#emily prentiss series

[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 18

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, post vacation blues, smut, some minor hurt/comfort, mentions of some toxic family behaviour. It's another long one and I am not upset lol. 6.6k

Showering was always the first priority after a vacation, especially after such a long flight. It didn’t matter how hungry you were, how tired you were or how much mail was piled up inside your door, you needed to feel clean. That and the rare times you’d stopped to do something else first you’d get distracted with too many tasks, run two loads of laundry and get in the shower to find all the hot water gone for the night. That was a risk you never wanted to take again.

Choosing the coziest pair of sweatpants and a worn tee you towel dried your hair as you wandered through the upstairs. When you dropped the towel back in the bathroom you were met with your reflection and your nose immediately crinkled, you definitely didn’t have the energy to blow dry your hair right now and suddenly the lack of Emily and her braiding skills was on the top of your mind. You figured a loose ponytail wasn’t going to hurt that much and would at least keep it off your face for the next couple of hours.

Laundry was the next task, make sure all those swim suits were properly cleaned and dried out, any and all sand, sunscreen and sweat were washed away from all your clothes. You heaved your suitcase onto the bed, hamper beside you to get started when you unzipped your bag to find a surprise sitting on top. At first you thought it must have been something from the resort a ‘book your next trip now and save’ coupon or something but curiosity still got the best of you. Your finger slid through the envelope’s seal and a small piece of carboard fell out, something cold on the other side of it sitting in your palm. Flipping it over you found a dainty, incredibly gorgeous pair of starfish earrings and your breath caught in your throat. They were stunning, rose gold and diamonds compiled together for the absolute perfect surprise. A small note inside to go along with them:

‘A gift. For an incredible eleven days. Can’t wait to do it again, Em.’

It was hard to contain the smile on your cheeks as you bounced on your toes, the same sparkle of warmth flowing through your veins as twenty hours ago. You tucked the note into the corner of your mirror, adding the earrings to the top of your jewelry box to be worn at the first opportunity.

**

Straight back to work was the only way you were going to dive back into things, even if it was utterly exhausting and your sleep schedule had seen far better days. You didn’t want to behind, you needed to be completely caught up and know exactly what move was coming next in order to do you job properly and make sure everything ran smoothly. You’d been prepared for that, what you weren’t fully prepared for was an out of office day, SUV’s leaving the District for an event in Virigina. At the very least you didn’t have to be the one driving.

You were in the back of a car with Heather, your gaze held out the window as you watched the barren trees fly by on the highway. You were aware she was speaking and while it took a little bit to process, you were pretty sure you were picking up everything she was putting down. She continued to talk, glancing up from her phone to catch you looking almost longingly out the window and she let out a soft sigh, putting her phone down.

“Did you hear anything I just said?” She asked.

Without moving an inch or glancing toward her you replied, “kiss and make nice with Durant over lunch as per usual, you want an official statement regarding bill 8940 made by five tonight and social media posts done. One regarding the rally today one encouraging voter registration and one promoting the banquet next month.”

“I do not know how you do that.” She muttered with a small laugh, watching for another moment as your shoulders slumped deeper. “You seem down, are you alright?”

You sighed, finally pulling yourself away from the window and drooping down into the seat, looking over to her, “I just got back from two weeks in a very expensive tropical paradise and you’ve got me sludging around in the wet and freezing weather all the way out in Charlottesville. What do you think?” Reaching forward you picked up your coffee mug, taking a hefty swig, “it’s just the post vacation depression. Even the coffee tastes like crap now. Maybe I got too much sun…”

“I take it you had fun then?”

“Heat, it’s the fucking Maldives, who goes there and doesn’t have a good time.” You laughed, “I already want to use up the rest of my vacation days.”

It was Heather’s turn to laugh as she picked up her own coffee, “like hell I’m letting you take off a whole three and half months in one go.”

“Rude.” You replied, feigning a pout, “and here I was thinking I was your favourite.”

She chuckled softly, watching as you sighed again similarly to the way a pet would that made it seemed they were shouldering all the world’s problems when in reality they just had to shift the position they were napping in again. With your gaze back out the window, a near frown on your lips Heather found her own curving up into a soft smile. Sure, the vacation blues could be a bitch, especially with chillier weather like this, but she was certain she had an idea that this was more than that, even if you hadn’t realized it yet.

“Emily experiencing the same lack of sun mood swings?”

“Hmm?” You didn’t even turn from the window.

“Emily…”

“Oh, uh, not sure.” You glanced over to her, your fingers picking at the cuff of your coat, “they got blindsided with a pretty big case as soon as we got back. She mentioned something about it crossing over multiple teams so I’m sure she’s pretty distracted.”

“When are you seeing her next?”

“Was supposed to be tomorrow night, but she cancelled once she got into the office this morning, they’re too slammed and she didn’t want to end up standing me up.”

Heather caught the way your face fell ever so briefly, how you turned your phone around in your hand to see the screen, as if you were willing a new text to appear saying the case was solved and Emily had all the time in the world.

“Once you’re done with that statement, take the car, swing by Quantico on your way back. I’ll ride with Cynthia.”

“What about Durant?”

“I think I can handle her,” Heather chuckled, “besides, you need a break.”

“I’m just tired.” You repeated, “you know how long jetlag fucks me up. My body thinks its past dinner time and I’ve barely woken up. I’ll grab another coffee and power through.”

Her lips pursed, “I’m not asking. I’m telling. Jetlag or not, you need a break.” She took a sip of her drink, “you’re starting to act like a preschooler who refuses to nap. I’m giving you the opportunity now take it.”

“Yes mother.” You replied dryly, giving her a sarcastic salute before dropping your empty cup back into the holder.

“Thank you.” She smiled, a few meters of road going by before you spoke again.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to just drop in unexpected?”

“Say you were in the area and stopped for lunch.” She shrugged, “it’s not a lie. You know she has a habit of working through hers and figured you’d pick up extra and now you’ll get out of her hair. If she’s busy enough, she’ll walk you out, if she has the time, she’ll tell you to stay. Honey, trust me, her job is a lot more political and full of paperwork than you imagine, or than she wants it to be. You’ll be a nice respite in an otherwise tedious day.”

“If I end up looking like an idiot, you’re buying me dinner.”

“Fair enough.” She chuckled, her eye catching something glinting in the low light and her head tilted, hand reaching out, pinching at your ear as she shifted the gem between her fingers. “Are those starfishes?”

“Yeah.” You felt your cheeks heat, “figured they were small enough I could get away with them at work.”

“Huh.” She clicked her tongue, “you know, Becca used to be obsessed with this mermaid show where starfish earrings whispered things to them all the time. She didn’t have her ears pierced so she’d put stickers on them and try to get out of doing chores or homework because they told her she was too pretty for housework and smart enough already.” She scoffed, “ridiculous. The entire thing.”

Her phone pinged and her attention was lost as a small smile crept onto your cheeks, your finger tracing the small jewels in your ear. It wasn’t worth enough to tell her you used to watch Aquamarine with Becca when you babysat and you definitely weren’t going to let her know you’d been the provider of said stickers.

**

It wasn’t that it felt wrong to be in Emily’s office, its that it was almost a little unsettling to be in there alone, phone in your hand as you paced through the room distracting yourself with emails. Anyone could pop through the door at any moment and you highly doubted any of them would know who you were, maybe it was something in your gut that said it was a little weird. You’d been hoping she would just be behind her desk when you were guided to the office and with each moment that went by it felt like your acid reflux was getting worse and you were certain this was a terrible idea. The longer she was gone the longer she stuck doing other things and would turn you away the second she saw you.

“Hi, Agent Prentiss, what can I d—��� Emily’s voice rung through the room, commanding yet welcoming before she stalled suddenly, the hand she had extended out to greet her visitor dropping to her side. You froze in your step, looking up at her with a small smile and she let out a huff, “oh thank god, it’s you.”

The tension in her body melted away, a smile of relief spreading across her face as she swung the door shut behind her, flicking the lock. While her team was good at not interrupting phone calls or surprise meetings the other agents working with them seemed a bit more on the unhinged side, she could use five minutes of peace. She stepped toward you, wrapping her arms around you and you sunk into the embrace, warmth flowing through you at the feel of her lips on your cheek.

“Is that new shampoo?” She asked, pulling back and you laughed.

“I guess it’s safe to say I was the only one who snagged a few extra toiletries?”

Emily laughed, her hand trailing down your arm before squeezing at yours. “What’re you doing here? Seems a little far out of your jurisdiction.”

“We had an event in Charlottesville,” you shrugged, hesitancy still evident in your voice as Emily moved around her desk, slipping her blazer off to toss over her chair. “I knew you were busy, probably working through lunch so I figured you might need a little pick me up.” You gestured to the coffee table where the large bag of food along with sodas sat, “and now that I know that you know the food’s here, I’ll get outta your hair.”

“Hey, no!” Emily immediately stepped out from around her desk as her hand reached toward you, “I’m sure you need to eat too, and you cannot leave me alone with these motherfuckers.”

You laughed, harder than you’d meant to, “your team driving you wild?”

“Not them, well, not really.” She huffed, “they’re usually pretty good at being self managed but these guys working with us, Jeeze, it’s like herding fucking cats who are all distracted by their own laser pointers. Not only did you bring food, but I’ll always have some time to take a break if you show up here.”

Emily stepped back toward you, her hand grabbing yours pulling you closer to her and the moment she inhaled your stolen shampoo again it was as if she was transported back to the Maldives. Warm air wafting around both of you, memories of being buried between your legs. Your lips brushed against the side of her jaw, a small chuckle coming from between them.

“Seems like food isn’t the only thing you need. Want me to pull the fire alarm, make a distraction?”

Her hands wandered down your sides, fingertips slipping under the hem of your blouse and your breath caught in your throat. “I can think of something else that’ll work just as well.” She had never been happier that she’d actually decided to lock her door. Leaning in she kissed your neck, nose nudging at your chin to tilt your head back so she had full access. You let out a quiet moan, your hand tangling into the roots of her hair.

“Oh please,” you laughed softly, barely able to keep your thoughts straight as she started to grope at your chest, “you’re not actually going to fuck me in your office.”

She pulled her head up from the crook of your neck, watching the way your eyes darkened as she pinched your nipples through the fabric. Her eyes flicked from yours over to the shut blinds, it was lunch, the bull pen was quiet, “think again.” Her lips met yours briefly and you practically mewled when she pulled away, chasing her lips for another one and she chuckled, “seems like you could use a little pick me up.”

You were almost ashamed of just how quickly you turned to putty in her hands, your mouth dry as she kissed and sucked her way up and down your neck, her hands continuing to toy with your chest. You couldn’t help but rub your thighs together, sparks already flying through you, wetness seeping out of your pussy. Whether it was your libido, still used to the quantity of vacation sex or an unknown kink making its way through at the thought of getting caught in a promiscuous situation, you weren’t entirely sure.

Emily grabbed at your ass, rolling your hips against hers and you let out a small noise that made her weak in the knees. One of her hands fidgeted with the hem of your skirt, her nose bumping with yours, gaining your attention when you opened your eyes.

“This alright?” She asked and you immediately nodded, a little too eagerly as your teeth sunk into your lower lip to keep yourself quiet. She chuckled darkly, the hand tickling up your inner thigh, cupping your pussy through your panties, a groan on her lips at the damp fabric. Instinctively you leaned against her desk, your legs opening for her to get a better angle, “that’s it… spread your legs for me.” Her hand tapped at your cunt and you shuddered, “now, these are in the way…”

Fingers slipping into your panties she tugged them off to the side, making sure they were secure and not blocking her from what she really wanted.

