you threw up violently. “y/n?” the blondes voice had an worried undertone and you did not notice her standing strictly behind you. The next thing you felt were cool hands on your neck and shoulders.

Jerking away from the touch, leaning your head back against the wall as you pulled your knees into your body. You tried to block so many sounds and other sensations from your body, while only this crushing and throbbing pain existed in your head.

Once again you felt cold hands on your skin and everything in you protested as they helped him to his feet, an arm was placed around your shoulder and led you out of the bathroom and through the hallway. Soon your face made contact with a pillow and a relieved sigh rolled past your lips. You did not know where you were, just that it was quiet. Still, your currently oversensitive ears heard Hotch appearing to be talking to Emily, JJ, and the rest of the group. "No, we have no idea what is going on."

“Did you ask her?”

"We tried, but we got no response." at some point there was an angry snort at the blonde's answer and there were more footsteps in front of the door. The squeaking sound echoed through your head, pounding inside before the space on the couch shrank and a shadow appeared in front of you. "Sweetie, cards on the table. Tell us what is going on?"

The voice of the of the blonde was painful, yet it was strangely comforting to hear a familiar and loving voice. Still, you flinched violently as something cool was brushed onto your forehead. The nausea slowly subsided. "Chronic migraines since adolescence. But not so severe for a while."

Long fingers tugged at the disheveled and stray strands of hair on your face before she stood up again and walked to the windows. The room darkened, blinds closed and you moaned pleasantly. After making a trip to the door, she told the expected teammates what you had told her. You only heard a quiet "I will stay with her, but someone has to get me the medication out of my bag," before the door closed quietly and she sat down on the office chair, looking over you thoughtfully.

JJ waited for Emily to come back with some things and watched you laying there in pain, exhausted and completely distracted by the thunder in your head, trying to be as silent as she could. A few minutes later, the door opened again. You saw Emily through squinted eyes and spotted a bucket in her hand, a bowl of water, wipes under her arms and a large disposable syringe.

"What do you want to inject into me?" you asked surprised and a little frightened by the size of the abnormally large syringe. The blonde knelt down in front of you, pulling up your sweater and waiting for the black-haired one to hand it over. "Metoclopramide,"

"How do you know what to inject into me and where did you get it from?"

"You are not the only one who gets migraines. I used to get them often enough and since then I have always had an injection with me to protect myself from them in case they happen again." she frowned and laughed quietly. You nodded in acceptance and there was a moment of silence before a hot, stabbing pain shot through your lower torso and you cried out. "That hurts!"

Emily sat on the armrest and slipped her fingers between your own. You squeezed it tightly and she hoped to take the temporary pain away from you. "Why did not you tell us?" the black-haired asked sadly you huffed through gritted teeth. "I did not want to be a burden to you. I did not want to seem weak," you replied, shrugging.

"It was stupid of you not to say anything. At least to JJ or me." She paused briefly and you raised your head in confusion before nodding in understanding and looking over at the blonde. With a half-smile, she placed a band-aid on the wound and placed a thin blanket over your legs. "Okay. Next time I will let you know, I promise."

They both nodded and stood up. While JJ was putting away the trash, Emily leaned over and gave you a gentle kiss on the top of your head before she disappeared out of the door. "I will make you some tea,"

"You never make tea."

"I will do it today for a very special and stubborn person." She spoke in a whisper, winking at you. You laughed quietly and already felt a million times better than you did a few minutes ago. With a yawn, you sank deeper into the pillow and watched as the blonde turned on a small lamp at the desk in the dark room so she could continue working. "Thanks,"

[knoxic]

Random Criminal Minds canon things (based on my DR)

(I think it accidentally happened because of my headcannons?)

divided it into 2 parts, 2nd one under the cut is NSFW and contains: panic attacks, anxiety, homophobia, suicidal thoughts. (but there is a fun part dw)

SFW

• Derek is lactose intolerant, still drinks milk almost every day and loves icecream.

• Dave and Hotch genuinely consider each other best friends.

• Hotch and Pen give the best birthday gifts.

• Derek broke someone's nose because they made fun of Spencer behind his back, Spencer doesn't know what happened and gave him a lecture on why he shouldn't pick fights.

• JJ is in charge of ordering food and coffe while we're on cases, chooses the best food and place and somehow always knows what we want.

• Dave made pizza one night and now Garcia keeps begging him to open a Pizza restaurant. (he rolls his eyes and says "it's a family thing" as an excuse every times she asks)

• Hotch kept groaning and mumbling for 7 hours straight because our coffe machine was broken and we couldn't get coffee.

• Emily has terrible migraines, only Spencer and I know because we shared medicines once.

• Hotch thinks everything he does as a father is wrong and Jack hates him for them. Cried on my shoulder one night after Jack called him his hero.

• Out of everyone in the team, JJ has the best aim and worst eye sight. (she wears lenses at work and glasses at home)

• Hotch banished Spencer from making everyone's coffee ever since he put 4 cubes of sugar in each cup. (I let him do mine tho)

• Dave keeps 3 bottles of whiskey in his office. Tried sneaking one in Hotch's office once claiming its "so you can have a drink every time you're feeling miserable:)", Hotch felt like it was wrong so he took it home without Dave noticing (he did).

• Penelope once dreamed about getting married and having a kid, sometimes cry herself to sleep missing the baby.

• JJ never took Henry to a church but taught him about every religion she knows so he could choose if he wanted to have one. Will teaches him to be acceptable and open minded.

• Spencer likes fem terms (especially being called pretty)

• Jack has a doll named Lisa, plays with her as if she was a baby (Hotch gets baby fever watching him).

• Hotch, Spencer and Emily are queers.

• Penelope is pansexual.

NSFW

this is the not fun part... feel free to skip

• Emily once had a panic attack because Strauss forced her to "sit properly", her mom used to tell her that all the time.

• Hotch has CPTSD (Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder)

• JJ was homophobic, knows its wrong but its the way she was raised to be as a kid, grew out of it but still catches herself judging ppl.

• Emily had a ED for a great part of her life.

•Emily and Spencer have chronic anxiety.

• Hotch used to have suicidal thoughts during his 8-18 years, never tried anything because he heard his dad say that "people who kill themselves are cowards"

• Derek had toxic relationships (on both his side and his partners side) for years,

• Before Haley, Hotch had an abusive relationship with a girl older than him (he was a minor, she wasn't...).

ehhh

• Emily used to only have one night threesomes to avoid relationships and feelings.

• Spencer and Ethan had a established dom/sub relationship. It ended when they had a fight over Spencer going to the FBI, Ethan knew it meant they wouldn't see each other much and he just wanted to settle down with Spence, so he left.

now to the fun part:))

• Hotch likes to have his nipples sucked.

• Spencer has a thing for biting (being bitten and biting)

• Derek tried men before, it didn't stick but he had a great time.

• Hotch also tried men (college) but he actually liked it, would do it again 100%, asked Haley to top him once but she refused.

• Emily owns a strap-on.

• Hotch and Spencer have a insane libido, literally the wind could turn them on.

• JJ could cum just from giving head.

• Hotch + couch sex =👩���🦽

• Suck JJ's Fingers.

• Make love = Hotch Derek

Fuck = JJ Emily

Have sex = Spencer Pen

• Penelope is not extremely experienced but she does it good.

• Hotch loves body worship (giving)

• Kinks

Hotch = Breeding, Exhibitionism, Pregnancy, Age Play, Quirofilia (hands🥴), Somno, Praise (giving) Dd/Lg, Deepthroat.

Derek = Collaring, Blindfold, Roleplaying, Corruption, Dom/sub.

Emily = Somno, Corruption, Choking,

JJ = Cuckolding, Corruption, Deepthroat

Penelope = Roleplaying, Age Play, Spitting,

Spencer = Bondage, Praise, Quirofilia, Corruption.

(btw I'm not sure if Hotch got more kinks because hes kinky or because I just (sexually) know him better than the rest?)

anyways:) that was it, might do another one if I remember other things later.

[agent--swan]

Close to Home

In which the reader interrogates a suspect and is reminded of some shit.

One of these days I’ll write a decent Criminal Minds fic.

Well, I’ve got some personal bullshit going on, so here! Have a self-indulgent angst fic! As if I haven’t written enough of these already. (See: @swan--writes.) You can also find this fic on AO3.

Warnings: childhood trauma, emotional/psychological abuse, all offscreen, Hotch is an angsty boy who cares about his team, show-typical violence, Swan-typical language

Words: ~1,420

Other Stuff: reader is gender neutral but was raised as a daughter, you could read this as Hotch x Reader but it could easily be read as platonic

The first time Hotch noticed was on a case.

He wishes that the first time he noticed wasn’t on a case.

He wishes that it had happened on a relaxed day, when there was nothing going on but consults and reports and accounts and logging. He wishes that the rest of the team had been so busy with paperwork that they wouldn’t notice him pulling you into his office to sit down and talk about it. In retrospect, even he could admit that there were benefits to not being at Quantico, and therefore not having a private office to pull you into. There was more time to think about what he wanted to say – to be gentle.

You were on a case somewhere in the Midwest, but neither of you would remember exactly where even two months after it was over. The unsub was attacking teenaged girls. The unsub’s type was specific: ages between fourteen and seventeen, brown hair, brown eyes, most of the girls had freckles, and all of them were chubby. That seemed important to the unsub. It made you see red. You only had one survivor – your only material witness – but she was holding back, feigning memory loss. Morgan was certain that the cognitive troubles she was having weren’t genuine, but he had no way of proving it. That was his pet project while you were on the case.

Reid was on the geographic profile as always. JJ had her hands full with the media circus, teenaged girls always got extra attention. Rossi was leaning pretty hard on the principal of the school that all three of your victims had attended, along with your one attempted victim. Prentiss was covering the guidance counselors. The school had three. She had her hands full. You did not envy her.

That left you to speak with the mother of the attempted victim. Hotch had asked you to handle her before the jet even landed, and you had readily agreed. It was the first time he had handed you your own angle since you’d joined the team just a few months earlier, and you felt more than capable. You were good with mothers, Hotch knew that.

Hotch had never tried to limit your role in investigations, not even in the beginning. He knew that you were capable when you joined the team, and he saw that you were a fast learner. He wasn’t cautious with you, didn’t watch you too closely, didn’t take you under his wing. Hotch let you do your thing and facilitated where necessary. It wasn’t often necessary, you fit right in.

So, Hotch asked you to talk to the mother, and you thought nothing of it. Until you started asking her questions.

It was subtle at first. She was defensive of her daughter, and defensive of her parenting. You understood that, it wasn’t uncommon. What was uncommon was the way she seemed to interpret your questions. “Why did you insist she only apply to in-state schools?” became, in her mind, “Why are you holding her back?” “Why do you limit her social life?” became, “Why are you isolating her?” The less accusatory you tried to sound, the more her hackles raised. It wasn’t entirely unjustified, every time you walked out of the interrogation room you learned something new about the way she had held her daughter back or isolated her.

You started leaving the mother in the interrogation room by herself for longer and longer stretches of time, though never an unprofessional length of time. You were careful about that. It was just that you were finding it harder and harder to catch your breath. The tinnitus in your left ear seemed to be growing steadily worse, and you couldn’t force your hands to stop shaking. That wasn’t when Hotch noticed it, though. He asked if you were alright once but dropped it when you told him you were.

Finally, Rossi cut the principal loose and Prentiss came back to the station. You were in interrogation when the others realized who the unsub was.

Surprise, surprise, it was the mother of the survivor.

Morgan had been right. Your survivor did remember who attacked her and was terrified to admit that it had been her mother. In the survivor’s mind, her mother was a huge, tyrannical figure who could talk her way out of anything. Even a murder investigation.

The rest of the team gathered around the one-way mirror and watched as you and the mother of the survivor – as you and the unsub – zeroed in on each other. Reid wondered aloud if they should intervene, but Hotch insisted on waiting. Hotch watched you closely. Later, he would wonder if he had been watching you more out of interest than a genuine belief that you could get a confession out of this unsub. He would feel badly about that.

You were standing. The unsub was seated. You were leaned over her and shouting. She was watching you with venom in her eyes, and though you held firm, Hotch notice the way you were pressing your hands into the table. The way you slid photographs toward her instead of picking them up and dropping them in front of her; a more aggressive move that any of the rest of the team would have used.

“You couldn’t stand it, could you?” you asked while the unsub openly glared at you, her jaw set, her expression stern. “You couldn’t stand the idea that your daughter would never be you. She was never going to stay at home and be mommy’s perfect little helper, she was never going to forget about the pain you caused her. You gave her everything?” You shook your head. “Well, she took it, and she learned how to be a decent goddamn human, and instead of letting her grow and maybe, I don’t know, being proud of her? You insisted–” you slammed the table right beside a photograph of some of your survivor’s worse injuries “–on making her pay for your bullshit.”

You were shouting right in the unsub’s face when she lunged with an enraged cry. The team moved as one to back you up.

The unsub managed to scratch your face before you could react. You managed to get her hands behind her back and pressed forward against the wall by the time Morgan and Prentiss reached you.

“Get her out of here!” Hotch commanded.

“After everything ungrateful little leech put me through, she got exactly when she deserved,” the unsub spat.

Hotch didn’t spare the unsub more than half a glance, he just went straight to you. You had never heard his voice so soft as when he asked if you were alright. He moved to wipe away some of the blood trickling warmly down your face, but you pulled away before he could and insisted you were fine. Of course you did.

The case ended there, four victims deep but one still alive. It was a relative victory and the team treated it as one. They chatted comfortably on the ride back, but not you. You curled up on the couch at the back of the jet, facing away from everyone. You didn’t have a book, you didn’t have your headphones in. You just lay there with your eyes closed, fighting tears that you tried very hard to blame on your migraine. Your head killed; your heart hurt. As horrific as parents hurting their children always was, there was something about this case – something about a mother and a daughter – that was more painful, more personal, and hit even closer to home for you.

You couldn’t help thinking about how the unsub had killed three people but hadn’t killed her own daughter. You wondered what that meant. You wondered if it meant anything.

You stayed still at first when you felt someone sit down at your feet. They didn’t move for a long time, and when you finally gave in and opened your eyes, you saw Hotch. He looked at you with more concern injected into his normal frown, and there was something in his face that was gentler than usual. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t try to comfort you. He just watched you, watched the tears gather at the corners of your eyes, watched as one made its way down your cheek like blood dripping from a wound. You knew you looked miserable, but you watched him right back, and you knew he understood. He did.

.

.

Please reblog if you’re comfy with it

If there’s any interest I’ll make a tags list

[babymetaldoll]

DIWK: Chapter eleven: "Can't get you off my mind"

|Word count:  9,7K

Summary:  Reader struggles with her feelings for Spencer and tries to work with Seaver. Neither of those things works. Spencer's headaches are getting worse. Also, it's Anderson's birthday! Things are getting a little more complicated.

Warnings:  Hardcore fools in love. It's getting painful to watch. Spoilers of Criminal Minds Season 6 Episode 11. 25 to life. Cursing, and frustration. Alcohol consumption. Assholes being blind.

A/N: Please don't hate me! but these two are just so blind, it hurts!

Masterlist

Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three | Chapter four | Chapter five | Chapter six | Chapter seven | Chapter eight | Chapter nine | Chapter ten | Chapter eleven | Chapter twelve | Chapter thirteen | Chapter fourteen | Chapter fifteen |

.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.

Spencer's point of view

Psychotics in a break always evolve. Well, I was psychotic at that minute of my life, but the only things evolving were my migraines. They were driving me insane. I could feel them taking over my life, my head, my sanity. I could feel my good judgment slipping through my fingers every day, especially since (Y/N) had started acting strange.

It wasn't like she had stopped talking to me or hanging out with me. But I could feel a void growing between us every day. And it was driving me insane. I couldn't understand where it had come from. I just knew it was eating me alive.

Morgan was having a bad day. One really bad day. The man he had vouched for parole had just murdered a man after nearly 70 hours of freedom, and now the team was trying to solve the whole case. Don Sanderson claimed he had been framed guilty of the murder of his wife and baby daughter, but after 25 years in prison, the first thing he did as a free man was to murder someone else.

It made no sense.

We had visited the murder scene. Hotch was still on a leave, so it was just Prentiss, (Y/N), Morgan, Rossi, Seaver, and I. Emily was in full "training agent's duty," walking Seaver through every step of the procedure, which was very nice of her. It was her first case after the incident in New Mexico, and she was eager to do better work than that time. She was nearly jumping all over the place, taking notes.

I talked with Garcia on the phone because he was worried about Morgan, and then I walked to (Y/N), who kept a safe distance from Emily and Seaver.

- "The bullets were in the other room, but the gun is right here,"- I said as I looked around the room. (Y/N) turned to me, ready to speak her mind, but Ashley spoke first, which annoyed her beyond belief.

- "Maybe killing him was an accident."

I looked at my best friend as Prentiss and Ashley continued talking. She just crossed her arms and walked around the room. She surely wasn't dealing well with having Seaver around. I wanted to ask her something, anything, but nothing came to mind.

- "Sanderson was out of prison for what, Reid?"- I answered Emily's question but didn't even turn to look at her. My eyes were following (Y/N), moving around that room.

- "At the time of the murder, 51 hours."

- "He's free for 2 days and change? What's the big hurry to find this guy?"

- "Are you ok?"- I whispered and stood next to (Y/N) as Prentiss and Ashley kept analyzing the scene.

- "Yeah, just tired."

- "Do you wanna have dinner with me tonight? I didn't see you this weekend, and I thought we could do a movie night."

(Y/N) took her time to answer, but finally, after a moment, she nodded and agreed.

- "Movie night sounds nice."

- "Great, ‘cos I rented your favorites."- I might have sounded more excited than I should, but I had really missed her those days, and I may or may not have watched and read Pride and Prejudice a couple of times.

- "Did you? Really?"

- "Yes, I was hoping to spend some time with you."

- "Are you coming, Spence?"- Seaver interrupted us and looked from the door- "Rossi called. They are interviewing Sanderson at the BAU."

- "Yeah, we are coming,"- I answered and looked away. (Y/N) shook her head and walked outside in silence the second Prentiss called my name, and I couldn't follow her. Which, I guess, was a good thing.

- "Is everything ok?"- Emily stayed behind with me. She raised an eyebrow, watching (Y/N) walking out of the room as Ashley waited for us by the door.

- "Yes?"- my answer came more as a question because I honestly didn't know what to say- "Everything is ok, Emily."

- "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I have the feeling (Y/N) isn't thrilled to have agent Seaver around."- I almost chuckled at her words and just nodded.

- "It's not like she has made it hard to tell. She literally yelled at her at the jet."

- "Is she mad at me because I am supervising her training?"

- "I don't know. I don't think so… she hasn't told me so. Well, she hasn't talked to me much lately."

- "Why? Did you fight?"- Prentiss wide opened her eyes and moved a little closer to me, trying to read my expressions.

- "No, I don't know what's going on. She just… we…"- I couldn't find the right words to explain my mind, and I think Prentiss knew it, ‘cos she didn't push me.

- "You should talk to her."

- "Yeah, we are going out tonight."

- "You have a date?"- Ashley walked over and asked me with a short smile. I cleared my throat and shook my head right away.

- "No, just meeting with a friend."

- "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to intrude,"- Seaver blushed and looked at her shoes. Prentiss smiled, probably reading something I wasn't seeing.

- "Come on, Rossi is probably waiting for us at the BAU, and I'm guessing Morgan is not in a good mood."

For the rest of the day, I tried to find a moment alone with (Y/N). I needed to talk about what was going on. But it was impossible. We worked late, rereading the original case files, trying to find something that might help us help Sanderson. But it was frustrating and nearly impossible.

So around nine, we decided to call it a day and go home.

- "Are you in the mood for Chinese?"- I looked at (Y/N), gathering all the things as I stood next to her desk- I thought maybe we could get some take-out from that place you love on our way home.

- "Sounds nice. What are we watching?"

- "Pride and Prejudice, Coraline, maybe Beetlejuice. You pick, I've got all your favorites,"- (Y/N) narrowed her eyes, looking at me in silence- "What?"

- "So you rented movies ‘cos you wanted to hang out with me?"

- "Yes."

- "You usually don't rent movies. You rent documentaries."

- "Yes, but I wanted to do something different this time. I told you I missed you."

(Y/N) blushed as she stood in front of me, biting the inner part of her cheek, trying not to smile. I looked at her, nearly beaming, excited to see her reaction. I had felt so scared to lose her, feeling her pushing away from me. It was a balm watching her so happy, and just because I missed her.

- "I love Pride and Prejudice,"- Ashley said from her desk- "I've read that book so many times, I think I can recite it."

I looked at her and nodded with an awkward smile. I knew she was just trying to be nice ‘cos she was new at the BAU, and she was also trying to be nicer to (Y/N), to get on her good side. But that wasn't the way to get to her. Maybe I had to talk to Seaver and explain that my best friend is a special woman.

Neither of us answered her comment. We just stood there, looking at her in silence, until Anderson walked over and waved.

- "Hey agents, before you go, I wanted to tell you, this Friday I'm celebrating my birthday, and I'd love to have you over."

- "Of course, Sonny!"- (Y/N) wide opened her eyes and clapped. She had called him "Sonny" since they sang "I got you babe" by Sonny and Cher in the karaoke at the Christmas party the year before.

- "Happy birthday, Anderson!"- Derek waved.

- "Thank you! We'll gather at a bar nearby. I'll text you the address."

- "We wouldn't miss it for the world,"- Prentiss added and smiled- "Do you mind if we tell JJ and Garcia?"

- "Please do! I haven't seen JJ since she left, and it would be amazing to have her over. You too, agent Seaver."

- "Thank you!"- Ashley smiled and nodded- "Count me in."

I could feel (Y/N)'s eyes rolling, annoyed, even when I wasn't even looking at her at that minute. I grabbed my bag and my coat and held her hand.

- "Bye, guys! See you tomorrow!"- that was all I said as I dragged her out of the bullpen. Emily waved at us, and Derek cut me an evil grin I could decode easily. I just ignored him and turned to the door.

- "Have fun, pretty girl!!"- Morgan chuckled at his own words, and (Y/N) just smiled and winked. Why? Probably to show him she didn't care about all his teasing, ‘cos nothing was ever going to happen between us.

(Y/N)'s point of view

It might have been childish, but I had to take advantage of Morgan's innuendo just to show Seaver things could happen between Spencer and me. It had been immature and silly, but I just felt like I needed to do it. It was like a stupid animal instinct that forced me to mark my territory.

I shouldn't have done it. Spencer wasn't mine. Not even close. And I had to stop being jealous of Seaver. If he didn't want me, he had the right to be with anyone else. But just the thought of Spencer being with someone, anyone, made me feel sick in my stomach. I hated being in love with him. I honestly did, ‘cos I didn't want to ruin our friendship with useless feelings. Spencer wasn't in love with me. He was just my friend. My very thoughtful, cute, adorable, and lovable best friend.

