#bau prep school au

[stunudo]

BAU Prep School AU: Class of 18

A Criminal Minds Fan-fiction Series

Welcome to the Frederick Buchanan Institute located in scenic Quantico, Virginia, a senior high academy that shapes the best and brightest minds. Its motto is “Behavior, Analysis, Unity,” the mascot the Submariners, colloquially “the Unsubs”. The small school supports the most accomplished faculty from across the country. 

2016-2017, Class of 18, Previous Chapter: Scavenger Hunt

Warnings: Infidelity, sexuality crisis and character death.

Break It...

Saturday March 24, 2018

10 am Grant Anderson’s Townhouse

              Luke had barely slept, the fear and worry cascading into frustration and self-pity. Grant had seen Phil propose, though Luke hadn’t responded to his ex’s messages for months. Luke was desperate; Grant hadn’t answered any of his calls and left his texts on read. He parked in front of Luke’s place and waited, too nervous to be turned away, too devoted to let Grant go without the truth. Without a fight. He took a deep breath and centered himself. He climbed from his truck and hopped up the stairs, knowing he was being watched. Luke cleared his throat and knocked on the heavy oak door. He counted to thirty and peeked into the framing windows, but there was no movement inside. He knocked again and waited fruitlessly.

              “You just missed him,” a wizened voice offered from the upstairs balcony.

              “That so? Thanks Mrs. Armenson,” Luke waved. “Any idea when he’ll be back?”

              “You know I don’t like to pry into you boys’ business,” the old lady whispered, patting at the curls at the nape of her neck. “The way he’d been talking it sounded like you had big plans. Honey, why aren’t you with him? Did you get your signals crossed?”

              Luke sighed. “Yeah, something like that.”

              They said their goodbyes, but Luke was even more disheartened then when he arrived. Grant had a special weekend planned and he had ruined. Well, Phil had ruined it, but the guilt was still on him. He waved at Grant’s upstairs neighbor and pulled off out of the angled parking spot on the quiet street.

Sunday March 25

The Hotchners’

8:32am

           Kate had been dying to get outside, the entire winter felt like she was trapped in one building or another. So, once they had the chance, and the weather allowed, she and Haley met for coffees with their nearly identical strollers. There was a great little bakery just passed the next subdivision that Haley had been meaning to try and Kate didn’t mind some carbs to balance the one-and-a-half-mile round trip. The air was chilly, but Kit and Jack were bundled up. Haley wore a windbreaker in FBI scarlet while Kate wore a Columbia fleece pullover, free hand tucked into the pocket until she built up her body temperature.

           Jack was babbling and pointing at the ducks in the pond as they passed, Kit sucked on his fingers and snuggled his plush stegosaurus that Penelope had “left behind” the last time she and Derek babysat.

           “Earth to Kate,” Haley giggled. “Where were you lady? You seem distracted.”

           Kate gave her best friend a tired smile, shrugging. “I guess I just have a lot going on this semester. I can’t believe it’s Easter next week.”

           “Early spring breaks can be a godsend, but something tells me that this stress or whatever isn’t—entirely--- student related,” Haley was an amazing listener and just as good at reading people as her husband. That’s why Kate and she got along so well: empathy.

           Kate shrugged and let the flush fill her cheeks before she faced Haley’s concerned eyes. She changed hands pushing the stroller and tucked her hair behind her ear, looking at her wedding band wrapped around her engagement ring as the truth bubbled inside her.

           “It’s been really difficult this semester, because of Tara,” Kate started.

           Haley’s features furrowed. “I don’t understand, I thought you got a long with her since she took Jason’s spot?”

           Kate swallowed back a groan and covered her eyes in embarrassment, she suddenly felt sixteen again. “It’s not that I don’t get a long with her, it’s that I very much get a long with her. Like, like her, like her.”

           “Like her, like her? Kate-- are you bi?! How did I not know this?” Haley’s voice went up into almost shrill levels before she got it under control. They were perched at a crosswalk, waiting for the lights to change to enter the parking lot of the bakery.

           “I don’t know! I don’t if that’s what this is, Hales, honestly. It’s just. We kissed on New Year’s and—” Kate was cut off.

           “Excuse me?! You what on New Year’s?! WHY AM I ONLY HEARING THIS NOW, KATHRYN CALLAHAN?!” Haley barked after her friend, who had started scampering across the street. By the time Haley and Jack caught up with Kate and Kit, they were wedging the door open to check if there was room for both of their strollers.

           “I need details, Kate, this is--- just--- Does Chris know?!” Haley was stage whispering as they tugged their sons from their seats. Tossing diaper bags and blankets over their shoulders as they wove around the cramped space.

           “It was a mistletoe thing, I froze. But it was—” Kate broke off, considering.

           “Magical?” Haley offered almost sadly.

           “Yeah.” They found a table, but there was only one highchair, leaving Kate to hold Kit on her lap since he was older, more prone to wander and squirm.

           “I just can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” Haley looked hurt, which just added more guilt to the confusing chaos inside Kate.

           “I didn’t think it was a big deal at the time, just slightly tipsy bad choices. But now—” Kates eyebrows shot up telling Haley more than her words could articulate. They quickly placed their orders, taking turns watching the boys as they settled with their coffees and muffins.

           “What are you going to do?” Haley asked, tearing her croissant into Jack-sized pieces.

           Kate shrugged and shook her head. “What can I do? I married. We’re happy. This isn’t just something that changes all that. I mean, people have crushes, it doesn’t stop the world.”

           “No, but this has been months, Kate. Just, be careful. Okay?” Haley clasped her hand over Kate’s on the table.

           “I will, it’s not a bad thing. It’s just, confusing for now.”

           Haley gave her a compassionate grimace and the conversation moved on. To teething, spring break plans, Meg, redecorating the nursery into a big boy room, potty training and all manner of things that come up with young mothers whose lives are so intertwined. It was a mystery that Kate had kept the secret as long as she had, but it felt good to have it out there. Even if Haley was certain to tell Aaron later that night, Kate knew she had made the right choice in confidant.

Monday March 26

The Faculty Parking Lot

3:22pm

           Dave didn’t need to be at the school as many hours as he usually was, but without something or someone pulling him home it was easy to putz around the expansive kitchen. He strolled out to his two-seater sports car, nothing absurd like the students drove, but still the nicest among the staff. When the car beeped unlocked, he spotted a young woman approach. She looked to be in her late twenties with large brown eyes and a flawless russet complexion.

“David Rossi?” She called to him; some sort of folder clutched to her chest.

“That depends on who’s asking,” the suddenly suspicious chef replied. Life wasn’t always bountiful in his line of work; he’d been served a time or two in his youth from debt collectors mostly.

“Family,” she answered after gauging his expression. That threw the old Italian for a loop.

“Whose family exactly?”

“Yours. I believe—you’re my father, Mr. Rossi.” She paused, but the almost angry expression on the man’s face somehow pushed her onward. “My name is Joy Struthers, my mother is Hayden Montgomery.”

The wind rushed through nooks of the school, spiraling in the parking lot with biting freshness.

“And what makes you think that I’m your father? Hayden and I—that was a long time ago.”

“Thirty-one years ago, in August. Today is my thirtieth birthday. This is kind of a resolution for me.” She smiled brightly, the buzz of finding him and coming forward piggy backing on the adrenaline from her nervousness.

Dave was dumbstruck, the resemblance to her mother was apparent, but he couldn’t see himself in this beautiful stranger.

“I don’t know what to say,” he replied, almost sheepishly.

“I don’t expect anything from you. I just thought we should meet. I have some pictures and a copy of my birth certificate and an open DNA panel—if you want to verify what I’m saying.” Joy handed Dave the manila envelope. “That that and, if you want, maybe we could go to lunch sometime?”

“You live in Virginia?” He took the envelope but didn’t delve into the assorted papers.

“Just moved back, got a new job and luckily my husband can work remotely.”

“Husband?” Dave raised his eyebrows.

“Shawn, yeah, and our son Kai. We just moved from San Francisco.” Joy nodded.

“Are you telling me that I’m a grandpa?” He smirked now, digging in to find a recent family picture, his ex, beaming in the background.

“He’s almost four,” Joy explained proudly.

“How’s Hayden?”

“Good, she’s back in Paris for now. I had a stepdad; he was a really good man. But he died a few years ago.” Joy trailed off. “But that’s not why I’m here, not really.”

“Look, this is all a little much for me to process,” Dave started. “We’ve got spring break coming up next week--- why don’t we do that lunch you offered?”

Thursday March 28

Latin Class

3:08pm

           Iggy Cruz was restless, his leg bobbing in place the entire 8th period. It was the last day before vacation and he wanted nothing more than to leave these brick walls and pretentious uniforms behind. Senioritis is real and he had developed a severe case. The clock ticked the seconds away above the door and Luke Alvez knew Iggy wasn’t the only one who was lost it its hypnosis.

Finally, the bell rang out freeing them all, student and faculty alike for ten glorious days. He shoved his Latin book in his locker and impatiently waited for Rita to catch up to him after her math class. The halls were pouring out students into the lawn and parking lots, teasing warmth of the spring sun shining across the grounds. Relieved excitement flooded back on passing faces, countless voices echoing and floating away. Iggy nodded toward his car at Rita, who had started texting Jax the moment they were out of the building.

           She followed without looking up, sliding into the passenger seat with practiced ease. Iggy cranked the bass on his stereo, covering all of the commotion around them. He pulled into the line of cars waiting to leave the parking lot and wind off the long drive back to the secluded road that kept F.B.I. hidden in the woods. Rita started squealing at something on her phone and Iggy gave her the older brother stink eye before looking back to the car in front of him. They had progressed three car lengths in the time it took Iggy to regain his focus; he floored the gas to catch up. At the last second, Iggy saw Mrs. Todd as she was thrown against their hood. He screamed, swerving too late and tossing a hand out to hold Rita back. They slammed into a car still parked, airbags deploying, momentum tossing the math teacher back to the ground. Iggy’s face fought the air bag, his leg pinned as the driver’s side door and wheel caved around him.

           Time froze as Rita panicked, Iggy was talking, but people were screaming and running all around them. The curtain of white couldn’t hide the horror forever.

 Alex Blake’s flat

11:13pm          

           Matt Simmons hadn’t been home. After the ambulances cleared the parking lot, he stayed with Hotch, Penelope and Kate with the kids making statements to the cops. Their parents were less than agreeable, but a teacher had died, and two students were on their way to the hospital. It was a long day, even for a former warfront journalist. He found himself driving after stopping for coffee and something doughy to chew on. When he realized where his car (and subconscious) had taken him, he parked in a hurry. Long legs pulling him up the stairwell along the back of her building.

           He didn’t text her in warning or call ahead, he simply knocked. He knew she wouldn’t be asleep. In fact he wasn’t sure she would ever let herself be that vulnerable.

“Matt? What is it? What’s the matter?!” Alex answered, in a controlled concern, smooth and soothing. Her eyes were wide, but her full lips were in a straight-lined frown.

“Let’s go somewhere,” he offered.

“Now?” She asked, squinting, taking stock of his state.

“Yeah, now, tonight,” his eyes sparkled as lip quirked in a sexy smirk.

Alex’s mouth opened and closed a few times, swallowing the air as she considered it. “I don’t know, we leave Monday for New York—”

“I can call Emily, there aren’t that many kids going. Derek and Penelope can handle it, maybe JJ will go too, now.” He had crossed the threshold, brushing the thick strands of hair from her face. He loved the silver sparkling in the dim light, the deep lines around her lips as she tried to reason out of his request.

“Alex, let’s go, after everything today. I don’t want to keep playing this game. I want you. I want to be with you. Just let me?” His thumb stroked her cheek and she finally remembered to breathe. This wasn’t supposed to happen to women her age, whirlwind romances were for nimbler souls. She thought she was passed this kind of sensationalism. She was wrong and that was never easy for her to admit. She placed her hand on Matt’s broad chest, feeling him real and solid and impossibly able in front of her.

“Alright,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

“Yeah?” Matt pulled her chin up to lock into her fathomless eyes.

“I said alright, Simmons, don’t make me repeat myself,” she huffed, rolling her eyes before reaching up on tip toes to press her lips to his.

^*^*^

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

Wip Wednesday

Untitled fic (Correspondence)

Summary/Story so far: HotchReid, slow burn, AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together -- until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. We are now months into this... tentative thing that is beyond friendship, beyond flirtatious, they still don't know much about each other on paper... but this feels a lot like dating. And then one day, Hotch abruptly stops answering his phone.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

(Set in season 6, unbeta'd, still the first draft, text/email templates are temporary)

((Notes: Spencer's POV this time, he is 29 and working at CalTech, Hotch still doesn't know how old he is though he does know that he's at least younger than 45 now. Hotch has been MIA now for about 18 hours.))

.

Spencer spends way too long online that morning, searching for anything about the case Hotch is working. There's nothing about a raid, or a shooting, or even an arrest -- which could all just be apart of the ongoing media blackout -- but it also does nothing to stop him from panicking. 

With a drafted email pulled up to Ms. Penelope Garcia, the BAU's personal tech analyst, he ponders how to... even word this without it sounding too personal. Too much like he and Hotch have more than just a working relationship.

Because they do. They have... something.

Something that gives him fluttering sensations in his stomach, makes him check his phone constantly, and react to even the slightest chime similar to his text tone. Makes him smile when he sees Hotch's name on his notifications, in his email inbox, makes him message the man in the middle of the day at the most random thoughts. Just because he wants to make him laugh.

.

[]You're going to get me in trouble.

[][]Did I make you smile?

[]I'm at a crime scene. There's a dead body in front of me.

[][]Then why are you checking your phone?

[]You know why.

.

But that’s not something that is shared with the rest of the team, he’s sure. So he should be careful how he words his email, lest Ms. Garcia realize that Spencer isn’t asking purely as a colleague. 

Surely they know he has friends, though?

Chewing his lip, Spencer types out a brief email asking if Agent Hotchner is feeling well since he missed an appointment the night before and hasn’t been returning his calls. It’s a phrase he’s used often, so it comes naturally to Spencer as he types it out, and he realizes… he hasn’t called. He’s sent a dozen text messages, but not a phone call. Never a phone call. That was against the rules. 

He looks to his phone beside him on his desk, and tries to fight back the dueling forms of panic clawing at his chest. Panic that Hotch might not answer, panic what that means for the man he’s been… becoming more and more inclined to than any other person he’s met in so long. Panic if he does answer, breaking that barrier of written words to spoken, and the opportunity to hear Hotch’s voice. But he would also hear Spencer’s, and then there would be no hiding just how… how young he really is.