“Be a good girl and stay nice and quiet for me.” She husked, her lips meeting the side of your neck again and you let out a muffled squeak. Her hand tapped your pussy again and your hips rocked toward the touch, you could feel wetness building between your legs. “God you always get so fucking wet when your pretty pussy gets slapped. Too bad we’re on a short leash,” she nipped at your earlobe, “would love to get some nice hard, loud spanks in, see if you could come just like this.” Her hand swatted against you again, staying pressed into your cunt, fingers rubbing between your folds and your body shivered.

“Em.. please…”

“Don’t worry princess.” Her free hand cupped your cheek, kissing you softly and you melted against her, “I just want to thank you for lunch, promise I’ll be quick.”

Without a second thought Emily sunk to her knees in front of you, shoving your skirt up around your hips and her mouth dove in between your legs. You immediately covered your mouth with your hand, eyes scrunching shut as her tongue lapped through you. It felt like she hadn’t touched you in months, that there were endless weeks of pent up frustration, desire and need between you and this was the only time you were getting to release them. You dropped against her desk when her mouth wrapped around your clit, your pussy pulsing around nothing. A silent beg left your lips in the form of a gasp and Emily was quick to answer it, knowing there was a very high chance you were both short on time. Burying her face between your legs she sucked as much of your juices as she could, wishing she had longer to savour your taste. Moving her mouth up, she latched around your clit, tongue flicking against it while she sunk two fingers into your waiting cunt.

“Fuck…” you whispered, teeth sinking deeper into your lip as your clawed at the edge of her desk with your other hand.

She knew you too well now, knew your movements, your noises and just where to curl her fingers inside you, exactly how to drag the tip of her tongue over your throbbing clit. Wetness was dripping down her hand and she could feel you shuddering against the desk, her free hand reached up, swiftly finding yours and you interlocked your fingers. Her thumb stroked over your knuckles, a soothing and non verbal way to both check in with you and remind you that she wanted you to come, needed to get you to your release and be as relaxed as you could be during a busy work day.

Your back arched as your body stiffened, your hand clutching so tight on hers she was certain she was about to lose feeling in it as your muffled moans barely echoed past your lips. Pleasure soaring through you, your entire body felt electrified, your fingers dropping Emily’s as she gently licked you through it, cleaning up what mess she could. Your hand dropped from your mouth once you were certain you could control your volume.

“Jesus fuck.” You muttered and she laughed softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your thigh.

Emily straightened your underwear back into the right place and neatly pulled your skirt back down, smoothing at the fabric as she stood back up. An arm wound around your waist, her hand softly tickling at the small of your back as you caught your breath and she leant in to steal a quick kiss.

“Good girl.” She kissed the corner of your mouth, “you alright?”

“Totally.” You replied with a soft smile that she returned, crossing the office to grab a couple of water bottles from the mini fridge. With a relaxed sigh you redirected your gaze to the small mirror on the wall beside her desk, perching on the side of it as you began to fix your mussed hair and lipstick.

It was right as she went to speak again, to mention getting some actual food in your mouths that the world’s fastest knock came from the other side of her door, immediately followed by a thud and a muffled ‘ow’.

Emily dropped the bottles of water on her desk, skillfully grabbing a mint in the same movement before sweeping through the room to flick the lock and step back from the flying open door.

“Sorry, force of habit.” She explained with a shrug, “these guys always barge in when I’m on with the Director.”

“No worries Chief Prentiss.” An all too familiar voice replied, rolling out his shoulders from the body check to the door and your head whipped over your shoulder, your eyes widening at the sight of Tony in the doorway, “I think we’ve got a lead with that hotel over on thirteenth….”

His voice trailed off as his eyes swept through the office, not only did he not realize she had company he certainly hadn’t expected it to be someone he knew. His head tilted at the way you were in the process of fixing your lipstick with a Kleenex, a piece of your hair very uncharacteristically out of place. His eyes darted through the room quickly, taking in the messy file folders on Emily’s desk and the untouched take out on the coffee table before looking back to you and a knowing smirk broke out on his lips, a mix of a growling and purring sound coming from his mouth.

“Ooo, meow.” Your head titled in disappointment, Emily’s in confusion and when she made a sound his eyes shot back to her and he remembered where he was, clearing his throat with a cough, straightening his shoulders, “ah..uh.” He let out a huff of a laugh and his mouth immediately slammed shut at the steely cold glare you shot him and he swallowed, trying not to stumble over his words. “Uh, Lewis and I were gonna go check it out.”

“Great.” Emily replied with a nod, “touch base if you find anything and don’t be afraid to call for back up. Thanks DiNozzo.”

“Course boss.” He gave a little salute, lingering in the doorway as his gaze landed back on you, eyes flicking up and down your form before he quirked a brow in Emily’s direction, “Emily…huh.” With a small chuckle on his lips he finally left, swinging the door shut behind him.

“What the fuck…” Emily muttered, looking up to you when a small laugh burst from between your lips, stifled by the hand covering your mouth. “What was that? I mean yeah, you’re hot and he’ll flirt with anything with pulse but I’m pretty sure he’s harmless.”

A louder laugh broke free from your mouth as you dropped your hand, “you’re not wrong there.”

“Wait, you know him?” Her brow furrowed as you nodded.

“He’s quite the lingerie connoisseur.”

“Have you slept with him?” Emily asked, attempting to keep the jealous tone out of her voice, relief flooding through her at the absolute look of horror that washed across your face.

“God no! We’ve been friends for like twenty years. Even if I wanted to he’s so in love with one of his team mates he’s tunnel blind, despite the fact that neither of them will ever admit it.”

“Then what was with that reaction to you being in here?” She asked, picking the water bottles back up and passing one to you.

“Uh, he’s got a really good sense of fashion, I usually drag him along with me when I go shopping, he picked out the teal set with the Swarovski.” You explained with a shrug, “that first time you gave me your card he knew it wasn’t business related so it clearly wasn’t Heather’s and started asking questions. I promise you I never once mentioned your name! He started playing twenty questions, I said you outranked NCIS so he could shut the fuck up about it, then he kept pestering and teasing about me being a sugar baby and… Heather, may have dropped your first name before the trip so I’m assuming he’s put all that together now… including why the door was locked.”

Emily nodded, the beginning of a laugh on her cheeks when her brow furrowed suddenly, “oh fuck!”

“He’s not gonna tell anyone!” You insisted, stepping toward her to squeeze at her elbow, “he’s a tease and an annoying little shit, but he knows how to keep his mouth shut. Especially considering I’ll cut his balls off if he doesn’t.”

“No.” She laughed, reaching for her phone “I completely forgot to pay you.”

It was your turn to be confused, glancing to the untouched lunch and back to her, “this wasn’t exactly planned, I just wanted to drop by and I mean… I already got more than I came for.” Your lips twitched up.

“Not for today, for the Maldives.” Emily explained and you felt your stomach flip flop.

“You don’t need to pay me for that.”

“It was eleven days straight together; I think you deserve compensation.”

“Em, the vacation was the treat.” You squeezed at her hand, “you do not need to pay me twice.”

“You sure?” She asked, her thumb hovering over her phone screen.

“That hotel was what, minimum five grand a night?” You asked and she nodded, “then yeah, I’m more than sure.”

Before she could really try to protest any further or twist it over in her brain to confuse herself even more her desk phone went off, shrill ring echoing through the room and she let out a tired sigh, gesturing to the couch. “Sit, stay, we still need to eat. Just give me a minute.”

“Course.” You shot her a tight smile, your hands smoothing the back of your skirt neatly before sitting down on the couch and tugging out your phone.

Multitasking was nothing new to Emily, the receiver pinched between her ear and shoulder as she picked up a pen to scribble down a couple of notes, occasionally giving a bit of feedback here or there while she let her eyes wander over to the couch.

You had slouched down into it so far that your shoulders were up by your ears, a tight frown on your lips as you stared at your phone. The previous mask of showing up to do a good deed with the intent of spreading a bit of relief and happiness to the other woman completely gone. The blue light blaring from your phone pronounced the bags under your eyes and the way you had just started chewing on your lip told her that you were far less relaxed than the last time she’d seen you. Keeping an eye on you she continued the call, watching you swipe back and forth between drafting an email and your text chain with someone. Every single time a text banner popped up at the top of the email screen you’d either huff or roll your eyes, attempting to ignore it until you were satisfied with the email and hit send, swiping back over. Your jaw tightened, no doubt grinding your molars together as tension began to build through your entire body, your thumbs furiously typing out a reply.

Emily watched as you closed the text chain, taking a deep breath, briefly closing your eyes in an attempt to reset your focus before reopening your email. You were about a third of the way through drafting the email when another three texts came through and you let out an exasperated grunt, your phone making a low flip through the air before landing on the other end of the couch and you dug through your bag to pull out what she assumed to be your work phone. Whoever was hassling you clearly didn’t have that number as you were easily able to finish the email on it and ignore the intermittent buzzing from more texts. Eventually your personal phone starting vibrating with a call, threatening to leap off the side of the couch and you grabbed it at the last minute, picking up with your voice low as to not interrupt Emily.

“What?” You hissed, then let out an angry huff, pinching at the bridge of your nose, “I am at work! I already told you that and I will call you when I get home.” You hit the end call button and immediately powered off the device, burying it in the depths of your purse before dropping back against the couch to finish the second email.

At first Emily had been wondering if it was DiNozzo, firing off teasing text after text, taunting you about being in the BAU Section Chief’s office all alone on lunch break. But the way she could tell the absolute frustration and anger was building up deep in your body all the way to your bones, stiffening every muscle, it was worse than that. Not to mention he definitely knew you weren’t at work. It also clearly wasn’t a work issue if they couldn’t get a hold of you through that phone.

You finished the email, gently placing the device down on the coffee table and bracing your elbows on your knees, your hands running over your face as you took a couple of deep breaths. Now finalizing details of her own conversation Emily couldn’t quite tell if you were fighting off the urge to throw your phone out the window, or if you were biting back tears. What she did know was that either way, she didn’t like it and whoever was making you feel this way was the one who deserved to be thrown out the window.

Hanging up the phone she rounded the desk, crossing the room as she took a seat beside you.

“Hey… you okay?”

“Hm?” You nearly jumped at how close she was when you pulled your head out of your hands.

“I asked if you were okay?” She repeated softly, her hand sliding across the couch toward you, changing her tactic in hopes you might open up, “kinda skipped the whole aftercare part today…”

“No! no, Em, that was perfect.” You assured her, your hand darting out to squeeze at hers, “I’m fine. Jetlag and I just aren’t exactly friends, it’s thrown everything off and made me a little moody. Kinda been out of it since we got back.” With a sigh you leant forward, finally ripping open the take out bag.

“Yeah.” She replied, biting at her lip, “something does almost feel like it’s missing.” She accepted a container of chicken chow mein and a fork from you as you opened your own container.

“Could have something to do with the lack of sunshine and ocean air.”

“Very true.” She laughed, taking a few bites of food, letting out a groan of appreciation over how much better it tasted than cafeteria food.