I was fucked. Completely and utterly fucked. Even that second, sitting on that couch with Spencer, I couldn't focus on the movie. I pretended, but I didn't even pay attention to it. All I could think of was how warm his body felt sitting next to me, like a gigantic magnet that called for me. I could simply just move my hand and intertwined his fingers with mine. Or lean in closer, rest my head on his shoulder, feel how he wraps an arm around me, and melt in his embrace, like I had done a million times before.

But I couldn't. I had to stop that daydream of a domestic and romantic life with Spencer. It wasn't healthy. It wasn't sane. But most of all: I wasn't real. And I was never going to move forward in life if I kept thinking those movie nights meant something.

- "More popcorn?- Spencer handed me the bowl, and I shook my head- "You have been awfully quiet considering we are watching Coraline."

- "Well, we are supposed to watch the movie in silence,"- I answered and didn't take my eyes from the screen.

- "You have never done that."

- "Maybe I wanted to give it a try."

I grabbed a bunch of popcorn just to keep myself busy. I could feel Spencer's eyes on me, and it was killing me ‘cos I knew I didn't have to look at him. If I did, I wasn't sure how I would react. I was overthinking everything and anything you might think of.

- "Are you ok?"

- "Yeah. Sure."

No, I wasn't.

- "(Y/N), can you look at me?"- Spencer paused the movie and turned to me. I hesitated, thinking my best friend is an amazing profiler, and I didn't want him to know how I felt about him ‘cos it didn't want to ruin our friendship.

After a few seconds, I moved on the couch and raised an eyebrow. His brown eyes stared into mine in silence for a moment, trying to read me.

- "What is going on?"

- "Nothing,"- I lied and frowned- "Why are you so obsessed with the idea something is going on?"

- "‘Cos I have this… feeling."

- "You got a feeling?"- I chuckled, trying to be funny but failing completely. In the end, I just stared into his eyes for what seemed to be a million years but were, in fact, just a few seconds.

- "Are we ok?"

- "Of course, we are, Spencer."

- "You never call me that"- he frowned immediately, almost hurt.

- "What?"

- "You just call me Spencer when we are on a case, and there are people around us. But when we are home, I'm never Spencer to you."

"When we are home." That killed me. I hadn't realized how badly I wanted that to be our home, to have a life with Spencer.

I was in love with my best friend. I was spending every single hour of every single day of my life with him. That wasn't right! If I knew he didn't have feelings for me, why was I doing that to myself?

- "(Y/N)?"- Spencer's voice took me from my thoughts. He looked so worried I didn't know how to convince him there wasn't anything wrong, considering it felt like everything was wrong.

- "What is it?"

- "Please tell me what's wrong."

- "I told you, nothing is wrong. I just called you Spencer. That's your name. It's a lovely name. I had never met someone called Spencer ever before in my entire life. You just called me (Y/N), not pumpkin, cupcake, chipmunk, or ma chère,"- he sighed, frustrated and maybe a little annoyed.

- "Nothing is wrong, honey. I'm really ok. Just tired, maybe feeling a little invaded with Seaver in the team"- I knew he knew I hated her, so I had to blame her in a way.

- "Why?"

- "You know I'm not her fan... I hate working with her,"- I kind of chuckled at my own words because I was trying to make a joke out of my awful reality.

- "It's just for a few weeks,"- he tried to reassure me, probably to ease my mood, but the truth was I hated how it always felt like he was defending her.

- "One week, one day, it's the same torture,"- I shook my head and turned to the screen again.

- "Don't be dramatic."

- "I'm not dramatic! I just hate how she is always playing the victim ‘cos her father is a serial killer. She is clearly overcompensating! Besides, we have all gone through bad shit in our lives, and no one is using it as a tool to get things in life."

- "I don't think that's what she is doing."

- "No? Do you think she belongs at the BAU? She is a trainee agent who almost got killed in her first assignment. She works hard, and she is not stupid, I give you that. But she is not top of her class. She is not there ‘cos she is the brightest. She is there ‘cos Rossi, Hotch, and probably Prentiss felt bad for her after what happened and decided to let her hang around and learn something for a while. If you ask me, I think there are more qualified trainee agents we could use in the team, but Seaver played her "my father was a serial killer" card and got the job. And who knows how many times she had done it before, and how many times she will use it again."

Ok, that may or may not have been too hard, but it was exactly how I felt. There was a deep silence in Spencer's apartment. The movie was still paused, and after my speech, Spencer just looked at me with wide-opened eyes. I just sighed and regretted every word that had left my lips ‘cos they made me sound bitter and shallow. But at least they didn't tell him the truth: that I was jealous of the thought Seaver might get his attention. Scared that he could look at her the way he had never looked at me. Just to imagine I could bump into them kissing terrified me.

- "Maybe I should just go home,"- I whispered and tried to stand up, but Spencer grabbed my arm and pulled me back onto the couch.

- "No, please. Stay,"- his voice was a whisper but still managed to shake me.

- "I don't wanna argue with you, honey,"- I thought I would speak too loud, but no, I actually murmured, matching his tone of voice.

- "We don't have to talk about Seaver anymore. Just watch the movie with me. You love this movie."

- "You love this book,"- I added and looked at him. He smiled. God, that smile is going to be the end of me.

- "It's just so dark! But it has such a good message."

- "Not all nice people are good people?"- I just spoke about what the book had meant to me ever since I was a little girl, and Spencer analyzed the whole plot again in less than a minute.

- "I was going to say overcoming your fears, but I like your analysis the most."

- "Of course, you do, ‘cos it's better,"- I teased and stuck out my tongue to him. Spencer just stared at me and nodded.

- "You might be right. Yours is much better,"- he kept his eyes on me for a few more seconds and continued smiling until he snapped from his thoughts- "More tea, ma chère?"

- "No, honey, thank you. I'm good."

I cut him a quick smile and sat back on the couch, trying to relax. I knew it was going to be impossible, but I honestly didn't want to leave. I wanted to be with him. I had stayed home alone the whole weekend, hidden underneath a pile of blankets, in something that looked pretty much like a fort, according to Lu's words. She had stayed with me Saturday night ‘cos I told her I needed a girl's night. It was my poor attempt to stay away from Reid, and she was happy to help.

Ok, Lu didn't know I wanted to stay away from Reid. I just told her I needed a girl's night. I really didn't want to deal with all her questions. You have the right to avoid dealing with your feelings from time to time if you can. And I told Spencer Lu wasn't feeling so good, so I wanted to spend some time with her. He sounded disappointed ‘cos he was making plans for our weekend off but understood completely I needed to be with my friend.

See? Spencer made it so easy falling in love with him! He was so thoughtful it freaking hurt!

I couldn't fight the feeling anymore and rested my head on his shoulder. It felt he was waiting for me to make that move, ‘cos in a few seconds, his arm was wrapped around me protectively.

- "I know Lu needed you, but you missed a whole weekend of cuddling on this couch watching your favorite movies with me,"- Spencer whispered, bumping his head carefully against mine. I bit my lips and smiled, not taking my eyes away from the screen.

- "We do this pretty often"- that was all I could answer.

- "At least once a week for the last… thirteen-month two weeks, and… four days."

- "I love how precise you can be when it comes to our friendship, honey."

Calling it a friendship hurt me at that point, but it was what it was. Spencer chuckled and just nodded. We enjoyed our company in silence for a moment. His fingers drawing figures on my arm and my head resting on his shoulder, letting his smell invade me. It was heaven.

We were finally watching the movie… though what I really wanted was to watch a movie with Spencer instead of actually watching it. But that was the nature of our relationship. We were friends. Friends don't watch movies.

- "No way,"- I argued when his cellphone rang and interrupted our moment- "Please tell me we don't have a case."

- "We don't,"- he quickly answered and picked up the phone- "Hello? Hi… it's ok, tell me"- he didn't stand up or moved from me. He kept holding me tight against his body and finished his call by simply saying.

- "We can meet tomorrow at seven at work. I can help you with your test."- I hated those words immediately.

- "It's not a problem, see you tomorrow. Bye."

I was afraid to ask ‘cos I knew the answer. The knot on my stomach was the fair warning of what had just happened. That bitch had ruined our moment yet again.

- "What are you doing tomorrow at seven?"- I did my best to sound as casual as possible, but I knew that conversation might not end well. He hesitated. I could nearly hear his neurons struggling to find the correct answer to that question. Until he simply whispered:

- "Please don't get mad."

- "Why would I?"

- "‘Cos Ashley just called to ask me to help her study for a test…"

I took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds, doing my best to calm myself down at least a little before speaking.

- "I'm not mad, Spencer,"- I tried to lie as smoothly as possible. I even cut him a smile and looked into his hazel and confused eyes.

- "I know you don't like her, but I had offered to help in case she needed any… what?"

- "I'm not mad, really,"- I smiled again and turned to the screen- "We said we were not going to argue, and besides, she just called to ask you for help. That's not something to be mad about, right?"

Technically I wasn't mad. I was beyond furious.

- "Are you sure?"- he narrowed his eyes, baffled- "Not that I want you to be mad or something, but we just argued over her, and you said you felt invaded by her… so…"

- "Yes, but I don't wanna argue anymore. I don't want you to think I hate Seaver because I don't. And most of all, I don't want her to be the reason we fight. I don't wanna fight with you. Ever."

Spencer sighed, relieved, and smiled, pleased with my answer.

Spencer's point of view

Something felt off the following day when I walked into the bullpen and saw Ashley waiting for me by my desk with two cups of coffee. (Y/N) had said everything was ok, and I decided I wanted to believe her. But I had an awful feeling about everything that was going on.

- "Hi!"- Ashley smiled and handed me a cup- "Figured you might appreciate one of these for making you wake up earlier."

- "Thank you"- I smiled awkwardly and held the cup- "Are you ready?"

- "Yes, I brought all the notes from the class and my books…"- she set them on her desk and giggled as I went through her notes, sipping my cup- "I feel back in high school…"

- "Why?"

- "I wasn't the best student back then, and I always had to ask my classmates for help,"- I couldn't help but think of something (Y/N) had said the night before.

- "And are you a good student at the academy?"

- "Yes, I think. I'm not in the top three of my class, but I have good grades. I'm just not… a genius, like you."

Her eyes lingered on my face, and her cheeks blushed after a few seconds. I frowned, not getting why she was embarrassed. Was it just ‘cos she didn't have the same honorifics as I did?

- "I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified,"- I simply answered, remembering how many times in my life I had ever said something like that. Way too many, to be honest.

It was hard to focus on the subject when Seaver kept asking me personal questions every five minutes. She seemed more interested in knowing about my childhood in Las Vegas than learning about profiling and victimology.

- "Good morning, kids!"- I turned around and smiled at Morgan, so glad to see him I might have actually felt a little relieved- "What are you doing here so early?"

- "Hey! I was just helping Ashley with her test,"- I stood up and walked from her desk over his- "And about you?"

- "I have a meeting with Strauss in a while, and Sanderson's case didn't let me sleep. It was better to come here and start working than to keep on rolling on my bed. But I'm glad you are here. Wanna help me go through a few extra files?"

- "Of course!"- I left the notes I was holding on the closest desk and walked with Morgan to the conference room.

I considered our session with Seaver finished, mostly ‘cos for the last ten minutes, she had been asking about me. What I liked doing outside the BAU, favorite bands, hobbies, anything. I answered her questions and kept trying to push her to study. I didn't want her to blame me if she failed her test.

- "Hey, kid."- Morgan whispered after a few minutes and took a look around, just to make sure no one else was near. I looked at him confused ‘cos he was never that careful to say anything in the office.

- "Is everything ok?"

- "Yes?"- I answered, though it sounded like a question ‘cos I wasn't sure what he was talking about.

- "Are you excited to have Seaver on the team for the next month?"- I shrugged and kept reading the file in my hands- "Come on, Reid. She is clearly sweet to you."

- "I don't know what you are talking about."

- "She has a crush on you, kid."

- "No, she doesn't!"

- "Come on! Are you blind?"- I stared at Morgan, not getting what he was talking about- "Man, Seaver gives you loving eyes even when we are on the field!"

- "She does not!"- I knew I was blushing. I hated those kinds of conversations, and Morgan always made me feel awkward when he hinted I should flirt with a girl or just talk to them.

- "And I would appreciate it if you didn't say anything like that ever again."

- "What's the matter, kid? You don't think she is pretty?"

- "I don't look at her that way!"- I buried my head in a file and tried not to notice how he scanned my whole face, looking for micro expressions.

- "I see. Are you afraid (Y/N) might get jealous?"- Morgan chuckled at his words and tapped on my back a few times, making me flinch- "Relax, man. I'm just kidding!"

- "I don't like those jokes, Derek. Really."

Morgan kept his eyes on me a little longer and nodded. I did my best not to show how I really felt, but somehow, I failed miserably.

- "You know, kid, it would be much easier if you just told (Y/N) how you feel about her,"- Derek's voice was soft and even more concerned than I thought he could be. I nearly shook when I heard him, so I failed my mission of remaining stoic.

- "Reid, it's ok. There's nothing wrong with having feelings for her."

- "I don't… like talking about this,"- I whispered and closed the file- "Can we just focus on work, please?"- Derek nodded and stayed quiet for a few seconds. But I knew he wasn't done yet.

- "Reid, listen. I know you are not really fond of sharing how you feel with us, I know you share almost everything that happens in your life with (Y/N), and as your friend, I've always felt glad and relieved to know you have her. But if there's something you can't tell her, and you need to talk to someone, you can count on me. You know that, right?"

I nodded and looked at him. That conversation took me back to the year I was using and had to keep it secret from my friends. I knew I could count on Morgan if anything happened, but I really wasn't comfortable sharing my thoughts, feelings, and fears with people. (Y/N) made it so easy. Was it ‘cos I loved her? I just always felt I could tell her anything. That had never happened to me before with anyone.

- "Morgan, Strauss was looking for you,"- Rossi walked into the room holding a cup of coffee and stared at us, raising an eyebrow- "Everything ok?"

- "Yes, we were just going through some files,"- Morgan stood up and grabbed the case folder- "I'll be right back."

- "I'll finish reading all these,"- I said and pointed at the box filled with more files. Morgan nodded and walked away.

- "Do you need any help?"- Seaver walked over that second and smiled at me. I stood up and shook my head.

- "Thanks, but I'm basically done. I'll just go make myself another cup of coffee."

- "I'll go with you!"- she smiled and waited for me by the door. Rossi looked at me and raised an eyebrow. I just cut him a straight smile and walked to the kitchenette, followed closely by Ashley.

(Y/N) walked into the bullpen that minute. I watched her as she opened the glass door and took out her jacket. It felt like the time passed in slow motion as she walked. I couldn't help it, I just smiled as soon as our eyes crushed, and for a few seconds, life was perfect. Just to know she was there, smiling at me made everything worth living.

See why I couldn't tell anyone how I was feeling? They would make fun of me. Morgan would never understand the agony and the dimension of my love for her. He would just tease me. I wonder if he had ever actually been in love 'till that point in life.

I didn't want anyone to know what was happening to me ‘cos I was sure they would make fun of me, and that was the last thing I needed at that moment. So I did what I knew best: I locked it all inside and waited for it to burn me alive.

- "Good morning, chipmunk!"- I stood by (Y/N)'s side and smiled as she left her things on her desk and turned to me. She just looked into my eyes, and my brain turned into mush.

- "Good morning, honey bunny. Did you sleep well? You look tired."

- "Yeah, I just got up extra early today to help Seaver, and now I was helping Derek with some files."

- "Do you need a hand?"

- "Sure!"- I didn't even analyze my answer. I just spit the words, thinking it would be amazing to spend some time with my friend, working together.

- "Hi (Y/N), how are you?"- that until her face changed completely when Seaver waved at her- "Spencer, do you want me to make your coffee?"- I froze and turned to her in silence.

- "No, thank you. I'll… just… wait a little before having another one. I just had my third cup."

- "Three cups in already"- (Y/N) narrowed her eyes and turned to her desk, giving me her back- "How long have you been awake?"

- "Not as long as Morgan, I tell you that,"- I pointed at him, walking out of Strauss's office and heading back to our conference room.

- "Let's help him, then."

(Y/N) walked quickly, and I followed closely. I wished I hadn't said no to that coffee. I really needed one to go through that morning.

During that morning, Derek questioned Sanderson again and finally took him and Rossi back to his house, trying to trigger any memory that might help us crack the case. Meanwhile, the rest of the team and I stayed back in the office, repeatedly going through the case files. So far, all we knew is that a team had attacked Sanderon's home and framed him for the murder of his wife and daughter.

The whole day, I focused on work ‘cos it's my favorite escape, and clearly, there was something more important to think of than whatever was going on with my life. But my head was killing me. The migraines were starting to get more intense, and I think they got worse the more thinking I gave to my relationship with (Y/N).

- "It sounds like we need to profile a dormant killer"- Ashle's voice surprised me when I was pouring myself a cup of fresh coffee in the kitchenette.

- "A very lucky one. He was essentially given a gift, a patsy in the form of Don Sanderson, and he'll do anything to protect that story."- I answered, thinking I didn't want to be in Sanderon's shoes, trying to clear my name of something I hadn't done.

- "When someone has a secret this big, everything becomes a lie."

Somehow, Seaver's words hit me. I'm sure she didn't mean to strike a nerve, but she did. I had been in love with my best friend for too long, and now it was starting to affect my life. I didn't want it to get in the way of work, and we were at work most of our time together. But there was nothing I could do about it. I just had to keep on faking everything was normal.

- "He'll most likely be pathological,"- I nearly choked at my own words as I tried to shake away the thoughts from my head.

- "So, we're looking for a liar in D. C. I thought we were trying to narrow this down."- Ashley tried to joke and waited for my reaction but didn't get anything. Instead, I just cut her a straight smile and walked away.

By the end of the night, Morgan had gotten the unsub. But I was still a mess. It had been the longest day in weeks, not just ‘cos I had barely slept the night before, but because I was overthinking everything that happened around me. It was exhausting.

- "Are you coming, Batsy?"- (Y/N) asked me and grabbed her bag after putting on her coat. I stood from my desk and nodded.

- "Yes, ma chère."

- "Where are you guys going tonight?"- Derek asked and smiled at us- "No. Don't tell me, planning this year's matching Comic-Con costumes"- I chuckled and probably blushed, busted.

- "We already settled those, Derek. We are way ahead of schedule this year,"- (Y/N) answered and stuck out her tongue to him.

- "(Y/N), can you give me a second before you go?"- Prentiss stood up and smiled at my friend, who just nodded and walked with her to the conference room. Derek and Seaver looked at me.

- "What?"

- "Do you know what's that about?"- Morgan questioned me.

- "I have no idea."

(Y/N)'s point of view

- "Please don't freak out,"- Emily smiled and turned to me after she closed the door behind her back- I just needed to clear the air a little bit between us.

- "What? Why? Is there something wrong?"

- "I don't know, I just feel you have been acting weird lately, and I needed to know if it has something to do with me supervising Seaver."

I nearly gasped. Not ‘cos I felt insulted but ‘cos I felt caught. I knew I hadn't been subtle about my feelings for Seaver. I just didn't want them to get in the middle of work.

- "I haven't been weird with you, Emily, and I don't think I've been acting strange."

- "Come on, you don't like Ashley, and I offered to supervise her while she works with us."

- "Yes, but neither of those has anything to do with me and you. We are friends, Emily."

- "I know, and I wanna honor that friendship, (Y/N). I love working with you. I just want you to know I'm not… I just… I'm trying to help Seaver start her career."

- "I understand that. We are ok,"- I tried to reassure her, but I knew she could read between my bullshit.

- "Do you think you could try to be a little bit nicer with her?"

- "Nicer?"

- "Yes, (Y/N). She is making an effort to get along with the team, and you've been giving her the cold shoulder since day one." -I crossed my arms on my chest, obviously annoyed and defensive.

- "I have been friendly with her, Emily. I just don't like her, and you can't force me to be her friend."

In my defense, in my mind, that argument didn't sound as childish as it did when I said it out loud.

- "Don't be selfish! Just because you are jealous, you can't deprive her of the opportunity of a lifetime with this team."

Emily's words were knives against my ego and nearly destroyed my facade. I stared into her eyes and wondered how to get out of that situation without hurting my friend. I could pretend I didn't know what she was talking about, but we both knew that was bullshit. I could actually try to tell her how I felt, but it was so humiliating I refused to open up. So instead, I just nodded and smiled at her.

- "I'm sorry that's how you see me. I'll try to be a better version of myself tomorrow,"- and needless to say, I turned around and left.

- "(Y/N), please wait,"- but I didn't stop walking. I refused to continue talking about Seaver with anyone. I refused to deal with feelings or the real world.

- "Everything ok?"- Spencer asked me the second he saw me appear by his side.

- "Yes,"

- "You are blushing. Did you and Prentiss argue?"

- "No, honey. We didn't argue. She just wanted to check on me ‘cos she was worried I was mad at her. But that's all."- Spencer just nodded and looked at me in silence.- "Why don't we just go home and forget about today, honey?"

Easier said than done.

So Seaver was getting under my skin. And it was getting harder to control. That week was hell, and I didn't want to show it. Eventually, I talked with Emily again, and I tried to explain to her I wasn't being mean with Seaver. I just didn't like her. And though I gave Emily my word to be friendlier with Ashley, the circumstances weren't really helping.

Things didn't get any better than Friday night. No, if anything, that was the night that made it all worse. Prentiss, JJ, and I got together at Garcia's house and had a few drinks before leaving for Anderson's birthday. I was making my biggest effort to have fun and ease my mind. Spencer said he wasn't sure he'd make it ‘cos he was tired, and automatically I almost turned out the whole deal, but Penelope literally dragged me to her house and put a beer in my hand.

- "You, my young lady, are going to put some makeup on, a hot dress, and we are going to party!"

- "But PG, I'm not…"- but she didn't let me out of it. Instead, she shushed me and raised an eyebrow, looking pretty convincing.

- "No "but." You are going. End of the conversation."

So she dragged me to the bar, along with Prentiss and JJ, who had left Will with little Henry to join us for what was promised to be one epic girl's night.

Anderson was so happy to see us. He was a sweetheart who was always willing to help us. I knew technically he didn't work at the BAU, but he was always there whenever we needed him. We all felt he was part of the team.

- "Sonny!!"- I yelled and hugged him tight

- "I'm so glad you girls made it!!"- and his smile was priceless- "JJ!!"- he actually yelled when he saw her and ran to give her a triple bear hug.

- "Grant Anderson!! I can't believe it's really you!!"

- "I've missed you so much!! How's Henry?"

- "So big!! I feel I haven't been out with friends in so long!"- JJ looked around, and her face kept lighting up as she recognized more friends and acquaintances from Quantico. I looked around and recognized Morgan already flirting with a woman at the other side of the bar.

- "Looks like chocolate thunder knows how to keep himself busy,"- I joked, and Garcia turned immediately.

- "Have you ever seen him shirtless?"- she asked in a lower voice and leaned a little closer to me, just to make sure no one would listen- "I'm sure it's illegal looking so good in real life."