But his phone is in his hand before he can stop himself, and Hotch’s contact pulled up and his thumb hovering over the phone number with baited breath. 

Was he really going to do this?

He presses the touch screen and can hear the line connecting, the dial tone ring even before he gets the phone up to his ear and waits. It rings, and rings, and rings a fourth time -- before clicking over to voicemail. And Spencer’s hyper-fast thought processes realize he’s going to hear Hotch’s voice for the first time. Frozen in a panic, unsure if he wants to or if that had been something he wanted them to do together that the seconds slip by and suddenly it’s too late.

“You’ve reached the voicemail box of -- (703)-567-8790 -- this caller is not available. Please leave a message after the tone--”

It’s an automated, female voice that rattles off the numbers and generic call back message, and Spencer hangs up before it can begin recording him. Exhaling a shaky breath, that nothing had been ruined between him and Hotch thanks to an ill-timed phone call. 

He keeps the momentum going without much thought, and adjusts his email to Ms. Garcia before sending it. 

It feels so understated, and yet over dramatic the more he thinks about it. The more he reads it.

.

Please let me know of his well-being.

.

God, no wonder Hotch thought he was in his 60’s. 

But Spencer has to keep the façade up, not give away anything he doesn’t want to just because the emotional part of his brain is running rampant over the rational one. There are… many explanations as to why Hotch isn’t answering him. His gut feeling aside, he doesn’t need to be panicking like this. The world is still turning, he still has work to do, so Spencer tries to gather himself into some semblance of order and preps to talk to his doctoral students within the hour.

.

--

.

His morning routine progresses as usual, to start. Dr. Reid has his mandatory round up with his doctoral candidates going over thesis and dissertation parameters, class lecture schedules, updates, the works. Like morning announcements, but he requires them all to be there and to listen, and they all show up. Everyone knows of Spencer’s eidetic memory. He will certainly not forget a single date or schedule change, and he expects his students to not forget as well. 

But this morning Spencer is fully distracted, his mind elsewhere, somewhere in the state of Delaware with an agent who may or may not be in danger. Because Spencer cannot shake the feeling that something is wrong. It almost seems more like a fact than a feeling. 

He becomes even more distracted when his email pings, a response from Ms. Garcia of Quantico, VA flashing across his laptop screen, right in the middle of his department announcements. Spencer’s eyes skim the preview sentence in the pop-up box, and his voice trails off as his mind… whirls. 

.

Dr. Reid, I’m sorry to tell you I don’t know when Hotch will be available again. There was an incident, and he’s still in surg-

.

Surgery.

Surgery.

That vice-like grip of worry that has taken hold of him since last night tightens further, to the point Spencer can’t breathe. Hotch is hurt, he’s in surgery, and if he hasn’t been answering his phone since last night -- or even late yesterday afternoon -- it was not a minor thing.

Hotch is hurt. 

“Dr. Reid? Are you okay?”

“I--” he’s still looking at the email pop-up box, and is clicking on it before he can stop himself. Immediately disconnecting his laptop from the projector as his email loads there. It takes him a faction of a second to read the email. “I’m sorry, an emergency just came up. Kimmy, finish reading off the schedule for me?” He doesn’t even wait until she answers him, just picks up his laptop and retreats to his office as fast as his long legs will carry him.

.

--surgery and we’re still waiting on word. I know you 2 talk on the reg so I’ll keep you posted. 

Fret not, genius professor, our fearless leader has been through much worse than this.

.

She’s using informal speech patterns, which she has never done before. It bleeds her nervousness, and worries Spencer even more. Ms. Garcia also revealed she knows he and Hotch talk, but surprisingly that doesn’t have the effect he thought it would on his already rattled nerves. Instead, any and all reservations fall away as he types out a response much in the same way he and Hotch had started their friendship all those months ago.

.

Please, is there anything you are allowed to tell me about the case or his condition? We --

.

Spencer pauses, bites his lip as he considers crossing this boundary into the uncomfortable unknown, and then thinks about Hotch on a hospital operating table three thousand miles away.

“Screw it,” he mutters and continues to type.

.

--We’ve become good friends and I’m very worried.

.

The reply is almost immediate.

.

That makes 2 of us, boy wonder, but I’m already hacked into the hospital records database and Prentiss is in the waiting room.

I’m sending you the case files and the incident report from last night. Maybe you can see some shiz we can’t b/c the bossman is tough but he’s been in surgery a long time. 

.

Of course, whatever he can do to help. Spencer’s heavy heart-beat triples in his chest as pulls up the files and immediately prints them out so he can read through them faster. But then his mind sticks on something from the email. 

Boy Wonder.

Ms. Garcia knows how young he is.

She must have done a background check on him, that would make sense since he’s been consulting so much lately. But why would Garcia know his age, and not Hotch?

.

Ms. Garcia, did you update my dossier with the bureau after you ran my background check?

.

If you’re referring to why Hotch seems to think you’re rocking the senior discount at restaurants and not still getting carded for beer, then no I didn’t update it. I’m very anti-gov files having every detail of our lives in them, that’s what I’m for, and I figured there was a reason he didn’t know. Your secret is safe with me, sugar bean.

.

The real reason is Agent Anderson of the LA field office is a dick, with a bully streak he never outgrew after high school, and didn’t bother filling out a full file on him the first time Spencer consulted for the FBI. Then, he couldn’t be bothered to update it when his consultations became more than a one time thing.

But that was all in the past now, and Spencer can’t even be upset about it. Because now he has Hotch.

.

Thank you, Ms. Garcia. I’ll let you know my findings soon.

.

He skims the file quickly, pulling information out at lightning speed. It appears a very straight-forward case. As straight-forward as a murderous sociopath can be, anyway. Very anti-establishment, specified targets that devolved to anyone in a uniform. Anyone who appears too official, or lables as official. 

It’s easy to see, now why the unsub attacked Hotch instead of running from him. He practically served himself up on a silver platter. But there’s something about the kills that’s bothering Spencer. The knife wounds, bludgeoning, even the gunshots during the first murders -- it’s all overkill. Rage. Every single target has died from massive internal bleeding, M.E. reports all label the knife wounds and beatings as the cause. But the amount of blood left over, measured during autopsy, doesn’t add up. They bled too much. No wounds indicating intentional bleeding occurred, and the tox screens are all clean. 

Except, every victim has elevated potassium rates.

“Oh, God,” Spencer whispers, quiet and horrified. “Hotch.”

There’s no time for email.

He picks up his phone, goes to an older email that has full contact details in the footer, and dials Ms. Garcia’s direct line in Quantico.

“Speak, and behold greatness.”

“Ms. Garcia, it’s Dr. Reid,” Spencer says, and his tone and quickened speech patterns gives way to his panic.

“Dr-- Dr. Reid?” 

“Yes, quick there’s no time. Do you have Hotch’s hospital records in front of you still?” 

“Yes,” Garcia says, her voice a musical thing even in it’s breathless reaction to his heightened state of haste. “Updated every two minutes.”

“Is his potassium elevated?”

Some quick typing of keys that move faster than even he could ever hope to type. “... Yes.”

God. “Okay, okay I need you to call the hospital right now,” Spencer says in a spiel that all sounds like one word. “Whatever you have to do, he needs Sodium Polystyrene Sulfonate as soon as possible, to counteract the chemical imbalance or he’s going to go into kidney failure and bleed out.”

.

tbc...

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Business As Usual

Criminal Minds Rockstar AU! 

Word Count: ~3890

Warnings: Implications of offscreen shenanigans, Reid and JJ being devious little shits, but nothing too wild. 

A/N: Why does this exist? Fuck if I know! Was it a fucking blast to write? Fuck yes it was! The headcanon popped into my brain fully-formed while I was driving home from work one day, @stunudo​ and @rockhoochie​ encouraged me, and here I am. This will, at some point, be tied into the SPN rockstar au that I’ve been dicking around with, but for now it’s just the BAU doing their thing! 

Business As Usual

Talking Family and Feminism With Rock’s Hottest New Band

-

There are already fans lining up outside Terminal 5 when I arrive in the afternoon. It’s the first time Business As Usual will be playing in New York since the release of their sophomore album, Wheels Up, which has become the runaway surprise hit of the summer, largely thanks to the success of the first single, “Revelations.” They’ve gone from critically praised indie darlings to the brink of mainstream stardom, seemingly overnight. 

Band manager David Rossi, for one, isn’t surprised at the sudden attention. 

Rossi is an industry vet with almost four decades of experience under his belt. He’d been retired for a couple years when a friend dragged him out to see B.A.U. playing in a dive bar. He says that within two songs, he knew “the kids,” as he calls them, would be huge. By the end of the show, he was ready to come out of retirement if they’d let him manage them. 

With attention comes scrutiny, and for most bands, the rumors would be flying already. However, B.A.U. definitely isn’t most bands; there are no whispers of groupies, crazy parties, or other rockstar antics here. When you meet them face to face, that reputation makes perfect sense. They’re quiet and quirky, and they seem like five of the unlikeliest rock stars in modern music. 

-

“Very nice to meet you, Paul,” Rossi says, turning on the charm. This one’s gonna be a piece of cake. “Now. Before we get any further, just a couple things.” 

He gives the reporter his best fuck with my kids and I will fuck you up look and makes sure the guy looks suitably intimidated before he continues. 

“First, don’t believe half of what comes out of Penelope’s mouth, at least not until you confirm with somebody else. She likes to see what ridiculous things journalists will print.” This is, obviously, a lie, but they’ve found it’s the best way to deal with Penelope’s inability to keep anything private. “Trust me. You listen to her, you’ll end up with egg on your face.” 

“No problem,” Paul says obediently. 

“Second, you do not mention Reid’s stalker. Is that clear?” 

Paul nods, but Rossi waits for a moment, until he starts wilting slightly under the stare.

“I understand,” he says, nodding emphatically, and Rossi gives him a clap on the shoulder and a big smile. 

“Wonderful. Other than that, we’re an open book. Come in, they’re just getting ready for soundcheck. Let’s get you something to drink.” 

-

Officially, the band is made up of Emily Prentiss (vocals), Derek Morgan (guitar), Jennifer “JJ” Jareau (bass), Spencer Reid (keys), and Aaron Hotchner (drums). At first glance, they don’t look like they have anything in common; most bands tend to dress in a similar style and come from similar musical backgrounds, but these five couldn’t be more different. Reid, for example, was a classical piano prodigy who graduated from Berklee at the age of seventeen, and has a tendency to dress like an absentminded professor, while Prentiss, with her Siouxsie Sioux eyeliner, dropped out of prep school to tour with a riot-girl band. 

Producer and sound tech Penelope Garcia is the unofficial sixth member of the band, and they all credit her with melding their various eclectic songwriting styles into one distinctive, experimental sound. 

Garcia is an anomaly in a male-dominated field, possibly even more so than Prentiss and Jareau, but instead of trying to blend in or prove that she’s tough enough to fit in with the rest of the crew, she makes a point to stand out. During sound check, she’s wearing a wildly colorful dress and pink heels, which match the pink streaks in her hair and her thick pink-framed glasses. When I ask whether she deals with sexism in the music industry, she just laughs. 

 “Of course there are jerks,” she says, shrugging. “There are always going to be jerks. But I know I’m good at what I do, and my band knows I’m good at what I do, and that’s what matters.” 

“And the other women? Do they get heckled or catcalled a lot?” 

“The only person who’s allowed to objectify my band is me,” Garcia says cheerfully, and then makes a face. “Kidding! I would never.”  

-

“Nicely done on that solo, hot stuff, you play that guitar almost as well as you fill out those jeans,” Penelope says into the dead mic. It goes directly to the band’s in-ear monitors, so nobody else can hear. Derek laughs and the rest of the band roll their eyes.

When they set up the extra mics and the band-to-booth-only channel, this was not what they had in mind (as Rossi keeps reminding her) but… it’s so much fun. She hasn’t made Derek crack up mid-show yet, but she’ll get there. 

“One of these days you’re gonna use the wrong channel and the entire house is gonna hear you,” JJ says into her own second mic, but she’s grinning too. 

“Let ‘em listen, they’d just be jealous,” Penelope says breezily. “Another one?” 

“Can we run ‘Eviler Twin’ with the new bridge?” Spencer asks. 

Penelope adjusts levels on his synths and shoots him a thumbs up. “You got it, Boy Wonder. Hotch, count ‘em in.” 

-

Lead singer Emily Prentiss has a larger-than-life presence from the moment she steps onstage. She’s commanding and confident, and it’s hard to take your eyes off of her, whether she’s crowdsurfing, jumping around the stage, or delivering one of her trademark fiery speeches between songs. 

When Prentiss first expressed an interest in singing, her mother hired a private vocal coach who specialized in opera, and was disappointed when her daughter showed interest in less classical genres. 

“She was pissed,” Prentiss says, smiling to herself. “I started sneaking out when I was fourteen or so and going to this one little local dive bar that got all the punk and hardcore bands. I’m still not sure how I convinced them to let me in. But seeing the Dead Kennedys made me decide I was going to be in a band. I just looked at Jello Biafra and thought, I want to do that.”  

While their music isn’t explicitly political, the band themselves aren’t shy about expressing their opinions, Prentiss in particular. 

-

“...and that’s why I never wear a bra,” Emily finishes. “Does that answer your question?” 

“I think so?” Paul says hesitantly. He’s making a noble effort not to look down at her tits. 

Emily’s pretty sure it doesn’t answer the question, not even a little bit, but she’s also pretty sure the question was about relationships, so. Fuck that question. 

Emily’s not great at press, but she is excellent at rambling about the patriarchy until people tune her out. 

-

Drummer Aaron Hotchner, best known as “Hotch,” has become the unlikely sex symbol of the band, despite being the only one who’s happily married. The attention only seems to embarrass him. 

“It’s real fun to read him thirst tweets and watch him turn colors,” Penelope says, with a devilish grin. “But you didn’t hear it from me.” 

When Hotch goes out to greet fans after the show, the female shrieks reach a deafening pitch. He greets everyone with a charming, dimpled smile and talks to each one as if there’s no one else waiting for his attention. The crowd is sizeable and some of the fans are overfamiliar, to put it mildly, but Hotch spends over an hour there, speaking to everyone individually. He remains unfailingly polite, taking pictures and signing things even after the rest of his bandmates have excused themselves for the night. 

“He’s just the sweetest,” one girl sighs to her friend as they finally head home. 

Hotch, who is notoriously unenthusiastic about talking to the press, did not want to comment. 