You scooped up a couple of shrimp, managing to shovel them into your mouth, chewing for probably too long before reaching for your soda. What normally would have been a comfortable silence filled the room, but you were still radiating tension and Emily was worried, especially when after two more mouthfuls of food you seemed to be spending more time staring into the counter stabbing shrimp as if they were the ones blowing up your phone.

“Hey…” she reached out slowly, her hand resting on your knee before she squeezed it. Your fork stopped moving but she caught the way your shoulder tensed up, refusing to look up at her yet “I promise you; I make a very hard habit to not profile the people in my personal life but you caught me at work, in full profiler mode and something’s clearly up… talk to me…”

With a sigh you leant forward, placing down your lunch and you shifted on the couch, pulling one leg up under you so you were turned more toward her. You gave her a look, your lips pursing off to the side and her head tilted, a knowing almost glare in her eye.

“And don’t you dare tell me you’re just tired. That may be a contributing factor here, but whoever’s on the other side of that phone,” she gestured to your purse, “is clearly causing you grief.”

“It’s stupid.” You shrugged, “I don’t need to bother you with my personal hang ups when you’re in the middle of a case so big you’ve dragged NCIS into it.”

“You absolutely do.” She replied, her hand still resting on your knee, thumb soothing across your leg, “well, I mean, I guess you don’t have to. But I’d really like it if you would, advice, sounding board, silent partner to vent to, how to hire a hitman?” Her lips twitched up, “whatever you need I’m here.”

“Emily!” You scolded and a warmth bloomed through her chest at the sight of you truly smiling, a small laugh on your features as you shook your head at her.

“Hey, I know a guy…”

“I’m starting to think I might have to report you.” You teased back and she mocked offence, her hand mimicking clutching pearls before she laughed, leaning back toward you and bumping your shoulder with hers.

“C’mon, what’s going on?”

You took another heavy breath, scooping your lunch back up and settling into the corner of the couch, “I was getting ready for work this morning and my mother decided it would be the perfect time to call.”

“Okay well I already don’t like the sound of this.”

“Yeah.” You shot her a knowing glance, pausing for a small bite of food, “I kid you not the call was six minutes and forty two seconds and in that small amount of time she just fucking tore me apart. She asked how I’d been, I said I was good, getting ready for work. She then began to dig into my job, asking if I’d gotten any kind of promotion recently, that I deserved a pay increase. Asking why I’m still interning following Heather around like a lost dog after all these years, I should be doing more, could be out there using that law degree, ‘making a name for myself’.”

“She has no idea what it is you actually do, does she?” Emily asked dryly and you nodded with a huff.

“Not a clue. Which doesn’t help the nagging in other departments, before I can even get a word in besides the fact that I love my job she’s going off on how I could afford a nice place to live on a better salary. That ‘the dump’ I was living in last year could certainly use an upgrade and she could send me some listings if need be.”

“Your place is literally bigger than mine.”

“Yeah, but it’s not an eleven million dollar mansion.” Your nose crinkled in distaste, “she doesn’t understand why I would bother to live quote un quote ‘modestly’ when I could definitely be flaunting myself to a higher career and fancier lifestyle with fast cars and expensive yet boring houses.”

“She doesn’t really get how money works, does she?”

“Nope.” You stabbed another piece of shrimp, though this one remained on the fork as you continued to talk, “but don’t worry, I couldn’t even try to explain it if I wanted to. She then veers off another tangent, asking if I still talk to April who I went to high school with back in Connecticut, because she lives out here now. I say I haven’t and she asks about three other friends who happened to have moved out to D.C. post graduation yet have nothing in common with me anymore. Like, I haven’t talked to most of these girls in over twenty years! I reminded her about a couple of other friends she’s met and she breezes directly past it ignoring every single thing I say. She managed to belittle not just me but everything that makes me, me in such a short span of time, it just…”

“Sucked…”

“Yeah.” You finally popped the piece of shrimp into your mouth, chewing slowly while digesting your ranting, feeling the tension beginning to leave your body. “She finally got around to the point of the phone call as I reminded her I had a very important job to get to and it turns out I actually have an inheritance.”

“I feel like there’s a but coming….” Emily countered and you cast her a look.

“Mom’s feeling pretty insecure about how she’s aging –which, is likely thanks to all the chain smoking, drinking, fast food and tanning – so she’s decided she’s flying out to California to get a whole slew of plastic surgery and cosmetic work done. And of course if she’s going all the way out there she may as well take her two best friends for a girl’s trip before the procedures.”

“And your inheritance is paying for all of it?”

“Including the friends tickets, yeah.” You threw your fork back into the container, “I didn’t even know I had an inheritance!”

Emily watched with a frown as you dropped yourself back into the couch, “offer still stands to pay you for your time.”

“No, Em really” you shook your head, “it’s not even about the money. I—it’s… I’m tired, I’m frustrated, it’s cold and shitty weather, things are off and parents… fucking suck. I just thought for once maybe she’d be happy for me but she didn’t even hear a word I said.”

“I’m sorry.” She murmured, placing her lunch down on the table as she shifted toward you. She could see the shimmering in your eyes already and if you were as weirdly tired and jetlagged as she’d been feeling, crying would just make the entire thing worse and you’d likely be embarrassed on top of it all. So she wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tucking you into her side and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Parents fucking suck.”

“Yeah.” You replied with a dejected sigh, sinking into her embrace and you felt the anxiety shaking in your chest finally calming down as the scent of her perfume drifted into your nose. Her hand rubbed up and down your arm, her lips brushing against your temple again.

“Hey, I’m sorry I had to cancel Thursday, I feel like you need some company right now.”

“It’s fine.” You wiped at your eye quickly before sitting up, “I’m sure I’m not much fun I already got compared to a toddler today.”

Her brow furrowed but she didn’t address the comment, “this week’s still out but as long as the case doesn’t take us out of state can I at least take you for brunch Sunday?”

“Can it be in the Maldives?” You asked, the corner of your lips twitching up.

“Pretty long flight for one meal.”

“What if we never came back?”

Emily laughed softly, squeezing at your hand, “that’d be a dream. C’mon, we don’t even have to go out if you’re not up for it. I’ll just bring over a McMuffin and we can pretend its brunch.”

A small smile came over your cheeks, “I’d like that.”

“Good.” Her hand caressed your cheek, fingers trailing up your jaw until a finger curled behind your earlobe, “you know I don’t think these little guys are doing their jobs very well. If they were whispering compliments all morning you’d probably be in a better mood.”

You laughed softly, a blush on your cheeks, “they’re probably too cold to talk right now.” The sound of half the team returning to the bull pen pulled both of your attention in the direction of the door and you let out a soft sigh, “I should get outta here before Tony comes back. If I’m still in your office I will quite literally never hear the end of it.”

Emily laughed, standing when you did, “hey, you text me tonight if you need anything, okay?”

“Yeah, I will.” You slipped your coat back on, your purse over your shoulder as you turned back to her. A second later and you were stepping toward her, wrapping her in a tight hug that she returned, “thank you.”

“Hey,” she only pulled away as far as she needed to in order to kiss your cheek, “anytime. I mean it.”

___________________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @asolitaryrose3 @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice @d33pd3sire-blog @daffodil-heart @maximoffcarter @i-lovefandom @chimnlex @moonlightjxuregui @chestnutninny @gamma-rae-bursts @just-moondust @idkifimasub @gaydragonwitch @dowsedwithbleach @divergentalwaysandforever-blog @m1lfsh4ke

[dereksmorgan]

emily prentiss + outfits (season 5, part 1)

[darkcolorphantom]

i love them i love them i love them i love them i love them i love them i love them i love them i love them i love them i love them

[milfsincrime]

part one: pre therapy appt

jj: emily, why do we have marriage counselling booked this weekend? we aren’t fighting??

emily: oh i forgot about that. it’s for me and derek

jj: derek is not your wife

emily: we thought it would be fun to see how long it’d take the therapist to work out that we’re not married, i’m a lesbian, and all the problems are fake

[thedelusionalbitchgianna]

Emily: ARE YOU-

Morgan: Fucking.

Emily: KIDDING ME?! YOU-

Morgan: Fucking.

Emily: IDIOT!

Spencer: …What was that?

Morgan: Hotch banned Emily from swearing, so I’m helping her out.

[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 1: Cat Adams

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 4986

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: you finally understand what is going on. and that leaves you more lost than ever.

a muted shade of green masterlist

previous chapter // next chapter

The first thing you notice is the colour of the walls– beige and cold and not green. You don’t say anything to Spencer, though; you couldn’t even if you tried. Not with all those eyes on you. Your visitor’s pass clicks and clanks against the buttons of your shirt and your hands still shake, even with how tightly they are holding onto your bag. Morgan and Spencer have been very careful to not make too many sudden moves near you, but they are not the problem, it’s the situation. It’s the fact that Spencer doesn’t tell you who is Cat Adams. Is the fact that they made you put your phone in a metal box before entering the building, and then proceed to talk about as if you are not right there. 

“She’s going to need a security detail,” Morgan sighs, sunglass finally off and it knocks your breath away how worried he looks. He can’t really hide it, you think, not with how expressive his eyes are. Spencer, on the other hand, is unreadable. His face is set and frozen in a blank expression that has all the hair on your arms standing up. He doesn’t speak, though, and that is probably the first time you’ve ever seen Spencer Reid that quiet. “Kid, are you listening to me?” 

“Security detail won’t do,” Is all he says before guiding you out of the elevator and into an open space filled with office desk, trapped inside those god awful beige walls. Fuck, you think you are starting to hate beige; that specific shade of it. You hate how it numbs out everything inside, how trapped it makes you feel. No one really talks to you, but from the way they stare, it’s quite obvious that they know what Spencer won’t tell you. 

At this point, there are various things happening inside of you and you can’t quite keep up with them all. Your stomach is roaring, sending sharp jolts of pain up and down your torso and you wince a little with each step you take. In turn, each step you take has you wobbling on unstable legs, and you take deep breaths to try and keep it together. Though every time you inhale, your lungs burn from the panic that lingers in the back of your brain. And finally, you brain, tired and overused, still seems to have an issue with processing the situation, and it takes you to a time that no longer exists– a time in which Spencer laughed at your literary themed jokes, or when he would come with coffee and nothing more than a smile. You understand now, why he kept you in the dark about his job; you understand the weight that this job has on him. 

It makes you wonder if it’s a weight you’re strong enough to carry on your shoulders.

By the time you blink yourself awake from your world of past memories, there are people around you and you don’t recognise any of them. Somehow, you are seated at what looks like a very typical office desk; the chair swivels as you look around. The copy of The Argonauts on the desk is a dead giveaway of whose desk you are on, but then why isn’t he here? Why did he bring you to this cold, cold place and left you by yourself? Why– “Y/N? It’s Y/N, right?”

There are two women next to you, one to your right and one to your left. You don’t like how they make you feel like a cornered animal, but their faces show nothing but understanding and compassion, and you don’t feel like being a bitch will help your situation. Your anger, building higher and stronger with each passing second, is not because of them, and you are many things, but you like to think you are not unfair. “Yeah,” You croak out, gulping the ball of emotions that seemed to be stuck halfway down your throat, making it hard to talk or breathe without your lower lips wobbling pathetically. 

“Y/N, my name is Jennifer, but you can call me JJ. This is Emily, we both work with Reid.” 