I laughed and turned to see Prentiss walk to the bar to get us the first round of drinks. Ok, I'll admit it, I was having a great time. I know I didn't want to go at first, but spending time with my work friends and not just with Spencer was refreshing. Not that I didn't do fun things with the rest of the team, but my relationship with Spencer, I mean the friendship that pretty much looked like a relationship, consumed most of my time. But I just loved being with Reid more than anything.

But one night without him wasn't going to be the end of the world. Right?

Right.

Anderson and I danced and laughed. It was all very innocent. And though I've never considered myself a hot chick or whatever, a few guys asked if they could get me drinks, and I kindly declined. I wasn't looking for a one-night stand or anything. I just wanted to have fun with my friends.

- "And where's Reid?"- Anderson asked as we reached our table, where Prentiss and JJ were catching up and laughing.

- "Home, he said he was tired."

- "And? When are you two going to come clean about your relationship? You know, having the confirmation of your romance would be the best birthday present you could ever give me."

- "Grant Anderson, you nosy bastard!!"- I hit his arm and heard his laughter- "You know we are not dating!"

- "Come on!! I mean it! You have to get together! You are like the FBI sweethearts!!"

- "Shut your face!"- Anderson laughed even harder and took a look around the bar

- "So, if you are not dating Spencer, I have a friend who asked about you."

- "Who? What friend? Is he here?"- Garcia shouted question after question as she had overheard the whole conversation and even moved closer.

- "His name is James. He saw you on the news a few months ago, at a press conference with Rossi, and has been asking about you ever since."

I frowned and looked at Garcia, who was wide-eyed staring at Anderson. I had no idea what was going on. It was bizarre.

- "No, thank you?"- I whispered, not even sure of what I should answer at that- "I'm very flattered, Grant, but… I'm really not looking for someone right now."

- "You are not?"- Garcia asked me, and I just shook my head.

- "No, I have too much going on in my life, with work and… well… what we do…"

- "Really?"- Anderson sounded a little disappointed- "Well, in case you change your mind, James is…"

- "(Y/N)? Can I talk to you for a second?"- Garcia grabbed my arm and crawled me to a side of the bar.

- "What? What is it?"

- "Munchkin, you know I love you."

- "Yes, I love you too, PG."

- "That's why I feel like I need to be honest with you, ‘cos you've always been so sweet, and we've known each other for years now, and I feel like if I don't tell you this, you are never going to forgive me."- Penelope was nearly hyperventilating as she spoke.

- "Ok, what is it? You are scaring me."

- "You have to tell Reid how you feel."

- "What?"

- "He has to know! You have to tell him!"

- "I don't wanna talk about what, Penelope"- I tried to walk away from her, but she stopped me, grabbed my arm, and pulled me back.

- "No, (Y/N). He loves you, I'm not a profiler, I don't even play one on tv, but I am sure what I see in his eyes when he looks at you is love… ‘cos it's the same you have when you look at him!"

- "Son of a bitch!!"- the words escaped my lips as my heart nearly left my chest.

- "No, (Y/N)!"- but Garcia lost my attention that second, ‘cos all I could see was Spencer Walter Reid walking into the bar and Ashley Seaver hanging from his arm.

- "What do you want me to tell him, Garcia? To have fun with his new girlfriend?"- I pointed at the door, and her jaw nearly hit the floor.

- "Ok, no. There has to be a reasonable explanation for that!"

- "Yes, but Spencer being in love with me is not the explanation. I'm gonna get a drink."

Spencer's point of view

I was surprised to get Ashley's phone call that night. When my phone rang, I was ready to go to bed. My head was killing me. I had already scheduled an appointment with the doctor for some exams. I was starting to have a bad feeling about what those headaches really were, and I was too scared to tell anyone what was going on. Not even (Y/N).

Actually, of all people, she was the one I wanted to keep in the dark. Why? ‘Cos ever since we met she had taken care of me, I didn't think it was fair. She had taken me into her life and given me a place in it. And sometimes, I felt I was a burden. She helped me overcome all of my traumas and even my drug addiction. She introduced me to her best friends and made me part of her life. (Y/N) had taken trips with me to Las Vegas just to see my mom, ‘cos she knew it was hard for me to do it on my own. If it hadn't been for her, I would have probably spent over a year without visiting her. Now, we took a weekend to see mom every few months.

Why would I trouble her with some headaches? It wasn't fair.

When Ashley called, for a moment, I thought it might be (Y/N), asking me to pick her up. But no. It wasn't her that time.

- "Hey Spence, I'm sorry to bother you, but… are you at Anderson's party?"

- "No, actually, I'm in my house."

- "Why? I thought you were invited too."

- "Yeah, I know, and I was, but I'm kind of tired, and I wanted to come home and get some rest. Why? Are you at the party?"

- "No, but I was getting ready to go. But now I feel kind of awkward asking you."

- "What? What is it?"

- "I just… wanted to know if you could come with me. I'm so sorry, Spence, I didn't know you were tired. I just… I wanted to go to the party, but I feel kind of silly going alone. I wanted to ask Prentiss, but she left with (Y/N) and Garcia, and I felt so awkward asking…"

I wanted to groan, roll in my bed and hide under my pillow. But Ashley was the new girl, and she deserved to have some fun.

- "Don't worry, I'll take you there,"- I know I whispered my answer ‘cos I didn't really want to do it, but somehow I felt it was my duty.

- "Really?!"- and by the excitement in Ashley's voice, it was clear that was what she wanted to hear.

- "I'll pick you up in half an hour, ok?"

- "Thank you so much, Spence!!"

But when I walked into the bar, I knew I had made a mistake. I felt it in my guts. The same intuition I never followed in my personal life, only on the field.

I quickly looked around as Ashley held on to my arm tightly and walked into the bar with a big smile. I soon found Prentiss and JJ talking at a table filled with empty glasses, and my heart jumped inside my chest at the warm, familiar feeling that my friends gave me. I missed JJ very much. And not just as a team member but as a friend who had been taken away from us. (Y/N) always said I didn't know how to deal with change, neither did she, and the shifts in the team always affected me.

Soon I saw Morgan too, talking with Anderson and some other agents. Garcia had to be close then, but I couldn't see her or (Y/N) anywhere around.

- "Come on! Let's get a drink!"- Ashley said and crawled me to the bar.

- "I don't drink and drive"- I said, and she pouted.

- "Come on! You are no fun! Just one!"

- "No, just water. Thanks,"- I turned and scanned the place. Everybody was there, and they seemed to be having fun. Penelope waved and walked to me suddenly. She cut me a short smile and grabbed my arm.

- "Hey, what the hell are you doing here?"

- "I didn't want to come, but Ashley insisted and…"

- "Hi!"- Ashley appeared by our side and handed me a bottle of water- "I'm so excited to be here! We really needed to decompress after everything that happened this week, right Garcia?"

Penelope stared at us, trying to formulate an answer. I could see her making her bet to say something, but she just didn't. Instead, she just turned around and walked away.

- "Is she ok?"- I didn't know how to answer that, ‘cos Penelope's reaction surprised me. Ashley just looked around and grabbed my arm again.

- "Come on, Spencer! Let's dance!"

- "No, I don't… dance, sorry."

Lucky for me, Prentiss showed up and invited us to sit with her at her table. I don't know if she noticed I was uncomfortable, but I was glad to see her. Being in that bar made me feel pretty awkward and exposed.

I had never been much of a party person. I wasn't used to bars and gatherings until I joined the BAU. When I first met Derek, he tried to take me out a few times and be my wingman. It's obvious he failed at that mission. Meeting people at a bar is the most complicated equation I could ever try to solve. It doesn't work for me, no matter how hard Derek pushed me to do it. He said I had to rely on what made me feel comfortable. But no. It wasn't that I couldn't meet people. It was that I didn't want to meet anyone once I met the woman of my dreams. Even when I knew she could never be mine.

When (Y/N) came along, she started hosting these fun "dinner parties" with Frank, Lu, and Mikey, which changed everything. It was the first time I was hanging out with people my age doing things I actually liked doing. It wasn't about drinking or picking girls in a bar. It was about playing Jenga, or charades, eating pizza, and talking about movies and sometimes even books.

(Y/N) said her friends considered me part of the gang, which was all I ever wanted to hear. That I belonged. It's kind of sad when you think about it, but I don't care. I had never felt like I belonged anywhere, and they made me feel like I was one of them. They took me to their rock shows, and I jumped along with the crowd, knowing I wasn't an outcast there. I was with my friends.

You don't know how good that made me feel. And for years, they were my social comfort and cocoon. Then, when Rossi joined the BAU again, he started hosting fancy dinner parties at his house, and I got to hang out with the whole team without being at a bar, pushed to meet people. And it was so good. (Y/N) always said Rossi's arrival had a cohesive effect on us. Not because he brought us together, but the circumstances of his arrival and everything that happened that first year.

This team is no stranger to trauma, and that's a fact. I think Rossi's dinner parties gave us a space to be ourselves, relax, have a few drinks and enjoy our time together. I think that's when we stepped from being friends to be family.

And I hadn't had one before.

I hugged JJ tight as soon as I saw her smiling at me. I hadn't seen her ever since her goodbye party, over two months before, but we had talked on the phone a few times.

- "I've missed you so much, Spence!!"- she said and held my face with both hands- "You and (Y/N) owe me two babysit nights,"- and I laughed, thinking we promised we'd take care of Henry so she and Will could have a date, but we were called for a case.

- "Wait! It was one night!"- I argued, chuckling- "Why is it two nights now?"

- "‘Cos I lost a very exclusive reservation due to the two of you."

- "Technically, it wasn't our fault, we were called in for a case..."

I smiled and sat next to JJ, and Prentiss sat next to me. Ashley stood by the table and smiled at JJ. Right, they didn't even know each other.

- "It's very nice to meet you, Agent Jareau. The team talks very highly of you,"- she shook JJ's hand and smiled.

- "Ashley, right? Prentiss was just telling me you will be taking your remedial training at the BAU. Congratulations, it's a fantastic team to work with."

- "Thank you,"- I took a look around, still trying to find my best friend around. But it seemed useless, and I was starting to feel worried.

- "Where's (Y/N)?"- I had to ask.

- "She was with Anderson a minute ago,"- Penelope said and looked around- "I am going to look for her and bring her here in a second. I'll be right back."

And so, she was gone.

Prentiss and I pretty much interrogated JJ about her new job and the new team she worked with at the pentagon. I sipped my water and half-listened her answer, ‘cos most of my head was trying to register what was going on around me. No, actually, I was trying to find (Y/N). Penelope had been gone for half an hour looking for her, and I was starting to think something weird was going on. Besides, my head was killing me, and all I wanted was to go home. But I hadn't seen JJ in weeks, and I couldn't waste a chance like that.

Ashley talked with Prentiss too, and every once in a while, she tried to engage in conversation with me. But to be honest, I couldn't really concentrate on anything. I just wanted to know (Y/N) was alright.

- "Excuse me,"- I stood up slowly and looked at my friends- "I'm going to the bathroom, be right back."

- "Can you get us another round on our way back?"- Prentiss asked and smiled guiltily.

- "Sure."

- "Do you need help?"- Ashley tried to stand up, but Emily stopped her.

- "He got it, don't worry."

So I was left on my own. I walked around the bar. In my mind, I kept telling myself I was "looking for the bathroom," but I knew very well I was indeed trying to find (Y/N). I had been in that bar for an hour, and I still hadn't seen her. I was worried.

I walked around the bar and found Anderson. He seemed to be a little shocked to see me there but smiled and hugged me. It was weird hugging people, still. But Anderson was part of the team. It always felt like it. We had known each other for years, and somehow it was like he was in the background of our daily basics.

- "Have you seen (Y/N)?"- I asked him, and he widened his eyes- "What?"

- "Yeah, she's right there, actually… "- Grant Anderson pointed and turned around- "Later, Reid."

- "Bye"- I didn't even look at him. I just turned and looked around to see (Y/N).

But my best friend didn't notice me. She was too busy kissing some guy.

I stood in front of her, not knowing what to do. Her eyes were closed, and her arms were around his neck, so clearly, she wasn't in distress, and no matter how badly I wanted to take her from him, I just couldn't.

For a minute, I couldn't believe my eyes. I just stood there and stared at (Y/N), trying to understand what was going on. I always knew she wasn't meant to be mine, but I had never gotten such a brutal reminder. Not even when she was dating Paul. Watching her kissing someone else was shocking. The way that man put his hands on her waist and held her close to him, just like I always dreamt of doing, was painful.

Painful. That was the only word I can explain how it felt.

I stood there for a minute or so. I really don't know how long it was, but it felt long enough to burn in my memory everything I needed to torture myself with for the rest of my life. I stepped back after a minute. It might have been longer; I really can't recall. And all I managed to do was to walk out of the bar and reach my car.

I opened the door and slammed it as I sat behind the wheel. I wanted to cry and yell. But I didn't do either of those. Instead, I stayed still, staring at the nothing in front of me, trying to erase that fresh memory from my head. But it was impossible. (Y/N) was making out with some guy inside that bar, and there was nothing I could do to stop her. So I did the only thing I could do at that minute. I started the car and got the fuck out of there.

–

DIWK Taglist:

@all-tings-diego @big-galaxy-chaos @muffin-cup @shilohpug @eternalharry @tvandfanfic @fandomtrash2405

Spencer taglist

@calm-and-doctor

General Taglist

@spenxerslut @ash19871962 @babebenhardy @meowiemari @archer561

–

Do you want to be on the taglist or ramble about this chapter with me? Just send me a message here.

Next update: June 23th, 2021

[poguesofthebau]

ssa silent treatment

summary: spencer starts acting distant, and when you notice and realize he won’t talk to you about why, you give him the silent treatment. your being so close to him but refusing to speak to him slowly but surely drives spencer insane.

word count: 3.5k pairing: spencer reid x female!bau!reader

a/n: y’all know i had to have reader lowkey tease spence for being spence at the end of this, bc that is what i do. tease him, but in a wholesome way bc i also simp for him <3 so here it is!! also gonna tag @jamesdeerest​ here! enjoy y’all!!

spencer was acting weird. you weren’t really sure why he thought you wouldn’t notice, but you did.

it was a tough case, and everyone was locked in because of it. despite the multiple victims, trips to crime scenes, medical examiner’s reports, and statements from witnesses and families, you still hadn’t caught your guy, and it was beginning to take a toll on everyone-- you simply weren’t catching a break. because of that, you thought spencer was just stressed at first. it had been a long three days for everyone so far, so you understood his reasoning for being a little short with you while you were at the police department. but, when hotch sent everyone back to the hotel for the first night since you’d arrived, you thought spencer’s attitude would shift at least a little. you heard, “go back to the hotel, get some sleep, and come back with fresh eyes tomorrow,” and you expected spencer to deflate a little, relax his shoulders and wrap an arm around you on the way out the door, maybe even grab your hand on the ride back to your room. however, you didn’t get any of that.

when spencer heard this dismissal announcement, he seemed to tense up even more. it was morgan who verbally disagreed, insisting that if the team pulled one more overnight shift you would somehow see something you’d all been missing for the past few days. spencer, on the other hand, remained silent, and when hotch stood his ground, you saw his jaw clench a minuscule amount before he rose from his seat, grabbed his bag, and followed morgan (who was angrily storming away) out the door. at spencer’s exit, jj looked to you, concerned over spencer’s behavior and expecting you to offer an explanation. you shrugged, shaking your head at the blonde as you gathered your things. “i have no idea, jj.” she gave you a sympathetic look then, waiting for you to get your belongings together before the two of you wordlessly walked out side by side.

when you stepped out of the building, you spotted morgan and spencer sitting in an suv. you were a little surprised that the two obviously agitated men had actually waited, but neither you nor jj questioned it before hopping in the back seat. morgan took off as soon as he heard the clicks of your seatbelts, and you silently watched spencer in the side-view mirror. the expression he wore wasn’t unfamiliar to you-- frustration, upset, and desperation, all in one look-- but it was one that didn’t make much sense to you in this situation. usually during a case like this, one that had the entire team stumped for days at a time, spencer would be visually exhausted by the time hotch finally sent everyone home. when you thought over the past three days, you couldn’t remember seeing your boyfriend smile once. the realization made your stomach drop, and the worry set in immediately. along with the worry came the paranoid thoughts. what if he had started to get a migraine? what if something had happened in the course of this case that had done something to him? what if he wasn’t okay?

luckily for you, those thoughts hit you the very moment derek put the car in park. you’d arrived at the hotel. through the fog of your own concern, you heard jj sarcastically announce, “home sweet home.” you let a chuckle fall past your lips at the comment as you opened your door, finding spencer a few feet closer to the hotel already, waiting for you to catch up. once again, you were reminded of how different he was acting when he didn’t put out a hand for you to grab, but you kept your mouth shut because of the relief his waiting for you again had provided. the rest of the walk through the building, including the elevator ride and the few moments it took for spencer to get the hotel room door unlocked, were the same. uncharacteristically quiet, with a suspenseful weight to every motion. when you were both finally in the room, spencer still hadn’t spoken, so you took initiative.

“are you okay, spence?” your voice was light, trying to simultaneously bring up the mood and open the floor for conversation.

“fine,” he said curtly, barely glancing at you as he tugged off his tie at the foot of the bed. “are you?”

your face contorted at the tone of his voice, and suddenly you were defensive. “what does that mean?”

“what do you mean? you asked if i was okay, and i asked if you were. i think that’s pretty straightforward.”

for a couple of seconds, you were stunned into silence. spencer was giving you an attitude-- that much was obvious-- but you had no clue what you’d done to deserve it. after opening and closing your mouth a few times, you shut it and simply nodded. spencer was sitting on the bed now, looking at you with false innocence. if he wanted to play this game, so would you. “fine, reid. i’m fine, too.”

“what, so now you don’t want to talk?” you heard the falter in his voice right away. he knew he’d pissed you off at that point, and although he wasn’t going to come right out and say it, he was already regretting his sourness. regardless of how he felt now, it was too late to turn back, and he still wasn’t ready to talk about what was really bothering him, so he continued the trouble he’d started.

“i’ll talk to you when you talk to me.” you turned out the light, finishing getting ready for bed in the darkness and sliding under the covers, keeping your distance from the man beside you.

the next morning, the air in the hotel room was suffocating. spencer had woken up a few minutes before you, and he was buttoning his shirt when you pulled yourself out of the bed. “good morning,” he greeted, hesitance in his voice.

“morning,” you said effortlessly. there was limited conversation between the two of you for the remaining time you were alone. for the most part it was a mumbled ‘excuse me’ or two, but no conversation, casual or serious, ensued. slowly but surely, you could feel yourself growing more annoyed with spencer-- you didn’t see why he wouldn’t just say something. it was you. he knew he could tell you anything, no matter how nerdy or rude or overly sweet. it didn’t matter to you. you always wanted to hear what he had to say, so this rare case of him refusing to speak his mind was bound to get on your nerves.

when you met up with the rest of the team in the hotel lobby, they all knew something was up. even morgan had a new mindset after a decent night’s sleep, so you and spencer still seeming so tense stuck out like a sore thumb. “hey, lovebirds. you two good?” hotch, rossi, jj, and emily looked to you and spencer expectantly when morgan asked the question, but neither of you flinched.

“ready to catch a serial killer, as always,” you replied with mock enthusiasm. morgan laughed, but he knew your deflective answer said more than your actual words had, so he let it go. the ride back to the station was the same. you didn’t speak to spencer, and spencer didn’t speak to you.

when you arrived at the destination, you quickly lost track of morgan and reid, not having seen the older man pull your boyfriend into a hall to further question him. “hey, pretty boy. what’s going on up there?” as he spoke, morgan gently tapped the side of spencer’s head a couple of times. after a few moments, spencer was still just glaring at morgan, clearly unwilling to speak his mind. “seriously, reid. what is it? you and y/n get into a fight or something?”

spencer scoffed at that, rolling his eyes at the suggestion. “she won’t even talk to me. i was mad, and then i got her mad, and now she won’t speak to me. and the worst part is, i’m still mad, and i wouldn’t even tell her why.”

morgan’s ears perked up at the confession, and he leaned casually into the wall behind him as his mind shifted into advice-giving mode. “well, why don’t you talk to her then, genuis? i mean, i’ve never heard of a time that spencer reid couldn’t tell y/n y/l/n anything.”

“it’s not that simple, morgan,” spencer sighed as he spoke, the frustration he was feeling toward the situation becoming clear in his body language. “it’s just--”

“morgan, reid. we’ve got something.”

spencer sighed again at the sound of hotch’s voice, shaking his head slightly at morgan, who patted him on the shoulder as the two regrouped with the team. a second after spencer dropped into a seat at the conference table, you came around from the other side, placing a coffee on the table in front of him and taking a sip from your own. before he had the chance to say thank you, you were walking away, over to where emily sat at the other end of the table, without even looking at him. spencer looked to morgan, who’d witnessed the moment, with a distraught look in his eye. morgan chuckled lightly, shrugging and throwing his hands up in response.

for the next fifteen minutes, spencer was forced to focus on something other than you. during the first five of those fifteen minutes, the team was verbally bouncing ideas back and forth, and everyone had their first glimpse at the chance to finally catch this killer. for a moment spencer felt hopeful that they could close this case and he could get you to speak to him sooner than later. then, though, the room’s population increased by two.

as the chief of police and one of his detectives walked in, you were speaking, spewing out a possible occupation of the unsub. when you finished your sentence, the detective announced their presence by stating a simple, “that would make a lot of sense.” you spun in your chair to see the source of the voice, giving him a tight-lipped smile in response when you spotted the detective who’d been working with the bau on the case. after smiling at him, the detective gave you what could only be described as a lovesick expression, and you immediately deflected the look by spinning your chair back around so he was out of your line of sight. the police chief spoke then, updating the team on another new victim that had been found that morning.

unbeknownst to you, spencer was fuming for the next ten minutes. he wasn’t surprised that you didn’t spot the anger on his face, seeing as you’d refused to lock eyes with him all morning, but everyone else in the room seemed to recognize it immediately. there was an uncomfortable weight in the room that you were aware of, but your stubbornness kept you from realizing that spencer (and you, unintentionally) was the source of it all. you continued to participate in the conversation, even directly replying to the detective at one point, despite your persistent refusal to make eye contact again. every time the detective spoke, spencer got angrier. by the time the impromptu meeting had ended, he was seeing red. he heard the police chief say, “alright, well, us two will head out and see if we can find anything, maybe bring somebody in,” and he was basically flying out of his seat.

“really glad we could all do this,” he muttered sarcastically, exiting the room as soon as he saw the two men go out the front door of the station.

“reid--” hotch began to call out, but when he saw the look on your face-- one of concern, confusion, and determination-- he knew you would handle it. hotch nodded to you, and before the rest of the team could get a word out, you were following spencer.