-

“Love you too, Jack. Take care of your mom,” Hotch is saying, as he walks through the green room door. He hangs up, and Emily can see the moment he notices Paul; his smile vanishes and his eyebrows flatten in a scowl. 

“Was that your son?” Paul asks politely. 

“Yes.” 

“How is he?” 

“Fine.” 

Paul’s smile falters for a second. “Do you talk to them every night, when you’re on the road? Touring must be tough.” 

Hotch just gives him a curt nod this time and Emily winces. Paul clears his throat. 

“So… you used to play in a grunge band, is that right?” he asks tentatively. 

Hotch gives him another stony look. “That is correct.” 

JJ opens the door, and Emily can’t help but mutter, “Oh thank fuck.” 

JJ looks between Hotch, who is holding eye contact without blinking, and a petrified Paul. Then she quirks an eyebrow at Emily, who gives her a panicked nod. 

“Hi there, you must be Paul,” JJ says warmly. She jabs Hotch discreetly in the side as she passes him. “Rossi and Morgan are getting food, Hotch, they said you should join them.” 

He looks like he’s about to protest, but Emily shoots him a look and he heads for the door. 

JJ sits next to Paul with a dazzlingly bright smile, eyelashes fluttering. “It is so nice to meet you. Reid and Garcia are in the batcave, I’m happy to take you out there, but I’m all yours if there’s anything you’d like to ask me about first.” 

Emily shoots her a thumbs-up and escapes before Paul notices. 

-

Jennifer Jareau, better known as “JJ,” has the sort of wholesome, all-American beauty that turns heads wherever she goes; she wouldn’t look out of place on a magazine cover. In fact, modeling was what led her indirectly to the band. 

JJ started playing music in her high school marching band, but never intended to pursue it seriously. She was the valedictorian of her small town’s high school and had a full scholarship to the University of Pittsburgh. Between her sophomore and junior years, though, she was spotted by a modeling agency and offered a job; it would just be one week, in Los Angeles. She says she was most excited about the opportunity to fly in an airplane for the first time. 

While in L.A., JJ met Prentiss, and the rest is history. The two women seem to work seamlessly together and frequently complete each others’ sentences, but while Prentiss is commanding and confident, JJ is soft-spoken and feminine, almost motherly. 

-

“I always wanted a family,” JJ says, with her most heartfelt Colgate-ad smile. “It ended up looking a little different than I expected, but here we are.” 

JJ’s 95% sure that’ll be the pull quote for the article. Men like Paul eat that traditional shit up with a spoon; she should probably rein it in before he jizzes himself. 

-

The “batcave,” as they call it, is so full of gear and recording equipment that I stand in the doorway while I talk to Reid and Garcia. Her desk takes up a third of the room, and it holds two laptops in addition to several sound boards and microphones. She’s putting together a rough demo of a song they started working on a couple days earlier. 

Reid, meanwhile, is sitting on the floor, surrounded by the disassembled parts of two amps, and he’s tinkering with something tiny and delicate-looking. When I ask what he’s doing, he rattles off a rapid-fire string of technical jargon, and I have to ask him to repeat himself. He looks to Garcia, who holds up her hands as if to say ‘don’t look at me,’ and Reid turns back to me to say, simply, “I’m making it sound better.” 

Reid has a tendency to speak at three times the speed of most humans, and frequently goes off on baffling tangents about everything from obscure composers to beekeeping to the origins of Halloween. It’s hard to follow, sometimes, but his bandmates seem used to it. 

When asked if anything has changed with the band’s recent success, he says thoughtfully, “I honestly haven’t noticed. None of it makes a difference to me, as long as I get to play music.” He pauses for a moment, then adds with a smile, “My high school reunion last month was very satisfying, though.” 

-

“... William Onyeabor, of course! Lately, also, a lot of Philip Glass and Gil Scott-Heron.” 

Spencer realizes he’s been staring up at the ceiling instead of talking to the reporter. He blinks and refocuses. Paul looks slightly shell-shocked. 

“So to answer your question, yes, we do spend a lot of time writing when we’re on the road,” Garcia interjects. Spencer winces. “We’ll probably have almost an album’s worth of demos by the time the tour is over. We could stay in here all day, the trick is getting Reid to remember to eat.” 

Spencer rolls his eyes. 

“So is that how you guys spend most of your spare time? Writing and playing music?” Paul asks. 

“Well, it’s not like we’re total shut-ins,” Garcia says. “We go out and have fun too. Admittedly, JJ and Emily’s idea of fun is starting bar fights, but -”

“Really?” Paul asks, looking at Spencer curiously. 

He scoffs. “No, she’s kidding.” 

Garcia, absorbed in whatever she’s doing on her laptop, continues absent-mindedly: “Well, it’s not that they start fights, but they both do Krav Maga and also attract a lot of idiots, so… idiots start bar fights and then the girls finish them. Let me tell you, you do not want to mess with JJ.” 

Paul looks at Spencer again. He shakes his head quickly. 

“I mean, can you really picture JJ in a bar fight?” he asks, forcing a laugh. 

Garcia’s still rambling. “Honestly though you really gotta watch out for this one right here. Reid’s our resident wild child.”  

He gives Paul a disarming, wide-eyed, ‘who, me?’ smile and shakes his head again. 

“Oh, man, one time in Boston he -” 

“Garcia,” Spencer interrupts. She looks up, glances at the tape recorder in Paul’s hand, and shuts her mouth hastily. Paul is starting to look suspicious.

“Ha! Just kidding,” Garcia says shrilly. “He’s a big ol’ dork, really.” 

Spencer nods earnestly, doing his best puppy eyes. “I spend most of my time reading, honestly. She’s just trying to make me seem cooler.” 

Paul’s expression clears slightly. “That… makes sense.” 

He doesn’t press for details, which is good. The legendary Boston Incident is not something Spencer needs in print. 

-

Derek Morgan learned guitar from his father, a Chicago blues artist, but says that when he began to write his own music, he immediately gravitated to classic rock. He cites Hendrix, the Rolling Stones, and Led Zeppelin as influences, and it’s easy to see that onstage; Morgan has the rakish charm and suggestive swagger to rival the moves of any of his idols. If anyone out of the group were to fit the mold of the traditional rockstar, I’d expect it to be him. 

The truth is much more innocuous. Offstage, he’s a perfect gentleman, respectful and chivalrous to a fault. He doesn’t drink, and he somehow finds time to work out almost every day, even when they’re on the road. 

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m dead boring,” he says, with a wide grin. “Truth is, none of us really fit into any of the usual boxes. That’s why we get along so well.” 

He says Garcia is his best friend in the group, and I can tell he’s fiercely protective of the band, especially the women. When asked if he’s usually the one looking out for the girls, he laughs. 

“Honestly, they’re not the ones I worry about,” he says. “But sure. We all look out for each other, really.”   

-

The bartender shows up, finally, and slides two glasses over to JJ. She knocks back the shot first. If this dumb hipster keeps slurring at her about how much artistry there is in dubstep, she’s going to need another one very soon. 

“People just don’t get it,” he says, sidling a little closer. JJ steps back. 

“Ben - Ken?” she asks, and the guy pauses, affronted. “I’m sure that’s very interesting, but you should probably know that I’m gay.” 

He raises his eyebrows. “Like, gay gay?” 

“Gayer by the second,” JJ says coolly. 

“How do you know, though?” Ken says, which is a level of douchebag she didn’t actually expect from him. He must be even drunker than he looks. 

JJ gives him a polite smile. “I’m going to go find my friends now.”

“Hey, hang on.” 

He grabs her arm as she turns away. Behind his back she can see Derek heading in their direction. She gives him a little “stand down” wave. 

“Bad idea,” she warns Ken. 

“Oh yeah? What -” 

“Back off,” Emily snaps, appearing at her side. 

Ken looks at them mutinously, and as they turn away, he mutters something that sounds like (but probably isn’t) “Duckin’ bikes.” 

“Say it to my face,” JJ tells him sweetly. “Let’s see how that goes for you.” 

“What are you gonna do about it?” he asks belligerently. 

Emily grabs one of his wrists and twists hard, while JJ gets the other. Ken yelps. 

“Everything okay here?” Derek says from behind him. He’s doing what can only be described as looming in a distinctly menacing way. “I think it’s time for you to head home, buddy.” 

“Shoo,” Emily adds. “Go on. Skedaddle.” 

Ken skedaddles. JJ can’t help but laugh.

“We had it under control,” Emily reassures Derek. 

He frowns. “You sure?”

“Just another one who thought he could cure me with his magic dick,” JJ says with a shrug. “More shots?” 

“No way, uh-uh,” Derek interrupts sternly. “Emily. Come on. You remember what happened last time you tried to outdrink JJ?” 

“It was so much fun until then, though,” JJ chirps. He knows them too well. She exchanges a look with Emily. 

“Hey, have you seen Reid lately?” Emily asks innocently, and while Derek is scanning the crowd and scowling, JJ gestures to the bartender. 

-

Only time will tell whether Business As Usual will continue to grow in popularity, but Rossi seems confident that they’re here to stay. To hear him tell it, he’s met everyone from the Stones to the Strokes (“And I have the scars to prove it!”) and he has an eye for which bands are in it for the long haul. 

He says, “Long-term success isn’t about who’s the most talented musicians or the best performers, although these guys are both. So many bands crash and burn early.” 

“Why is that? What makes you so sure these guys will be different?”

“You hear people blame it on the lifestyle, the drugs, the parties, but truth is, those don’t matter all that much as long as the band is taking care of each other.” He smiles proudly. “These guys, they’ll always have each others’ backs. They’re a team.” 

-

“You about ready to head back to the hotel?” Hotch asks quietly, lining up his shot. “This isn’t going to last much longer.” Sure enough, he sinks the ball neatly and straightens up, giving the table a calculating look. 

“Let me round ‘em up,” Derek says. “Meet you outside in five.” 

“When has it ever taken five minutes to round up this bunch?” Hotch asks wryly. “You have fifteen and then I’m leaving. Shout if you need help.” 

He spots Penelope first. She’s in the middle of the dancefloor, dancing with a guy who might as well have cartoon hearts popping out of his eyes. She’s not drunk to the point where she’s doing her signature Shitfaced Shimmy, so she won’t be too hard to wrangle. He catches her eye and taps his wrist, then points to the door, and she shoots him a thumbs up. 

Piece of cake. 

He looks around for Reid next, hoping against hope that the kid hasn’t attracted any crazy tonight. He’s not sure why or how, but Reid has proven more prone to disaster than the rest of the crew combined. If you asked Derek who in the band was most likely to get slapped, get kidnapped, get stabbed (accidentally), lose his shoes on the way back from the bathroom, get fully lost on the way to the bathroom, get hit on by a prostitute, puncture his own foot with a dart, snort something sketchy and end up wired til dawn, or befriend a mob boss, the answer would be Spencer Reid, every damn time. 

He knows this because Reid’s already done most of those things. 

Emily pops up at his side. Her level of sobriety is surprising until Derek notices the smug smile on her face and the phone number Sharpied on her arm. He gives her a fist-bump. 

“Meet you outside,” she says cheerfully. 

This might be even easier than he thought. 

“Hey, Emily,” he calls, and she turns back to look at him. “Have you seen Reid or JJ?” 

“JJ found me a while ago to borrow my swiss army knife,” she says thoughtfully, and then her eyes widen in realization. “She never came back and I haven’t seen Reid. Shit.” 

“Alright, you check outside, look in the alley, I’ll do a sweep around here. If Garcia’s not already outside, call Hotch.” Emily nods curtly and turns toward the door. 

Derek elbows his way around the fringes of the dance floor, scanning the crowd for JJ’s blonde hair, but no luck. He checks a couple of the out-of-the-way nooks and crannies where Reid likes to curl up to pass out, even glances under a couple tables, but there’s no sign of him. He heads for the door that leads to the hallway with the bathrooms. 

He almost runs right into JJ and Reid, who are arm-in-arm as they burst through the door. 

“Oh good,” he says, mildly surprised to see them both upright. Then Reid looks up with big, innocent eyes, sniffing and twitching his nose like a goddamn rabbit, and JJ flaps her hand urgently toward the front of the bar, stepping around Derek without breaking stride.   

“We should go,” she says quickly. “Now.” 

“What did you do?” he groans, shepherding them through the crowd. He can see them exchange a glance. JJ wipes her nose with the back of her sleeve, Emily’s multi-tool still clutched in her fist. 

“We may have rearranged some things,” Spencer mutters. 

“There might be some physics magic brewing,” JJ adds. 

Just as Derek half-shoves them through the front door, he hears a shout from the direction of the bathrooms.

Amazingly, everyone is standing on the sidewalk waiting for them. 

“Double time,” Derek says hurriedly, and they all fall into step. 

“Eight minutes and thirty-seven seconds,” Hotch says, looking at his watch. He holds a hand out to Penelope. “Pay up.” 

“Thing One and Thing Two over there were just stirring up some chaos,” Morgan explains. 

“Do I want to know?” Penelope asks, fishing a twenty out of her purse. “Is this a plausible deniability situation?”  

Emily shakes her head. “I swear, Reid, one of these days I’m going to put a leash on you, and not in a fun sexy way.” 

JJ and Reid are already half a block ahead of the rest of them, arms linked, heads together like they’re plotting again. JJ lets out one of her weird little coke-giggles and Derek can hear Reid chattering about… the Wizard of Oz, for some reason? Whatever. 

Just another day for this weird-ass bunch he calls family. 

[stusbunker]

Nano Nano NA NA

NaNoWriMo is here!

And with last year, I’m not bothering to write a novel as I have so much writing to do already for y’all. I will submit my word counts, maybe give you guys some updates here and there, but they’re still be for the fanfic. I have four series I would like to make some progress on if not complete in this time.