It takes you a second to know who they are talking about. For you, it’s never Reid. It’s Spencer when you are laughing at one of his rants about something so niche and specific that you couldn’t find it anything other than amusing. It’s Spence when you’re heart is full and the butterflies are awake. And it’s Favourite Customer when you want to tease him. It’s never just… Reid. “Spencer,” You nod, embarrassed by your own need to say his full name. You don’t want to need him, right now, but you can’t help but look around the open bullpen. His wild, shaggy hair is nowhere to be seen and you don’t understand how the sweet man that stole your heart can do something like this. You are scared and confused and he just left you with strangers. “I uh, I’m sorry, but wha-what’s going on? No one will tell me anything, and I think I have the right to now why Spence had a gun and why I was dragged away from my shop and–“

If you had anything in your stomach, you’d vomit again but all you manage is to double forward a little, the pain of your hunger and your nausea together starting to get a little too much when the added stress of being alone with strangers got added into the mix. “Here,” JJ pushes a packet of saltines towards you. “Got into them when I was pregnant with my boys and now I always keep one here. It’ll be good to eat something, Morgan mentioned you got sick.”

“Thank you, I– Penelope?” Seeing her there, with her pinks and oranges and yellows, makes as little sense as seeing Spencer with a gun. Her warmth and happiness don’t fit in a place like this, that, so far, has only brought you anxiety. 

“Y/N! Oh my god, sweet, pretty Y/N!” For the first time in what feels like a lifetime, you chuckle. And it breaks you down inside, how fragile you must seem for Penelope to wobble towards you in such high heels and yet, hug you with the utmost care in the world. It’s in her arms that you start crying again. “Oh no, no no no, don’t cry, it’s okay… You’re safe here.” 

“Safe from what?” You wail, and if Spencer had bothered enough to be there, that would’ve been the first time he would have seen you raising your voice. 

Ever since you were little, you never raised your voice. As an adult, it has happened once or twice, but never at someone specifically. Your nature is that of a more reserved person, someone who enjoys the spectator role a bit too much and prefers to observe from afar. There is power in knowledge, and it shouldn’t be surprising to anyone that you value the little bit of it that you have– so much so, that you built a business in which you could gather all the knowledge you deemed special and worthy and important, and then you could share with other people. Sure, you don’t always feel like your job is significantly important for the betterment of the world, but every time a client leaves with a smile, you know you’re doing your part. 

“Cat Adams.” 

The name alone is enough to make you fall onto the chair again, body limp and drained. Spencer is back, but he’s off. His lips are pursed in that way he does when he is unsure of what to say and he’s hidden his hands inside his pockets. It’s his own way of keeping secrets, hiding his hands from you… and you don’t like it. For as long as you have known him, his excitement shone through his hands; it’s the fast movements and the wiggle of his fingers that always make you smile. It’s how he best communicates and now it’s how he pushes you away. “Miss Y/L/N,” There is a man in a suit standing next to him, and you shrink in your chair under his stare. It’s heavy and cold, and you think that if he looks at you for a second longer you might start crying all over again. “My name is Aaron Hotchner, I’m the unit chief for the BAU. Please, come with me and I’ll explain everything. JJ and Spencer, you too. Penelope, prepare to brief the team in 20.”

Part of you wants to tell him no just to see what would happen. It’s clear, from more than just his title, he’s in charge. Your one and only connection to these people and this place is Spencer, so he is your tell-tale. He is your magic ball. It’s a skill, rather than a gift, being able to sense people like this– it’s something that years in retail and sales have taught you– and right now, you see how Spencer shifts his weight from one leg to the other while looking at his boss, waiting for instructions as if he couldn’t come up with them himself, and that, more than anything else that has happened today, is what scares you the most. 

Because if a man like Spencer can’t come up with an answer for this specific issue, you are not sure anyone else can. 

—————————————

“Can someone please tell me what is going on?” You are not above begging, hands balled into fists on your lap as you look up at Aaron Hotchner with pitiful eyes. You probably look messy, at this point, but you can’t bring yourself to care. All you care about is you. And your store. And the fact that an hour has passed since you first got to that godforsaken office and no one seems to care; no one seems to care about your time or your personal affairs. 

They only care about that stupid package. 

“Miss Y/L/N, I apologise for the confusion we’ve caused, but I guarantee that everything that has been done so far was to keep you safe,” His words, as strong as they sound, don’t feel any more assuring than then tentative glance Spencer throws your way. 

“Oh god,” You breathe out, eyes wide while your mind ran circles around you. It is a dangerous thing, to let a literary lover imagine– your brain, filled with epic tales and unforgettable real stories, starts rushing towards the worst case scenario and you find yourself reaching out to hold at something, anything, that might make you feel grounded in reality again. It’s how soft Spencers suit feels in your fingertips that makes you realise you reached out for him. “Oh god, was that like, a bomb? Did I sign for a bomb? Oh god, Spencer, do people send you bombs? I didn’t know, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, Spence, I–“ 

“It wasn’t a bomb,” Spencer is quick to interject, hands finally out of his pockets when he reaches out to hold your shoulders. His thumb gently caresses your arm and you try to breathe somewhat regularly, imitating the rise and fall of his chest like he is the beacon light bringing you back home in treacherous waves– like he is the only one you can trust in that place. “Y/N, it’s okay, it wasn’t a bomb. The contents of the package are not important and they were harmless. But we need you to focus. I know I scared you and that this is all very overwhelming, but you need to listen to Hotch. Please.” 

In your mind, you keep repeating those words to yourself– Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch.

“Cat Adams is a prolific serial killer,” Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch. “We’ve arrested her a few years ago and we believe she has resurfaced.” 

Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch.

“And that she has been targeting Reid.”

With one panicked look his way, you say what the words stuck in your throat can’t convey– I can’t listen to Hotch anymore. “She… She is a serial killer,” You whisper, eyes focused on Spencer in search of a nod or a shake of his head. This is the FBI, but you only trust him. “And she is after Spencer. Okay, I uh– I need– I don’t know what I need.” 

If you asked Spencer, he would tell you that you have a certain something about you whenever you are tired. Your shoulders slump forward and your head fall on your hands in a desperate way to keep your neck upright. The lack of energy is almost visible in you, and sometimes he has to fight the urge to hold your head up for you. 

But you don’t ask Spencer. Actually, you don’t say anything at all; you let people talk about you and around you, but your brain shuts down with each and every word, unable to retain any more information. “Can I go home?” There is a minute of silence before Hotch sighs, shaking his head. “But you said you arrested her, correct? Therefore I shouldn’t be in any immediate danger. I mean, it’s not like she has access to USPS delivery data from prison, right?” The more you speak, the faster you try to get up. You’re not thinking straight, and with all due reason– there is no power left in you to do this. There is no energy, no will, no strength to keep on going because it feels like you’re running in circle. 

Spencer notices it, too, and in what can only be interpreted as a daring attempt to calm you down, he let his hand rest on your shoulder for a second. It’s a subtle way to tell his team to go easy on you, almost like he’s having a full conversation with Hotch without opening his mouth. You, however, don’t catch it, and you continue to try and push yourself upright and away from them. You need to get away from them.

“So she has no clue who I am and I have nothing to do with this because I’m just a bookseller! And I just happened to sell Spencer some books and we’re just friends!”

A wave of shame downs on you when the words leave your mouth, like you are admitting to failure when  you haven’t even had the chance to try it to begin with. It’s like you deny Spencer’s presence in your life as a whole, like he has no significant place or role next to you, and you can’t seem to meet his eyes even when he starts speaking. “Y/N, I am so sorry,” The choked out sound that escapes him is the only thing that makes you look, makes you raise your eyes to meet his and you gasp when you notice he is holding back tears. “I’m so sorry, I thought she was gone, that she was not a threat anymore, I–“ 

“Reid,” JJ sighs, and you see something in her that makes you shift in your chair, a bit uncomfortable with the way his name sounds coming from her lips. “Reid, she’s going to be alright. We will get some officers to keep watch by her place, and we can file a request for protective detail during the day.” 

“You know as much as I do that none of that will help!” Spencer’s voice gets higher and louder with each word and his hands are back at it again, flying around the room in frustration. You have never seen him like that before, and it scares you more to see him scared than to hear that you might now be placed under protective custody. 

“Spence,” This time, when your voice wobbles in fear, it’s not because of him. “Spence, is it really bad?” 

When you were little, you used to refuse to admit your were scared. You’d use any other word– frustrated, spooked, uncomfortable– but you would never admit fear. Your dad always thought it was the cutest thing, though, because despite you puffing your chest out and crossing your little arms over your chest, the one thing that always gave you away was the way your lips wobbled. Right now, you feel like that little kid again, refusing to admit to how you really feel but giving it all out anyways. 

Spencer’s eyes read you like a book. You can feel the weight of them, moving across your face, taking in the lines and expressions you make without even realising. It’s like every part of you is a new chapter, telling him more and more of a story he is yet to finish, and with a sigh, sad and defeated, he nods. “It’s really bad, Y/N, I’m so sorry… this is all my fault. I should’ve been honest with you, I should’ve told you what I did and who I worked for and all that it brings with it.”

“No, Spencer, this is not your fault,” You breathe out, reaching for him in a moment of weakness. Your anger is still there, still simmering at the way that, in a sense, this is very much his fault, but you manage to rise through it when his nervous hands try to reach for you but fall nimble by his sides instead. “I mean, it kind of is, but it isn’t. And it’s okay. I’ll be okay. Right? I’ll be–“

“You’ll be just fine,” Hotch interrupts. His brows are slightly raised and from the way he looks at Spencer you think he knows something you don’t, but you’ve been feeling like that ever since you’ve stepped into that office. Everyone around you knows something you don’t– they know things about each other, about Spencer, that you simply don’t, and that you think you never will. Because after this– this betrayal, this hurt, this fear– you just don’t think you and Spencer can coexist anymore. You don’t think you can forget, as hard as you might try, the sight of him holding that gun to your head. So for now, you try to calm down. For now, all you can do is try to calm down. “Miss Y/L/N, we need to asses the situation, understand if you are in any kind of immediate danger. While our team works on this, we will ask that you relocate. Do you have relatives you can call? Friends?”

Technically, you do. Your parents live in New York and so do most of your friends– all it takes is one call. But that is one call you really don’t want to make. “I don’t want to leave my store,” Looking down at your hands, you wonder how easy it is for them to see right through you. “I just moved here. I know it might sound stupid, specially considering the… you know, this whole situation. But my life is here now and I would rather stay, if, if that’s okay, of course, I mean, you know… best.” God, you look so uncomfortable trying to stand up to his boss that the pity in Spencer’s face is almost palpable. “Please.”

“Hotch, she can stay with me.”

“Do we think that is a good idea?” JJ frowns, and you can’t help but nod, looking at Spencer as if he’s insane.

“I– That’s a very kind offer, but isn’t she after you?” You manage to ask, looking around for any clue their team might give you. These guys are professionals, though, and they know how to keep up their masks of indifference. 

“Yes and no,” He explains, sighing before crouching next to where you sit. “Y/N, this woman– Cat– she is psychology disturbed. She is what we call a black widow, do you know what that is?”

You nod, blushing a little with how close he is to you. “I uh, I read a book that the main character was a black widow. Butter, by Asako Yuzuki.” 

His smile makes you melt a little, and you hate how weak you are to the little windows of personality he allows you to see from time to time. “Yeah, I like that book too. But… this is real life. Cat Adams goes after cheaters, liars.” 

“Then why is she after you?” 