“hey,” you called out, hoping your boyfriend would realize you were finally talking to him. unfortunately, he either didn’t hear you or chose to continue ignoring you, and stalked out the station door without looking back. holding in a frustrated groan, you picked up the pace a little and jogged after him. as you stepped out of the station, head whipping around a few times to keep track of where the man was going, you stopped in your tracks when you saw him pacing back and forth a few feet from the door. “spencer.”

you caught his attention that time, and his face was painted in surprise when he heard your voice so close. your eyes locked for the first time since the previous night, and the look of surprise quickly morphed into a grimace. he began shaking his head, turning away from you and tilting his head up to the sky. you took a few steps closer, crossing your arms as you waiting for him to return your gaze. eventually he did, and his expression had once again changed-- this time, he looked remorseful. “i’m sorry. i’m really, really sorry, y/n.”

your eyes softened at the desperation in his voice, and the rest of your body followed suit. your arms uncrossed, shoulders deflating a little. “what is it, spence? just talk to me.” there was still some frustration laced into your words, but spencer was finally able to remember who you were. it was y/n. his y/n, the one he could tell any passing thought, any uncalled-for statistic, any traumatic childhood memory. anything at all.

he sighed, brows furrowing a little as he prepared to finally admit to what had him so upset. “that stupid detective, y/n. i mean, i’m used to working around airheads on cases like this, but that guy--”

“hold on a second,” you interrupted, holding up a hand. “are you-- do you mean detective beefhead?”

“if detective beefhead is the one that came into the conference room just now to simply ogle you, then yes. detective beefhead, y/n.”

the hand you’d been holding in front of spencer then clamped over your mouth, but the boisterous laugh you were trying to hold in fell out anyway. “oh my god. i’m sorry, spence, but seriously? not only are you jealous right now, but you’re jealous of a guy i just referred to as detective beefhead? is your iq still 187, or are you feeling sick?”

he threw you a dirty look then, crossing his arms. “you know, you told me to talk to you, and now that i am, you’re laughing at me. if i remember correctly-- and we both know i do-- you said you’d talk to me if i talked to you. not laugh at me. talk to me.”

you were able to stop laughing then, but the smile on your face wasn’t going anywhere. “spence,” you said, stepping close enough to him to forcibly uncross his arms and wrap them around you instead. “i’m sorry for laughing. really. but... that’s ridiculous. why would you feel threatened by him?” still slightly defensive, spencer tried to remove his arms from around your waist, but you leapt forward even more, grabbing his face with both hands and steering his head so he’d have to look at you. “c’mon, spence.”

“y/n,” he sighed, eyes closing for a second before he looked back at you and continued. “you don’t see yourself how i see you, or how anyone sees you.” your head tilted at the statement, and spencer’s arms tightened slightly around your waist as he shook you lightly for emphasis. “i’m serious. you are... you’re perfect, y/n, and i know how absurd that sounds to you, but it’s the most truthful thing i’ve ever said out loud, or thought, or known. and, frankly, i’m not the most outwardly-- or inwardly-- appealing person. i know that. i’m not like most people, and i know you think that’s endearing, but it’s hard for me to sit back and watch other guys come around and try to take you from me. my heart stops when i think that maybe you’ll look at someone else one day and completely forget about me, and us, and everything. it just-- it scares me, and when i get scared, i get defensive, and then i was acting so childish toward you, but it was all because i’m scared.”

for a few moments, all you could do was stare at spencer. you knew you should’ve said something right away, but for some reason, all you wanted to do was look at him. maybe it was because you knew you saw him in a way he didn’t see himself, and in a way nobody else could ever see him. when you looked at spencer, all you saw was everything, because that’s what he was to you-- everything. the thought of him feeling so unstable in your relationship crushed you, and the way he felt in that moment only reminded you even more of who you truly knew him to be.

you thought back over the last few days of working on this case, and all the times you’d come into contact with the detective spencer apparently felt so threatened by. he’d brought you coffee three times, but you’d denied it twice, having either just gotten coffee for you and spencer, or spencer having just brought you a refill. the one time you did take it, it was more in hopes that he’d retire his efforts after one small success. then there was the time you’d caught him leaning over your shoulder as you read the m.e.’s report. you’d asked him if he needed a copy of his own, and he’d told you that he had his own but liked appreciating the notes you’d scribbled into yours more than his own bland copy. you’d told him there was nothing bland about an innocent person who’d been murdered, and he’d basically run away from you. and then there was the interaction in the conference room that your team witnessed entirely. you realized then that spencer must’ve seen all the other approaches detective beefhead had made, and you internally cringed at spencer’s misinterpretation.

“you’re wrong.” those were the first words you spoke, because they were the most honest. “i know it’s gonna be hard for you to believe, but you are just so wrong right now, spencer. honestly, after all the time i’ve had with you, i kind of thought you’d know better to ever get jealous. and i know that sounds ridiculous, because everyone gets jealous, but i think i just hoped you’d see by now that it’s literally not possible for me to see another person the way i see you. literally. impossible.”

“i mean, it’s probably not really impossible, but--” at your pointed look, spencer cut himself off. “okay, fine. it’s impossible.”

“hell yes it is. because i love you, doctor reid. not detective beefhead, not some guy who tries to hit on me at a bar, not anyone else. just you, okay?”

he nodded, finally feeling for the first time in three days that you were still his. “i’m still sorry, though. you were so mad, and i-- i just made it worse, and i’m sorry for that.”

“i was only mad because you weren’t communicating with me, spence. so, if you’re sorry, you can make up for it by working with me a little and just telling me when something’s wrong.” he nodded rapidly, a smile finally breaking out on his face for the first time in days. “and also, you’re welcome for the coffee.” his face fell then, and as he opened his mouth to argue, you laughed and pulled his mouth to yours to keep him from bickering. for a second he resisted, determined to correct your statement, but he quickly realized that would get him nowhere. just as he succumbed to your touch, the door to the police station was swinging open again.

“oh, thank god,” you heard from the door. it was emily, a bright smile on her face as she spotted the two of you kissing in front of the station. at the sound of her voice, you and spencer pulled apart, both looking to her innocently. “hotch needs you both back. i’m glad to see you’ve sorted out whatever the issue was.”

you looked at spencer one last time before smiling back at emily, pulling yourself out of spencer’s grip to re-enter to building. spencer followed behind you both, relieved to know he was out of the doghouse with you and had no other guys to worry about. “spencer was jealous of detective beefhead.” you spoke quietly (and tauntingly, knowing your boyfriend could hear you), causing emily to let out an understanding, “ah, good ol’ detective beefhead. reid, kid, you got nothing to worry about there, trust me.”

“hey, don’t tell them!”

“you talk to me, i talk to you, we talk to the team, spence! it’s the circle of communication!”

“i’m never communicating again.” and that was spencer’s last grumble before you all got back to work. 

[goldentournesol]

The Receptionist and the Profiler (Epilogue)

Chapter Eight: Epilogue

(Spencer Reid x f!Reader)

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

A/N: Welcome to the final chapter of the series. this is just a summary of what Spencer and Reader’s life is like in the future. thank you so much for joining me on this journey. I’ve enjoyed it so much more than I thought I would. So without further ado, enjoy.

Working for the FBI made for a pretty wild life. Even though Y/N wasn’t an agent, her life had been caught up with work just like all the other agents’. It also didn’t help that her boyfriend was endangered practically every minute of every day. It was hard, but Spencer and Y/N made it work. Among the darkness, they created light for each other. Spencer was no longer dreading coming home to a quiet life of reading and rereading his favorite books. He had a partner, he had a lover, someone to depend on. She was there for him as he grieved the loss of his friend and coworker deeply and she was there when he struggled with his excruciating migraines. They walked through life together, facing the challenges head on.

Emily’s death had taken a toll on the both of them, but they were nothing short of relieved when they found out that she was alive and well. Many changes took place after that.

JJ had worked long and hard to turn into a profiler, the liaison had years upon years of experience before switching jobs which meant Hotch had to find a new communications liaison, but he didn’t have to look far at all. He had offered Y/N the job without a second thought. A lot of her job as receptionist covered a liaison’s job. She would often get numerous calls a day from nosy reporters and she’d have to shut them down. However, with the added responsibilities, she’d had to take classes and had undergone copious amounts of training with JJ and Hotch, but she found that she flourished in this new job, despite the hardships that came with it.

This meant that she had her own office now. Whenever Spencer wasn’t at his desk, he was in her office, and whenever she wasn’t in her office, she was at his desk. She often found that she missed her old job as receptionist, but nothing could replace the newfound feeling of making a difference in the world. She used to admire JJ’s ability to stand before nosy reporters and judgmental cops, and here she was, blowing herself (and the team) away with these hidden abilities. 

Before, she was aware of the general gist of the job, she knew it wasn’t easy, but the team often kept the gory details to themselves around her. Now, she had to pick and choose the gore which constantly left her with the question of whether she’d made the right choice or not. The intensity of the job had slightly damaged her spirits, but thankfully she had an amazing support system. She couldn’t have done it without Spencer’s unending support, or Hotch’s for that matter. Before allowing Y/N to accept the job, Hotch had made sure to warn her about the horrors first. She assured him she was ready, even though sometimes she felt like she wasn’t.

On the somewhat bright side, this also meant that she was around during most, if not all cases. This had Spencer jumping for joy, but it also terrified him to his bones. All his emotions were always on overdrive when it came to her. He was glad that he didn’t have to spend so much time away from her, but it simultaneously meant that he was constantly worried for her safety. He never wanted her to go into the field, ever. No matter the amount of combat training she did with Morgan. She found that she preferred interviewing victims’ families and controlling the press to facing serial killers head on anyway.

Sometimes it was easier for her to control the press from Quantico, so it wasn’t uncommon for her to stay back during cases. One particular case had dragged on for much longer than any of them had expected. The whole team was gone in Wisconsin and Hotch had asked her to stay back and hold down the fort at Quantico. The team ended up staying there for two weeks. It was the longest she’d ever been away from Spencer. Nightly calls weren’t enough for them and Spencer truly hadn’t experienced such an emptiness without her before.

As he scooped her into his awaiting arms right outside the elevator when they finally made it back to the office, he breathlessly declared to her, “Marry me.”

She pulled back from the tight embrace to examine his features, “What?” She said, voice thick with confusion.

“I don’t want to be away from you for that long ever again. I don’t want to wait anymore. Marry. Me.” He enunciated firmly. She broke out into a grin.

“Okay, I will.” She laughed and he squeezed her once more, savoring her warmth.

“This isn’t the official proposal by the way, you deserve something far nicer than all this, but I just want you to know that I’m ready if you are.” Spencer clarified and she threw her head back with laughter. Spencer’s heart soared at the sound.

Spencer took that statement and ran with it. He teased her every chance he got. At one dinner date they had planned, he had the nerve to begin his sentence with her full name, her heart dropping to her gut.

“Y/N Y/L/N, would you do me the honor of...sharing this fine wine with me?” Spencer said smugly, resulting in a shocked, but somehow relieved scoff coming from her.

A different time, he decided to give her a false alarm during one of their daily lunch walks in the park nearest to Quantico. He knelt down to one of his knees in the middle of their promenade.

“Y/N Y/L/N, will you...wait for me while I tie my shoe?” Spencer asked with a face-splitting grin. This time, she didn’t hesitate to shove his shoulder slightly, causing him to lose balance and almost faceplant into the pavement.

At this point, she truly had no idea when he was going to pop the big question. Knowing him, it could literally be at any point in time. She had to admit, though, he kept her on her toes. A month later, she was sure he’d pop the question during JJ’s wedding reception because of the way he was staring at her all night. He’d looked dreamy in his tux to say the least. Y/N was almost too shy to dance with him because of how magnificent he looked. What she didn’t know was that he was thinking the same exact thing about her. She looked exquisite in the evening gown she adorned and Spencer was absolutely enraptured by her. 

Being so surrounded by love and admiration, Spencer finally asked her to marry him the second they made it through her front door. They stood in the small hallway between the kitchen and the living room. She had just turned around from taking her heels off and was met with Spencer down on one knee, holding the most beautiful ring out to her in a navy blue velvet box.

“I had this elaborate speech planned, Y/N, I really did. I was going to talk about the stars, about the first conversation we had when I told you about the origins of yogurt, about how stupid we were for not realizing our love for each other earlier, but I realized that none of that matters right now. All I know is that this feels right, you make everything feel right. Will you marry me?” Spencer asked, his face incapable of hiding even a sliver of the adoration he felt for her.

“Yes, I’ll marry you in every lifetime and every universe.” She said, tears falling freely from her eyes. He sprang to his feet and wrapped her up in a long awaited embrace. He felt her body shake with wet laughter against his. He placed the ring on her finger and quickly kissed her passionately. Their giddy giggles flew through and around them.

Spencer knew she didn’t want a long engagement. Her previous engagement was hard enough of the both of them. Their jobs were just so demanding, it was hard to set a date and keep from pushing it back. Their wedding planner was beyond frustrated with them, but what can they do? They’re literally out there saving lives. And before they knew it, two years had passed them by and they were due to be married in two months.

But, alas, Spencer Reid seemed to have a knack for getting shot by unsubs right before weddings. While they were investigating a difficult case in Texas, Spencer was shot in the neck. Y/N was at the police station when she’d heard. She wasn’t sure who took her to the hospital to see him, everything was a blur since she got the call. She was plagued by the fear of losing him. 

She’d overheard Alex Blake and JJ discuss how he’d always wanted children when she arrived at the hospital. In the back of her mind, she screamed that she’d give him all the kids he wanted, if the universe just let them breathe. 

All too quickly, she was a sobbing mess in JJ’s arms. He’d gotten hurt before, he’d been in danger before, but she’d never been as close to it as she was then, it terrified her. Garcia had arrived and guided her to Spencer’s room. In another flash of events, there was a loud bang and Y/N had barely registered that a gun was shot inside the room.

The ringing of her ears subsided just enough to hear Spencer tell Garcia, “You saved my life, do you hear me?” 

That was the second time his life was endangered in the span of two hours. Y/N looked her fiancé square in the face.

“I don’t want to wait anymore. As soon as you’re up and well, we’re getting married.”

Exactly one week later, they’d rushed through whatever they could rush through. Thankfully her dress was ready and altered, the cake was made to order, but sadly, they’d given up their gorgeous, gorgeous venue. Rossi was more than happy to offer up his backyard and the couple found it more than fitting to commemorate their love in the very location where Spencer had first confessed his feelings to her and where she’d returned them later. 

Life truly came full circle as Spencer stood in the same exact spot where he’d confessed his undying love for her the very first time. Spencer did everything he could to keep from sobbing like a child as he saw the owner of his heart stand before him, just like she did that day, but this time adorning her white dress.

Being the romantic sap that he was, he recounted almost every milestone in perfect detail during his vows. Through the unrelenting tears, of course. Y/N’s words came out wobbly and wet, but she managed to get her vows out. There really was not a single dry eye in the small, intimate crowd. The entire team had watched them fall in love oh-so-gracelessly over the years.

Their ceremony was beautiful. It was different than JJ’s had been, it was more special to the two of them. Spencer was in nothing short of awe as he watched his wife sway with Henry wrapped up in her embrace on the dance floor. Henry’s little arms and legs were wound tightly around her, the bottoms of his shoes surely smearing dirt all over the back of her dress, but she didn’t care. Not when Spencer was looking at her like that. His throat clogged itself up as she caught his eye and smiled sweetly. The same thing was on both their minds, it was like an unspoken agreement had been made through some kind of special, invisible bond between them.

He couldn’t wait to have a family with that woman.

And they’d wasted absolutely no time. Three months after the wedding, Y/N announced that she was carrying a baby Reid. Tears and cheers erupted for them all. They had found the perfect little house with the help of Morgan. It was perfect for their growing family.

Pregnancy wasn’t easy on Y/N at all. Flying all around the country and helping catch serial killers was not an activity that pregnant Y/N wanted to engage in. The team had been more than forgiving as they dealt with her mood swings and crazy cravings. It also turns out that soon-to-be mama Y/N was especially helpful in chewing out unsubs in the interrogation room, but as useful as she proved to be, she couldn’t wait to pop the little peanut out.

Spencer and the team were rushing off the jet to the hospital as they’d heard Y/N had gone into labor. Spencer had only missed the very beginning and was by her side the entire time after that.

They welcomed baby Emelia Reid into this world on a chilly September night. Spencer was over the moon, he was borderline obsessed with looking at the baby and keeping a hand on her at all times whenever she was in the room with them. 

He waited for his mother to fly out a few days later just to meet baby Emelia. He wept as he watched his mother kiss the top of his baby girl’s head. No other feeling could ever compete with the one he experienced at that moment in time.

Emelia had grown into such a radiant little girl. She was a miniature hurricane of chocolatey brown curls and rosy red cheeks. She’d already blown her parents away as her intelligence only seemed to increase with time. The similarities she had to her father were astonishing. She was a daddy’s girl through and through, but Y/N didn’t seem to mind sharing him. Not when the sight of them together instantly melted her heart every single time.

Diana tried to be as active in the baby’s life as she could possibly be, however her condition began to worsen over time. Eventually, Diana had had to move in with Y/N, Spencer, and Emelia. Thankfully, their house was large enough, but taking care of a toddler and Diana while being 6 months pregnant was inarguably too much to handle for Y/N. She’d found out that she was pregnant again, and they were expecting another baby girl. Y/N had also taken time off from work to focus on the dilemmas at home. 

The at-home nurse was doing the best she could since Spencer was always either at work or off finding Diana some kind of new treatment. He’d told Y/N that he’d been going to Mexico to get her some special medication and so she didn’t mind as long as she’d been kept in the loop of where and how he was. Spencer Reid never kept anything from his wife. They were always transparent with each other. Y/N was glad that he’d told her about his trips down to Mexico, or else she’d be out of her mind looking for him. 

But suddenly, during one trip, he’d stopped answering her calls. Complete silence on his end. It had driven her absolutely mad. It was only until JJ visited her the next morning informing her that Spencer had been arrested in Mexico for the illegal possession of drugs and possibly murder. If JJ hadn’t been around to catch Y/N before passing out, she or the baby would have been in extreme danger.

But Spencer Reid never kept anything from his wife. She’d been adamant that she would have known if he was struggling with drugs again. The last time she’d seen Spencer was during the trial. He’d looked so terrified as they pronounced him guilty and shoved him away from her. From his family. He’d spared Y/N one last broken glance, his gaze drifting down to her swollen belly. Their second child was on the way and he won’t be there to meet them. He mouthed a heartfelt apology before they took him away. Y/N wept and wept until everyone but the team left the courtroom.

“How am I gonna do this, Pen? How am I gonna do this without him?” She spoke between breathy sobs. The baby, Emelia, Diana. She couldn’t do it on her own. It would break her.

“You won’t be alone, Y/N. We’re all going to help you.” Penelope reassured her, but the only thing that was capable of reassuring her was currently in handcuffs behind closed doors.

She’d had to keep Spencer’s whereabouts from Diana and Emelia. She’d told him that he was consulting a case somewhere in California, where he also had access to the beach. Up until that lie wasn’t viable enough. Emelia’s questions about her daddy absolutely tore through what remained of her heart.

Diana’s caretaker had apparently quit and a new one came by. Y/N thought something was off, but she pushed that thought aside as she worried over her husband and the baby that they were due to meet any day now. Two months had passed and Spencer was still incarcerated, he hadn’t allowed Y/N or Emelia anywhere near the prison, but she’d broken down at the possibility of him being locked away for 25 years.

She’d visited him once, right after the birth of their second baby. They’d had another beautiful baby girl, whose name had been decided long ago by the two parents. Baby Adaline. The delivery was immensely difficult without him, but she pushed through. Y/N had almost begged Emily to pull any, any strings she could to get them to meet since Spencer said he’d only agree to see them if he could ensure their privacy and safety. They’d managed to get them in with Spencer’s lawyer, Fiona. Y/N cooed to Adaline as she cradled her in her arms, wrapped in her little blanket. The cooing served as a distraction as she waited anxiously for Spencer to meet them in the small little room. 

Suddenly the doors emitted a loud buzzing noise, prompting a loud cry from Adaline. A sound that was strange to echo off the walls of this place. Y/N shushed her gently until she caught sight of her husband walking through the door. Tears gathered in her eyes as she took in his disheveled state. His eyes found hers and quickly flitted to the squirming bundle of joy in her arms. Spencer’s lip wobbled as he entered the room. Y/N shifted Adaline to rest upon her shoulder as she wrapped one arm tightly around Spencer. No touching was allowed, but the guards pretended to look the other way, courtesy of whatever strings Emily had pulled.

The three of them bawled against each other in an unceremonious reunion. Spencer at last pulled away from his wife and stared at the baby in the bundle. He hesitated to carry her. His hands were clean, but they still felt so dirty. How could his hands hold this beautiful gift of life while they’d been committing such heinous acts within these very walls? But one utterance from his wife made that all vanish.

“It’s okay, Spence.” She smiled slightly, angling Adaline towards him. 

He gazed at Y/N closely, as if checking to see if she was sure. Y/N carefully handed her over to him and he instantly turned into less of a shell of himself and had begun to resemble the man that Y/N could recognize. He cooed to her softly, kissing her face repeatedly. Adaline instantly quieted down at her father’s touch.

The small interaction had fueled the pair for weeks. Spencer found a source of hope and was determined to see through to the other side. He would not rot away in his cell forever. The team continued to try and crack the case from the outside. Y/N was instructed to be more careful than ever. She often brought Emelie and Adaline to work with her. She had not been flying out with the team, preferring to stay close to her girls until Spencer was back.

On one of the days Y/N brought her girls to work, she’d found out that Diana had been missing. Her caretaker was accompanying her to visit Spencer in prison and then neither of them had been seen afterwards. They quickly identified the caretaker as Lindsey Vaughn. If Y/N had been on the case with them ten years ago, she would have identified her, but she was just another face to her. Y/N was livid, Vaughn had been around her children, she’d been inside her home. If Spencer didn’t get to catch the bitch, they better believe Y/N will.

Spencer was released quickly after the BAU proved his innocence. He was on his way to the office now. Y/N had been peering into Adaline’s carriage when she’d heard the high pitched voice of Emelia.

“Daddy!” Emelia exclaimed, racing across the bullpen to jump into her father’s arms.

“Hi baby. Daddy missed you so much.” Spencer said, hiding his tears in his daughter's hair. He held her tightly to his chest as he crossed the bullpen and made it to Y/N’s office. He put Emelia down gently and scooped his wife into his arms.

“You’re back.” She said softly through tears. 

He hooked his chin over her shoulder and sniffled strongly. He might not be the same man he was before, but he still loved her unconditionally. He still loved all three of them unconditionally.

“I’m here.” He repeated the phrase out loud like a mantra.

And he was here, but he also wasn’t. His wife could tell that the man who stood before her had endured hell, but when he cradled their baby girl so tightly to his chest, it was hard to imagine him as anything other than a loving, gentle father, and a compassionate partner. She knew she’d hold onto that thought forever. Once they retrieved Diana, they knew they could face anything.

As long as they were together.

And they knew they would be, for as long as the universe would allow in this life, and then the one after that.

~THE END~

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[masterwords]

Sinking

Summary: Hotch is back at work after he’s stabbed and finds that when he’s finally desperate enough to take his pain medication, it’s missing.