In order of most recent to oldest:

Hunters’ Crossing (Dean x Wife!Reader AU)

A Gentlemen’s Agreement (Dean x Benny AU)

For Better or Worst (Sam x Emery OFC s14 AU)

BAU Prep School AU (Criminal Minds)

So if you’re a vibe sharing type, send some my way. Because I’m going to keep trying even if I already know I am going to fail.

xoxo

Stu

[dontshootmespence]

V?💛

V: If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

Oh, that’s really tough. There are a few people’s things that I would love expanded work on. I think I’d either pick Valkyrie by @illegalcerebral, BAU Prep School by @stunudo or more more more of my wifey @remember-me-forever-silent-angel‘s CM Reid Twins AU. If you haven’t read any of those before, I HIGHLY recommend them. :D

[heycasbutt]

I’m relatively new to the CM fandom but it feels like I’ve gone through all of the good Spencer/reader fics on Ao3 (as well as your whole master list), so I was wondering if you had any favorites or fic recs? :)

@dontshootmespence  is absolutely amazing. She just has this way with words, and a way to make you feel emotions like no one ever has. She’s written fics on topics I’ve never seen written before, and of course, they are wonderful. I HIGHLY recommend Broken Homes Fix Broken Hearts (this one is a collab with @veroinnumera who is also just the sweetest little bean ever) or Through the Pages a Victorian AU—both are wonderful. You can find her Criminal Minds Masterlist HERE

@criminal-minds-fanfiction  While Cherry isn’t writing right now, I still think she’s an amazing author and was one of my biggest inspirations in starting this blog. One of my favorite fics from Cherry, and the first one I ever read was Every Me and Every You. It gives a healthy perspective to BDSM, none of that 50 Shades crap. It’s sweet, and sexy, all rolled into one great cinnamon bun of wonderful.You can find her Masterlist HERE

@stunudo is another great one. I haven’t read through all her work, but what I’ve read so far is mindblowingly wonderful. I’d recommend BAU Prep School—I just started this one and it’s amazing, it’s a unique AU and one that I really really enjoy. You can find her Masterlist HERE

@illegalcerebral Much like Stu, I haven’t read all of her work, but what I have read has been absolutely wonderful. I’d most definitely recommend FBI’s Most Unwanted. It’s new, and riveting, just wonderful really! I can’t wait to see where she takes it! You can find her Masterlist HERE

These are the ones that I frequent the most, however, if anyone else has anyone else they would like to include, please do so! 😘

[dreatine]

To my understanding, AUs are stories that have the characters from a show in settings they'd wouldn't be on the show like High School or Royal etc...

Based on that, here are some Spencer AUs off the top of my head!

BAU Prep School AU by @stunudo

Bitter and Sweet by @illegalcerebral ( Coffeeshop AU w/ Elle/Spencer)

The Sailor and the Siren by @illegalcerebral ( Mermaid AU Elle/Spencer)

A Song I Love the Melody Of by @illegalcerebral ( Musical AU, Garvez/ Reidaway little)

It's Simplicity by @dontshootmespence (Neighbors AU)

Savior in a Strange Land by @dontshootmespence ( Royal AU)

Hope this helps!!

does anyone have any good Spencer AU recs?

[stunudo]

Side note: How did I forget how QUEER Prep School was?! Like, well done Stu.

[stunudo]

I’m so curious about the whole thing with Alex and Matt. I can’t wait, I know I’m probably going to be hooked on them like I was with Elle and Reid, I ship those two so much because of you and your fic. I want to to thank you for introducing me to them

Yes! Okay, so they obviously have a history, albeit not romantic since she was married with a kid at the time, but they know each other.

Alex was pushing Hotch on why he was keeping Matt around (probably 3 chapters back) because she didn't want Matt staying FOR her. She wanted it to be necessary to the school. They keep each other in the periphery because they were scared of facing their attraction head on. Especially after Rossi tried to reconnect with Alex last year.

Matt was the cause of Alex 'moving on' , that Gideon mentioned to Rossi (over Xmas break) and put Rossi in that same menu funk at the beginning of the semester.

This is why AUs are so important! Because I would never NEVER in a million years take Matt away from Kristy in canon. They're perfection.

But... This is a shippers dream series. I have Jemily and Reidaway and characters that never met Tara x Kate and Matt x Alex! With a little Alverson for good measure. And the penultimate ship that was never given to us MORCIA!

It's such heaven. Thanks for indulging with me. 😊

[stunudo]

BAU Prep School AU: Class of 18

Welcome to the Frederick Buchanan Institute located in scenic Quantico, Virginia, a senior high academy that shapes the best and brightest minds. Its motto is “Behavior, Analysis, Unity,” the mascot the Submariners, colloquially “the Unsubs”. The small school supports the most accomplished faculty from across the country. (image link)  2016-2017 school year  Class of 18 

Okay, my lovely Submariners, it has been far too long and I apologize for that. About half of my usual audience has vacated Tumblr with all the excitement, but I hope some of you are still out there and still interested. A very special shout out to Nicole @dontshootmespence for writing the clues for the hunt, she is far more clever than I.

The Scavenger Hunt

Friday March 23, 2018 7:10am

The silence in the usually bustling space sent Headmaster Aaron Hotchner into a suspicious scowl. His leer lingered on the un-womaned front desk of the main office. No Ashley. There had never been no Ashley before. Hotch thought she would rather infect the entire school with germs than miss a day of the gossip and constant paperwork. She hated to fall behind in the daily attendance logs and phone calls. He checked his watch with his briefcase still firmly in his right hand before heading into his office to check his email.

Just as a sigh of relief left his lips, Penelope stormed in, rolling up the sleeves of her violet cardigan.

“Just heard about Ashley’s cat. Poor baby. Where do you need me first?”

“Let’s get through morning announcements and then we can decipher Ashley’s very detailed list of instructions for the remainder of the day.”

Two hours later

Penelope had sorted through announcements and daily communications, once the first period’s attendance was logged, she cross-checked it with any approved absences. She swore there had to be a more efficient way to do it. Somethings just took longer than she had patience for and technology had seriously evolved in the past fifty years. Hotch began organizing the mail and other fliers left in the office’s inbox when a square unmarked envelope caught his eye. Thinking it was a simple greeting card, he opened it to get it sent along to its intended destination. What he found instead was a simple handwritten not in capital letters:

HERE YOU FIND A MILLION WORDS, BUT YOU MUST READ THEM FOR THEY CAN’T BE HEARD.

“Garcia? Is this something I should be concerned with?” Hotch’s eyebrows raised in confusion while Penelope flitted over to read the card.

“Probably not, but can we?” Penelope clenched the paper in her bejeweled hands. “Sir, please? I mean, it will only take a second to find the next clue.”

“Clue to what?”

“Precisely! To what!” Penelope beamed with curiosity. Hotch rolled his eyes and shook his head as a conspiratorial smirk crept across his face.

“Alright, let’s go see if Ms. Donovan has found any peculiar envelopes today.”

The Delaney Owens Memorial Library, 9:37am

Dr. Spencer Reid had plans to start his weekend with a good book, which is how he found himself roaming the stacks of the cavernous library with little inkling to what would catch his fancy that crisp Spring morning. The use of his prep period for such a personal use would be suspicious if it was the Regents Board monitoring the staff like prisoners, but luckily for Spencer, his silent companion wouldn’t breathe a word outside of the sacred space. He hadn’t had many interactions with the secretive librarian since he took the science position, but mostly that was because she was exceptionally shy.

Their communication tended to be mostly non-verbal, which added to her general mystery and librarian clout. As Spencer lingered in the Poetry section, something out of place jutted out between two well-worn volumes. He reached out to grab the white envelope as the heavy doors opened ominously. He instinctively slipped it into the back pocket of his dress pants, like a thief prior to discovery and spun to see who had entered. Their telltale voices floated through the vast quiet and Spencer chuckled beneath his breath.

“Hey, Hotch, Penelope, what’s up?” Spencer approached, hands in his pockets and slightly concerned.

“A plot is afoot, Boy Wonder!” Penelope was instantly shushed by the Headmaster and the Librarian behind the low counter. She waved them off, thrusting the card from the Main Office to her fellow genius. Spencer’s brow pinched as he read the riddle.

“Well, let’s just see the next destination for the hunt, shall we?” Spencer whisked his matching clue in flourish from behind his back.

“Reid?”

“I didn’t plant the notes. I just found this in poetry when you came in.”

“Very suspicious, if you ask me,” Penelope squared her shoulders and held her hands on her hips.

“He’s not lying, Garcia.” Hotch said flatly.

“He’s not?! But that was too easy.”

“Right place, right time.” Spencer shrugged before reading the next note for the waiting ears, “Sit down and eat and don't be rude, if you're mean you get no food.”

Cafeteria, 10:58am

Jackson Curtis had perfected balancing his lunch tray on the seat of his walker-scooter, something he had switched to from his arm-crutches in early October. Like most days he made sound effects as he walked, keeping people out of his way while entertaining himself. Rita Cruz giggled as he made a hydraulic hiss and a Tardis-reminiscent whooshing before settling across from her at the end of the nearly empty table. Fourth period lunch was the least populated because a lot of the upperclassmen knew to schedule their classes, ensuring they didn’t eat so early in the school day. The two freshmen were aware of others’ preferences, yet they liked the quieter atmosphere for their own extremely different reasons.

“Have you noticed the teachers today?” She asked as she watched Ms. Blake and Coach Jareau bending over and checking beneath the tables and benches.

“Think it’s a mysterious package they’re looking for?” Jax wiggled his eyebrows, earning a wad of bread crust tossed at him.

“Not funny, but no, we’d be evacuated, and somebody’s parents would be up in arms and all sorts of crap would happen if there was a threat. But, seriously, what is their deal?”

“I think you mean everybody’s parents would be throwing a fit.”

“Pretty much.”

A short screech rang out across the cafeteria as the Drama teacher flagged down her fellow faculty, Coach Jareau jogged down the center aisle as Ms. Blake ripped open a small white card, Rita could see her lips working over the words without hearing her over the surrounding ruckus. The soccer coach pulled her phone from her pocket and snapped a picture of its contents, leaving their audience in the dark.

Teacher Lounge 11:40am

Emily kept checking her watch and Chef Rossi noticed, not making a comment, but not keeping the Italian snark from his face either. JJ and she had lunch together everyday and today, of all days, JJ was late, and Emily was increasingly anxious the later she got. Did she have the wrong place? Had she remembered wrong? Was this whole thing a mistake, was this note she found in theatre not meant for her? What the hell was going on?

Stabbing into her chicken cutlet was the last straw, Dave cleared his throat. “You know, Emily, there are these fancy new gadgets called cell phones. You could call your girlfriend and ask where she is?”

If looks could kill, Alex Blake would have just qualified for a hefty inheritance. Without a word, Emily pulled out her phone and dialed JJ all the while keeping Dave locked in a staring match.

“Jayge?”

Dave didn’t get to find out what was going on, but by the quirk of her lips Emily told him it wasn’t serious. She single-handedly cleared her place and clipped out of the deserted dining room. Leaving the chef shaking his head as he sipped his cappuccino.

Just down the Hall, outside of the Cafeteria

Stephen Walker was holding up two plain index cards beside Penelope who held up another, while Dr. Reid articulated with his hands to a rapt Hotch, JJ and Tara. Emily slid into the semi-circle as the cards became legible.

HERE YOU FIND A MILLION WORDS, BUT YOU MUST READ THEM FOR THEY CAN’T BE HEARD.

SIT DOWN AND EAT AND DON’T BE RUDE, IF YOU’RE MEAN YOU GET NO FOOD.

I MEASURE SUCCESS IN APPLAUSE AND YELLS, THIS IS A PLACE WHERE THE MUSIC SWELLS.

Silently, Emily unfolded the missing piece she had found during first hour. Adding it in sequence into Penelope’s left hand. Returning beside JJ she leaned in, “I thought you were being cute.”

JJ gave her a confused face as Tara read the new information aloud, “I don’t have the advantage of home field, but please don’t try to make me yield. There is nothing more I want than this, meet me in a place like our first kiss.’ That…is suddenly personal.”

“So that means this game is meant for a specific staff member,” Hotch added.

“Where did you find this?” Spencer leaned in, examining Emily’s clue for any other anomalies.

“My Shakespeare class are using the theatre to perform their favorite scenes from the plays we have covered so far. I found it in the front row first thing this morning.”

“The sequence is Office, Library, Cafeteria, then Theatre. But we can’t tell who it’s for after that,” Stephen’s deep voice surmised.

“Garcia?” Hotch had his brooding eyebrows on. “Is today a special date for you and Coach Morgan?”

“No, sir, our anniversary is in December and, he knows better than to do surprises during school hours.” Hotch smiled at her defense.

“Okay, so it’s not Emily and JJ, nor Derek and Penelope. Does this seem like something Grant would do?” Spencer looked to Hotch and the amused Dave who had found the conspirators before the turn of the hour.

“Interesting,” Tara added.

“Guys, I hate to break up the Scooby Gang, but Fifth Period is just about over.” Dave raised his hands, gently pushing the air to clear the hall. The faculty broke off in groups and pairs, speculation and gossip flowing freely.

Clear as a bell before she rounded the corner, Penelope squealed, “Ashley is going to be so mad she missed this!”

Gymnasium 2:16pm

Luke Alvez rounded the track in a measured pace, his last quarter mile slated for a cooldown before hitting the showers. He didn’t use his prep period for exercise often, but he had a lot of thoughts eating away at him and his best anecdote for a racing mind was an adrenaline tapped body. He relished in the barely Spring air, letting the cold hit his dark curls as he pulled off his hoodie. He nodded to Coach Morgan as the heavy outside door groaned closed behind him.

“Yo, Alvez, come here a sec,” the football coach called from the sidelines of an intense match of 3v3. Luke folded his damp sweatshirt over his forearm as he waited for Derek’s query. “Take this to Hotch? It’s probably a prank, but Zach Henkel found it during Running Club and I haven’t gotten a sec to drop it off yet.”

Luke’s eyes grew impossibly darker as he read the simple hint on the ordinary cardstock. “Uh, sure, no problem. I’ma go wash up first.”

“You better,” Derek grinned, earning a tongue in cheek smirk from the soccer player in return. When he got to the emptiness of the showers, Luke finally let the panic set in. This was a familiar game.

THE PLACE WHERE THE HEADMASTER GETS THINGS DONE, AMIDST PAPER AND PENCILS AND NOT MUCH FUN, AMONG DESKS AND DRAWERS AND TABLES AND CHAIRS, YOU WILL FIND YOUR NEXT CLUE THERE.

The card still taunted him as he strolled down the hallway, ducking around students during passing time. He was going to be late for his Latin class, but it was a Friday afternoon’s last class of the day; the kids wouldn’t even notice. He found Penelope talking to a picture frame, seated at Ashley’s desk.

“What’s up newbie?” Penelope asked waving a fuzzy pen in greeting, her face paled and eyes widened as he held up the clue. “Did you find another one?! Gimme, gimme, we need to finish this before the weekend, or I will not be able to sleep.”

“Uh, what are you talking about?”

“The clues? All of us have been searching the school since first hour. Keep up.” She snapped, wrenching the paper from his hand.