“Because I lied to her,” He admits, your eyes stuck on his expression and if you were anyone else, you wouldn’t have noticed the way his jaw ticks in response to what you can only assume to be anger. But you are not, anyone else, you are very much so yourself, an observer, a quiet listener, and it just so happens that your favourite person to observe and listen to is Spencer Reid himself. “I was our decoy to capture her and now she sees me a as a game. Almost like, like a game of wits, to see who’s smarter, to see who will win. Is this making sense, Y/N? Do you need a break?”

“I just, I don’t understand where I fit. I was just housesitting for you, I could’ve been a complete stranger.”

“Miss Y/L/N,” Hotch interrupted, leaning forward in such a somber way the hair on your arms stand up. “You have managed to get something she never did. Cat Adams is acting out in jealousy.”

“What did I get? I’m sorry, I don’t–“

“Me,” Spencer said, eyes piercing into yours. “You got me.” 

—————————————

By the time you make it back home, the moon is high and the roads are clear. It has been a while since you last got out of the house at the early hours of the morning. Fresh from the move and focused on your new store, making friends wasn’t at the top of your priority list when you landed, a year and something ago. Without someone to drag you out to bars or bribe you to go to clubs, you don’t really leave the house much at night, preferring the comfort of your own couch and the company of a book in the weekends. 

“You know,” For a second, you almost forget that he is right there behind you, and you jump a little when his voice echoes in your empty apartment. “You’ve been to my place so many times, but I never really even seen your apartment.” 

How do you tell him that there is not much to see, anyways? How do you tell Spencer that, in the time you’ve been here, the 365-plus-something days, you just never really thought about your apartment the same as your home? Your walls are empty, and it’s a little embarrassing, the way his brows shoot up when your turn on the lights. Besides your couch and a centre table, the place is almost empty. The TV stands on an old piece of furniture, a unit too dark and too classic to match with the rest of the things you have, and it’s a little too obvious that it came with the place and you were just too lazy to get rid of it. There is a singular throw pillow on the couch and a blanket, with a pile of books standing by the foot of it. But what really strikes him as odd, what really makes Spencer look around and make sure that yes, this is your apartment, is the fact that there are no shelves. There are no books, besides the four or five pilling up on the rug. 

“You know, for a book lover, you have… no books,” He mumbled, hands on his pocket as he offered you that smile you used to adore so much, but that now makes you a bit uneasy– tight lipped, never really reaching his eyes. “Why do you have no books?” 

“They are all downstairs,” You say, marching straight to your room to grab a backpack. “How many days do you think I’ll be staying with you?” 

“Honestly? Until we solve this.”

“…And how many days is that?”

From where he stands, he can’t see your sagged shoulders, trembling hands holding onto the blue backpack you had laying around the back of your wardrobe. “Pack for as long as you can,” He shouts from somewhere deep inside your place. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Too late for that,” You mumble to yourself, grabbing the closest items your found– a couple of shirts, sweaters, and jeans. After today, it’s not like you have much energy left to try and plan outfits ahead, so anything will do. 

It’s borderline funny, when you think about it… Just yesterday you were worried about what to wear, nervous hands sifting through your endless collection of sweaters to try and find just the right one for the day. Spencer visits you everyday, so everyday is a new day to impress him. You even start wearing makeup; a bit of mascara to make your eyes shine behind the glasses you refuse to wear, some blush to make the natural flush you get whenever he’s around seem more normal. It’s vain and futile, you know, but it makes you feel a tad more confident. A tad more… colourful. Like Penelope. “I think I’m ready,” You say once you’ve gathered all items you might need from the bathroom. “I’ll still be good to work, right?”

He nods, a smile on his face as if this is good news to him too. “Yes, we will have men stationed outside your store all day, so you don’t have to worry about anything while I’m away at the BAU. I’ll personally drop you off and pick you up myself.” His words don’t make you feel any more confident, hands fidgeting with the straps of your backpack. “Y/N, I promise, we will get to the bottom of this as fast as possible. This is temporary, and uh… I’d like to think that, you know, staying with me is not all that bad. You’ll get the bed and you are comfortable in my apartment, anyways, right? And, and! And we can have movie marathons and talk about books, cause I have a lot of books! You know that, of course you know that, you sold me half of them.” Clearing his throat when you just stare at him, you can see how Spencer is ranting. But you don’t mind the rant, actually; oddly enough, his nervous words are the one thing giving you a sense of normalcy right now. “Cat won’t come to you personally, if that helps. She is in federal prison, we’ve confirmed it yesterday, and anyone that comes in and out of your shop will be checked. Y/N, we– I’m not going to let anything happen to you, you need to trust me.”

“I do,” And you don’t mean to sound so sad, but you can’t help it. Right now, he’s the only person you can trust, and for you, that is one of the saddest things you’ve ever experience, because even though you know you need to pull away from him, that you need to put some distance between yourself and the man standing right in front of you, you just don’t trust yourself to be able to do it. “Anyways, can we go? I’m really tired, it’s been one hell of a day.” 

The walk over there drains the last bit of life you still have in you, foot dragging and tripping on the road, and you hate that this is how Spencer holds you for the first time– stopping you from falling on your face. “Sorry,” You mumble, following him once you’re on your feet again. The way his hands hover around you while you slowly make your way up the stairs of his apartment is adorable, and each and every time your heart skips a beat for him, it also breaks for yourself. You are digging your grave, and the worst part is that you don’t seem to care. You’re weak, you think to yourself, exhaling heavily when you finally walk inside the familiar apartment. 

You are so tired that you don’t really think about things too much, dragging yourself to the armchair you adore so much and sitting down. The way you kick your shoes off isn’t very polite, but you’ll worry about that tomorrow; for now, all you want is to shut your eyes and drift off to sleep, lulled by the muted green walls and the stories they told. While you slip into the hypnotic pull of a dreamless slumber, you can hear shuffling in the background, and later on, much later into the night, you don’t feel it, but Spencer covers you with your favourite blanket– the wool one his mother gifted him ages ago, the one you always leave tossed aside on his armchair. And you don’t see the way he smiles at you either, like he feels the weight of the world on his shoulders and doesn’t mind; not as long as you get to sleep as soundly as you are then. 

Actually, when it comes to Spencer, you are blind. To logic, yes, but to him, too. For someone as observant as yourself, it’s a little ridiculous how oblivious you are to the looks he send your way when you’re not paying attention. They linger, and he smiles in a way you’re yet to witness, but they are all for you. It’s the one bit of him that Spencer can give you, and you’re not even aware of it enough to take it and keep it safe. 

But maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’s better to not have hopes. 

Sometimes, Spencer thinks, fixing your blanket so that it tucked under your chin just right when your curl into a small, defenceless ball of exhaustion, it’s better to never have loved, then to have loved and lost.

He would know. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

aaaahhhh this is really happening! it's now official: a muted shade of green is an active series :D sorry if it felt like it took so long for an update, I just don't have much time to write recently, but I'm working on it! hope you like it <3

[coffeewithgenius]

Series 4 episode 9: 52 Pickup

Reid not only fuelling his own caffeine addiction, now he's enabling Morgan's.

[confused-pyramid]

I’d Like to Think That You Would Stick Around | s6

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 15.5k

warnings: SMUT, oral (m!receiving), masturbation, canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, guns, drinking, angst, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 6x06, 6x08, 6x17, and 6x18.

a/n: Sorry for the long wait guys, school has been kicking my ass, but here's the next part! We're getting a lot of angst this chapter, but we're so so close to the good times ;) Hope you enjoy! Title is from Love Song by Lana Del Rey

series masterlist

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You are talking to Prentiss across the bullpen, laughing about something he can't hear, and he's freaking out. He shouldn't have left that night. He knows that. He just didn't know what else to do.

Never mind the fact that he has no idea how much you remember.

When you bumped into him on the way out of the elevator this morning, he swears you jumped back, but then you smiled at him, and he was able to convince himself that it was all fine. So why does it still feel like you are avoiding him?

He can still picture the dark expanse of your pupils as you leaned in closer after stumbling into him; he can still feel the rush of your breath as your gaze met his and his fingers tightened on your hip.

He walks into his office, before sitting at his desk and dropping his head into his hands. His blinds are just shut enough that no one from down in the bullpen can see into his office, and he welcomes the privacy as he rubs a hand over his face and forces his eyes away from the photograph of the two of you on his desk.

'Aaron...'

Your voice had sounded so soft, so hurt-

He shuts his eyes again and tries to think about anything else (maybe even the paperwork he's supposed to have been doing for an hour now) but every time he blinks, he sees your face again.

He has suspected the shift in your feelings for a little while now, but that night at the bar confirmed something he isn't sure he's ready to handle. He feels it too - of course he does - but he can't think about it. He can't.

He's floundering with Jack, with trying to be there for both him and the team, and he just lost Haley. God, he just lost Haley, and the idea of losing you too because he fucks it up just like he did with her is unimaginable. They were together for decades - they had a child together - and still he couldn't give her what she needed. Your friendship means everything to him, and if he does something to ruin your relationship too, he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

He glances out his window and sees you still talking to Emily, both of your heads now bent down to look at an open case file. She says something to you, and your face lights up as you grin at her. Something that feels like lava pools in his gut and he swallows thickly as he turns back to his paperwork.

***

You head back to your desk and drop the case file down as you resist the urge to glance up at his office window. He hasn't looked at you once today, and you can't help it as your mind goes to the worst case scenario of losing him forever because of one stupid moment.

You had considered pretending that you don't remember anything from the bar, but he just left you there. That isn't something you can forget so easily, and even as you're trying to ignore it, you don't want to avoid him. But it isn't that simple.

You're simultaneously hurt and embarrassed, but it isn't even your own feelings that are at the forefront of your mind. You haven't been to his place in over a week, and you miss Jack and you miss him. You haven't gone this long without talking to him in years. 

Fuck.

***

Your quest to stay out of trouble results in you staying late at the office to get ahead on all of your work. Most nights you were staying even later than JJ and Aaron, but then JJ got sent to the DoD as a media liaison, and the work started piling up.

You did what you could to intercept some of the paperwork before it landed on his desk, especially since Jack was so close to starting preschool and you know Aaron wants to take any extra moment of face time he can get, but it wasn't a foolproof system.

That's why it's almost midnight after getting back from a case in Ohio, and Aaron's office light is still on. Knowing it's about time you broke the cone of silence you've been under, you walk up the stairs, giving yourself ample time to change your mind.

A minute later, you knock on his door, before pushing it open gently, waiting to see the look on his face.

"Oh, you're still here," he says, his eyes lingering on you for an extra moment before turning back to his work. "Come in."

You shut the door behind you and sit in the chair in front of his desk. It doesn't sink like it usually does, and it takes you a second to realize that he finally replaced it. After all this time...

"Are you heading home soon?" you ask, trying to feign nonchalance. You can't remember the last time you overthought every single thing you said to him.

Yes, you do, your brain mocks you. A film reel of your awkward senior year of high school starts playing in your mind and one lone thought sticks out among the cacophony of memories. You loved him.

"Yeah, I'm almost done," he says with a sigh, his eyes still trained on his paper.

You frown. "Really?"

"No."

That surprises a chuckle out of you and you lean forward in the chair. It's stiffer than you're used to, and it creaks as you slide in closer. "Want any help?"

He shakes his head. "You should head home. It's late."

You don't say anything and when he finally meets your eye, you shoot him a look.