Warnings: Foyet stab wounds healing, vomiting, blood, drug use/abuse/addiction, pain medication

Pairings: None

Words: 4.6k

**

the secrets I hide twist me inside, they make me weaker - the cure

The middle drawer on the right side of Aaron Hotchner's desk had a lock he never used.  It was too small for anything of real importance, but too large to just throw pens and knickknacks into, so one day he'd decided to throw a bottle of Advil inside.  Next thing he knew there was DayQuil, Benadryl, Tums, Pepto and the drawer was used by everyone on the team.   It had been jokingly referred to by Emily as Hotch's Apothecary for all the ways to just get you through your day.   After the bombing in NYC, he'd had a few stronger painkillers to keep on hand, so he started to use the lock but they all knew where he kept the key.  In truth, he used them rarely, and they were safe in the drawer – he'd been worried, knowing Reid's history, but to his credit the medication was never touched.  It found its way shoved to the back of the drawer, for a rainy day, he said. Eventually he stopped locking it again.  JJ threw her antibiotics in there once, Emily kept a spare bottle of eye drops and Derek kept a few random first aid items stocked.  They all just preferred that little spot to anything in their own desks out in the bull pen.  

Reid didn't use it.  He knew of it, but he didn't use it.  He didn't come to work sick if he could help it, and he kept mostly to himself about those sorts of things after his issues with Dilaudid.   At least until he got shot, then things changed.  

Aaron had been stabbed nine times and returned to duty much too soon, they all agreed, but he somehow passed all of his evaluations and was, according to the FBI, fit for duty.  When JJ had a banger of a headache after another sleepless night with Henry and rummaged through the drawer, she found a pile of new pill bottles in there – it had been a while since she'd opened it up, she supposed.  Maybe it had been a while since anyone had.  Aaron's pills were dumped in on top of all of the rest and she could feel a lump form in her throat as she peeked at their names, silly of her she knew, but the way he just trusted them with such intimacy – he'd never say it out loud, but he could have kept the prescriptions somewhere else and he didn't.   There were painkillers of course, but also blood thinners and thyroid medications, anti depressants and sleeping pills.  Most of the bottles looked full, like he only kept them there to throw into his go bag or as back ups in case he'd forgotten to take something at home.  She hadn't realized the real mess Foyet had caused, and being faced with a glimpse now made her tear up.  It didn't help that she'd only gotten two hours of broken sleep and her eyes burned just being open.  Quickly, glancing around to make sure no one saw her, she swiped at her eyes to get rid of the tears, dug out the Tylenol that she knew would barely touch the headache but it was the only thing she could take right now, popped a few and slid the drawer closed again.  It hadn't been locked, but she decided it should be, so she did and left a little note for Aaron so he'd know. He could get in big trouble leaving a drawer like that unlocked and that was the last thing she'd ever want.    

The office was quiet all day, everyone had separate tasks that brought them in and out.  Dave and Aaron had spent much of their morning in DC at the police station, but had just returned in time for Aaron to be dragged away for a department head meeting put on by the DEA.  He dreaded that meeting every month.  It was long and boring, hardly pertained to anything his unit did, but he had to show his face anyway.  On a good day he struggled to stay awake and alert, but on a bad day, it was nearly impossible.  He'd once sat through an entire meeting with a migraine that had eventually forced him go home early, but he couldn't leave the mandatory meeting, so he focused on the absurd way that the presenter pronounced words.  He had no actual idea what the meeting was about, but he did come away with an interesting profile of the poor young woman who was just trying to give some kind of in-service.   To his knowledge, he'd never once regretted not knowing what that meeting was about.

On this particular day, he was already grouchy.  He was in pain, he'd already spent hours at a police station being verbally abused by officers who didn't respect him, and stuck in traffic that made a 30 minute trip take almost an hour.  He was glad that Dave had come along, at least he had good company, but it wasn't enough to shake the foul mood he was in.  He grabbed his briefcase and headed for the meeting, dragging his feet as he went.  Thankful that the meeting was at Quantico and he wouldn't have to drive anywhere, he clung to that small feeling until he found himself a seat in the back of the room near a few other department heads who felt much the same as he did.  They greeted each other warmly, and Aaron avoided the looks of concern people had as they tried to hide their glances at him – everyone knew what had happened to him, and the rumor mill was going wild over it.  Did he return too soon?  Was he going to lose his unit?   He knew all of the talk.  It was just part of the work place, people talked, and they talked about other people in order to avoid people talking about them.  He didn't mind, not really.  It didn't bother him any more now than it ever had, when people would whisper about how young he was to have the position he did, how his team misbehaved, they were always on people's radar.  He preferred when the gossip was about him, because at least that meant it wasn't about his team – he'd let them get away with saying anything they wanted about him, but say one thing about a member of his team and someone was going to hear about it.  

The meeting began as it always did, with roll call.  That was about the time Aaron started to feel off.  He hadn't eaten, so he hadn't taken a few of his prescriptions yet – he'd been planning to eat after the meeting, no time before.  He and Dave had been in DC by 7am, that was much too early for anything but coffee.   He was starting to regret his decision now, though.  His stomach was rumbling and starting to cramp, thankfully he'd grabbed an icy water bottle from the bucket on his way in and cracked it open, feeling the cool sensation slide down his throat and through him.  That first drink of an icy beverage was one of his greatest small pleasures.  It helped and he managed to find his focus for a while.  He glanced at the agenda and realized this meeting was scheduled for two hours – he'd only been there fifteen minutes and he was already fighting to stay on task.  

The nausea came next.  It flowed in waves, his mouth filling with saliva to be gulped down with more water until he'd consumed the entire bottle.  He started to feel lightheaded and that was when the warning bells went off in his head that he'd have to get out of that meeting immediately or risk a public meltdown.  Slowly, making sure not to throw himself into a dizzy spell, he stood and tucked his briefcase under his seat neatly, his movements careful and slower than usual.  

“Let me know if I miss anything, I've got to use the restroom...” he muttered to the man beside him, a man who he at least considered a friendly colleague.  The man nodded and moved his legs to let Aaron through, and everyone down the rest of the row did the same.  Once he was out of the conference hall he made his way for the bathroom, praying that no one was using it – he wasn't sure what was about to happen but it wasn't good.  

Inside, the bathroom was cool, at least ten degrees cooler than the hallway had been and it was empty.  It smelled like it had just been cleaned. The second he relaxed, knowing there wasn't anyone around, he felt the first wave of pain hit him, doubling him over.  His entire torso cramped, pulling him in on himself.  His arms hugged his abdomen tight, pressing against the pain like he was holding himself together and he stumbled toward a stall on legs that could barely support him. The pain was blinding.  He hadn't felt so much pain since lying on his apartment floor being used as a pin cushion by a psycho.  He collapsed in front of the toilet and threw up – there wasn't any food, but there was bright red blood.  Desperately he wiped the spittle from his chin, his hand coming away smeared with blood and bile, knowing he couldn't go back into that meeting hall now and he'd left his briefcase there with his phone tucked inside on silent.  He was three floors away from anyone he could trust to help him, alone on the tile of the corner stall.  Slowly, he slid toward the wall, leaning his back against the cool beige tile, and pulled his knees to his chest.  Having the pressure on his stomach helped keep the pain almost bearable.  He sat like that for twenty minutes, until someone came into the bathroom – the janitor, to check the toilet paper. When he'd opened the stall Aaron was cowering in, he was startled. It wasn't the first time he'd found someone like this in a bathroom, it was sort of what you did when you were sick or hurt – bathrooms were always an odd sanctuary.  It was, still, unsettling to find when you just wanted to change some toilet paper rolls.  Aaron asked him, in the least desperate voice he could muster, to please find David Rossi and ask him to come down to help him.  The janitor was a young man who, at the sight of Aaron's blood, looked a little terrified but he nodded.  

“Aaron?” came a voice that felt like sweet relief to Aaron's ears not long after.  He called back from inside of his stall and tried to look somewhat better than he felt by the time Dave's face was in front of his.  “What happened?”

“I don't know,” Aaron replied through gritted teeth, the pain doubling down as soon as he'd shifted.  “It hurts, Dave.”  He looked desperate and sad there on the floor and Dave's heart was in his throat, knowing there wasn't anything he could do to stop the pain. He saw the blood but didn't address it, he knew that one all too well, he’d been throwing up blood almost daily, his throat and insides brutally raw and all Aaron did was dump coffee on it all.  

“That young man, Chad, he blocked off the bathroom with some cones so no one will come in.  Good kid.  We've got some time.”

“You know those assholes in the DEA meeting will bypass the cones and walk in anyway, rather than walk down the hall...” Aaron grumbled, and Dave nodded.  He knew it.  Crouching now, his hand placed on the soft, exposed place where Aaron's shoulder met his neck, Dave looked him over.   His tie was in his lap, shirt unbuttoned just a little, he looked disheveled and in terrible pain.  

“Well, then, we've got to get you up and out of here.  Can you stand?”  Of course, Aaron said yes when he meant no, because he had no other choice.  What was Dave going to do, carry him upstairs?  Leave him there?  No, he had to be able to stand up, there was no other way. Slowly, Dave eased him up onto his feet, ignoring the groans and the whimpers as he did so – not that the sounds didn't kill him, but like Aaron, what choice did he have?  Aaron leaned against the wall, catching his breath, pressing against his stomach with his palms.  

“My briefcase is...” he gasped through breaths.  “It's under my seat....”

“We'll get it later.”

“I have to go back in there...can't miss that meeting or Strauss will have my head.  I just need...just need...” he was pressing harder now, and Dave was sure that it wasn't good for him but he didn't intervene.  He knew how to play this game of tug of war with Aaron’s well-being, and when he was in this much pain, it was best if he just listened more and talked less.  He would have his chance.

“You need me to grab your pills?” Dave asked, and Aaron nodded, gulping down the bile that was rising in his throat.  “I can text JJ, everyone else left for lunch.”

Aaron shook his head, pleading silently with Dave.  It was hard enough for him to be like this in front of his closest friend, but adding in anyone else was more than he could bear.   With a sigh, Dave just nodded and left the stall, closing it behind him and making his way back upstairs to Aaron's desk.  The BAU was empty for lunch and he was glad because he'd noticed that he looked a little pale and stricken in his reflection, his worry apparent on his features, someone was bound to notice.  He grabbed the key and unlocked the drawer, rummaging around in there for something helpful.  He'd found the bottle of hydros in the back of the drawer, hidden by the Pepto, but it was empty.  It was an old prescription and he shrugged, figuring Aaron just hadn't bothered to toss the bottle yet and pushed through more until he found the new prescription, Tramadol, also empty which didn't seem right.  He began pulling the bottles out one by one, finding that all of the pain medications in the drawer were either empty or dangerously low and he felt a pit form in his stomach.  Was Aaron abusing his medications now?  He fell into the chair like a ton of bricks, staring at the bottles before him, unable to believe his friend would do that.  His mind frantically searched through Aaron's medicine cabinet in his home, his guest bathroom, but the bottles there were full, he was sure of it.  There was no way.  He pushed all of the bottles back into the drawer and locked it up, heading back to his friend in need woefully empty-handed.  

This news was not met with grace.  Aaron growled, like a wounded animal, and collapsed to the floor again, dragging his knees to his chest just for some relief.   

“All of them?” he groaned and Dave crouched beside him, sure now that Aaron wasn't hiding anything – he hadn't emptied those bottles.  He felt a sick sense of dread, knowing that Aaron's trust had been violated, and it was by someone on their team, no one else knew where he kept his keys.  

“We have to get you out of here, Aaron,” Dave said in his gentlest voice, and Aaron looked up at him desperately.  He wasn't sure he could stand again, but he'd have to.  And worse, he'd have to find a way to go back to that meeting or risk the rumor mill stirring itself up into a frenzy.  Dave helped him to the sink, cleaned him up, buttoned his shirt and tied his tie tight.  He was panting now and it was pretty clear he could barely stand up, but he managed because he had no other choice.  Setting his jaw, he exited the bathroom standing as tall as he could, Dave walking impossibly close to him, shoulder to shoulder for support.  At the door to the meeting hall, Aaron gave Dave one final look of utter despair before wiping his face of all emotion and walking stiffly back inside.  Dave took a seat in the hallway, ready to help at a moment's notice – it was lunch, he wouldn't be missed.  He just played a few rounds of low quality solitaire on his phone to distract himself.  

Aaron was the last one out of the meeting and he looked like hell.  His skin was the color of ash and Dave could see the tremble in his hands from where he stood, but people spoke to him like they didn't even notice.  He was gripping his briefcase hard, knuckles white, transferring his pain to that one small spot he could control.  For many of them, it was their first time seeing him back after Foyet's attack and they were offering condolences and well wishes, asking if he'd gotten their flowers or telling him he should have taken more time off, milked it for all it was worth.  He forced smiles when needed and nodded his head, and Dave just watched in awe.  Aaron was infuriating and magnificent and so incredibly stupid.  He was barely standing and yet he wouldn't turn away a single person who approached him, not one.  Finally, he made his way out of the hall and to Dave, the look on his face said he was about to collapse so Dave moved out of the way and watched as he sat down, just long enough to catch his breath.  

“Let me drive you home, you've got what you need there,” Dave said softly, crouching so he was eye to eye with his friend.  Aaron shook his head.

“I'm fine, it feels better...I need to deal with the drawer problem.”

“Liar. I can see it in your eyes, Aaron, you need to go home.  We can deal with the pills tomorrow.”

Aaron gulped back another wave of nausea and shook his head.  “No.  I just need to eat something and...talk to Reid.”  

Dave nodded solemnly.  He'd been thinking it, too.  Couldn't imagine it having been anyone else.  Slowly, they made their way back upstairs to the BAU and saw everyone back at their desks now.  They all looked up as the two men walked through, Aaron's jaw squared and set like it took all the effort in the world to move his body forward and for a split second that resolve broke as he began ascending the stairs.  He gripped the railing tight, almost using it to pull himself up when taking another step seemed impossible, but with Dave coming up right behind him, his misery was at least somewhat shielded from view. Inside of his office, they shut the door and Aaron sat in his chair, glad for the relief it brought.  He unlocked the drawer and pulled out the bottles himself, needing to touch each one, to verify with his own eyes the violation that had occurred.  He felt like he was going to be sick again.  

“You agree with me, Dave?” he asked in a voice so small Dave almost didn't hear it.  He sounded crushed.  He almost hoped Dave would say no.  “I should talk to Reid?”

Dave nodded.  “Yes.”

“Okay. Could you do me a favor first?  Could you bring me an ice pack or something?  I need...something...my stomach is killing me and I don't...I don't know what else to do...please?”  It was desperate, and there was no way Dave could or would say no to such a request.   He found no ice packs in the freezer, of course, they'd all been used and not returned as usual but there were ziplock bags and the ice machine down the hall, so he filled one up and wrapped it inside of one of his shirts from his go bag before returning to Aaron's office. He handed it to his friend and watched the look of relief spread across his face as soon as he'd hugged it to his midsection.  

“Thanks Dave,” he whispered, losing himself momentarily in the first bit of relief he'd had in hours.  It didn't last long, though.  Spencer was at the door, hovering on crutches.  

“You wanted to see me?” he asked, and Dave carefully excused himself, shutting the door behind him.  Spencer stared at the empty pill bottles on Aaron's desk as he approached, seating himself so the two of them were eye to eye, desk all that separated them.  “I'm sorry...” he muttered.  He wasn't even going to put up a fight.  He’d known it was only a matter of time, and he hadn’t bothered to hide it...it was almost like he was begging to be caught.  

“So you did this?” Aaron asked, indicating the bottles.  Spencer, looking small and ashamed, nodded.  

“I'm sorry...I just...my refills ran out and they wouldn't give me more...and...I didn't think...”

“I needed those.”  It was short, angry, pointed.  “They were mine, Spencer, and when I needed them, they weren't there.”

“I'm sorry Hotch.  I just came up here for Advil, honestly...I didn't mean to...but...”  Spencer looked at his boss now, for the first time since he'd entered, and it scared him.  Aaron looked pale and sick, there was just a tiny smear of blood on the cuff of his shirt sleeve and what looked like a makeshift icepack on his midsection, the corners of the ziplock bag peeking out from the folds of the shirt.  The gravity of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks and he felt sick - for what he’d done, for his boss, for himself.  

“How long?”

“What? How long?  I...I don't know...a week?”

“You've shown up every day this week and looked me in the eye while stealing from me?”  Suddenly, without warning, Aaron's face went from fury to sadness, and Spencer wasn't prepared for it.  He'd been sitting there, preparing for his boss to yell at him, to rage at him, but not this look, this was something altogether different.  He slumped over in his chair, making himself smaller, folding in on himself ashamed.  

“I'm...I'm so sorry...are you okay?”  He thought he could ask that question, like he still had the right to ask that question.  Aaron sighed.  

“No,” was his reply, because he was expecting honesty out of Reid and he'd have to give it in return.  Reid may have proven his ability to be untrustworthy, but Aaron didn't have to follow suit.  “I'm not. You and I both know I shouldn't be here but I have to be.  I should fire you for what you did, you know that?”

Spencer nodded.  He knew.  He even half expected it.  Maybe even wanted it. “I know.”

“I want you to go home.  Stay home the rest of the week.  Get yourself back into your meetings.  Fix this, Spencer, or I will have no choice.”

“Yes sir,” Spencer said softly, gathering his crutches and pushing up to his feet.  He felt a steely resolve as he began to leave his boss' office, almost an indignant feeling, like this was unfair though he knew it was more than fair, it was almost criminal how lenient he was being.  Maybe it was just unfair because he’d wanted something more to happen, expected a storm and instead got this.  Infuriating mercy.  

“Spencer?” Aaron called, adjusting the ice against his stomach, and Reid turned around to see that same look of pure sadness on his boss' face.  “You could have just asked.”  

His voice was so soft then, so gentle, void of any edge he'd had before. Written all over his face was just the simple fact that there was trust lost here, and it was devastating.  He needed to trust these people with his life and the lives of countless others, and the man standing before him on crutches had just violated that in ways Aaron hadn't thought possible.  He beat himself up over not taking a harder stance when Spencer was battling his addiction, he beat himself up constantly for it, but it hadn't been his place and he knew the other man was getting help.  He was proud when it looked like Spencer had defeated his demons, and it broke his heart that he was sinking back into it.  That hurt worse than him not having his medications, knowing his friend was struggling and was so willing to forget that he, too, was in pain just to get a fix.  It broke him.  

“I...” Spencer started, tears falling down his cheeks now.  “I know.  I'm...so sorry, Hotch.”

Aaron nodded and looked down at the desk as Spencer left the office, he couldn't bear to look at the younger man anymore.  His stomach was killing him and he needed to go home.  He dug through his briefcase, pulled out his phone and texted Dave quickly, then tossed the phone onto his desk and leaned over, folding his arms and resting his head there.  He felt sick to his stomach.  When Dave arrived and saw Aaron lying there on his desk, he closed the door behind him and approached slowly.  

“You talked to him?”

“I did.”

“And you were right?”

“Yes.”

“Dammit,” Dave muttered, gathering up case files from Aaron's inbox and shoving them into his friend's briefcase because he needed something to do with his hands, to channel his anger.  “What was he thinking?!”

“He's in pain,” Aaron said softly and turned his eyes up to Dave.  “Just like me.  The difference is just that...I have you.  That saves me a thousand times a day.  Who is saving him?”  

Dave paused and looked at Aaron seriously, raising an eyebrow.  

“Well now I know for sure you need to get out of here,” he muttered, approaching Aaron and putting his hand gently on his shoulder.  He smiled, and Aaron returned the gesture, although his was weak.  “Let me take you home.”  

Home. Dave's house, because Aaron couldn't bear his apartment yet.  He’d tried to sleep there after being discharged from the hospital but the place felt haunted, he didn’t sleep for almost an entire week.  It was just one long, extended anxiety attack until Dave put an end to it.  The blood stains had been cleaned up, all traces of Foyet's presence in the place erased and replaced by case files and boxes of photos and papers and notes.  It wasn't a home anymore, it was the over sized office of a madman.  Aaron would go there in the morning, before work, and stop there afterward, just to sit and obsess over Foyet in solitude. 

The silence in there was deafening, and by the time he thought he could smell the metallic tang of blood in the air, he was ready to leave, ready to try and sleep, so he'd go to Dave's.  This would be, he noted, the first day he wouldn't be making that stop and as they drove by that area of town he felt a pull, like he needed to stop, but he said nothing.  Couldn't.  Instead he let Dave drive them home, let Dave help him inside and get him settled into his bed, get him all of his pills and some crackers and water.  He curled around himself in the bed and, after Dave had headed back to the office to finish his day, Aaron cried.  He cried over Spencer and their broken trust, cried because he hurt so bad, cried because he knew Spencer hurt too.  He couldn't hate the kid, couldn't even dislike him, but he also couldn't trust him.  It killed him, because it was true – all Spencer had to do was ask, he would have done anything he could to take the hurt away for his friend.  All he had to do was just...ask.

[ladypogue]

Used to This (part 3)

Summary: Ella starts her first shift at the Wreck. While working a certain blue eyed boy comes in looking for Kie but stays with Ella. The pair hangs out during and after her shift. This is the start of something new. 

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: the slightest little bit of swearing at the end. but other than that none :)

A/N: hello all! I am still eternally grateful for you if you are reading this story. Sorry for the late update, I’ve been having migraines recently so its been hard to stare at a screen but I’m feeling better so I hope to be back on a normal update schedule again. Also would you guys be interested if I started writing imagines, one shots, blurbs, etc? If so lmk and send requests! I have a few ideas....as always feedback is greatly appreciated. love y’all! :) 

Series Masterlist

Part 3

Ella woke up excited for the day, today was her first day working at the Wreck as a waitress. Heading downstairs to start on her breakfast, she pulled out her phone to see if JJ had texted her. Slightly disappointed that she didn’t have a text from the boy, she shook off the feeling and carried on with her morning; scrolling through her phone, taking her breakfast upstairs to start getting ready, not wanting to be late for her first day.

Making her way down to the restaurant popular with tourists, 15 minutes early for her shift, she walked through the doors looking for either Kiara or her dad, not quite sure what she was supposed to be doing today. One of the other waitresses showed Ella where she could put her things and gave her an apron, telling her to sit at the bar and Kiara would be out to show her the ropes.

Kie came out from the kitchen greeting Ella and giving her a brief run-down of what her days will look like. Kie then continued to explain that for the day she would just be working register in order to get her used to the computer system. Completely fine with that, Ella smiled and watched intently as Kie showed her how to ring people up and how to open the register drawer when it got stuck, it was old, so the drawer was sometimes sticky. Excited to officially start her day, Ella took her place behind the register while Kiara went back into the kitchen to help her dad. She was prepared for whatever the day may bring, though she was hoping that it would be an easy first day.