“Quite the run around, how come nobody said anything to me?” He was trying to be casual, luckily Penelope’s intuition was otherwise engaged.

“Ugh, it’s just a precursor! It doesn’t tell us WHO or WHEN or anything really.” She moaned in defeated.

“Look, I gotta get to class, but if you want a set of fresh eyes, I can take a look at the rest of them?” Luke smiled as Penelope slowly perked up.

“You HAVE to tell me the SECOND you figure it out, deal?” She threatened with a fiercely manicured index finger.

“Deal,” Luke chuckled, giving her his usual easy grin. “Hand ‘em over before I get marked tardy.”

She waved off his joke, “I’ll write you a pass, geez.”

Guidance Office, 3:47pm

Derek Morgan leaned his broad frame through Penelope’s door, peeking to see if she was still there. She was, fingers typing absently as she glanced over her shoulder at her second monitor, a grimace half way between annoyance and confusion met his low voice. “How’s my Baby Girl today?”

“Ugh, You’re not Luke!”

“No…. I’m not, is there something you want to tell me?” Derek asked with a faux serious face.

“Luke hadn’t seen all the clues, so I let him take them with him when he brought the last one.”

“So, it was a big game after all? I thought it was just a single prank, huh.” Derek sat on the edge of Penelope’s desk as she leaned back in her swirly chair in thought.

“It was a Scavenger Hunt, my dear sweet man, but you were too busy in your sweaty gym to notice. We, all of us, have been in a tizzy all day!”

“Right, well, can we go home now?”

“Not yet.”

“Penny Grace Garcia.”

“Soon! I swear!”

“It’s Friday!”

“Five more minutes?”

“Look, if Luke doesn’t show up with an answer in the next two, I’m driving home. You can walk.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Hey guys,” Tara sauntered in, her tailored suit accentuating her long legs. “Any news?”

“No, Luke has all the clues, but I haven’t heard or seen anything else.” Penelope pouted, fluffing the feathers at the end of her pen.

“Luke left.”

“What?! When?!” Penelope stood up, Derek soon followed. “He can’t! I need answers. We had a deal.”

Derek and Tara shared a look, but they let her go, fuming down the hallway and toward the parking lot. “Why is this so important?” Derek groaned under his breath.

Tara warned, “Don’t get between her and a mysterious romantic quest.”

He guffawed, “Oh shit, never mind, of course let’s waste our weekend storming off in circles.”

“I can hear you!” Penelope called back, not bothering to slow down, rounding a corner and almost knocking Spencer on his bony bottom. “Oh, sorry, have you seen Mr. Alvez?”

“Uh, no, but Grant said he had a few more hours of work. Maybe Luke’s with him?” Spencer straightened his tie and looked to Derek and Tara. “What’s going on?”

“We think Luke may have figured out the next clue,” the history teacher explained as Penelope started marching once more.

“He has the clues, I don’t know if he knows shit!” Penelope grumbled, either way, Spencer joined the pursuit. Once the ragtag group reached the side exit, they spotted Luke’s form across the soccer pitch heading away from the school and the parking lot. “Where does he think he’s going?”

“It looks like he’s headed to the football field,” Derek shrugged.

“Anybody know where their first kiss was? Maybe this was for Luke all along?” Tara pointed out.

“I thought it was our house?” Derek asked Penelope as she slipped out of her heels.

“Who knows, but we better catch up if we want to find out!” She stepped into the damp grass and recoiled. Though her curiosity won out, Penelope cursed muddy stockings the whole way there.

Fifty Yard Line

He didn’t know how long he would have to wait for Luke to find his clues, either way the nervous energy wasn’t dissipating anytime soon. He paced, jogged and tossed the ball in the air, anything to keep him from checking his watch. He still checked his watch. This was his element, the fresh air and the chalk lined field should be a comfort to him, but his better judgement screamed caution. An ominous groan escaped the latch of the gate at the far end of the field. His breathing increased as Luke slowly made his way towards him. The moment had finally arrived. Luke was tense, constantly checking over his shoulder while Phil was just happy, he had agreed to see him.

“That can’t be good,” Kate said like a curse, eyeing her coworkers from the back of Hotch’s car. She had a box of hand-me-down clothes to give to Jack in her arms. Hotch’s furrowed brow told her he shared the sentiment. With a casual relocking of both of their trunks, they followed the small swarm of educators to the vacant football stadium.

Grant had been dodging questions and bad weather all day. The sun had only another two hours left, and he needed to get serious about the soccer pitch. He had plans that weekend and nothing was going to keep him at work longer than what was necessary. When he spotted the crowd of suspicious educators galivanting through the grounds, his possessiveness of the grass maintenance nearly gave him a coronary. He needed to make sure they weren’t going to be long or damaging, so he followed them.

“Why are you doing this?” Luke balked down at Phil, blindsided by the gesture that had his ex-lover kneeling before him and holding up a ring.

“Because I need you in my life, Luke. We’re better together,” Phil insisted, reaching for Luke’s left hand. “Say yes. Say yes and I can spend the rest of our lives making it up to you.”

“What is happening?!” Penelope’s voice echoed through the stands, forcing Luke’s eyes closed in shame.

“You should leave,” Luke spat at the ground and turned to try and make up for the confusion. As Luke spun his eyes locked onto the only pair that shouldn’t have seen the last few minutes. Grant’s usual gentle blue turned a cold and distant storm. “Grant, wait, let me expla—”

But he was gone before Luke or anyone else could stop him. The crowd dispersed quickly. Derek ended up dragging Penelope back from attacking Phil in the parking lot. Grant seemed to have vanished in a way only someone who knew the school’s oldest secrets could. Hotch looked at Luke with a rare moment of pity before wishing everyone a safe weekend.

Through stinging eyes, Luke found his way to his truck at the back of the parking lot. Stuck beneath his wiper blade was a now ominous white envelope. He snarled into the night as he ripped it from its perch, throwing it with a frustrated backhand. He climbed into the cab and let the menacing engine take over for his frustrations, leaving the litter to drown in a pothole with his hopes and intentions.

General

 @heyworld07 @thespaceprincess @skrrrrrrrrrrt @luckypop6 @dontshootmespence @veroinnumera @holding-on-to-francis @gabriellewritermua @mysticpansy @bloowulf  @braziliangirlonasharkcity @dionnaea @tenaciousaracdeexpert @fbissaderekmorgan @frietjmeloen @rt8815 @cynbx @nelbie @greytoneworld  @sassyspacepizza

@extremeobsessions101 @haendel-me-with-care @characterobsessed  @neongravest0nes

Prep School

@mentallydatingspencerreid @ultrarebelheart @lyrasilverroseelizabethamanti  @rikersgirl22 @pllfrommars @darknesstoglowing @adropintheocean1234567 @tleighstone12 @unitchiefwives @sam-carter-in-training @prettyboysjello @ddreammcatcher @thegirlinflames  @night–hawk @t25luver @onlyalittleteenwolfobsessed @literallyprentissstwin @usercorgis @natalie-fangirl @holding-on-to-francis @nikkipea @alisonxnguyen @nsanchez1992 @callmesandwichplease @theonlyonelives @emmiej @sherlokiwholmes @spencer-is-too-perfect  @spookygibson

[stunudo]

Oh my God. Each of my series is a different box?!!! 😁😬 Lawful Fusion= One of the Six

Neutral AU= BAU Prep School

Neutral Canon= The One After Her

Chaotic Canon= That Got Away

😂😂😿

tag yourself i’m chaotic au

[stunudo]

BAU Prep School AU: Class of 18

Welcome to the Frederick Buchanan Institute located in scenic Quantico, Virginia, a senior high academy that shapes the best and brightest minds. Its motto is “Behavior, Analysis, Unity,” the mascot the Submariners, colloquially “the Unsubs”. The small school supports the most accomplished faculty from across the country. (image link)

2016- 2017  Class of 2018  Previous Chapter: Adjustments

Sidelines

February 14, 2018 4:08pm

The daycare was just North of their place, but it also happened to be the opposite direction of the Institute. JJ had insisted on driving separate since soccer season was coming up and she didn’t want to start a routine to have to adjust it in two weeks’ time. Which left Emily with pick up duty. It was a brisk afternoon, winter lingered, and she made her way in towards the infant pick up desk. Emily hadn’t told JJ, but the staff were always rather short with her. Perhaps because she wasn’t Henry’s biological mom or because she wasn’t a semi-famous athletic model type, either reason she chose to kill them with kindness in return. Let them deal with their own baggage; she had a baby to snuggle into his seat.

It was Valentine’s Day, a milestone that hadn’t escaped her radar, despite having had a rather romantic weekend at home with JJ. This was their first Valentine’s after everything that happened last year, and Emily had a few tricks up her sleeve. Henry would just have to accompany her for the final details.

JJ had been itching to get the field prepped and try out exercises nailed down, but the weather was not cooperating. She ran sprints in the gymnasium, using the bleachers for extra resistance. She was excited about the coming season, knowing her veteran players would be solid leaders for however many new faces made their way onto the roster. She had stayed in her capris, sports bra and over-sized tank top from her eighth period Yoga class. Something she never thought she would be enjoying teaching, reiterating that self-discovery is a never-ending process.

When she had scribbled enough notes on her clipboard and her own stink started to overwhelm her, she headed home. Windows open and music loud, she invited the chilly winter air as she thumped her palms against the steering wheel in time with the drumbeat. Her sweat had frozen in against her forehead by the time she got home, the bags and clothes slung over her shoulders as she stomped up the steps to their home. Emily’s car was already in the driveway, JJ silently begged she had cooked. She was assaulted with heady scents and spices; the kitchen was filled with food. A tired, yet appreciative smile grew on her face as she spotted Henry in his high chair.

“Hey! You’re early!” Emily accused, but smirked as JJ snaked an arm around her waist.

“Pretend I’m not here, I need a shower, but it smells fantastic.” JJ kissed Emily’s cheek before slipping away from her girlfriend at the stovetop.

A half hour later and they were seated at the table with wine in hand and easy smiles. Henry had fallen asleep in his spot between them, but they didn’t want to move him and risk waking him, yet.

“So, you cooked?” JJ raised her eyebrows.

“Yeah, well… Yes, I did the heating, but it was from one of those prep stores.”

“I would have settled for leftovers, Em. Thank you, it was a good idea.”

“We’re going to see each other a lot less soon,” Emily mused. “And since it is Valentine’s Day, we figured we’d surprise you.”

JJ laughed at Emily using Henry as a co-conspirator. Their eyes locked across the table, bright and playful, yet feelings that ran so deeply just below the surface.

“We should clean up,” JJ sighed.

“We should, but not now,” Emily stood, pulling JJ from her seat and walking her upstairs. As soon as their mouths broke apart, she reassured JJ, “I left the baby monitor on, he’s fine, love.”

Monday Feb 19 7:25am

Hotch opened the door to his office to an unexpected visitor, “Good morning, Alex.”

“You’re usually early, Aaron,” she didn’t get up or seem upset. Her large lips full, holding back an immeasurable amount of ammunition. His guard was raised, but she didn’t strike, she sat quietly as he settled in for his morning, sipping her coffee from home. He sat down, her eyebrows were ticking upwards, the impatience no longer masked.

“What brings you by, first thing, Monday morning?” He bit back a smile, knowing she was not amused with his overt friendliness.

“Why did you keep Simmons on staff after Coach Jareau came back?” She came out of left field, but it wasn’t aggressive, it was as if she were a prying psychologist or a detective. The bell rang out across the grounds, the school day at begun, but she had no class this period.

“The Board and I agreed we need to continue to expand our courses, Matt Simmons has a breadth of knowledge that is crucial to building future leaders. Is there a reason his permanence upsets you?” Hotch countered, cool and thorough.

“I was curious, he seemed kind of like a dark horse of a hire in the first place. Not like Luke, stable,” Alex was saying more than the words she used.

“It’s been a while since a new position was created, but that probably wasn’t wise on our parts. Are the students questioning the changes, I know you hear more than they think you do” Hotch asked, genuinely concerned now.

She gave him a half smile, “More than anyone thinks I do.” She sighed, placing her empty cup upright into her bag that leaned against the leg of her chair. “I have not heard any negative comments from students on the changes or on his placement.”

“So, these are personal reservations?” Hotch leaned forward, eyebrows cinched.

“Perhaps.” Alex popped the p’s, face indifferent and calm. They regarded each other, her a vintage beauty with untapped mental capacities and he a golden boy champion of underdogs. The uncertainty in her motivation left him searching, she stood and grabbed her things.

“Staff meeting still three weeks out?”

“Yup, have a good one,” Hotch replied, sitting back in his chair, amused by and questioning her mercurial nature.

Tuesday, March 6, 4:01pm

The fields were hard, and the grass was a dull blanket across the grounds. Their breaths clung to the frigid air, layers insolating, to be discarded the longer their bodies burned. The girls came in every color and shape, their voices distinct on the carrying breeze. He never got tired of watching a pass connect from seeming impossible gaps in space and time, Jareau ran her team with unwavering support and structure. Luke Alvez stood mesmerized, watching girls that usually refused to answer a question aloud dive for the sidelines, charge the defenders and spin around to do it over again, never stopping or backing down. The playing field was an entirely different universe and he was proud to be part of a program that brought out the fighters in the students. The tough-as-nails tenacity that the world would test over and over again, alive and thriving in pure competition.

He wore a fleece zip up and his pair of uniform pants from the boys’ season, he felt naked without shin guards on, but warm. He knew Grant hated how early she insisted on using the pitch, as the seasonal weather hadn’t let him get it up to standard. He smirked at the distressed expression he had been given when he told his boyfriend that he was going down to check out the lady Submariners. It was the cusp of Grant’s busiest stretch of the year, so Luke knew not to linger when Grant would have dinner waiting for them.

Hannah was the clear leader both on and off the field, her midfield position perfect for mediating and observing. They were running passing drills, weaving in and out of each other in twos and threes to help navigate their lanes and ball handling without looking down, too often. He heard more enthusiasm than he thought a bitter afternoon could muster in those usually prim and coiffed teenagers. Cissy helped Maya and another freshman by explaining the drill on the sidelines before their turn in the rotation.

A terse whistle blast sent the group sprinting to the top of the slight hill, Jareau’s voice carrying as they got their rhythm down. Luke shuffled back towards the pathway towards the main buildings and away from the football field. A well aimed ball hit him between his shoulders as he strolled off, he tensed but turned with a big grin.

“Hey, walking here,” he teased, tapping the ball back to Coach Jareau.

“Yeah, like what you see or just miss the action?” she volleyed, juggling the ball as the team continued behind the adults.