He sighs, begrudgingly handing you a stack of files. "With JJ gone, it's been a little hectic. I have to go through the new cases coming in, as well as completing the post-case paperwork."

"Shit," you whisper, not knowing what else to say. Even as you tried to cut down his workload, it wasn't even scratching the surface. "I didn't realize that was all on you."

"Yeah, for the time being," he shrugs, raking a hand through his hair to push it back, even as it bounces right back into place. "But it'll be easier when they bring us someone new."

That stops you in your tracks. "How new? Because you know I really liked Jordan, but she was too green for the BAU."

"Newer," he says, his voice tinged with amusement. "They're considering some Academy cadets who are finishing up their remedial training."

"Cadets?" you echo, your voice rising an octave. "They're babies."

"They're at least 25," he states, the corner of his lip twitching. "Besides, their remedial training would have been with the BAU, so they'll know what they're getting into."

They'll know what they're getting into.

It's not a dig, but the juvenile corner of your brain hangs onto his words, trying to make out some double meaning.

"That's some relief, I guess." You flip open the first file, trying to pay attention as you scan the brief, but it just reminds you of how much you miss JJ.

"She was so much better at this," you groan, flipping the page. "I'm not sure anyone can replace her."

"I'm definitely sure that no one can," Aaron says simply as he glances up at you, "but we'll take any help we can get at this point."

There's a layer of subtext behind his tone, and you don't know if you're equipped to decipher it right now, after being up for almost 24 hours. Nevertheless, you don't give in as he looks at you, refusing to break eye contact. 

Please be okay, your mind begs as the corners of his eyes crinkle. Please say I didn't fuck this all up.

His eyebrows raise slightly, checking in on you for the first time in so so long, and another thought takes over your mind. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Blinking away the thought, you nod, but you can't stop yourself as you clarify, "It's just a temp assignment, right?"

He finishes the sentence he was writing before looking up. "Yes. It's only temporary."

***

"Daddy, don't look at me."

Jack's voice filters out from his bedroom and he looks at Jess with a small laugh as she pretends to lock her lips and toss away the key.

"I'm not looking," he calls out. "Are you almost ready?"

There's a small sound of affirmation from down the hall, so he stands up from the couch and reaches for the little jack-o-lantern bag that Jack wanted to use for trick-or-treating.

When he looks up, his son is emerging from his room, dressed incredibly unlike the comic book character he wanted to be for Halloween.

"Whoa," Aaron says, his voice a low rumble. "That is definitely not Spider-Man."

Jack just shrugs. "He's not a real superhero."

"He's not?" He looks at his son again, trying to discern which superhero wears a suit. "Okay. I give up. Who are you supposed to be?"

The answer is immediate. "I'm you, Daddy."

Jess nudges his shoulder with a laugh before she walks forward and swings Jack into the air. "You look just like him, bud!"

He opens his mouth to add onto that sentiment, but his throat thickens with emotion and he has to clear his throat to get a word out. "You tied my tie so well." It's the best he can do with his eyes burning. All he wanted was for his son to feel safe and loved. Maybe I'm doing something right.

"Alright, buddy," Jess smiles, setting him down. "Grab your coat and shoes and we'll head out."

Jack runs off and she smiles at him again, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're a great dad."

"Thank you," he says simply, his lips curving up into a smile. She says it a lot, but for the first time in a while, he's finally starting to believe it.

Jess opens her mouth to say something, but she pauses for an extra second, piquing his interest. "I haven't seen Y/N around here in a little bit."

There it is. He should've seen it coming. "Yeah, she's just busy."

His words don't sound convincing, even to his own ears, and Jess shoots him a look to match. "I happen to know you quite well, Aaron. So if you're overthinking something you shouldn't be, let me be the first to say, you're being an idiot."

He lets out a surprised snort. "Thanks, Jessica."

"I'm just saying," she shrugs, tucking a strand of curly hair behind her ear. "I see things...and I know both of you, so it's not hard to read into things."

He takes a deep breath, pushing his hair back from his forehead. "It's not like that."

He expects her to push back, but she just presses her lips together and shrugs her coat on. "Either way, Haley saw it too...and she seemed happy about it."

Before he has a chance to fully process her words, Jack rushes out, barreling into him. "I'm ready!"

"Alright, my little G-man," he grins, pushing her words out of his head for the night. "Let's go get some candy."

***

Things have been shifting at the office. Ever since JJ left, the team has felt smaller, and with your unintentional (okay, maybe a little intentional) avoidance of Aaron, the office hasn't felt the same in a long time.

Everyone has been taking on more than they're used to, and when Penelope had to fill in for JJ in a press conference during your last case, you couldn't help but notice how she turned to Aaron for support whenever she felt unprepared.

Your curiosity about their shared secret was eating at you all day, until you received a mass email from him to the whole team. Re: Garcia's play, Tolgate Theater, 8pm

You didn't have any plans tonight anyway, and after long days in a seemingly endless rotation of slacks and blazers, you welcome the chance to dress up a little bit. It's not like you go out often (or at all) unless it's with the team.

Pushing to the back of your closet, you rifle through the longer dresses and gowns you own, before landing on a light green, silk number. It has a halter neckline that drapes loosely around your neck, and you haven't worn it since before Jeff died, because it always felt like too much.

But Emily messaged you after getting home with a photo of her dress too, and even though it may be a lot for a little neighborhood theater, you're excited about something for the first time in a long while.

After putting on the dress and doing your makeup a bit darker than usual, you grab your keys and head out.

~

He got to the theater a bit earlier than the rest of the team, mostly to apologize to Garcia and warn her about the onslaught of support she was going to be getting, but he also wanted to get there before you did, so he could save a seat for you beside him.

From an outsider's perspective, he imagines there wouldn't seem to be anything different or wrong with your relationship, but he has been feeling the frustrating tension between the two of you since that night out.

Speaking with Jess on Halloween felt like a welcome reprieve from his cycle of self-loathing, and he finally feels more free than he has in ages.

Emily, Derek, and Spencer arrive a short while later, and he points them toward the seats he booked out, before heading back to the lobby, where family and friends of the performers are milling around.

When Dave arrives, he's also dressed in a suit. "We certainly clean up nicely."

He coughs out a laugh. "I haven't pulled this suit out in years."

"Well, aside from the cobwebs," Dave jokes, brushing an imaginary piece of dust from his shoulder, "you look classy."

"Thanks," he smiles, patting the older man's arm. "You should head inside. We're sitting about halfway up."

"You coming?" Dave asks as he steps around him.

Aaron shakes his head, glancing back at the door again. "I'm going to wait for...everyone to get here. I'll meet you inside."

He nods, before smacking his shoulder once and walking into the theater. When Dave's out of sight, he turns back around and pulls his phone out, trying to look busy.

He scrolls through a couple of his latest emails before tucking his phone away. The front door of the theater opens then, and when he looks up, all of the air leaves his lungs.

It feels like the world is moving in slow motion as you glide inside, your dress billowing down as the breeze from outside settles. You look incredible, and he feels like a teenager again, when he was so in love with you he couldn't breathe.

He watches you glance around, clearly searching for a familiar face, so he walks up, approaching you slowly to give you time to notice him.

"Oh, hi!" you say, your lips curving up into a smile as he tucks a hand into his pocket. "Am I late?"

"Not at all," he says, hating how strained his voice sounds. "The play starts at the top of the hour."

"Perfect," you smile, removing your shawl from your shoulders and folding it in your hands. "You clean up well, by the way."

There's a slight tinge of humor in your voice, and you're looking at him expectantly, likely waiting for him to lead you to the seats, but he can't move. He's terrified of what he's feeling, but you look amazing, and he's surrounded by people he doesn't know, so he doesn't overthink it as he reaches out and slips a hand onto your waist.

You clearly aren't expecting it as he pulls you in closer, his fingers sliding across the silkiness of your dress. You smell like flowers, and he can't help himself as he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. "You're beautiful."

Reality doesn't set in until he lets you go. Your cheeks are slightly flushed and he can't think straight, but the moment you step away from him and head to theater doors, the fog clears.

What is he doing?

The rational part of his brain takes over and he mumbles a curse under his breath before jogging forward to follow you inside. At least for the time being, he has the play to cover himself, but when morning comes, and brings with it the harsh light of day, he's fucked.

***

His skin is burning. The temperature in his office feels like it has been turned all the way up, but even as he undoes his cufflinks and rolls his sleeves back, the heat doesn't abate.

He is loosening his tie when his office door opens, revealing you in your rumpled button down and slacks. He opens his mouth to ask why you're still here, but before he can get a word out, you're shutting the door behind you and locking it.

"What are you doing?" he asks as you saunter over to him, stepping around his desk and pressing your hands to the armrests of his chair. "Y/N, it's late-"

"Shut up," you say firmly, twisting his chair toward you with a strong pull. He moves to get up, but you push his shoulder down to keep him in his chair.

He already doesn't know what to say, but every thought leaves his brain as you sink down to your knees before him.

"Don't move," you whisper, your eyes glinting up at him as you deftly undo the buckle of his belt and yank his pants open. "I'm in charge now."

He lets out a gasp as you tug his pants down in one go, and before he can do anything, your fingers are on him. Your lips curve into a smile as his breath hitches, and even with the thin fabric of his boxers between you two, the sensations coursing through him feel so magnified and new.

He is already hard as a rock, and you've barely even touched him. Teasingly slow, you pull his boxers down, watching as his cock springs free from the confines. Without wasting another second, you run your tongue up his length, and he grits his teeth to keep the groans in his throat from spilling out.

Your lips slowly close around his tip and the wet heat makes his head fall back as he tries to calm his breathing down. His chest is heaving like he just went for a run, but when you hollow your cheeks around him, he can't keep the moan inside. He loses control for a moment as he reaches forward to grasp onto your hair, but that only seems to spur you on, as you bob your head even faster.

The wet sounds of your mouth sliding over his cock fill the office, and he clutches his armrest with one hand and uses the other to guide your head.

He's already so close, and the soft grip of your hands on his thighs aren't helping as he tries to hold off, to prolong this feeling. At the last second, you swirl your tongue around the tip, and he chokes out a gasp, but then-

His eyes fly open to the lonely darkness of his bedroom. The room is warmer than it usually is, and his skin feels sticky with sweat under his covers. His mind, on the other hand...

He doesn't remember every moment of the dream, but the message was clear enough. His boxers are still tight from the memory, and he tries as hard as he can to think about anything else, but he keeps going back to the image of you, in front of him, kneeling-

Throwing the covers off, he sits up quickly and climbs out of bed, needing to clear his head in the only effective way he knows of. He shrugs his clothes off on the way to the bathroom, and he turns the shower on, making the water steaming hot, before stepping inside. The steam fogs up the glass around him, but he can still see the bare outline of his shame in the mirror across from the shower.

But now isn't the time, not with his skin burning and his cock pulsing in his hand. He pumps a few times as the hot water cascades over him, trying to set a rhythm, but it doesn't feel right. He keeps nearing the edge before the wave pulls back, and he lets out a soft groan in frustration as he presses his forehead to the glass.

Just once, he thinks as he grips himself again, his mind shifting back to his dream. Only this once.

His brain fills with the images from earlier: you on your knees, your mouth warm and wet over him, the pinpricks of sweat across the swells of your chest where your shirt was unbuttoned. He pictures your mouth as he ruts into his own hand, pretending, wishing, it was you instead.