-

The sun shining brightly through the windows of the chateau is what woke JJ as he had passed out on the pull out couch the night before. Pulling the pillow over his head, JJ groaned and rolled back over after checking the time, relieved to realize that he didn’t have to get up for school, not that he went that often anyways. Sleeping in for another few hours, he re-awoke and made his way to the bathroom to get ready for the day. JJ practically lived with John B at the chateau, especially since Big John went missing. He’ll tell anybody that asks that it’s because he doesn’t want John B to get lonely and that his friend shouldn’t have to go through this alone. And while all of that was true, JJ would never admit out loud that it was also because he was avoiding his own problems at home. John B knew about JJ’s homelife, so he graciously accepts the company that his best friend since third grade offers him. It’s nice to know he’s not alone in that house, but also because he knows JJ is safe if he stays with him. Ready to start his day, JJ laced up his boots, grabbed his phone and went outside to wait for Pope so they can go to the Wreck to get food. Looking at his phone he suddenly remembered the girl from last night, Ella. Just thinking about her put a smile on JJ’s face. He opened his contacts, shooting her a quick message.

To Ella: Hey! It’s JJ. Sry I didn’t txt you last night, after cleaning up I went straight to sleep. I wanted to say it was nice meeting u and I hope to see u again. :)

Pressing send, JJ laid back on the hammock letting his mind wander about the girl. What was she like? Did she have any pets? JJ hoped she had a dog. What were her likes and dislikes? Was she single, and if she was would she even go for a guy like JJ? He couldn’t help but imagine her as a part of his life. He pictured them spending the day together at the beach, him teaching her how to surf and her not being good at it so they give up and just swim in the ocean, his arms wrapped around her waist and hers around his neck. Eventually he would get the courage to pull her in for a sweet kiss, imagining how she tastes. He imagines she would taste sweet, her lips soft and her tongue warm.

JJ’s daydream was cut short by the sound of footsteps approaching. He looked up and locked eyes with Pope. Swinging his legs over the edge and standing up, he rubbed his hands together walking towards his friend, “Ready to go?” JJ questioned.

“Yeah, but I told my pops we’d help him with a delivery before we go.” Pope told him while walking away from the chateau. JJ just groaned, wanting to go see Kie and get some food. Checking his phone once more before putting it in his pocket, JJ sighed seeing no response from Ella. It was stupid of him to get his hopes up, a beautiful girl like that giving him the time of day, as if. Shrugging it off, not letting it affect his mood, JJ picked up his pace and caught up with Pope, jumping into conversation, letting the boy’s rambling distract him from the small twinge in his heart at the thought of being rejected.

-

Back at the Wreck, Ella’s first day was going smooth. She had a few mishaps here and there but that was to be expected and Kiara was always right there to help her. Throughout the lulls in customers, Kiara and Ella got to talking. Having essentially known each other their whole lives, it was amazing how little they knew about each other. However, the conversation flowed seamlessly between the two, and they both could tell that they would end up being good friends.

The two girls were stood at the counter, giggling with each other, when they heard the bell above the door chime, signaling that it was time to go back to work. Kie grabbed a cloth and went to wipe down tables, preparing for whoever it was that walked in the door. Ella turned ready to great her new customers, when she froze, breath caught in her throat at the sight of JJ Maybank. He had yet to see her as his was searching the floor for Kie, ready to beg her for food. As he scanned the restaurant, his eyes skimmed past the girl standing behind the counter, having to do a double take JJ broke out into a grin once he realized who it was. Ella made eye contact with the blonde, timidly smiling, feeling a blush creep up on her cheeks. She was definitely more nervous, not only over the fact that he was even more attractive in the daylight, but she didn’t have any alcohol in her system to calm her and give her a confidence boost. JJ sauntered over to the counter to talk to the girl who’d been running through his mind while Pope made his way over to the table Kie was currently wiping down.

JJ couldn’t help but admire her natural beauty as she stood there in her uniform with her hair tied up in a messy ponytail, small pieces of her hair framing her face. She wore light makeup, only concealer under her eyes and mascara, but JJ still thought she was beautiful. He didn’t know she worked here, especially since they spent a lot of time at the Wreck as a group, he was sure he would have noticed her, and Kie didn’t mention any new hires. Sitting down in front of her, JJ felt his confidence waiver. She hadn’t responded to his text, so maybe she didn’t want to see him.

“Hi JJ.” She smiled at him lightly, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear, his confidence slowly rising.

“Hey.” He replied simply, “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Today’s my first day.”

“Ahh, well congrats on your first day, I think you’ll like it here.”

“I already do, everyone is super friendly and made me feel welcomed.”

“Well that’s great!”

A silence fell over the two, it wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t comfortable either. Ella was debating if she should bring up the fact that JJ never texted her. She didn’t want to seem desperate, but she was also playing into what her friends had planted in her mind, that JJ was only going to use her. She didn’t want to believe her friends, but she kept the wall up around her just in case, not wanting to get hurt. Meanwhile, sitting across from her, JJ’s brain was turning a mile a minute. He was trying to get a read on the girl, but to no avail. She kept herself heavily guarded and only let JJ see what she wanted him to see. It was frustrating. How was he supposed to get to know her if he couldn’t even pick up on subtle things?

“Are you gonna order anything or are you just gonna sit there?” Ella asked curiously, not trying to be rude but also not wanting to get in trouble with Mr. Carrera.

“That all depends, what time do you get off?”

Taken aback by his question, Ella shook her head lightly, “What does that have to do with if you’re going to order or not?”

“Well, if you work for a couple more hours, I’ll order so I’m not sitting here starving.” JJ said, even though he had every intention of just getting the food from Kie, knowing she would bring food out soon enough for the boys.

“I get off in 2 hours.” Ella stated simply, looking back down at her receipts making sure everything is in order.

Just as he was about to reply, Kiara came back over to the pair, ready to scold JJ for undoubtedly flirting with Ella. “JJ Maybank, you better not be harassing my newest employee, we need the help and I don’t need you scaring her off.” Kie half joked but was also half serious, she knew his tendencies and Ella was nice girl who didn’t need corrupted by her flirtatious friend. JJ put his hands up in surrender, “I wasn’t flirting, I promise.” At this Ella felt her heart break a little, of course he wasn’t flirting with her. She was just caught up in her crush, so she was seeing and hearing what she wanted to. Shaking her head and smiling at the two, Ella walked away, going to find anything to keep her busy and away from JJ.

JJ shot Kie a confused look, to which she just shrugged her shoulders. The boy went after Ella, wanting to continue to hang out with her and wanting to make sure they were still good. As he got up, Kie shot him a warning look, reminding him that she was there to work and not hang out. As Ella’s shift starts to wind down, she continues to entertain JJ’s antics while keeping focused on her work. While JJ continues to follow her around like a puppy, Pope and Kie sit in the back at a table just watching the two, bemused. It was weird for them to see JJ act this way, but it warmed their hearts that maybe JJ had a shot at love. They would have to tease him about it later.

Taking her place behind the counter one last time, with JJ sat in front of her on a bar stool, Ella started finishing up her tasks, ready to leave for the night.

“What are you doing after this?” JJ asked, noticing her finishing up and not ready to part ways.

“I was planning on going home and watching Netflix.”

“Would you maybe want to hang out more? I want to continue to get to know you.”

Ella felt her cheeks and neck heat up, agreeing, happy to spend time with the boy not during her work shift.

Clocking out and grabbing her stuff, she waved bye to Kie and Pope. Ella follows closely behind JJ, not sure what he had planned, if anything. JJ leads the two of them down to the beach, kicking off their shoes they start to walk along the warm sand. Falling into conversation easily, the two found a spot and sat down, sitting closer than necessary. In her head, Ella said that it was because it was a starting to get chilly with the breeze and the lack of sun, but really, she knew it was because she wanted to feel his skin on hers.

“So, am I not good enough to receive a text from the notorious JJ Maybank?” Ella joked, nudging her shoulder with JJ’s.

“I did text you. Because you are far more than good enough. You just never responded.” JJ looked at her confusedly, shrugging his shoulders trying to seem unbothered.

Pulling out her phone and going to her messages, she sees a message from an unknown number. Guilt washed through her and she smiled sheepishly at JJ as she added him to her contacts.

“I was at work already so I must not have seen it. And then you showed up, so I didn’t have to wonder if you texted me.”

JJ chuckled, teasing her lightly, “you were looking for my text?”

“I wouldn’t say looking so to say, but I wouldn’t have been upset at seeing your name on my screen.”

Slinging his arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer, he felt his insides warm at the thought of her wanting JJ to text her.

“I was nervous when you didn’t reply that maybe you didn’t want be friends.” JJ replied, mumbling under his breath hoping she didn't hear him.

She had heard him loud and clear. “Of course, I wanna be friends JJ” she smiled up at him, resting her head on his shoulder.

JJ smiled back down at her, happy she wanted to have him as a part of her life. The two continued to get to know each other, telling stories from their past, both cracking up at what the other would share. Neither was sure how things felt so easy, but they weren’t complaining. They were just soaking in everything about each other. Checking the time, Ella realized she had to get home as it was almost midnight and her shift ended almost 4 hours ago. JJ offered to walk her home, stopping outside her front door, he awkwardly shuffled back and forth with his hands in his pockets.

“I guess I’ll see you later then?” JJ asked, hoping that the girl would want to hang out again. Maybe he could bring her around the pogues.

“Sure. Text me when you get home, so I know you’re safe.” Ella said with a soft smile coating her face. JJ returned her smile with an “of course” before he turned around and started his commute back to the chateau.

Ella made her way into her house and up to her room, tip toeing, not wanting to wake her parents. Quietly making her way into her bathroom and taking a shower, Ella couldn’t help but smile to herself as she recounted her evening with the Maybank boy. She wished she could have taken a picture to remember how he looked in the moonlight as they sat by the water. She relinquished in the feeling of his arm around her, wishing it never had to have ended. All Ella wanted to do was text Sophia and Grace and tell them about her date, could she call it date? She didn’t even know; all she knew was she wanted to tell someone about what had happened. Instead she settled for squealing into her pillow and flopping on her bed. Shooting her friends, a text about how her first day went, leaving out the parts about JJ, not ready for them to remind her that he wasn’t good for her. She opened their text thread and sent him a message;

To JJ: Had a really nice time tonight. Thank you for making my first day at work one to remember :)

Pressing send, Ella turned over and fell asleep, hoping to dream about the boy with ocean blue eyes.

-

JJ walked into the chateau and was greeted by John B sitting on the couch watching some reality show on the TV. Nodding to his friend, he went to the kitchen to grab himself a beer and joined John B on the couch. Upon sitting down, John B smirked at him, just waiting for him to notice. Feeling his gaze, JJ looked over, confused at the look on his face as he brought his beer bottle up to his lips.

“What?” JJ asked incredulously.

“Nothing. Nothing. Just Kie and Pope stopped by, said you went off with the girl from the kegger. Ella was it?” he continued to smirk when he noticed JJ start to blush.

“Shut up. We’re just getting to know each other.”

“Uh huh, ‘getting to know each other’. JJ you have never gotten to know a girl, you’ve always been a love ‘em and leave ‘em type”

“I don’t know man. Somethings just different with her. When she bumped into me, I just felt this almost instant connection with her. Like she was meant to bump into me. I can’t explain, all I know is I enjoy her company.”

John B smiled at his friend, seeing how much Ella already meant to the boy even though they really just met.

“Bring her around some time. If she means that much to you already then I’m sure she’ll mean a lot to us as well.”

“I will. For sure. Just maybe not yet, I don’t even know if she likes me and I don’t need you guys fucking this up for me, at least not more than I’m bound to.” JJ didn’t want to think about his destructive tendencies when it came to relationships. He wasn’t ready to let this one go.

“I’m offended that you think we would fuck this up for you, but I get it. I really do.” John B knew how his friend could get, so he would do everything in his power to make sure that this worked out in his favor, even if that meant postponing meeting the girl that seemed to have captured JJ's heart. He wanted nothing than to see his friend be happy.

“Yeah, yeah. You know I love you guys. I’m gonna go to bed, I’ll see you in the morning” JJ stated before making his way into the guest room before collapsing on the bed. Shooting Ella a text, seeing she already texted him, he grinned to himself.

To Ella: Had a really nice time 2night too :) I got back safe, maybe we could hang tmrw if ur not busy? Just lmk! Good night Ella :)

JJ expected that the girl was probably already in bed so he turned off his light, crawling under the covers, falling asleep while scrolling through his phone, looking forward to the days to come.

[snapecanslytherinin]

How are they still employed??

I hope you enjoy!! No warnings just fun times!!!

Word count: 2099

..........................................

How they got employed? Well that is relatively easy to answer; they all aspired to be a part of the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virginia and showed great strengths with the ability to easily pinpoint the places the criminals would flee, along with having an outstanding skill in getting information from them that they needed. How they STAYED employed? I can promise you that it is a mystery to each of them at this point. Between the pranks they pull, how much they truly annoy Strauss and how they all barely manage to turn in paperwork done correctly and on time, it is truly an American mystery by now.

There is the time that Kira was caught posting criminal dick pics on Strauss' facebook account, thank god Aaron was the one to catch Kira, or they may have gone missing. Or the time Vel kept hacking the main sound system and played emo hits for the entire day which only made her sad. Then you have the time that Sammy 'kept telling Reid blatantly incorrect facts which ended with him crying in Hotch's office and Hotch taking away Sammy's internet at work for a week. While they may be crucial to the team and how they function, everyone has thought about giving them three their own office to share, hoping to keep the chaos controlled. I feel the best way to explain how these heroes function is just a list of the chaos from the past month.

Kira

1. Monday morning, at precisely 8:30, the bull pen is filled with the sound of a scream from Vel who is currently standing on Reid's desk, using him as a personal shield. Hotch comes flying out of his office, only to see a cackling Kira in the corner and instantly knows Vel has been pranked. Sighing and walking to the back of her desk he sees a rubber realist spider, and rips it off from where its taped. Kira instantly knows they are in trouble when they see the famous Hotchner glare.

"My office. Now."

2. "So how do you think he will react?" Kira asks perched at the edge of Sammy's desk.

"I don't know, but keep me out of it. I'm still in trouble for stapling Hotch's tie to the desk." Before Kira could react, a bombing Italian voice sounds from behind them.

"Kira, I know you are the culprit. Stop putting pasta sauce in my drawers. Do you understand how infuriating it is to expect a pen but get A JAR OF PASTA?!?"

3. Sitting in front of the criminal with Emily at Kira's side, they stare dead at the creep, surprisingly making them shift uncomfortably in the seat avoiding eye contact. The team needed information and decided that Kira was best fit to make him regret ever keeping a secret.

"So" Kira finally speaks up, " you like to murder people huh?"

"Yeah, sure. Why else would I do it?" They answer back sarcastically?"

"Tell me, how would you murder me?"

Walking from the interrogation room, criminal pulled off behind them, Kira walks straight to Hotch, a Proud look across their face, Vel and Sammy running over to hear the news.

"How did you get him to talk?" Hotch questions, a weary eyebrow raised.

"Well I asked how he would murder me, and he isn't a sexual sadist, so APPARENTLY vigorously letting out sexual moans when he explains what he would do and talking about getting some alone time together, it can really make a murderer uncomfortable, and fess up."

Vel

1. Rolling in to the bull pen, Vel slides by Morgan and spins to face the others desk, sitting on top of her own, slushie in hand. Losing a deal with Kira, Vel had to show up to work in roller skates, and deciding to spice it up some, she chose to add heart sunglasses, a work appropriate red flared skirt and a FBI navy shirt she found at a goodwill a year back.

"What in the world are you wearing?" Morgan asks a smile making an appearance.

"I lost a bet, so this is my work outfit. Nowhere does it say I can't wear roller skates. The sunglasses and space buns are just to add to the effect. I think it's very work appropriate!"

The first two hours of the day went along without a hitch until she was called into Strauss' office, for some unknown reason.

"What are you wearing Agent?"

"Well ma'am, I looked through the entire handbook and it says nothing about roller skates, my skirt is the correct length, and if I'm honest, I think I look amazing."

She was excused from the office since, she was correct and Strauss couldn't say a word about it, having her get back to work. Instead of doing the files she needed done, she chose bother Morgan by trying to talk him into getting a pair, showing them off to a proud Rossi and also getting avoid by Hotch, since every time they crossed paths, Vel would grab his sleeve for a free ride, and he refused to let the office see him cackling at the interaction he actually found amusing.

2. It was a rainy Friday afternoon, which resulted in Vel choosing to stay in for lunch, and bug the shit out of Hotch until he murdered her, or found a way to shoo her off; which would be quite hard, because she knew how to talk her way out of a goodbye, jesus does this child have issues? (yes)

Hanging upside on the couch, legs crossed over the back, Vel sat there as a disgruntled Hotch was placed a few feet away at his desk, trying to finish his current pile of work.

"Do you think star fish have feelings?"

"I don't know, Vel."

"Would you kiss Rossi for 500 bucks?"

"I'd rather choke."

"If I lost my voice what would you do?"

"Cry happy tears, probably."

"Fuck, marry, kill; Me, Morgan, JJ?"

"Language, Agent."

"Answer the question."

"Kill Foyet, get rich, never play this game again."

"Nothing about that answer was correct!"

"Fine, fuck, marry, kill, me or Morgan. Only two choices."

"Kill myself."

"WHY ARE YOU SO BAD AT THIS!!"

"You are super pretty, Hotch, you know that?"

"Thank you. Please shut up."

"Do you like me?"

"I can't imagine where I would be without you and the other two migraines."

That left a smiling Hotch and a quite Vel, choosing to take a nap, now tired from all of her questions. Plus who could pass up a nap on his couch?

Sammy

1. "No okay, but hear me out, Reid. It's a talking Mongoose!"

"It isn't real Sammy! why would you believe that!"

It is the last time Reid will insult Sammy's cryptids, I mean what kind of monster do you have to be to argue with Sammy about something so fun and exciting!

It is a week later on the jet, coming back from a long case in Ohio and everyone is thrilled to finally go home. After take off everyone does their own things, Hotch and JJ do some finalizing on paperwork, Morgan listens to music, Rossi and Emily share a drink, Kira and Vel watch a horror movie together, which normally Sammy would join, but instead he sits next to boy genius, rereading a book.

"Wanna play some chess?" He asks with a chipper tone.

"Of course Sam, I'd love to!"

Pulling the board over to them, Sam asks if Reid will grab them some drinks, to which he obliges leaving Sammy alone with the board. Quickly setting up the pieces, he adds a little extra love to Spencer's pieces, him arriving shortly after.

"Let's get this game started!" Trying to move a black piece, Spencer's eyes grow wide before letting out a girlish screech, realizing that Sammy glued his pieces down to the chess board.

While that action got him work grounded for two months, and the out of pocket money to buy a new board, Sammy was content, and Reid learned to not question the cryptids ever again.

2. Sammy wasn't one to often interrogate, usually bored by the slow place or ready to fist fight the room's occupant, but when he does enter that work area you can imagine, just like Kira and Vel, he himself also has an interrogation quirk that shows itself in each case.

"Listen, just fess up to the fucking murder, and I'll hand over the candy of mine you've been eyeing the entire time."

"THIS IS THE LAST TIME I WILL ASK! ARE YOU GOING TO ADMIT TO FIRST DEGREE MURDER, IF I CAN PROMISE YOU'LL GET A LIFE TIME SUPPLY OF COOL RANCH DORITOS!?!?"

"Okay I know this is super serious, and I usually offer the snacks to the criminals for information, but Hotch, if I can talk Vel into sharing her Mac n Cheese cups with you on the jet, will you go drink some water, you look like you could pass out."

All of that is relatively normal, but the next encounter is not something anyone on the team expected to happen, and frankly, caused Vel to have to use her inhaler from laughing so damn hard.

There the team sat, a long dark wood table in the court room, under their clasped hands as they awaited the trial for themselves. The BAU has gotten in trouble before, but when they failed to remove all by standers before trying to take down and apprehend a bomber, resulting in injuries, there they all stood on trial for their actions. In front of them were the supervisory board, all very scary mean looking men, who were bound to scare Penelope and Vel more than any criminal they've seen before. Each person got their own moment alone with the board to speak, although he others were still near by and could hear the events of each private session. Sammy's came third to last, passing Emily who was on her way out. Sitting down he crossed his arms on the table and looked as professional as Hotch could convince him to, waiting for the question to be asked. After arguing with them for what seemed like every question, Sammy had, had enough and knew he was going to be suspended anyways, so thought to have at least a good exiting line.

“Would you like a snickers, Sir? They say you aren’t you when you’re hungry and you are being annoying as fuck right now.”

With that last comment he was excused with a week extra of suspension, but he couldn't care less. He got to get away from that grouch bag and that's just an extra week to go visit his favorite folklore.

THE THREE PIGEONS (DON'T ASK, NO ONE KNOWS)

1. No day was greater for the pigeons, than when they decided to hide tiny plastic babies around the office. They put them where ever they could manage; in everyone's coffee cups, taped to pens, glued to paperclips. The best was when Hotch when to open his bottom desk drawer only to find it filled with tiny babies, the look on his face causing the trio to burst out laughing, and out themselves as the culprits.

2. When I tell you they like to mess with Hotch, I mean this man can never get a moment of silence when they are around (Even though he enjoys their company, he would never admit it) which brings us to the great season of summer, when he couldn't get them vacation time to go camping, he walked into his office the next day, to see a tent step up in the center of the room and his furniture pushed to the side. On the floor sat the group, in pjs, laying in sleeping bags and watching a movie on a tv they somehow managed to get in. The day was filled with forcing to watch one with them on his lunch break, having to quiet the laughter when he got a phone call, and by the end of the day, the whole team was in Hotch's office to do paperwork and enjoy the "camping".