“A little of column A, a little of column B. Why?” Luke’s chin jutted out, sensing a reason for her pursuit.

“Can I ask you a favor?” JJ’s eyes melted into hopeful groveling.

“Shoot.” They talked and passed the ball between them as the plans began to solidify. The team bored with the drill started on a new activity without their Coach or teacher noticing. Hannah and Cissy guiding the girls into groups and worked on headers and controlling the ball with other parts of the body.

Friday March 9 3:13pm

Elle answered the phone with a quick apology to the clients in front of her.

“Tell me again, we’re doing the right thing,” Spencer’s voice croaked in a rushed whisper. She smiled into the mouth piece, rolling her eyes gently.

“Spence-,” Elle began, but was quickly cut off.

“No, I know it’s the right thing for us and I like to think it is the right thing for her too, but, ignore me. Only child guilt slipping through, it will pass, and come back eventually in passive aggressive banter and indigestion.” Spencer looked out across his A.P. Physics glass, watching their faces contorted in misery at the equations in front of them. Pencils and erasers rustling against the quiz sheets.

“If you’re having second thoughts, we don’t have to do it this weekend,” She also whispered, not wanting to pressure him, yet slightly worried he would back out of their plans.

“It’s more like five hundredth thoughts, but no, rethinking hasn’t done anything to change my decision. I just seek reassurance because I don’t want to become my father.” Spencer swallowed, trusting Elle like he had no one before.

“None of that. Two different circumstances entirely. I have clients, but I will call you on my way?” Elle gave the people waiting on her an apologetic glance, their half hour appointment slipping away with each minute of her conversation.

“Sounds good, love you.” Spencer hung up the old phone on the wall.

“Back at you.” Elle sighed, bringing up the case file and applications back to the center of her desk.  “Gracias por esperar. Su reunión con el abogado está programada para la próxima semana. Continúa como has estado y tu solicitud se procesará en dos o tres meses.”

The rest of her day was a paperwork and following up for clients’ services. She hurried out of the small office building as the Friday night commuter traffic groaned to a halt on the overhead interchange. Elle sat in her car and dialed Spencer’s new cell phone number.

“I’m going to be late, backroads will be quicker, but I wanted to warn you.”

Spencer paused, checking his watch, though he knew the time from both the phone’s screen and his innate internal clock. “Take your time, we have all weekend to get her settled, I just thought she would like to ease her way in.”

“How are you holding up?” Elle put her keys in the ignition and let the car’s warning bells whistle as she waited to put on her seat belt.

“Better, thanks.”

“And Diana?” Elle followed, listening to his breaths and hesitations as scrutinous as his words.

“She’s watching Jeopardy and laughing, it’s like it doesn’t faze her or she hasn’t realized its happening.”

“Spencer, stop worrying, I’ll be fine.” Diana’s voice jeered from the background, he squinted his eyes, he hadn’t realized she had heard him.

“Maybe you should listen to her,” Elle taunted.

“It will be so much easier when you don’t gang up on me all the time.” Spencer muttered. “Drive safe.”

Elle hung up and got settled, mirrors and belt in place before creeping into the soul-sucking reality of bumper to bumper traffic. Just two more days and she and Spencer would be living alone, the last thing she had hoped for during the past year of recovery. Sometimes miracles do happen.

Mon, March 12, 7:28pm

They really didn’t have much to go over, Hotch just kept talking. He did this sometimes, drawing out the agenda until people’s minds wandered enough to bring up tangential concerns or frustrations. Once the teachers relaxed, he could really gauge how their semester was going. Call it a calculated observation or an interrogation technique, but it worked, nine out of ten attempts.

“Plans for Alumni Association Gala have started, and I think it is going to be quite a surprise for everyone, really,” Penelope offered. “Besides that, I am not really working on much, personally.”

“Let us know what you need and when, Penelope,” Headmaster Hotchner offered, giving her a supportive nod. “Stephen how is everything on the entertainment end of the Gala?”

“Good, yeah, the kids really don’t start their numbers until after Spring Break. But we have a good assortment this year. Should be another fun night.” Stephen’s deep voice replied, “I don’t know about you, but I am just looking forward to the food.”

Everyone laughed, agreeing in various exclamations. “Lord, keep that man from retiring for as long as possible.” Jordan Kyle added, drawing everyone’s attention to a shared look between her and the Band Teacher.

“Uh, you can’t say something like that out of the blue.” JJ tisked.

“I mean, in general,” Jordan tried to down play it. “Look, if anyone is due for retirement around here, it’s me. But that is not happening anytime soon, these kids aren’t getting off that easy.”

Stephen cleared his throat as the speculative stares bounced around the room. “Anyway, the Gala is gonna be lit, as the kids say.”

The moment passed with patchy relief laughter, Hotch making mental notes to follow up with more than a few of his staff for one-on-ones.

March 15th 12:48pm

The muted clacking of fingers on a keyboard wafted through the half-open door. Michel knew that meant she was there and willing to see anyone, especially them, but they lingered just outside of the guidance office during sixth period lunch. There were four unopened letters in Michel’s backpack, from places near and far. Places that meant so much more than D.C. suburb of white bread snobs and politician spawn; places that meant escape. That was why they had waited, because the possibilities were scarier than Michel had imagined. Now that the answers had arrived, decisions would have to be made and the inevitable fork in the road would be taken.

“I can see your blazer, just get in here already,” Penelope snarked. Michel sighed, a soft huff of a laugh burst through their lips as they turned around, dramatically entering with their head held high. Penelope snickered, “Why were you being all creepy out there? On your phone? You know Hotch would snatch it if you took too many selfies in one of his blessed hallways.”

“Selfies need better lighting than this school provides,” Michel replied, falling into their usual spot on the couch of contemplation. “Guess what happens to be torturing me at this very moment. I will give you some hints: Ivy, Beach, Paris and Apple.”

Ms. Garcia’s face twitched with each word, until realization dawned on her contoured features, “You got your acceptance letters?!”

“Well I got letters, I haven’t opened them yet. I have been stalling, but should I?” Michel looked to their dear confidant and inspiration.

“Of course, you should, but don’t you want to do it with your parents, at home?” Penelope gaped, exhilaration getting the better of her composure.

“Nope, don’t need their opinions clouding my mind, thank you very much,” Michel held up a hand as if to block the imagery.

“Well?!”

In a tizzy, Michel tore open all four envelopes without looking at them, eyes scrunched shut until Ms. Garcia came over to take one at a time, like the final puzzle prize envelope on Wheel of Fortune. Four letters, four acceptances, four shredded envelopes littering her office floor.

“I am so proud of you! You can go anywhere! I need pictures, no matter what.” Penelope demanded, holding their sweaty thin hands in hers.

“Of course, oh my gosh, I can’t believe it. Sweet freedom is coming, I can feel it!” Michel stood up, clutching the papers to their chest like a favorite stuffed animal. “I don’t think I am going to ever throw these away, they will be buried with me.”

Penelope stood and hugged Michel, swaying slightly until the bell broke their revelry. In a flurry the letters were tucked back in Michel’s messenger bag and they waved a brisk farewell. Penelope watched wistfully as her favorite student, though she wouldn’t admit it to anyone but Derek or Michel, headed to Emily’s class with a bright future at their feet. She squirmed on the spot as it began to eat away at her. She shuffled over to her desk and dialed Kate’s office on the internal phone lines.

“Kate? Can you be my shoulder because I am kind of having a moment and I don’t want to bug Derek and Hotch will question my professional stability?”

Wed. March 21 4:12pm

Midterms were right around the corner, sending the weekly tutoring sessions into a near panic. Spencer and Derek were fielding questions for a half hour before they got some unexpected help. Sr. Alvez stopped by because he had wanted to see if his students that were hovering at the low end of the grade borderline had taken his advice. They had not, but that didn’t stop one half of the foreign language department from sticking around.

“You guys do this every week?” He asked impressed, yet slightly pitying.

“Uh, yeah, how do you think I manage to have a full roster every season? This is a year-round effort.” Derek explained slyly.

“It’s nice to see you, Luke, though I do wish Simmons would stop by, Korean is not my best language and that’s the biggest concern for half of the new faces this month.” Spencer nodded to the table that was obviously housing everyone but athletes.

“Wait, you speak Korean?” Luke ducked closer to watch Spencer’s eyes spark and eyebrows hitch.

“Barely.”

“And Russian.”

“I read Russian, I haven’t spoken it aloud in four years.”

“Quomodo ergo tu Latine?” Luke bated the science teacher.

“Honestum,” Spencer didn’t miss a beat.

Derek eyed the subtle yet star-eyed soccer coach and the bean pole Brainiac. Suddenly, he somehow felt like a dumb jock in this scenario and he didn’t like it. He decided he was being petty, and walked it off, ducking down to overhear students while he paced the library. He caught the librarian smiling briefly at him behind a shelf, but she was gone before he could even return the gesture. Something weird was going around.

Next Chapter: The Scavenger Hunt

Series Tags: @mentallydatingspencerreid @dontshootmespence @ultrarebelheart @lyrasilverroseelizabethamanti @cynbx @rikersgirl22 @pllfrommars @darknesstoglowing @adropintheocean1234567 @tleighstone12 @unitchiefwives @sam-carter-in-training @prettyboysjello @ddreammcatcher @thegirlinflames  @night–hawk @t25luver @onlyalittleteenwolfobsessed @literallyprentissstwin @usercorgis @natalie-fangirl @holding-on-to-francis @nikkipea @alisonxnguyen @nsanchez1992 @callmesandwichplease @theonlyonelives @emmiej @sherlokiwholmes @spencer-is-too-perfect @spookygibson

General Tags:

@bluecatebluecatonecattwocat @heyworld07 @thespaceprincess @skrrrrrrrrrrt @luckypop6 @dontshootmespence @veroinnumera @holding-on-to-francis @gabriellewritermua @mysticpansy @bloowulf @ultrarebelheart @braziliangirlonasharkcity @dionnaea @tenaciousaracdeexpert @fbissaderekmorgan @frietjmeloen @rt8815 @cynbx

[stunudo]

When you take such a long break from your AU you forget if you have used a character yet... might be making a dramatic entrance next installment. OR might be making a fool of myself. Eh... sin boldly, right?!

[stunudo]

BAU Prep School Class of ‘18

Class of 2017

***Leadership Retreat

***The Shower

Let’s Try This Again

Uphill

Messy

The Show(down)

Public Lies

Private Lives

Forward

Slump

Adjustments

Sidelines

The Scavenger Hunt

Break It...

Like You Stole It

Truce

Champions

Gala Garbled

Commencing

Spotify Playlist

Rossi/ Blake Backstory 

Elle/ Spencer Backstory

[stunudo]

BAU Prep School AU: Class of 18

Welcome to the Frederick Buchanan Institute located in scenic Quantico, Virginia, a senior high academy that shapes the best and brightest minds. Its motto is “Behavior, Analysis, Unity,” the mascot the Submariners, colloquially “the Unsubs”. The small school supports the most accomplished faculty from across the country. (image link)  2016-2017 school year  Class of 18

Forward

December 31, 2017 4:17pm

Derek had gotten comfortable; the steaks were marinating and there were just a few things to grab from the grocery store. He brought up a college bowl game he had recorded while they were flying home from Chicago. Somehow, he naively thought he could watch it while Penelope was in the shower, as he didn’t need much time to get ready himself.

“Derek Avery Morgan! I know that’s not your middle name, but it’s the middle name I gave you in my head before I knew your real middle name. What are you doing?”

“Watching the game?” Derek answered sheepishly, quickly hunching his shoulders for the onslaught. “Baby girl, the food is ready, and you were in the shower.”

 Penelope stormed into the room, placing herself unceremoniously between Derek and the television screen. “What about the decorations? The liquor? The little sparkly hats? Derek, it is our first New Year’s Eve Party, it has to. Be. Purrrrr-fect!”

Derek’s head fell, he gathered his features to not display the amount of amusement he had at her berating him in nothing but a barely cinched towel. He tried to look her in the eye, but his lingered along the way up her body. His mischievous grin caused her to stomp in frustration. She held up a manicured finger, “No! Don’t you even look at me with those bedroom eyes! We have people coming over and you have decorations to pick up.”

“Can I at least get a goodbye kiss?” Derek stood, his sultry voice causing Penelope to roll her eyes. The towel on her head shifting slightly.

“Fine,” She muttered, pretending not to enjoy the way his lips trailed up her jaw. His hand slipped inside her towel and found her bare waist. “Oh, this was a bad idea.” She huffed as her hands linked behind Derek’s neck. Her towel was soon forgotten on the floor of the living room.

7:03pm

Tara strolled through the bourbon aisle at the liquor store just down the street from Penelope and Derek’s place. She ignored the appreciative stares from the men standing behind the counter with the scratch offs and Black and Milds. She had a knee length wool coat over her favorite maxi dress, her unneeded heels marking each graceful step. She didn’t feel obligated to bring something, since Penelope undoubtedly had more than enough food and drink on hand. But she hated to be the first one to arrive, so she killed time on one of the busiest drinking nights of the year. She watched the kids maneuver in the parking lot, doling out their cash to the one legal friend or one with the most acceptable fake i.d.

The brusque man behind the counter with the jilting accent rolled his eyes and refused the frat boy his stash. Tara smiled despite herself, one less driver to worry about tonight, she thought. She settled on a bottle of Jim Beam Black and left the small store with a wistful wink for the law-abiding business owner. The night air was cool, but no where near as cold as New Hampshire in the winter. She enjoyed the block and a half walk, just people watching. Something had struck in the back of her mind after her would-be date with Rossi, something like an itch had taken over.

8:37pm

“Wait! Spence, your tie!” Elle giggled as she pulled his arm back, forcing him to face her. She straightened the satin strands as he tried to bite back the guilty smirk. “Don’t look at me like that! We’re already late!”

“And whose fault is that?” Spencer teased, holding his elbow out for Elle to slip her arm through.

“Yours. Now, stop beaming like a kid in the candy store or everyone will know.”

“I can’t help it.” Spencer tried unsuccessfully to make his face more serious, he shrugged as Elle knocked on the front door. She rolled her eyes, thinking how lucky he was to be cute and hopeless, because she couldn’t stay mad at him for being completely enamored with her.

“Happy New Year!” Derek’s boisterous voice burst through the door as he froze staring. “Elle? Reid?!”

“Hey, Derek,” Elle slipped passed him with a half hug and into the heart of the party. Derek meanwhile tried to have a silent conversation with Reid who was desperately confused by the coach’s dramatic eyebrow motions.