It only takes a few more pumps before he finishes, spilling onto the white floor of his shower. The energy leaves him as he slumps against the wall, twisting the knob to a cooler setting, before shutting it off completely.

He still has a few more hours of sleep left before he has to get up for work, but he spends all night tossing and turning in the wide, empty expanse of his bed.

***

"What do you think he meant?"

"Maybe it's like a new manual, or guidebook."

"What are you two on about?" You walk up to your desk and slump down into the chair as Emily and Spencer look up with meek smiles.

Spencer is the first to crack. "We were discussing what Hotch might have meant by a 'different tactic' to solve this case in New Mexico."

You frown. "The gated community one? I thought Dave was just flying over ahead of us to get a head start."

"Nope," Emily shakes her head, before turning around. "He's in Hotch's office right now."

You look up just as Aaron and Dave exit the office and begin their descent down the stairs. Dave is ahead of him, with a big smile on his face, as he pushes past all of you.

It's only after you turn around that you realize who he's looking at. The woman he pulls into a hug is young - Academy cadet young - and she's pretty too.

"Ashley!" Rossi exclaims as he lets her go.

Hotch walks up behind them and shakes her hand. "Agent trainee Seaver is on loan to us from the Academy."

He introduces her to each of you, and you reach forward to shake her hand, a big smile on your face. After he told you that the bureau was considering someone new, you have had your guard up, but you don't want to make a bad impression in case she's here to stay.

"It's great to meet all of you," she says with a meek smile.

You pat her shoulder before walking past her to speak with Aaron about whether Seaver was the the new addition he was talking about. But when you lift your hand to get his attention, he turns away without looking at you, and leads Rossi out of the bullpen.

~

In the New Mexico gated community where three women have been murdered so far, Emily and Derek split off to check out the last crime scene, so you stay with the rest of the team and Seaver at one of the model homes to go through the evidence.

You can't help but notice how Spencer's eyes keep flitting over to the new girl, and a grin crosses your lips as you nudge his shoulder later.

"You totally have a thing for the new girl."

"Wha-what, no?!" he sputters, his face twisting into an unconvincing frown. "I don't even know her."

You just shrug. "You can still think she's pretty."

"That's irrelevant," he mutters, nudging you back and grabbing one of the files in front of him. "Do you think we can trust the local police?"

"I don't know," you sigh, letting him change the subject. "We definitely can't rule them out, especially in a community as clustered as this."

You glance across the room to Aaron and Dave, who are standing hunched over a laptop with the local detective. They're brows are all equally furrowed, and Aaron looks so focused you doubt he would hear you if you yelled his name right now.

Dropping the file onto the counter, you step around Reid and walk over to the trio, listening in as they start speaking.

"You interviewed every adult male in the community?"

The detective nods. "More than once. They're all digitized."

Aaron glances up as you approach, but when he realizes who it is, his eyes dart back to the screen. His eyes meet yours for the briefest of seconds, and he sees a frown cross your face out of his periphery. Fuck. He has to be more careful. You're a fucking profiler, for god's sake.

"Were all the interviews confrontational like this?" you ask as you come up beside him. He can feel the warmth of your arm inches away from his, and he leans his weight to the other side, trying not to think about his dream while you're standing this close to him.

"Is that wrong?"

Rossi raises his eyebrow. "You didn't get much out of them, did you?"

The detective shakes his head before skipping to the next interview, and everyone leans in closer to get a better look. With four of you surrounding the screen, it's harder to see, and when you press your hand to his shoulder to balance yourself, he all but flinches back from your touch.

The movement is harsh enough that everyone but the detective notices. His eyes fly to you as shock and confusion cross your face, and before anyone can say anything, he mutters something that sounds like 'sorry' before rushing out of the model home.

~

You're chasing after him the moment he's out of sight. Dave reaches forward to catch your arm but you shake him off, rushing out of the house and onto the street, which has been cleared by the local police since you arrived.

"Aaron!" you call out as he walks ahead of you, his hand raking through his hair. To his credit, he comes to a stop the moment he hears your voice, and you catch up to him quickly, stopping just short of him on the sidewalk. "What is going on? I thought we were okay?"

His eyes close for a beat, before his face hardens into a steely calm. You can no longer pretend like everything's fine. It hasn't been for a long time - not since the bar, and maybe even before - but you've always been good at compartmentalizing what you don't want to feel. With your mom, and Jeff, and Haley, you could push down the hurt until it dissolved into your bloodstream, spreading everywhere. It wore you down and thinned you out, but at least it wasn't overwhelming.

Looking at him now - your best friend, the man you...love. Your breath catches in your throat and he shakes his head, not looking at you. "What do you mean, Y/N?"

You wish you could keep pretending, like he seems to be able to, but it's just not fair anymore. Not to him, and especially not to you. "No, don't do this. Don't act like I'm the only one who sees how wrong this has been for the last few months. I used to talk to you everyday, Aaron. We've barely spoken in weeks!"

His face cracks for a moment and you see the glimmer of pain in his eyes before the wall comes up again. "I don't know what you want me to say. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" you yell, your tone more forceful than you expect. "What are you sorry for, Aaron?"

He looks at you then, the facade falling away as your words sink in. The lines of pain and tension settle in and you're almost relieved that he's finally showing you the truth instead of hiding away what he's feeling. But then the despair returns as his lips thin into a line, unable to answer your question.

"What," you repeat, your words tinged with malice, "are you sorry for?"

He whispers your name softly, like it's an apology on it's own, before using his next words to tear you to pieces. "Don't make me say it."

A soft gasp leaves your mouth and you involuntarily take a step back, like he's slapped you in the face. He runs a hand over his neck and a sudden feverish anger rushes through you as you shake your head, blinking back tears. "Don't do that. I know it's not just me, Aaron. It's not-"

"Please," he whispers suddenly, cutting you off. "Please don't do this."

It's almost like he's begging you, and you jerk back, unable to look at him. Men have hurt you before, in so many ways, but nothing has ever cut deeper than this. You don't think your bullet wound hurt this much, and at least then you had him to support you. Now you're all alone.

The aching heartbreak hits you all at once and you brush a loose tear off your cheek before turning around and leaving him out on the sidewalk, watching you walk away.

***

"Something's up."

Penelope bumps Emily's shoulder to grab her attention. After a second, she looks up from her desk. "What was that?"

"Something," Penelope repeats, her eyes darting back and forth between you and Aaron, "is up. Y/N and Hotch haven't looked at each other in like four days. Earlier, she was talking to someone on the stairs and he literally walked out of his office and then back inside again."

Emily looks at her. "Are you sure you aren't reading into anything?"

Penelope shoots her a look that can only mean 'you're kidding, right?' "They're inseparable. Something must have happened in the last few weeks that we don't know about."

Before she can stop her, Penelope stands up and barrels over to you, with Emily on her heels like an owner who just dropped her dog's leash.

"Y/N!" Penelope calls out as she approaches you. You look up from your desk with a frown, before your face breaks into a forced smile that both of them can see through immediately. "We wanted to catch up."

You glance at Emily, who shrugs, earning a look of chagrin from the other agent.

"Okay, what do you want to talk about?" you ask, your forehead crinkling in a manner reminiscent of your boss.

Penelope pauses for a moment, like she's trying to think. "Uhh, I'm not sure. Maybe about...you and Hotch?"

"Subtle," Emily mutters under her breath as your face scrunches into a confused frown. "She just means that you two have seemed kind of off lately, and we were wondering if everything was okay."

You press your lips together, unsure of how to broach this topic, even with some of your closest friends. "It's nothing."

That pulls a frown from both of them, and you sigh, doubling down on your feigned nonchalance. "It's really nothing, guys. I just...can't see him right now."

You turn back to your work and Emily and Penelope share a look, twin realizations clicking in both of their minds. They rush back to Penelope's office, and Emily shuts the door behind them, before they both blurt out something that sounds like: "We all know what's going on here."

"We have to make him jealous," Emily agrees with a nod.

She pulls open her desk drawer and pulls out her address book. "I have just the thing."

***

"I messed up, Haley."

The ground is hard from the chilly December air, and he sits uncomfortably on the familiar granite bench before her grave. There is a bouquet of dried-up flowers leaning against her headstone, and he doesn't have to think too hard to figure out who they're from.

"I'm trying not to," he whispers, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets to warm them up, "but I keep messing up."

A cool breeze wafts over him and the rustle of the nearby trees feels like an acknowledgement. Like she's really listening.

"She hates me," he sighs, his chin dropping to his chest as he shuts his eyes. The wind picks up slightly, and it's like he can hear Haley's voice in his head. She doesn't hate you. She's hurt.

"I know." He runs a gloved hand over his face, the cold sending a small shiver through his body. "It's my fault. I just don't know what to do or how to fix it."

Her reply in his mind is almost immediate.Yes you do.

He shakes his head, feeling like an idiot for talking to himself, even though it's helping him work through his emotions. "I don't. I really don't."

For a few moments, all he can hear is the rustle of tree branches and the low whistle of the wind blowing around the headstones. You have to tell her how you feel.

His chest tightens and he lifts his face, letting the cold air sting his skin, like some kind of penance. "Don't you think I want to? Every time I look at her, I'm terrified it's going to come out, but I can't say it." He takes a deep breath as the words start to flow out. He hasn't said them out loud to anyone, but right here feels like the safest place to let them out. "I love her."

Three simple words and it's like a weight lifts off of his chest. He still doesn't have the answers, but at least he can admit it to himself.  "I'm in love with her, Hales. The only person in this world that I love more is Jack."

He can practically see her smile as he glances down at her name etched in stone. Then what's the problem.

"I'm gonna fuck it up. I always do." The words come out before he has a chance to think, almost like they've been sitting on the tip of his tongue for ages. He looks down at the ground again, imagining her sitting in front of him. "I did with you."

This time, his mind doesn't have the answer for him. He's finally in a good place with his son, and with the addition of Seaver to the team, his work load has been marginally cut back, so he doesn't really have an excuse anymore. It's just his fear of losing one of the only good things in his life that keeps holding him back.

But you're already losing her. 

It's his own voice berating him this time, instead of Haley's. 

You're trying so hard to hold her at arm's length that you haven't even noticed that she has stopped pushing her way in.

The wind rushes over him and he looks at the headstone again, his eyes tracing over Haley's name one more time, before he stands up and walks back down the hill.

***

Dave's annual new year's eve party has always been a fairly large spectacle, but when Aaron leads Jack up his driveway that evening, the sheer number of (expensive) cars lined up outside is nearly staggering.

He knew it wouldn't just be the team here tonight, but he wasn't expecting the sheer scale of the party, especially while his mind has been so pre-occupied with the prospect of seeing you outside of work for the first time in weeks. 

The front door is unlocked when they reach the top of the porch, so he carefully pushes it open and leads Jack inside. He's only an hour late, but the hallways are already crowded with groups milling around, having loud conversations with a drink in their hand.

He doesn't recognize anyone until he gets to the kitchen, where he sees the rest of the team (minus Dave) chatting around a small snack table.

"Y/N!" Jack shrieks when he sees you, letting go of his hand immediately and running forward. You turn at the sound of his voice, and your face breaks out into a wide smile as the boy barrels over and throws his arms around you.

"Jack-o-lantern!" you gush, lifting him up and hugging him, your eyes falling shut as you squeeze the boy tightly.