Although they create mass chaos and definitely made some things harder than they have to be, the team would be lost without them, and they sure in hell would be lost without each other in this work force. Now just wait until you hear the story of how they become the BAU teams fuck toys ;) [for legal reasons that last comment was a joke....unlessssss]

@davidrossi-ismydad @good-heavens-chris-evans

[punkscowardschampions]

Jac & Amelia

Jac: Are you okay? My parents would've paid for a cab if they weren't sober enough to drive you back Amelia: My dad was [somewhere nearby cos JJ live in town] Jac: Oh, right Jac: you seized your opportunity then, alright Jac: Is still should've gone with to make sure Amelia: I didn't want her to, she was in too excitable a mood Jac: lol, can't really fault you that Jac: you got a headache, yeah? Amelia: I got the aura so I knew it was time to leave, last time I ignored that I was sick everywhere Jac: That's fair Jac: you do not want that unless you've had a really wild night Amelia: sorry I didn't say bye Jac: well that's okay, if you didn't have time Jac: we were just worried Amelia: is Is okay? I was probably a bit rude to her Jac: Don't worry, she seems fine Jac: you know her Amelia: yeah Amelia: alright cool Jac: make sure you stay hydrated, yeah Jac: and no more screentime Amelia: I'll 😴 it off if I can Jac: Sounds like a plan 🙂 Amelia: it sounds 😕 but I couldn't stay Jac: you can't help that you get migraines Jac: it must be so crap for you Amelia: we've all got crap to deal with Amelia: I wouldn't swap Sav for hers Jac: 😢 I know Jac: she deals so well, considering how fresh it all is Amelia: Where's her boyfriend at? It's not technically a night you can get away with chucking fireworks at your mates or cars Jac: Out on the lash with his mates Jac: or something Amelia: very supportive Jac: yeah, I know Jac: oh well, she had us Amelia: you, you mean Jac: are you not her friend too? Amelia: that's up for debate, but she'd win it over me Amelia: so it probably depends what she wants the answer to be Amelia: and who's asking Jac: She definitely views you as a friend Amelia: okay Jac: No, come on, you don't think she does? Amelia: I know she doesn't Jac: Why do you think that? Amelia: I know it because she's said a handful of words to me lately & all of them are in some way bitchy or patronising Jac: How many have you said to her? Jac: and how nice have you been to her? Amelia: I don't like her, I'm not going to act like I do Jac: Then the issue is a you thing, isn't it Jac: Savannah does like you, and it's not really on to say you know otherwise, simply because that's how you feel about her Amelia: no, it's a me and her clash Amelia: it isn't one-sided Jac: Okay, if you say so Jac: but I don't see her trying to start anything with you, and like I said, I've told you she's told me privately that she likes you Jac: she knows you aren't her biggest fan though Amelia: she would say that to you Jac: Now you're being ridiculous Amelia: no I'm not, she wants me to look like I'm the dickhead and it's clearly working Jac: well no, what she wants is friends who can support her through this tough time and not make her life any more shit Jac: I really do not think she has the time, never mind the desire, to play games to make you look like some kind of villain ??? Jac: we seriously do not need to be that dramatic about things Amelia: fine Jac: it clearly isn't but I'm not going to agree with you Jac: you're not feeling well right now, you're just lashing out Amelia: you sound as patronising as her now Jac: for giving you an excuse for your behaviour? Jac: it's being gracious Amelia: I don't need to be fucking excused Amelia: I haven't done anything wrong Jac: You're being rude to Savannah and now you're being rude to me Jac: you're attacking and saying you're being attacked Jac: just calm down and we can come back to this when you aren't in such a state Amelia: yeah because she's the only one whose dramatics you indulge Amelia: I haven't been rude to her, I've made an effort Amelia: it doesn't change my opinion Jac: You're accusing her of having some plot right now, also of not liking you, being bitchy and patronising...yeah, that's rude, Amelia Jac: and oddly enough, when she went off crying, it was not about you Jac: call it dramatics if you want, but I'd say her home life situation warrants more empathy and listening to than whatever this idea, about us being against you or something, that you've concocted does Amelia: I'm not on her radar when she isn't subtly slagging me off or wishing I'd fuck off, obviously it wasn't about me Amelia: the latter is way less subtle though Jac: You're right in that I'm not indulging this Jac: you're just wrong, that's it Jac: but if you won't listen to reason, and me, then there's nothing else I can do to change your mind Amelia: you wanting me to be wrong doesn't make me wrong Jac: you having no proof for her dislking you, bar the fact you dislike her, doesn't make it true Jac: if you want to walk around thinking people have a problem with you when they don't, that's your call Jac: it's sad but it's clearly an internal issue Amelia: there's proof in every group chat if you want to go back & read it Jac: the fact you're in a group chat together, to plan to do stuff, to talk, kinda negates that Amelia: no it doesn't Jac: totally, when you hate someone and want them to fuck off, you choose to spend time talking to them when you don't have to Amelia: she doesn't spend any time talking to me Jac: well it isn't a private chat Jac: do you expect her to ignore me and Is? Jac: if you wanna have a 1x1 she'd be more than happy, like Amelia: Oh, she ignores Is plenty Amelia: but that's not my fight to have Jac: 🙄 I can assure you, we understand how DMs work Jac: if we wanted to talk just us, we would, and do Jac: and Is seems fine to me, like I said Amelia: great Jac: 🤷 okay then Amelia: 👋 Jac: I hope you feel better when you wake up Amelia: thanks Jac: Night Amelia: goodnight Jac: [hope you do go to sleep so you don't see those gay ass stories] Amelia: [you know she will because she's not actually sick soz gal] Jac: [i mean, you do have 24 hours so bit of a long shot when you're this in love lol] Amelia: [everyone gonna be seeing it including Ty who has been lowkey ignored all night as well] Amelia: [we should say she writes something but then deletes it so Jac only knows she deleted it for the sheer gay drama of it] Jac: [none of y'all got invites to this sleepover, but yes 1000%] Jac: ? Amelia: 🤨 Jac: butt-dial? Amelia: why would I be sitting on my phone? Amelia: I'm not thrashing about with a 🤒 Jac: I don't know why you'd delete a message either Jac: unless you sent me something really 💦 meant for someone else, in which case I wanna know anyway Amelia: I can nurse myself Amelia: though there are loads of lads who would put me to sleep Jac: 🙀 Amelia! Amelia: no Amelia: 🥱 NOT whatever you're thinking Jac: Sure 😉😂 Amelia: 😣 Jac: So grouchy Jac: I'd know if you were texting someone Amelia: would you? Jac: of course Jac: what secret have you ever kept from me? Amelia: I didn't need to before Jac: you don't need to now Jac: you aren't going to shock me with your thirst Amelia: I'm staying hydrated like you instructed Amelia: there's nothing to tell, which is why I pressed delete Jac: What did you say? Amelia: if I repeat it there was literally no point in deleting it Amelia: so no, nothing Jac: Well why did you? Amelia: because it's 😳 Jac: how 😳 can it be Jac: we've known each other at our most cringe Amelia: that was us both being awkward not just me making a massive tit of myself Jac: rude Jac: you're meant to disagree Amelia: alright, I'll lie Jac: you're already being very sneaky, you may as well Amelia: okay Jac: no, tell me, dickhead! Amelia: rude Jac: you're rude Jac: you know you can't just take back a message Amelia: I have & I win Jac: you can't do it without leaving evidence Jac: and I'm not just going to drop it Amelia: 🙄 Jac: why are you saying shit to my virtual face then Amelia: how else am I supposed to speak to you? Jac: I'm not going to apparate into your room 'cos you fancy having a go Jac: don't be a baby, what did you say Amelia: maybe I was saying sorry but you're so undeserving I took it back Amelia: that'd be fitting Jac: oh right, your whole conspiracy theory Jac: you forgot for a hot sec you believed in that, yeah, sure Amelia: it's typical of you to only give a shit about what I'm trying to say when I'm not saying it anymore Jac: you left without saying anything earlier Jac: then you wouldn't speak to me 'cos you were in a huff but yeah, pop off Amelia: I didn't have time to search your 🏠 for you earlier Jac: and I said it was okay but don't act like I was ignoring you Amelia: you were Amelia: but I get it, Savannah's in greater need Jac: oh my God, do you actually get it though Jac: like could you Jac: because this is really gross Amelia: of course I do, her parents are mental and it's horrible Jac: I mean, nicely put Jac: so you don't need to be snippy with me about needing to spend like 10 minutes alone so she can talk about it without my whole family standing around Amelia: I was the one who told you, ages ago, so you already know what I mean Amelia: and I'm not, I'm explaining why I left without saying anything before you hold it against me any harder Jac: you aren't just explaining though, because that was never the question Jac: you said I was ignoring YOU Jac: I said it was fine you left, you had a migraine Amelia: because it's not just about 10 minutes alone so she can cry on your shoulder and you fucking know it's not Jac: you don't like her Amelia: she takes over everything, including my birthday Jac: She was just trying to make sure you had a nice time Amelia: then why didn't I? Amelia: if she really cares so much about what I want, why wasn't it perfect? Jac: She's not a miracle worker Jac: I'm just saying she tried, can you fault someone for having good intentions? Amelia: she cares about you two having a good time, she doesn't try with me Amelia: because guess what, chucking money at something doesn't actually count Amelia: you used to know that Jac: you can't say how much she does or doesn't try Jac: maybe she's really trying, and I happen to think she is, and I've got it on better authority than you Jac: as you said, it's not as if she's had close friends before really Jac: you could give her a break instead of being ungrateful about it Amelia: you could give me a break Jac: no, you're being mean Jac: and blaming her for problems you're having Jac: like how dare she treat you? Amelia: the problem is that you used to care how I feel about things and apparently now you don't Jac: I can care without indulging pointless bitchery Jac: if you told me what was actually wrong with you, I'd listen, I'd do whatever I could to help, you know that Amelia: no, you're not listening Jac: You aren't saying anything Jac: you keep slagging Savannah off, and I counter that and then you stop Jac: what is actually going on Amelia: I've been saying the same thing this entire time, for fuck's sake Jac: When you wanna say what's actually going on with you, and think about that in a way that doesn't involve Savannah Jac: then I'm here waiting Amelia: I don't want to spend time with her, I want to spend it with you Amelia: Why can't we literally EVER? Why does she have to be involved in literally everything? Jac: We do spend time without her Jac: but we can't exclude her when she wants to be involved, she's our friend Amelia: she's not my friend Amelia: I'm trying, I am Jac: okay, she's my friend though Jac: we can spend time together, alright Amelia: okay Jac: pick a day, pick something to do, let me know Amelia: sure, put me on the spot Jac: 🙄 god, not RIGHT now Jac: but give me something more committal than that 'okay' or it won't happen Amelia: okay!! Amelia: are you happy now? Amelia: I just said how much I miss you Jac: like I'm that desperate for attention, again, rude Amelia: clearly not if I have to be the one begging you for yours Jac: oh hush Jac: I invited you to something like, literally 5 seconds ago Jac: you were the one that ruined it with your 🤕 Amelia: I didn't mean to ruin anything Jac: I'm joking Jac: I'll survive Amelia: I'm serious Amelia: and sorry, obviously Jac: it's fine, actually fine Jac: you shouldn't worry about it Amelia: if you want me to try harder, I'll try harder, alright Jac: I'd appreciate it Jac: I think she would too, and you Jac: getting along would just be easier Jac: you don't have to be like, her own personally cheerleader Amelia: I can't work miracles either Jac: you said you'd try Jac: I don't know why it's so hard for you but I can't really ask more than that Amelia: you really don't get it? Jac: No, I really don't Amelia: okay Jac: I'll leave you to it Amelia: bye again Jac: You have planning to do Amelia: you love a competition Amelia: what happens if I lose? Jac: What competition? Jac: I'm not planning anything Amelia: so it's a test instead Amelia: it's the same question Jac: we can still hang out, as you asked Jac: I'll just be bored if you pick something boring, I suppose Amelia: when have I EVER picked anything boring? Jac: 🤷 Jac: we'll see Amelia: don't 🤷 at me Amelia: you've never been bored Jac: you're so touchy 😂 Jac: I can't do anything Friday, by the way, so don't pick Friday Amelia: do you want to assign me a day? Jac: Probably Sunday Jac: I'm working after school every other day Jac: Saturday is up in the air right now Amelia: alright Jac: free time is just not a thing I have Amelia: I know, I'm not touchy about that bit Jac: I'm not going to sit here and tell you you're not boring, Amelia Jac: what kind of midlife crisis Amelia: Shut up, I don't need that from you Amelia: I'm well aware Jac: 👉😠 Amelia: you don't need to teach me sign language either Jac: you're gonna side with the 12 year old asshole on that, are you Jac: yeah that's about right mentality wise 🙄 Amelia: according to you there aren't any sides, we're all friends and everything is 🌹y Amelia: so no Jac: Jude isn't our friend, she's my sister and she's a little bitch sometimes Amelia: yeah, again, I know Amelia: Savannah's the one who needs family introductions Jac: She knows who everyone is Jac: you're being so whiny, it's just annoying now Amelia: leave me to it then, that's what you said you were going to do Jac: Yeah, and I definitely will now Jac: christ, is it any wonder I'm not electing to spend time with just you Jac: think about it Amelia: It's already all I think about Amelia: I don't want to fight with you Jac: it's not hard, Amelia Jac: as I said, Savannah doesn't devote her time to bitching about you, or anyone else Jac: nor does she walk around with a massive strop on all the time Amelia: I'm sorry Amelia: what do you want me to say? Jac: Just stop acting like this Amelia: I'm not acting like anything, that's the problem Amelia: it's how I feel Jac: You're gonna have to sort it out Jac: it's not healthy for you Jac: or good for us or anyone else Amelia: I said I'll try Jac: you've got to Jac: it's for your own best interest Amelia: yeah Jac: yeah Amelia: 👋

[builder051]

Look at this photograph (Criminal Minds sickfic)

This is a repost from A03.  I also write Criminal Minds.  Here!  Look!

I’m not exactly 100% happy with how this came out, but people seem to really like it.  I know the title kind of sucks.

Contains migraines and vomiting, as well as mentions of violence (what do you expect? it’s criminal minds.)

When Spencer arrives at the BAU, he has the vague feeling that something’s off.  It has nothing to do with the packet of disturbing photos waiting on his desk.  Unfortunately, teenaged girls with bashed in faces aren’t too unusual in his line of work.  Spencer fills his coffee mug, adds sugar, and sits to peruse the file.  Hotch and Garcia will certainly fill in the details when the team moves to the conference room in a few minutes, but Spencer likes to try to deduce as much as he can first.

The pictures show three girls, all with long, stringy light brown hair, crumpled on the floor in various untidy rooms.  The background of the images looks like the low-pile carpet and dark paneled walls common in mobile homes.  These girls were probably the sweethearts of their trailer trash community.  Why would someone kill them?

Spencer takes another swig of coffee.  He can practically feel the warm liquid running into his stomach, and it’s less comforting than usual.  It feels sloshy, almost sickening.  The sensation of not-quite-rightness is back, and now it’s amplified.  Spencer wonders vaguely if he’s coming down with something, but he doesn’t feel ill.  He has a mild headache, but that’s normal considering the cloudy weather and his usual insomnia.  Conditions are rife for a migraine, but the usual vision-stealing aura doesn’t seem to be approaching.  Spencer’s stomach feels fine, but he has no appetite, apparently not even for coffee.  He doesn’t feel feverish, but he has a desire to curl in on himself and pull his wool sweater tightly around his body.  He doesn’t feel good.  Not in the sense that he necessarily feels sick.  Just that the needle on the meter of his physical well-being is stuck in neutral; it hasn’t ticked up into the green zone of good.

Spencer opens his top desk drawer and gazes down at the contents.  It’s a disorganized mass of small office supplies and random items.  A spare roll of tape sits partially on top of several large rubber bands and beside a miniature figurine of the Incredible Hulk.  Two bottles of Excedrin and a bottle of ibuprofen float in the mess, and Spencer briefly considers which he wants.  He’s not really in pain, but craves something to take away his discomfort.  Better over-the-counter than something else.

He chooses the Excedrin since it contains caffeine and he seems to be having trouble getting his fix in liquid form today.  Spencer dry swallows two pills, remembering and subsequently ignoring that he should probably take them with food.  He leaves the bottle out on the desk, upside-down, and looks back at the photos in the file.

Spencer’s suddenly filled with apathy.  He’s looked, made some deductions.  He’ll learn more in the briefing.  Given their track record, the team will probably catch the perp.  And none of it will bring back three dead girls.  Spencer folds his arms on top of the desk and lowers his head to rest on his hands.

He closes his eyes and flips through a series of mental photographs.  One of the younger murdered girls laying on a pink bedspread on the floor, a stack of toppled Nancy Drew hardcovers beside her.  Morgan leaning confidently against the driver side door of his new black BMW, arms crossed and mirrored sunglasses covering his smiling eyes.  The evergreen-colored pill bottle sitting cap down on Spencer’s dark wood desk, the expiration date showing that he had approximately three months to generate enough headaches to finish the bottle before it becomes ineffective.

“You ok, Spence?” a soft, slightly concerned voice says from over his right shoulder.  Spencer slowly sits upright to avoid dizziness.  Nonetheless, vertigo catches up by the time he swivels his chair to see the speaker.  It’s JJ, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Spencer says, rubbing the back of his hand across his forehead, which feels like it might bear an imprint of his sweater’s cable-knit cuff.  He pulls his eyes down from her face to the pale tan folders she holds against her chest.  Spencer closes the file on his desk and snatches it up, sending the Excedrin bottle tumbling in the process.

JJ tracks the green plastic as it rolls across the desk and bounces onto the floor.  Spencer quickly bends to retrieve it, and his sinuses throb as he tosses it back onto the desk surface.  “Headache?” JJ asks.

It’s hard to lie to JJ, even when she hasn’t seen the evidence.  Spencer mentally smooths out a half-truth before saying, “Yeah, just didn’t sleep that well.”  He did have a fractured night—real sleep from 11:30 to 3, then a series of nightmare-punctuated drowses until he finally just got up at 4:45 and flopped on the couch with the War and Peace audiobook.  He neglects to mention that he’s been through the same routine every night for the past 27 days.

“It’s tough when we can barely count on 12 hours at home before it’s time for another case,” JJ says as the two of them start across the bullpen to the conference room.  “Hopefully we’re going somewhere far away so you can nap on the jet…”

They’re not.  The murders occurred relatively nearby in Appalachian coal country, where the local population’s collectively ill with poverty, black lung disease, and water contamination.  It’s under an hour to fly to West Virginia, complete with takeoff and landing procedures.  The flight’s uncomfortable, but Spencer white-knuckles his way through it, hoping no one makes assumptions based on his pale face and aversion to the coffee machine.  Approaching weather creates turbulence and adds to the uneasiness in Spencer’s stomach.

Once they’ve landed and exited out to the cloudy runway strip, he sticks with JJ and slides into the backseat of one of the local police cruisers that’s waiting to drive the team into town.  He puts up barriers with his demeanor to ensure no one tries asking if he’s ok.  Not just because he’s annoyed and embarrassed, but because he still doesn’t really know.  He feels slightly better after leaving the jet, but the weather system is adding pressure to the headache and his stomach is stuck in the not-quite-nauseous state that follows eating too much birthday cake or chugging some revolting vegetable juice.  Like the body is saying I don’t need to actively reject it, but I just want to reinforce that I don’t like this.  So here, feel sick for a while and think about your actions.

***

He makes it through the day on a stream of I’m busy and have we looked into this angle yet?  Spencer hasn’t taken a second to think about himself, though he’s still sitting on the verge of unwell. When it’s time for dinner, he’s out of excuses.

The whole team knows he’s barely eaten all day, and there’s only one restaurant in town that’s not a fast-food joint.  Emily rounds up some borrowed umbrellas from the local PD, and the team proceeds to walk across the street for a shared meal.  Spencer’s so tired he’d rather go back to the hotel and try to sleep, but there’s no way he’ll get out of dinner without serious inquiries about his health.

Once in the diner, the six profilers are herded into an enormous round booth, which is touted as the best seat in the house.  Spencer tries to position himself on the end, but Morgan slides in beside him at the last minute.  Their server passes around menus and promises to return with water that no one plans on drinking.

Spencer scans the menu, not really taking in the list of homestyle, greasy fare.  The whole place has a slightly stale, oily scent.  He sets the laminated pamphlet on the sticky table surface.  His hands are trembling, so he can’t hold it steady.

It’s hot, especially with the booth’s close quarters.  Spencer feels his forehead, hands, and feet growing clammy, and suddenly he’s overwhelmingly nauseated.  He leans back in the booth and takes a deep breath, willing the feeling to pass.

Morgan looks up from his menu and glances at Spencer, who imagines all color has drained from his face.  “You ok?”  Morgan asks.

Spencer fully intends to respond that he’s fine, but when he opens his mouth, he feels like vomit might come with the words.  He stands and gestures for Morgan to get up and let him out of the booth.  “Just—sorry,” he chokes.

Spencer walks quickly but smoothly to the bathroom, trying not to jostle his stomach.  He pushes into the stall without bothering to lock the door and immediately retches over the toilet.  There’s nothing to bring up, but his body still contracts, intent on expelling something even if it’s just air and saliva.

The second heave is just as unproductive, but it leaves Spencer dizzy and off-balance.  His knees give out, and he grips the wobbly toilet seat and sinks down onto the unclean floor.  Spencer feels like his eyes are rolling up in his head as he retches a third time and finally vomits.  It’s barely a tablespoon of bile, so sour it makes his eyes water and leaves him coughing.

“Reid?”  A voice says his name, and the sound is muddled with footsteps, the creak of the stall door, and Spencer’s own ragged breathing.  There’s a hand on his shoulder, light and comforting. Feels like Morgan.

“Alright, it’s ok,” Morgan soothes as Spencer hacks.  Strings of mucous hang into the toilet.  A final dry heave works its way up from Spencer’s contracting abdomen, and he grunts from the pain and bitter saliva.

“It’s alright,” Morgan intones again, sweeping his hand between Spencer’s shoulder blades.  Spencer shudders and coughs, then tries to spit out as much of the bitter taste as he can.  His eyes and nose are dripping, and his entire body feels damp and dirty.  Contaminated.  Like he’s sweating out toxins that are collecting on his skin.

“Ok,” Morgan says calmly, still gently rubbing Spencer’s back.  They sit there, Spencer still hanging over the toilet, for a silent moment.  Then Morgan asks.  “Think you’re done?”

Spencer hopes he is.  The imminent nausea has passed, but he still has an aching stomach, raw throat, and dizzy head.  “Yeah,” he croaks, pushing up on his arms and lifting his head and chest from the toilet seat.  Spencer turns his body and leans against the stall wall, slouching so his head doesn’t come into contact with the toilet paper dispenser.

“Ok, good,” Morgan says.  He reaches up and flushes the toilet, though it still looks clean.  He leans against the stall wall opposite Spencer, their legs awkwardly crunched and touching knee-to-knee in the small space.

Another minute of quiet passes, then Morgan invites conversation.  “Talk to me, pretty boy,” he says.  “What’s going on with you?”

Spencer takes a deep breath.  “I, uh,” he starts, throat still raw and sore.  “I don’t know.  I was fine.  Then just got really nauseated…”

“Yeah, got that part,” Morgan says, still calm, but with a hint of impatient sarcasm.  “But you’ve been off your game since this morning.  Tell me, for real, what’s up with you today?  You think you’re sick?”

Spencer shakes his head and looks down at his knees, avoiding Morgan’s gaze.

“Do you have a migraine?”  Morgan asks, offering another explanation for Spencer to grasp.

It would be easy to just nod an affirmative, but Spencer lacks the motivation even to do that.  He shrugs

“Kid,” Morgan warns.  It’s clear his subtext says don’t lie to me.

“I have a—a headache,” he says, pausing to swallow.  “Not that bad.  Not light-sensitive.  At least not yet.” Spencer tries to explain, closing his eyes and massaging his forehead.

“Is it making your stomach sick?”  Morgan presses.

“No,” Spencer sighs.  Then, “I don’t know.”  He can’t even begin to explain what he’s feeling.  He can’t even begin to understand it.

“Ok,” Morgan says.  “Have you eaten today?”

Spencer swallows hard again and still doesn’t make eye contact when he slowly shakes his head.  “Not hungry.”

“Yeah, I know.”  Morgan places a hand on Spencer’s knee.  “But you’re probably nauseous because you’re empty.  You’re just completely out of energy, and your body’s freaking out.”