“Man, you mean to tell me, that you, Dr. Nerd-Point-O brought Elle Greenaway to my New Year’s Eve party?!” He clarified with ample approval.

“I’d think it was obvious, Coach. I mean, we’re only living together.” Spencer gave Derek a wilted glance, tucking the tousled strands of hair behind his ears.

“That’s who you were talking about at Tutoring Hour!” Derek swatted Spencer’s chest in a biting back hand. “You dog! Well, congratulations, man, good for you!”

“Thanks, it is good, actually.” Spencer turned bright pink as Derek caught on, because Elle’s hair was particularly pinched in one place and Spencer’s shirt wasn’t tucked in in the back.

“Let me know if you want the tour!” Derek called over his shoulder as he went to let Haley and Hotch in.

Penelope squealed across the room as Elle subtly slipped into the conversation with Chris Callahan, Matt Simmons, JJ and the hostess herself. “You came! Oh, Elle-O-V-E, my sweet, I am so glad you came!”

“Hi, Penelope. How many have you had?” Elle mumbled as she hugged the affectionate blonde.

“Oh, pish, I’m home, I’ll have one more at midnight, but three if you’re serious.” Penelope squeezed Elle one last time before getting back to Chris talking about his new surround sound system. She haphazardly explained who Elle was to Matt and they nodded cordially. JJ and Matt gave Elle an impressed and appraising smirk (respectfully) as she explained she was also Spencer’s live-in girlfriend.

9:12pm

Emily was picking at the veggie tray, desperately trying to look casual while she dwindled the tower of sugar snap peas down to a single layer. Spencer had forgotten to eat and had unceremoniously began filling a tiny snack plate with each of the major food groups, hovering over the toothpicks stacked with cheese cubes. Because though he loved it, dairy didn’t always agree with him. Quickly, Spencer arrived at the veggie tray as Emily was looking off into the party vaguely.

“Phenethylamine, which is often shortened to P-E-A, is actually found in those crunchy varietals that you have been devouring. It’s one of the—"

“Love chemicals. Isn’t it the aphrodisiac found in chocolate?” Emily replied, her voice even and nearing on friendly.

“Research in the eighties linked them, however there has been no repeat success in linking libido and chocolate. But, it can’t hurt. I mean, everybody loves chocolate.” Spencer snatched the last pea pod from the tray as he finished.

“Right. Wow, Reid, got enough food there?” Emily exclaimed as she saw his overflowing plate.

“That’s the plan.” He sighed as he caught Derek and Penelope gossiping across the room. “Emily what would the easiest way to explain how much I regret being unnecessarily cruel last year, be? Well, last school year, and you didn’t deserve that.”

Emily’s eyes narrowed, she watched him twitch as he waited for her response. “Spencer,” his first name sticky in her mouth, “I- I said a lot of things I am not proud of. Let’s just call it square and move on.”

“Really?” Spencer’s eyes still held that brilliant innocence within them.

“Really, Reid.” Emily’s deep-chested chortle burst through. “Happy New Year.”

“And to you,” Spencer bowed his head and headed to find a spot on the couch.

10:48pm

Aaron Hotchner stood back and admired his friends and staff. He was in good company, his beautiful wife laughing at his side, listening to Luke retell a joke so she could memorize it. Around the house his team was reveling in witty conversation and exquisite food. His body was warm from proximity and alcohol, but Haley anchored him in place, instinctively. Luke had acclimated unexpectedly well to life at F.B.I. and Hotch was proud of his choice. He was lamenting losing Simmons when JJ returned from maternity leave next semester and wished he could find a way to keep him on board.

“Well, ask Strauss, there’s got to be funds available.” Haled exclaimed. Hotch hadn’t realized he was thinking aloud. The realization and blatant solution abruptly brought him back to the present.

“How did a guy like me get such a smart and gorgeous wife?” Aaron murmured as Haley huffed in faux exasperation.

“Forgive my husband, he gets like this when he drinks.” Haled sighed through a giggle as Aaron started playing with her hair. “Mr. Serious most days becomes an expressive sap once you get more than two drinks in him.”

“Nah, it’s alright, I mean, there are worse drunks to have around,” Luke grinned, downplaying how out of character the headmaster was acting. He was having a great time getting to know Haley. There were a lot of people he got along well with since moving to Virginia, but something about Hotch’s wife clicked within him. Like a long-lost sister or middle school friend, he felt they could talk for hours and never be bored with one another. Perhaps it was the pleasantness that had caused Luke to miss the forlorn glances from a particular groundskeeper looming near the wine rack on the counter.

11:23pm

“Just use the master, through the bedroom,” Penelope insisted to Tara when she asked for a bathroom. It was awkward waltzing through her co-workers’ intimate spaces, but she had a feeling there were more than two people occupying the other bathroom and she did not have the patience for that wait. It was clear that Derek was wiggling his way into Penelope’s well-established space. The vibrant colors and hanging beads leading to the walk-in closet signature of the guidance counselor while the chest of drawers with minimal jewelry and cufflinks a hint of Derek’s masculine elegance.

She hadn’t realized someone had left the bathroom and caught her snooping. “It’s weird walking through their room, right?” Kate clucked as she lingered at a picture of Derek’s extended family.

“Completely… enthralling,” Tara held up a a particularly oddly knotted tie. “I’m not going to ask.”

“Good idea.” Kate hummed, her bright face more smiley than normal. “I’m having a blast! Are you having fun?”

“Yeah, I was in a mood earlier, but now I’m better.” Tara confided, they were standing in the near the door way, Kate leaning against Derek’s dresser while Tara stood nearly a foot taller than her.

“Oh? Anything the matter?” Kate’s caregiver instincts etched into her face.

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Tara smiled, letting her friend’s features ease back.

“Uh-oh, looks like somebody still left up some Christmas decorations,” Kate giggled as she pointed to the sprig of mistletoe behind Tara’s head.

“I mean, it’s Penelope, that could be a year-round tradition for her,” Tara shrugged.

“Yeah, but I mean. It’s bad luck to not kiss under it, isn’t it?” Kate seemed overly concerned and as Tara knew the history of the poisonous plant she remained skeptical until Kate stepped over and stood directly beneath it.

“Are you serious? You want me to kiss you, just for luck?” Tara rolled her eyes as she turned to face the very curvaceous petite brunette.

“Duh!” Kate added, closing her eyes and lifting her jaw. Tara’s lack of inhibitions returned full force as her lips met Kate’s. Her hands cradled the nape of Kate’s neck as her mouth opened, if by surprise or pleasure Tara couldn’t be sure. But she did know that Kate was kissing her back, her nimble tongue darting against Tara’s.

“Uh, is anyone in the bathroom?” A voice broke the women apart, their faces burning and eyes locking on to the source.

11:52pm

“Holy crow, it’s almost midnight!” Penelope lept up from the couch where she had been nestled between Grant who had been sipping a massive glass of red and tucked beneath Emily’s reclining legs. Emily huffed as she had catch herself from falling off the couch with an uneven back arch and balancing act with the coffee table. The fact that she held it and sat comfortably back down on her end of the couch, earned her a few hoots and applause.

Penelope shuffled out of the heart of the party to gather the champagne and her midnight smooching companion. “Chocolate Thunder Assemble!”

“That doesn’t really work when you’re looking for one person,” Chris Callahan smiled casually from one of the bar stools.

“Hush!” Penelope pointed and shushed the large man. “Derek! I need thee! Oh, here you are! Pop the bottles, Hot Stuff. We got flutes to full, fill.”

“I’m at your service, Sweet Thing.” Derek purred, easily going down the row and letting the fizzy liquid to snake out of two of the four bottles they had bought for the twelve o’clock toast. They scrambled throughout their home doling out disposable cups and noise makers. Matt graciously changed the channel to the Times’ Square Countdown in NYC. Elle and Spencer were discreetly handed sparkling cider by a winking Derek.

Impeccably timed, Penelope snapped her 2018 headband on as she linked hands with Derek. They stood to the side, enjoying the view of their guests bunching together to chant the formidable countdown.

10

9

8

Spencer and Elle were bumping elbows and shoulders, knuckles and knees to each beat of the countdown like goofy kids.

7

6

5

Emily stood behind JJ her glass held lazily at her hip as they swayed to the chorus around them.

4

3

Chris, Kate, Haley and Hotch all stood in a line pumping their fists as if it were a pep rally.

2

Tara sidled up to Matt as he looked like her best bet for a passing kiss at the buzzer.

1

“Happy New Year!” The room erupted as the year fell over, bringing hope and happiness in a haze of alcohol and incorrigible optimism. Across town many of their students were celebrating in much similar fashions, yet the teachers carried on, kissing cheeks and hugging one another as if this, truly, would be the best year of their lives. Penelope and Derek were the last to break for air, well, they thought they were.

After hugging everyone again, Penelope stumbled slack-jawed upon Luke and Grant locked in their own intense bubble. She cleared her throat; the room fell silent around the alarmed hostess.

“Uh-kem!” She tried again, prodding Luke’s shoulder forcefully with her fingertip. Dramatically slowly, Luke and Grant separated themselves, their clothes twisted at all angles from their torrid make out session. “Finally! Hugs, the both of you, c’mon!” She made grabby hands in the air as both men begrudgingly stood to give her a squeeze. Once sated she pushed them back together and started collecting empty plates and cups.

Soon the partygoers said their goodbyes, Matt volunteered to drive Grant and Luke, somewhere as neither one of them were quite sober. He paused before he slipped on his seatbelt to check his phone, finally at nearly twelve thirty he received the message he had been waiting for. He replied simply before tucking his phone back into his pocket. “Alrighty boys, whose place is closest?”

Back inside, Elle helped JJ sort through the pile of coats on Pen’s purple duvet.

“Can you believe what a difference a year makes?” JJ waxed philosophical, Elle’s face fell at the harsh reality of last New Year’s Eve.

“Hey, JJ?” Elle caught the blonde off guard as she pulled her hair out from the collar of her winter jacket.

“What’s up?”

“Look, I know what’s done is done. But, I’m really sorry I encouraged you last year, with the guy in the bar. I was miserable and was using you as a distraction from my own shit.” Elle exhaled. “What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry, JJ. I know it worked out for you and Em in the end, but it shouldn’t have been like that. And some of that is on me.”

“And I wouldn’t have had Henry.” JJ countered. “Elle, I understand that making amends is one of your steps. But, there’s no amends to be made. I made my choices and I’ll continue to live with the consequences. Deal?”

Elle watched her friend closely, her fierce eyes burning with authority, but also a genuine sympathy. “Life is too short for holding on to past mistakes, Elle. I forgive you, but in the end, you have to forgive yourself.”

Elle nodded, letting the tears sting as she gave JJ a half smile. They fell into a gentle hug, friends that had countless moments between them and endless chances for more. Spencer knocked on the door jam when he found Elle and JJ embracing.

“Ready?” He asked simply, trying to hide the concern from his brow as the women chuckled away the tears.

“Yeah, let me just give Pen our best,” Elle smiled simply, leaving a peck on Spencer’s chiseled cheek. JJ and Spencer shared a look, he waved at her before turning to follow Elle out of the bedroom.

Jan 1, 2018 1:34am

“I can’t believe he is still asleep!” JJ shook her head after checking on Henry for the third time since coming home.

“Let him sleep, babe. We can enjoy the extra time to ourselves,” Emily was gently removing her signature heavy mascara, watching JJ in the mirror behind her.

“Who would have thought our world could change so much in a year?” JJ whispered into the hallway. Emily let the memories and confusion float through her thoughts, watching JJ process the same moments from her point of view. The guilt still haunted her, Emily could feel it when Will’s face shown on Henry’s features or when Elizabeth Prentiss made one of her wildly passive aggressive comments.

“From then until now, I wouldn’t change a thing, Jayge.” Emily held JJ’s hands in her own, trying to draw those cerulean irises to focus on her coffee-rich ones.

“And next year? Will we still be here? Together?” JJ asked, more burdens then Emily imagined weighted her words.

“If you’ll have me.” Emily said it simply and before she knew it. But she accepted her words as truth, buttoning her mouth from further confessions.

JJ’s interest was piqued, but instead of answering she laid her head on Emily’s shoulder, her lover’s arms encasing her exhausted form. They stood like that as long as JJ needed, Emily stroking her hair as she grumbled and sighed. Time passes and we either change or we get lost along the way, but Jennifer and Emily were doing it together whether they realized what a miracle they had started or not.

Next Chapter: Slump

@mentallydatingspencerreid @dontshootmespence @ultrarebelheart @lyrasilverroseelizabethamanti @cynbx @rikersgirl22 @pllfrommars @wheresthewater  @darknesstoglowing @adropintheocean1234567 @tleighstone12 @unitchiefwives @sam-carter-in-training @prettyboysjello @ddreammcatcher @thegirlinflames  @night–hawk @t25luver @onlyalittleteenwolfobsessed @thismiss02 @literallyprentissstwin @usercorgis @natalie-fangirl @holding-on-to-francis @nikkipea @alisonxnguyen @nsanchez1992 @callmesandwichplease @theonlyonelives @emmiej @sherlokiwholmes 

[stunudo]

BAU Prep School AU: Class of 18

image link

Welcome to the Frederick Buchanan Institute located in scenic Quantico, Virginia, a senior high academy that shapes the best and brightest minds. Its motto is “Behavior, Analysis, Unity,” the mascot the Submariners, colloquially “the Unsubs”. The small school supports the most accomplished faculty from across the country.  2016-2017 school year  Class of 18

Private Lives

December 15, 2017 8:19pm

           The young couple walked down the promenade holding hands, he was oversized and his hand a massive casing for her birdlike one. She had a simple bag crossed against her torso and a collection of shopping totes in her opposite hand. The nearly-man was humming “Silver Bells” and their hands swayed with the old melody.

“I still don’t get why you won’t go out with me, Chloe Roycewood,” Lucas Turner improvised some lyrics. The blush on her features burning against the chill in the air, she rolled her eyes. They had been talking since the Homecoming dance, but she hadn’t allowed anything more than that. If there were no labels then things could go slowly, or they could remain friends, if he ever came to his senses and moved on.

“Lucas, don’t do this again,” She sighed, letting the fog of their breaths the only indicator they were here together and not in opposite directions inside their own heads. He was a natural optimist and thought of possibilities while she was haunted by her past. “We’re having a nice night, right? Let’s just get our lists done so we can get some cocoa before curfew.”