Spencer vaguely nods.  He knows this.  The unsettledness is returning, but not in an urgent way.  It’s just annoying.  And exacerbated by the growing feeling of stupidity Morgan’s questions are bringing on.

“You’re probably dehydrated,” Morgan continues.  “D’you want—”

Spencer interrupts him with a hoarsely muttered, “Can you stop?”  Spencer’s on the verge of tears, and he isn’t completely sure why.

“What?  Yeah, kid.  Sorry,” Morgan backtracks, getting his voice back to pure comforting calm.  “You didn’t do anything wrong.  I’m just worried about you.  We all are.”

Spencer exhales and presses fingers to the corners of his eyes.  “I know,” he whispers.  “I just…I feel all…” He tries to find a word for the turbulence of physical and mental sensations swirling inside him, but all he can come up with is profanity.  “…fucked up,” Spencer says.  “And I don’t know why.”

“It’s alright,” Morgan reassures.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to now,” Morgan says.  “You don’t have to talk to me.  But eventually Hotch has to know.”

All Spencer can do is sigh.  “Yeah.”

Morgan gives him another minute, then asks, “You ready to get up?”

“I don’t want to go back out.”

“You have to, eventually,” Morgan says.  “You’ll probably feel a lot better once you drink some water, have something to eat…”

“But I don’t—” Spencer has a hard time getting the words out.  “I don’t want to talk to anyone.”  He feels like shit, and he’s mortified about it.  The other profilers are probably just worried and eager to help, but to Spencer, it’s overwhelming.

Morgan pats Spencer’s knee again.  “How about I go back out first.  I can tell them you’re not feeling so good, and you want to be left alone,” he offers.

Spencer thinks for a moment, and silently nods.

“Ok, good,” Morgan affirms, starting to his feet.  He holds out a hand to Spencer, who accepts it and shakily finds his way upright.  He’s trembling all over, and he pauses to make sure the vertigo at the edges of his vision will stay at bay.

Spencer exits the stall and shuffles to the sink, where he turns on the water but doesn’t make a move to wash.  Instead he braces both arms on the porcelain and glances at his reflection in the spotted mirror.  He’s pale to the point of ghostliness, and his hair clings to his forehead with clammy sweat.  The armpits of his oxford are also soaked through.  He thinks about buttoning his cardigan to cover the damp stains, but it seems like far too much effort.

Morgan offers a paper towel, which Spencer takes, partially wadding it up so he can hold it and brace on the sink at the same time.  “You alright?”  Morgan checks in.

“Yeah…” Spencer says spacily, looking down at the running water between his hands.  He knows he probably looks ready to pass out.

“You’ll be ok by yourself?”

“Yeah.”  Spencer forces his voice to come out more confidently.

“Ok.  If you’re not out in 5 minutes, I’m coming back for you,” Morgan says as he opens the bathroom door and steps outside.

Spencer slowly releases the sink with one hand and dips it in the stream of icy tap water.  He knows he shouldn’t drink it, what with all the mining contamination, but he should be safe to wash up.  Cool down.

He actually can’t really tell if he’s hot or cold.  The sensation playing over his skin isn’t the heat that comes with nausea or the chill that comes with fever.  It’s more like the prickling of a thousand tiny cockroach feet.

Spencer splashes his face, catching his hair as he bends over the sink.  Then he pats his skin with the rough paper towel.  Vertigo almost overwhelms him when he takes his second hand away from the porcelain handhold, but he inhales the slightly woody scent of the paper towel and forces himself to remain upright.

Besides removing some residual bile from around his mouth, the hasty wash job does nothing to make Spencer feel better.  He still feels filthy, like a greasy, germy teenager.  He takes a deep breath, swallows foul-tasting mucousy saliva, and slips out of the bathroom.

***

Once the dinner bill is paid, the team exits the restaurant and opens umbrellas against the drizzle.  The general intent is to walk back to the Police Station and get in a few more hours work, but Spencer knows he can’t join in.  He wants nothing more than to sleep (or at least try to sleep) so he won’t have to feel so awkwardly unwell for a while.

He doesn’t get a chance to speak up, though.  Hotch claps a hand on his shoulder and says, “You need to go to the hotel and rest.”

Spencer doesn’t reply.  Hotch continues, “I’ll walk with you.”  Then, to the rest of the team, “Don’t wait for me.  Get as much done as you can.”

They split up, Hotch and Spencer heading down the block to the Holiday Inn while everyone else crosses the street.  Spencer feels the toast Morgan forced him to eat sitting heavily in his stomach.  There’s no way he’ll get out of talking.  He tries to remind himself that it’s not that bad.  Telling the truth is not hard.  It’s just the lingering feeling of stupidity that bothers him as he struggles to explain what and why he’s feeling.

Once in the hotel, they ride the elevator up to Spencer’s room.  Spencer fumbles the key card into the door slot, then steps over the threshold and sinks down on the end of the bed.  Hotch pulls the chair over from the desk in the corner and sits opposite.

“Reid,” Hotch says.

Spencer doesn’t make eye contact.

“I know you’re not feeling well.  And you don’t like getting attention like this,” Hotch continues.  “But I need to know what’s going on with you.  Not because I don’t think you can take care of yourself, but we have three dead girls and a killer on the loose.  The team can’t work at its best if you’re not honest with me.  And we need the team working at its best right now.”

Spencer sighs and finally raises his head.  He feels like crying.  His sinuses are heavy and there’s immense pressure behind his eyes and in his forehead.

“I just…” Spencer starts, “I just feel bad.  My head hurts and I keep getting nauseous.  My whole body is just…uncomfortable,” he tries to explain.  “It’s not—I don’t think I have a fever or anything.”

“I know you haven’t been eating,” Hotch says.  “Sleeping?”

Spencer shrugs.  “Sometimes.  Have a hard time most nights.”

“You’ve been having migraines.”  It’s not a question.

Spencer tightly closes his eyes and presses the bridge of his nose between his fingers.  “Yeah, but…” he whispers.  “I mean, I’m not…I don’t really know.  If this is aura, it’s different from how it’s been before.”  He takes a deep breath and grasps for any semblance of composure.

Hotch’s hand comes down on Spencer’s knee.  “I have to ask.  Have you taken anything?”

He knows his supervisor means hard drugs, but Spencer can still barely whisper, “Excedrin.”

“Did it help?”

“No.”  The word hardly escapes Spencer’s lips when the dam breaks.  His eyes are wet behind his fingers and his breath is caught up in a painful sob.

“It’s alright,” Hotch soothes.  He increases the pressure on Spencer’s knee.

Spencer sobs again.  He feels his heart beating fast and hard, and his head throbs in time with it.  Vertigo assaults him, and Spencer leans forward to rest elbows on knees and head in hands. Hotch’s comforting touch jumps up to Spencer’s shoulder.

Spencer takes a deep inhale and wills the dizziness down, but it turns to nausea anyway.  He focuses on his feet, not quite toe-to-toe with Hotch and tries to tell himself he’s fine.  The next sob brings on an excess of bitter saliva, and Spencer swallows thickly.

“Reid?” Hotch questions, fatherly instincts kicking in.

“I—” he swallows again.  “’M sorry, I think I’m gonna throw up.”  Spencer struggles upright, almost tripping over Hotch and unsure of what to do with his arms.

“Ok, yep,” Hotch intones as he stands and hovers at Spencer’s shoulder as the younger man moves to the bathroom.

Spencer bends over the toilet and sobs until a gag cuts him off.  Half a slice of undigested toast and a few sips of water don’t take long to expel, but time feels suspended, and both retches and sobs taste bad and make his stomach muscles hurt.  He’s so dizzy he’s half afraid he’ll fall forward and drown in the toilet water.

Spencer isn’t sure how much time has elapsed when his stomach finally stops spasaming and he feels comfortable moving away from the toilet.  He uses the edge of the counter to pull himself upright and drag himself over to the sink.  Spencer rinses his mouth with the probably-not-safe-to-drink water and buries his face in a hand towel.

He’s shaking horribly.  Everything, from his fingers to his lips feel clumsy and freezing.  The only thing he wants is to lie down so maybe his surroundings will move from painful back into ordinary. Spencer drops the towel onto the counter and slowly steps back toward the bedroom.

He gets as far as the door when his legs give out.  So does his vision, and he has no idea where he is for a moment.  Then an arm catches him around the chest and the world does a dizzying swoop as everything rights itself.

And finally, finally the skull-splitting pain hits.  It’s almost a relief.

“Hey, ok, take it easy,” Hotch says.  “Reid, you with me?”  He gets his arm solidly around Spencer’s shoulders.

Spencer swallows and tries to respond.  His throat is raw and full of snot, his very brain is being sawed in half, and his “yeah,” comes out as a hoarse croak.  He coughs and shifts his feet so he’s steadier.  “oh, god.”

“Alright, the bed’s right here.”  Hotch supports Spencer the five or so feet, and Spencer immediately sits and curls onto his side on top of the quilt.  Tears are leaking from his eyes again, and every part of him is trembling.

Hotch’s phone rings.  The ringtone indicates it’s one of the BAU team members.  Hotch answers, and Spencer covers his face with his hand and feels guilty all over again.  Someone’s probably found something, actions probably need to be taken.  The team leader should be there at the police station, not here putting Spencer to bed.

“Hi, JJ,” Hotch says.  Spencer can hear JJ’s voice on the other end of the line, but it’s too soft to understand the words.

“He’s uh…” Hotch sighs.  “He’s not good right now.”  She must have asked how Spencer is doing.  Another wave of guilt slams into him, worsening his headache.  Now he’s distracting JJ too.

“He’s upset.  He got sick and almost passed out,” Hotch says.  Spencer doesn’t want to hear it, and he wonders why Hotch doesn’t leave the room.  Either he’s afraid to take his eyes of Spencer, or he wants him to hear what he’s saying.

“Yeah, I think maybe the pain finally hit.  He’s very dehydrated, and that’s what’s worrying me.  And we don’t have any drinkable water here.”

There’s a long pause as JJ’s voice sounds again.  Then Hotch says, “Ok, let me see if he’s up to it.”  He holds the phone to his chest and crouches beside Spencer.  “JJ wants to talk to you.  Is that ok?  Do you want to talk to her?”

Spencer’s first thought is no, he does not want to talk to JJ.  She’s probably his closest friend, and she’ll do everything in her power to make him feel better.  But Spencer’s not weak, he does not need help.  Especially for something ridiculous like anxiety and a headache.  But in his state of severe discomfort, all Spencer can do is nod and reach up for the phone as tears flood his eyes.

Spencer takes a shaky breath.

“Spence?” JJ asks gently.  “Hey.”

“Hi,” Spencer whispers.

“You really don’t feel good, huh?”

It’s one of those questions where yes and no mean the same thing.  “Eh,” Spencer replies, trying not to sob into the phone.

“Is it your head?”

“Yeah.”  He’d gladly go to a guillotine for relief.

“And your stomach?”

“Yeah, I don’t know.  ‘s just everything.  Hurts.  Doesn’t feel right.”

“Oh, Spence.  Can I come see you?  Maybe get you something to drink so we can get you feeling better?”

“But…the case?” Spencer asks.

“The internet is so slow it’ll probably take another hour or two for anything to turn up.  We’ve got Garcia on it back in Quantico.  It’s a miracle this call hasn’t broken up yet.”  She pauses for a second.  “Is it ok if I come see you?  We’re probably gonna call it a night here.”

Emotion crashes through him again as Spencer tightens his grip on the phone.  “Yes.  Please, JJ.  Yeah.”

“Ok.  I’ll be there soon.  I’ll be right there.”  She hangs up, and Spencer slowly moves the device away from his ear and returns it to Hotch.

Spencer stays curled on his side on the bed.  Hotch removes Spencer’s shoes for him and offers to help him into a more comfortable position, but Spencer declines.  He must have drifted into a light sleep, because all of a sudden someone’s saying his name and pushing his hair off his forehead.

“Spence.”  It’s JJ.

Spencer doesn’t open his eyes, but he doesn’t think he’ll be able to see even if he does.  Bright silver-white shimmers poke at his left eye, making it water with more than just impending tears. Aura’s supposed to come first.  He’s so off track he can’t even have a migraine properly.

Before he can form another coherent thought, he’s sitting up, his head swimming, and pressing his face into her stomach.

“Hey, Spence,” JJ whispers.  “Alright.”  She wraps her arms around his head and shoulders, pressing him to her.

Every single thing that’s ever been right or wrong or harrowing or painful seems to flash behind Spencer’s eyelids as he leans into the embrace.  His confused non-childhood, his mother’s illness, leftover PTSD and quirks from months on dilaudid, the inability to relate to other people, the debilitating headaches with no apparent cause…all of it falls in big, salty tears.

***

When Spencer wakes next, it’s still dark.  No light filters through the hotel room’s cheap curtains.  Spencer’s grateful; he’s positive any errant sunshine would send him heaving over the edge of the bed.  The pain’s settled in his right temple, and if it weren’t so damn incapacitating, he’d be relieved.

Spencer struggles to remember exactly what happened after JJ came into the room.  Everything in the past 24 hours seems like a painful blur, but that length of time’s especially blank.  There were comforts and kind words, Spencer thinks, then water and Gatorade and vomit.  Or maybe he’d been sick before she arrived.  It hardly matters now.

The mattress dips a millimeter, and Spencer rides the resulting wave of queasy agony.  JJ’s still here, he realizes, lying behind him, fully clothed, on top of the slick hotel comforter.

“You ok?” she asks sleepily.

“Hm,” Spencer affirms.  “Ok.”

“Feel better?”

Spencer’s torn.  Physically, it’s about the same as it was last night when the puzzle pieces realigned themselves into garden-variety migraine territory.  Which is to say his head feels like it’s going to fall off, his stomach’s in knots, and his eyesight’s completely shot.  But in terms of knowing what he’s up against, the reprieve is almost magical.  A day or two of hellacious headaches is manageable, it’s the devil he knows rather than the void of anxiety and depression and drug cravings that he wishes he doesn’t.

“I’ll be ok,” he whispers.

“How about right now?”  JJ doesn’t miss a beat, even when she’s half asleep.

Spencer doesn’t answer.  JJ fills in the blank.  “Still not so good?”

She’s up on her feet before Spencer can protest, bringing Excedrin and Gatorade.

“You don’t have to stay.  You should rest,” Spencer whispers after he’s painfully hauled himself upright so he can swallow the pills.

“I have Henry.  I’m used to being up at all hours,” JJ replies with a wan smile.  “Besides, someone’s gotta look out for you when you’ve got a headache.  Remind you to take fluids.  Otherwise you’re no use to the team.”

The eye contact she initiates says so much more than the sentence.  When you’ve got a headache may as well have been when you cry about your mom or crave long-gone drugs or claw through depression or need to mourn three dead girls.  Someone’s gotta remind you to take care of yourself.

“I don’t mean that you can’t do it on your own.”  JJ echoes Hotch’s words from earlier in the evening.

“Yeah,” Spencer sighs.  He realizes with a sudden onset of exhaustion that it’s not bothering him much anymore.  He has done a shit job of getting himself through any of it.  Maybe it is that dose of human contact he struggles so much with that actually makes all the difference.  “I, uh, I really appreciate it.”

“I’d do it for anyone I care about,” JJ murmurs.  She rescues the Gatorade from Spencer’s softening grip.  “I don’t know what I did before you joined up,” she continues in a whisper.  “You’re like my brother now.”

As Spencer drifts asleep again, he turns through pages of mental photographs again.  Bumper-to-bumper Los Vegas traffic.  Lonely country roads.  Three dead girls who deserve justice.  Hotchbending to unlace Spencer’s shoes.  JJ lining up bottles of water along the edge of the bedside table.

He knows what’s important.

And he thinks he might just feel a little better.

[flauntpage]

Assorted Ailments – Observations from Sixers 116, Pistons 102

That was a pretty straightforward win.

There was a weird portion of the game where Detroit pulled within three, and I was sitting there thinking to myself, “surely they’re not going to blow this while playing at home with Joel Embiid while Blake Griffin sits.” That would be absurd considering that they went out and beat the Pistons on the road three days prior without Joel Embiid while Blake Griffin played. It would have been like entering the “upside down” from Stranger Things, or Seinfeld’s “bizarro world” or just the Twilight Zone in general.

But it didn’t happen, and even after Jimmy Butler left the game with a groin strain, the Sixers found a way to blow it open in the fourth for a comfortable, 14-point win.

Brett Brown did not have an update on Butler, but I imagine we’ll get one after practice this afternoon around 1:15 p.m.

Holding yourself to a high standard

Most of my focus last night was watching Joel Embiid’s offensive positioning and body language, to see where his starting points were and if he seemed to be annoyed with his role. This was, after all, the first game he played since the Keith Pompey article came out last week, featuring some quotes that suggested that he was unhappy with his play and the way he was being deployed on the floor.

I didn’t see much to suggest that anything was truly different, and of course Butler’s injury departure cut short the amount of time they played together, so there weren’t a ton of great examples to look at last night. Ben Simmons was also ultra-aggressive in the first quarter, so he did a lot of early-shot clock driving and didn’t flow into the base offense on too many occasions.

This was one example, and while it was kind of sloppy, it works for this exercise:

They sort of botch that, but you see how they swing it into a DHO with Redick, and then Joel peels down to the post with 10 seconds on the shot clock.

That’s how they get him most of his post touches, running that two-man game with JJ and then sliding down on the ball side. In this sequence he passes out of the double team for Butler, who gets a clean three-point look, so they actually turn a wonky possession into a decent shot.

This is how the base motion offense really is supposed to look:

Embiid is the trailing big, so they run that “A to B” motion with him and T.J. McConnell before swinging into a DHO with Redick. JJ kicks the ball back out, Joel takes it to the post, throws it out, and gets it back.

The whole point is that Joel starts most of the Sixers’ possessions on the perimeter, no matter if it’s the base offense or various horns and clear-out sets. He still gets post touches though because he inevitably winds up down there off the DHO with Redick in the two-man game.

I’m not entirely sure what his frustration is with the Butler thing, but certainly if you dial up specific looks for Jimmy or just call a simple pick and roll or iso or something like that, of course you’re not going to be involved. And in the Toronto game, when Joel was being run ragged, I honestly would blame that on Simmons to continuing to push a ridiculous and frenetic pace into the fourth quarter. When you are inbounding the ball as the trailing big, you’re just going to be exhausted hauling ass up and down the floor.

Speaking of ass, Joel opened his media availability by explaining that he had recently experienced a migraine and diarrhea. Brett Brown also confirmed that he wasn’t sure he would have Jo available to play until “late,” which I assume would be a short time before the game.

Embiid then elaborated on the quotes he gave in the Pompey story:

That was just me frustrated with the way I was playing. I know everybody took it out of context. But I love everybody and I love my teammates and I love the coaching staff and I think everybody that knows me knows that. (It’s) me being frustrated because I hold myself to a really high standard. I played a role in whatever was said, but I had a conversation with coach. It starts with me but there’s a lot of adjustments that we can all make. It’s just the frustration of playing… I’ve never really been in that situation; usually if I’m in a slump it’s two or three days but it’s been going on for like ten games. Also it’s because I hold myself to a certain standard. But it’s the past, we moved on and everything is great.

Joel had 24 points and 8 rebounds with 3 assists, 2 steals, and 2 blocks last night. He only shot 6 for 16 but hit 11 of 14 free throws and finished with the world’s quietest +30, so go figure. If Butler is out for a few games, this issue won’t be much of anything moving forward, but we’ll see what happens once the starting five is back together.

Ring that bell brotha

Furkan Korkmaz rang it.

He finished with a career-high 18 points last night on 7-12 shooting off the bench. He also grabbed seven rebounds and played some decent defense on the other side of the floor.

I asked Furkan how he felt and what was working for him last night:

Of course the feeling is really good you know? Sometimes you are playing good – really good – but the team (is losing). I feel like I played good and then we won the game. Things are changing really quickly here. After the trade I started to find more opportunities here, so I’m talking to the coaching staff and some of the players on the team about how I can be ready every time. I was ready today. I think every time I just go out there and play.

That was sort of a softball question to set up the next one, because I don’t like asking the asshole question right off the bat when a player has a good game. It’s usually more fair to throw something generic at a guy and let him answer it how he wants to, then if you have something that’s a little more “pointed,” you do that next. In this case, I wanted to ask him how he felt about his contract option not being picked up and whether or not he feels like he has something to prove when he hits the floor:

I mean, like I said, things are changing really quickly here in the NBA. Right now that’s the decision from the organization and from the coaching staff and the front office. I can’t make any comment about it. I just need to keep working and keep being professional. When the opportunity comes, when the time comes, I just need to show the people that yes, I can play.

A diplomatic answer. Not sure what else he can really say there.

To his credit, he’s taken the opportunity and really rolled with it. Furkan has been given double-digit minutes in four of his last six games, and he’s reached double-digit points in three of those four outings.

There’s never been a doubt that he can shoot the ball, but defensively he’s improving and he looks more comfortable playing the NBA game.

Brown on Furk:

He’s not intimidated by NBA basketball. He’s not intimidated by the moment. I don’t know how much you paid attention to Turkey in the qualification series, but, I have said this a lot, he was one of the better guards in that tournament. He’s got a bounce, he has an inner belief, there is a swagger that he has when he is going to make a play. He may miss a lot of shots, he may make a lot of shots, but there really isn’t any sort of trepidation, there is not a back down in Furkan. I thought he played the game well and he played it with a lot of confidence.

Looks like the decision not to pick up his contract option was slightly premature. We’ll have to see how that plays out.

Other notes:

Zack Steffen was the Sixers’ bell ringer. He’s the American goalkeeper who is headed to Manchester City this winter. I don’t think many people in the arena knew who he was.

The free throw shooting was pretty poor on both ends of the floor last night. Ben Simmons finished 2-9.

Ben was aggressive early and also when he came back in at the 8 minute mark of the fourth quarter. Detroit just didn’t have an answer for him on some of those bulldozer drives to the rack.

I swear that Ben is using that snatch dribble more this year. He threw it again on that pass to JJ Redick towards the end of the game, but when I asked Simmons about it, he didn’t have much to say, just explaining that it’s something that comes naturally to him and he really doesn’t think about using it. It’s hard to get much of anything out of Ben when it comes to quotes. He’s better I think after practice because before and after games he’s just bashed over the head with a million questions about the same topics.

The Sixers’ bench scored 52 points last night, or 54 if you want to add Amir Johnson’s late dunk. But the four-man rotation of Korkmaz, McConnell, Landry Shamet, and Mike Muscala really did a nice job covering for Butler’s injury and a quiet night from Redick, who was 3-12 on the evening.

Somebody once told me that I look like Furkan Korkmaz. Do I look like him?

Shake Milton has assumed Robert Covington’s role of the hype man during the Wendy’s “Frosty Freeze Out.” It was “next man up,” according to T.J. McConnell. 

Finally, I need everyone to participate in this:

Last night Joel Embiid said he had been dealing with a migraine and diarrhea. If you were forced to deal with one of those ailments, which one would you choose?

— Kevin Kinkead (@Kevin_Kinkead) December 11, 2018

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