He obliged, because she was right, like always. And any time spent with her was better than none at all. He bought his mother some of her favorite perfume and his father a handful of scratch off tickets as a joke. She had more siblings than he could get straight, but a lot of the gifts she searched for were within the same stores. He preferred not to think about his half-brother and whether he would be making an appearance for Christmas morning. The vindictive and arrogant Dr. Mason Turner was sure to ruin any family gathering.

They unloaded onto a table near a collection of food carts, separating their purchases and checking off the lists on their phones. It was nearly ten when Lucas returned with fresh gingerbread biscotti and cups of hot chocolate. Chloe was confused because she had found a simple bracelet that neither of them had bought that evening.

“Lucas, stop it, I know some clerk didn’t just leave it in my bag,” Chloe chuckled at his actor’s innocence.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Lucas shrugged awkwardly, with hands full. Chloe’s resolve crumbling at the raw tenderness in his eyes.

“Lucas! But! No! I didn’t get you anything. And we’re not-”

“Chloe,” Lucas struggled to set everything down around their bulky bags. “You don’t have to get me a gift, that’s not why I bought this for you.” He took the hard case out of her hand and gently released it from its display. He held it up as an offering, waiting for permission to clasp it around her wrist. She held back the bulky sleeves of her winter coat and sweater, somehow his massive fingers were able to fasten it. “See, perfect.” He looked down as she appraised the way the street lights reflected on the tiny gems and delicate metal settings.

“I don’t deserve this.” Chloe whispered. “I don’t deserve you, Lucas.”

He took her hands in his, despite being in public and having a very personal conversation. He led her down to the stone bench seat at their table, their knees bumping as they sat facing outward. “Chloe you have to stop with that, we’re just people. And I like you, a lot. And the way you look at me is like nothing else I have ever felt. Please, you have to feel something for me too?”

“Of course I do! You’re amazing and sweet and handsome. But—”

“But, what?” He picked up his cup to sip as he listened. She clutched her in her bare hands, cradling the warmth as she stared into the depths.

“I’m damaged goods, Lucas. There’s something broken inside me, I don’t think I can give you everything another girl could, the way a girlfriend should.”

“Chloe, I’m not Brayden. I don’t want you because of what your body could do for me. You must know that I love you for you, right?”

She gasped at his confession, this was deeper than she thought, and she had to let him go, for both of their sakes. “Lucas Turner, you stop that right now.” He was stunned and then the wave of hurt washed over his usually carefree features.

“If only it were that easy,” Lucas set his cup down. “Chloe, to me you are perfect. You are the same thoughtful, beautiful soul that I met freshman year. Yeah, it took two years and some awful things before I could build up the courage to ask you out. But trust me when I say, I love you, all of the bad included. And there is nothing I would ever expect from you other than the privilege of remaining at your side. Okay? Because I’m already yours.”

The confession lingered in the darkness of the winter night and Chloe sniffled before answering.

Dec. 18 6:58pm

           There was enough experience in Dave Rossi’s past to understand a poor matchmaking endeavor when he saw it. Though his innate hospitality guarded him from admitting his assumptions and sharing a night with a beautiful woman was never one wasted, not entirely. Tara rang his doorbell before the hour struck and she was stunning, a red dress that hugged her like a sports car traversed serpentine mountain roads.

“Dr. Lewis, welcome,” they genteelly kissed cheeks.

“Dave, call me, Tara. Thanks for having me over,” She stepped into the foyer as he closed the massive ornate door. “Some place you’ve got.”

“That it is, now, rumor has it you’re a Scotch drinker?” His smooth nature brought a smile to her face.

An hour and a half later they were seated in his library, listening to old albums and chatting easily.

“I have to admit, Monica was a bit insistent.” Tara deadpanned after he confided his reason for asking her over for dinner.

“Now, I’m no expert, but I’m not exactly your type, am I?” Dave smirked.

“No, but dinner was to die for,” Tara scrunched up her nose in slight apology.

“I’m not offended, but now we can say we did as she asked and move on, as friends,” Dave held up his glass to strike Tara’s in solidarity.

“To friendship and good spirits.”

“Here, here.”

Dec. 21 5:31pm

           The problem, for him, with these types of situations or meetings as they were called was that the concept of anonymity was unattainable. The support group met in the basement of an old church in a rundown part of town just off Capitol Hill. He knew the area well as it had some of the best authentic food places while he was starting out in journalism. He was sad to say some of those restaurants hadn’t survived the ’08 recession or possibly the recent immigration enforcements. But Matt Simmons had accepted he needed helped and that was always the first step, wasn’t it?

Maybe that was the final stage of grief, either way he walked into the circle of folding chairs and sat down quietly. A few people remained standing by the massive coffee maker and others shared silent half smiles of greeting. The tightness in his chest was constricted, but he continued to breathe. His phone buzzed, and it reminded him to shut it off. It was a text from his niece, Hannah.

Did you find it? Or are you dead in a ditch from a mugger?

외삼촌?

He shot off a quick reply and powered down the distracting device as the shuffling of chairs told him it was time to start. The meeting started when a calming woman in a decidedly outdated Bohemian style skirt addressed the group. She explained who she was and how she came to be working with this particular group.

“Now, we have some new faces, but I don’t want to put anyone on the spot tonight.” She smiled kindly and Matt gave an appreciative nod. “Why don’t we go over our goals from last week and see who had success?”

The majority of the attendees clutched an index card or searched for one among their purses and pockets. One other person glanced around the room before shyly looking in Matt’s direction, the look of recognition and confusion coated his fellow newcomer’s features. His grip tightened on his tricep and he kept his eyes level at the trauma counselor. Their assignments had to deal directly with their own experiences, things they hadn’t been able to do or things they had avoided since their personal trauma or ‘event’ occurred.

Matt wasn’t sure if this was the kind of group that could help him, his experiences were far too specific, and his weathered press pass wouldn’t allow him into veterans’ groups. He listened intently for the progresses and set backs of each of the victims, though he knew they weren’t considered that it was the easiest way to describe them. But that put him into that category and his mind wondered to what he was now. Who he was now, that it had happened. Now that he was here, seeking help from a timeless hippy and people who had been scammed of their life savings or had been bitten by their neighbor’s dog.

The guilt mixed with the familiar feeling of not belonging and he continued to grow uncomfortable. His neck tickled and his readjusted how his legs were crossed, one ankle on a knee instead of at the ankles. He focused inward because the people around him were overflowing with emotion and he didn’t think he could take another burden home with him tonight. Then he heard a voice, but it didn’t matter who was speaking because the words were what resonated in his tattered heart.

“--- the everyday things seem inconsequential, like does it matter if I brush my teeth when I can’t look in the mirror? What’s the point of writing a return address on an envelope if that name means nothing? It’s not that its hard to accept that I have changed, I don’t recognize the person I was to begin with, let alone the person I have become.” The other newcomer was slowly speaking to the chipped floor tiles, her voice shaky yet sure.

“Becoming, Maureen, your trauma isn’t a destination, it was a brief stop on the journey,” the leader reminded her. “Thank you for sharing.”

Matt didn’t speak that night, but the idea of losing his sense of self among his varying identities hit a nerve. Maybe he would come back. Maybe he would find another group, but for now he exhaled and let the isolation dwindle as he stepped out into the bustling streets of Christmas shoppers.

Dec. 25 10:17 am The Prentiss Estate

           Emily put their Subaru into park as JJ checked her makeup in the visor’s mirror. “Jayge, you look great, don’t worry about them.” JJ gave Emily a wilted look, because she didn’t want to seem nervous, but Emily’s mother was rather intimidating. “Besides, its Christmas Brunch, pajamas aren’t out of the place, if you ask me.”

“Well, we’re too late for that now,” JJ climbed out to get Henry’s carrier out of the back seat. Emily braced herself for her family and popped the hatch. Their presents were simply yet stylishly wrapped in recycled paper with red bows accenting each bundle. Emily was pleased with their efforts, yet still apprehensive about catching flack for being late. The walkway was cleared of the dusting of snow the area had gotten overnight like an old Christmas special, which made Elizabeth’s resounding welcome at the door unexpected, adding to the surrealism.

‘Emily Prentiss, this is your life,’ she whispered under her breath. JJ gave her a impressed side-long glance and turned on the charm for her mother. Elizabeth gave single-arm hugged and immediately began fussing over the baby.

“How’s my grandson? So handsome!” She cooed as she unbuckled the groggy baby from his fasteners.

“Merry Christmas, girls,” Emily’s dad strolled in with a cockeyed Santa hat on and a mug of something more than coffee.

“Hey, Dad,” Emily leaned onto his shoulder as they gaped at the stranger that was their wife and mother, who was currently melting into Henry’s tiny fists. JJ lingered, making sure he hadn’t peed through his diaper on the way over and that he had his binkie if he woke up angry.

“Well, you know Kateryna has the spread all ready if you’re hungry,” Vince Prentiss murmured conspiratorially.

“As long as there’s Medovik, I’m there,” Emily countered.

“I think there’s three.” Her dad’s eyes disappeared in his wrinkles, she hadn’t realized how much older he seemed.

“Need a refill while I get one?” She offered to top off his mug, he waved her off as he sipped. JJ followed Emily’s path to the dining room with her eyes, the ease of her departure relieving any tension left in the room. It was going to be a real holiday.

After egg bakes and mimosas, fried potatoes and more pastries than they could name, the small family gathered around the unnecessarily massive tree in the living room, the topper forgotten as the last foot of the pine bent against the twelve-foot ceilings. Henry had a mountain of gifts that no two-month-old could ever need, let alone open themselves. JJ and Emily took turns holding the baby or opening his gifts, while Elizabeth watched anxiously that each gift fit their (JJ’s) tastes.

“Now, this was from Kateryna, she made it herself, isn’t it lovely?” Elizabeth explained an unmarked box with a delicate lace bonnet inside. “I’m not sure if you’re going to do a Christening, all things considered, but it is for special occasions like that.”

“The details are remarkable, please give her our gratitude?” JJ held the tiny hat with awe.

“Of course, she’s off the rest of the day, I think she is video-conferencing with her daughter back home.” Elizabeth explained, as if that was the preferred way her cook spent the holiday.

Before long Emily and JJ had packed up the hoard of gifts and Henry. They said their goodbyes with undefined promises of doing it again soon. Emily grabbed fresh coffees for the road as JJ settled in the driver’s seat. Once everything and everyone was ready to go, JJ reached over the counsel and held Emily’s hand, relishing in Christmas time as a family.

Dec. 27 8:56pm

           Alex Blake hadn’t been to this jazz club in years. Walking in the darkness, she found her old friend in his usual booth close, but not too close to the stage. A quintet played to the group of thirtysomethings vaping in the large booth near the back. The more things changed; the more they stayed the same.

“Is that seat taken?” She asked as she greeted Jason Gideon in a warm embrace.

“Yeah, but who needs her anyway. You look good, Alex.” Jason’s voice was bright, his drink was a club soda.

“Thanks, I think.” She smirked. “How’ve you been?”

“Turns out retirement is as boring as it sounds. You?”

“Good, yeah, busy. My dad’s getting older by the day.” Alex placed her drink order with a waitress and then got down to the meat of it. “Have you talked to Dave recently?”

“He tried to take me quail hunting, but we ended up just playing chess all weekend. But that was over a month ago, why?”

She graciously paid for her one drink and letting the air thicken. “Well, he let Monica Walked talk him into a date with Dr. Lewis, for one.”

“Alex, you’ve never been the jealous type.” Jason watched her carefully. Alex choked on her Guinness before throwing a cocktail spear at him. “Something’s up with you.” He said it as he squinted at her deliberate attention on the band.

She gave up the façade as the applause died down, “No, it’s just, I’m worried because he wanted me back. But I couldn’t, you know?”

“Yeah, he mentioned it briefly. But that was months ago, why the concern now?” Jason chewed on a toothpick as she shrugged. “Alex?”

“Fine! I was thinking of starting something, but I want to make sure he is okay first. So, is he?”

“Alex, if any one of us is ever something as manageable as “okay”, it’s Dave.” Jason gave her his knowing grin. “It’s not your place to worry about him anymore, just don’t rub his face in it?”

“Of course, enough tough guy routine, though okay?”

“Deal.” Jason ordered another soda and Alex settled into comfortable silence as a new group took the stage. He seemed to have adjusted, despite everything that happened. She was grateful he was his old self tonight, she didn’t want to worry about both of them, but she knew would if it came down to it. Alex and her boys, still a trio, however lopsided it seemed now.

Dec. 29 11:58pm

           Even with her mountains of homework, helping her brother to school and doctor’s appointments and general teenage things; Lena’s parents insisted that she get a part time job to help prepare her, for the “real world”. There she stood in her unflattering tuxedo shirt and jacket at the ticket booth of the movie cineplex, only three more hours of work left on her shift. At her last school, it wasn’t unheard of for students to work, some of them nearly full time. But when the school was full of Pedigree and Old Money like F.B.I. was, it was a symbol of lower social status, despite her parents’ deep pockets and positions in the government. She knew she shouldn’t feel entitled, but she did feel shame.

           So, when May Howard showed up for the third time that week to see The Last Jedi, Lena cringed internally. “One for the twelve o’clock, please.”

“May, you don’t have to be so polite, my boss is in the back and there is no one in the lobby.” She tried to stay positive, but she was thrilled with the quizzical stare she had earned.

“How’s break been?” May put her card back in her wallet and folded into her back pocket.

“Lame, working, a lot. You?”

“Lame, but not doing much else. Working on some modes for a video game, but I doubt you know what I’m talking about so I’m going to stop talking geek now.”

“May, you’ve seen Star Wars three times this week, it isn’t a shocker that you’re a nerd.”

“It may not be surprising, but it is still slightly embarrassing.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

“Really?” May’s palms were uncomfortably sweaty, her neck felt strange.

“It’s 2017, geeks are hot right now.” Lena’s braids bobbed as she talked, she realized what she said and just sort of swallowed her next thought. “But, uh, you should probably get to your theatre, since it already started.”

“Right, well, its like twenty minutes of previews,” May shoved her hands in her pockets of her letter jacket. “Hey, let me know if you have any days free before school starts back again?”

“Uh, sure,” Lena glanced down at another guest’s ticket before pointing towards his showing. “Enjoy your show, sir!”

“If you want to hang out, I mean?” May continued, looking at the toes of her shoes.

“Next Wednesday I’m off, I’ll text you?”

“Wait, you will?”

“Yeah, don’t miss the opening scene, Howard!” Lena exclaimed in a stage whisper, May spun on the spot, tongue in cheek and heart bursting from her chest.

Next Chapter: Forward

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