Any onlooker can tell that his son loves you. For a while after Haley's death, Jack was closed off to every female figure in his life - even Jess - but he never shied away from you.

I love you, a voice in the back of his mind whispers as you set Jack down and press a kiss to the top of his head. I love you I love you I love you.

~

After Dave returned from the back patio and whisked away Aaron and Jack to meet some of his other friends, you loitered around the kitchen for a while, chatting with Derek and Spencer about their resolutions for the new year.

You're refilling your glass with some diluted punch when JJ and Emily sneak up behind you with matching mischievous expressions. 

"What did you guys do?" you ask, gulping back some punch in preparation for whatever they're about to spring on you.

"There's someone we want you to meet," Emily grins as she reaches forward to loop her arm through yours.

"Oh, no way," you say, already shaking your head before they can elaborate. "You are not setting me up with some random bureau guy again."

"That was only one time," JJ pouts, before beckoning to the hallway across from the kitchen. You glance over her shoulder and spot Will standing with a man you've never seen before. "I had Will bring one of his single friends tonight. He's an architect, and he's super smart and super cute. Totally your type."

You raise an eyebrow as you inspect the man from across the room. He's definitely easy on the eyes, but he's also not your type. There's only one man who fits into that box.

"I don't know," you sigh, setting your glass down on the table behind you. "It's very sudden."

"C'mon," Emily urges, her eyes glinting with amusement. "It'll be good. Just talk and flirt a little, and if you're into it then you have a new year's kiss locked up!"

Kissing someone you just met in front of all of your colleagues sounds like nightmare fuel, but you can't think of another way to get your friends off your back. "Okay, fine, I'll meet him."

~

After leaving Jack with Henry and the other children, he heads back into the main section of the house, hoping to run into you. He doesn't know what he would say if he does, but anything is better than the avoidance game you've been playing.

He sees Penelope and JJ first, but you're not with them, so he continues forward, deftly stepping around throngs of people conversing in little pockets around the house. 

"Hotch, over here!"

He whips around to find Derek, Will, and Dave waving him over to join them in the kitchen. He grabs a piece of cheese off a platter on his way over, and Derek pats him on the back when he reaches the three of them. 

They return to their prior topic of conversation, and he tunes them out as his eyes dart around the room, still looking for you. He's about to give up when he spots the familiar hue of your hair down the hall. His lips curve up in a small smile as he watches you lean your head back with a big laugh that he swears he can hear even from all the way over here. He's about to excuse himself from the guys when a hand reaches out to gently touch your forearm, and you don't shake it off.

It's only then that he notices the man you're talking to, and how enamored he looks as you burst into another bout of laughter. Something that feels like ice settles in the pit of his stomach and he turns back to the guys just as they notice what he's been looking at.

"They seem to be hitting it off," Will grins, crossing his arms over his chest. "My friend's a good guy, and he mentioned wanting to meet her after they crossed paths at one of me and JJ's dinner parties."

He notices Dave glance at him out of the corner of his eye, but he can't bear to look at the older man, for fear that he'll give something away. Aaron feels the nauseating pit of jealousy in his stomach, but it's not fair. He pushed you away.

He turns away from you and tries to focus on literally anything else, but it's not long before he's unable to fight the urge to look at you from his spot in the kitchen. You can't see him watching you, and it gives him the obscurity he needs to observe you from afar, but it also makes it much more conspicuous to his friends.

You don't leave the company of Will's friend until much later in the night, and soon it's almost midnight. The countdown starts as everyone in the house lifts their glasses and latches onto their significant others.

"Ten, nine, eight..."

He's turning before he knows what he's doing. He can't help it, it's almost magnetic, the pull you have on him. 

You're not looking at him, and he can only see your side profile as you glance up at the clock as it ticks down.

"Five, four, three, two..."

He turns away at the last second, unable to stomach the thought of you kissing someone else, but when the crowd erupts into cheers, he looks back to find that you're gone. His heart rates spikes and he pushes through people, ignoring the pats on his back as people wish him a "Happy new year". 

He eventually spots you through the back windows, and he steps out into the frigid air to accompany you on the back porch steps. You're sitting on the top step, your bare arms wrapped around your body for some semblance of warmth, and for a moment, he can't move.

He can't decide if he should go to you or let you have the space you so clearly wanted, but then a voice in the back of his skull yells at him through all the noise. She's your best friend in the world. A few months ago, the answer would have been obvious.

A switch flips and he steps forward, sliding off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders. You let out a soft sigh as he sinks down next to you, and he watches as your eyes glisten in the lamplight. 

You don't look at him as you press your elbows into your knees and rub a hand over your neck. "How did this get so fucked up?"

He sighs too, a heavy sound. "I don't know." 

He's still looking at you, at the tears in your eyes, when you finally take a deep breath and turn to face him. A tear slips down your cheek and his brain fires off sparks again. I love you, I love you, I love you.

He wants to say it so badly, but then the newest factor in all of his confusion jumps back into the forefront. The Pakistan assignment. He has been trying to push it off, but he's getting so much pressure from the brass, and that's just one more thing he's hiding from you. 

He breaks your eye contact and you let out a slow breath, almost like you felt him lose his nerve in real time. Without another word, you wipe the tears from your face and stand up, leaving him out in the cold once again.

***

The bureau gives you a week off at the start of the new year, but you can't enjoy any of your alone time. Every second you let your mind wander, your thoughts are invaded by the look on his face as he turned away from you. 

You had seen it in his eyes out there, in the freezing cold air as the clock struck midnight. At least a small part of him felt for you the same way you felt for him. But it's not enough.

You've been alone for so many years. When you married Jeff, you were done. You didn't think you'd have to ever feel this kind of heartbreak again, but now that you feel that kind of love again, you refuse to settle for anything less than what you deserve. And what you deserve is someone who can show you how he feels. 

Nevertheless, you can't control your subconscious. 

That's why you're laying in bed at the end of the week, staring at your nightlight across the room and somehow managing to simultaneously miss him and hate him. It's well past midnight and you can't sleep, but you don't want to give in to the urge that's been tugging at your gut all night. 

You're so angry with him, but he's also the only person you want to talk to when you're feeling anything you can't explain. It only takes another minute before you're giving in and snatching your phone off your bedside table.

It rings for a long time before he finally answers. 

He whispers your name softly, his voice gravelly as though he just woke up. He sounds confused, but it has to mean something that he answered his phone at this hour.

"Are you okay?" Aaron asks, his voice still a bit gruff from the tiredness. "What's wrong?"

I miss you, you want to say. Instead, you panic and ask the first question that pops into your head: "Why do you think The Beatles broke up?"

The line goes silent for a moment before he sighs quietly. "Everyone blames Yoko but you know I think they just stopped working well together creatively." 

"It was probably Lennon deciding to leave the band," you say, unsure where you're going with this. "Yeah, that makes the most sense."

"Maybe," he says, his voice a low hum.

There's no tinge of impatience or irritation in his tone, but you still feel awful for waking him up in the early hours of the morning to chat about a band. 

You take a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself for what you're about to say, but the breath catches in your throat as a small sob escapes. "I'm so mad at you."

There's a pause on the other end of the line, before Aaron exhales sharply. "I know."

Your resolve fades almost immediately and you sink back into your pillows. "I'm not mad at you." He quietly huffs out a laugh, but you can tell his heart isn't in it. "I'm hurt, and yeah, I'm kind of mad at you, but the only person I want to talk to is you."

You can hear his breath stutter over the speaker, and he rears up to say something, before thinking better of it. "It's late, Y/N. You should go to bed."

"Yeah," you say eventually, rubbing tears of frustration from your eyes. "I'm sorry, yeah."

"No," he says quickly, his voice hurried as though he's afraid you'll hang up. "Don't apologize. I'm glad you called."

Your heart flutters pathetically. "Okay."

"Why were you up anyway?" he asks after a moment.

You shrug, even though he can't see you, wiping away the last remnants of your tears. "Couldn't sleep."

Something that sounds like a quiet chuckle floats into your ears. "Try turning off that massive nightlight."

Your eyes widen and you inadvertently glance over at the beacon of light plugged in across the room. "What nightlight?"

He hums again. "Goodnight, Y/N." I love you.

"Goodnight, Aaron." I love you too.

***

It started when Emily arrived late to the briefing. She was never late, so that itself was enough to set off your alarms, but then you noticed her fingers. She's biting her nails again.

Aaron finishes briefing you all about the two families murdered in house fires in the DC area, before you disperse and head back to your desks to read up about the evidence.

When you drop your bag down and sink into your chair, you don't miss how Spencer visibly flinches in his seat, his eyes twitching with exhaustion.

"Sorry, Spence," you say earnestly, turning to him with an anxious look. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," he answers quickly, his eyes darting back down to the case file. "I'm... I'm...I'm sure these victims overlap somehow. Garcia pulled their phone numbers, but so far I can't find anything."

You've been working with him long enough to notice when he's deflecting, especially when he's doing such a bad job of it. "Spencer, you just jumped."

He takes a deep breath and you're suddenly grateful that his shorter haircut allows you to get a better view of his expression, even with his head down. "I've been having these really intense headaches lately." "Have you seen a doctor?" you ask, sliding your chair in to get a better look at him. "Yeah, a few. None of them have been able to figure it out." "I'm sorry," you say genuinely as guilt and shame flood your veins. You've been so preoccupied with your own drama that you haven't been paying any attention to your friends. First Emily, and now Spencer. "Does anyone know?"

His lips press into an adorable line. "You." "I won't tell anyone," you assure him, your eyebrows scrunching down. "I'm glad you're telling me now." "I know," he nods. "I just didn't want you to worry."

"I won't make a big deal out of it," you tell him, your lips curving up in a playful smile, "if that's what you were worried about."

"Thanks," he mutters, but you can tell his heart isn't really in it.

It's been so long since you sat down and caught up with your teammates, and given how weird Emily has been acting, you figure it's about time. 

~

"Have you noticed anything off with Emily?"

It's Penelope who comes to you first about the change in your teammate's disposition. You had clocked the small jab Emily had thrown at her after the briefing, but didn't want to intrude in case it was personal. You're starting to realize it might be a lot more personal than you originally thought.

"I have," you say simply, glancing back at her across the bullpen. Her head is down and her shoulders are hunched forward as she quickly types something out on her phone. 

She waits for another moment before jolting upright and standing up. Before either of you can get a chance to ask what's wrong, she is jetting off to the bathroom.

"I got this one," you tell Penelope before strutting off to follow her.

She's looking at her phone again when the bathroom door shuts behind you, and you approach her slowly so as not to spook her. "Hey, I just wanted to check up on you. You sped out of there."

"I'm fine," she says, trying to brush away your worry with a wave of her hand.

You frown, taking a step forward. "Are you sure? I noticed you've been biting your-"

"Don't profile me, Y/N," she snaps, her head turning to level you with a glare that would have scared the shit out of you if you didn't know her so well. It doesn't last long though, and before you can get another word out, she's already apologizing. "I'm sorry. I-I'm gonna be alright. I promise. I'm just having this nightmare."

She details her dream to you, and the profiler in you can't help but relate it to her own lack of trust, but then she looks at you with a genuine smile and you just have to smile back.

"Somehow, you.." she pauses for a beat. "You always make me feel better. I don't think I've ever thanked you for that."

Her words feel so final, like she's saying goodbye, and a bolt of terror shoots through you before you decide you're being dramatic.

She's your friend. She's gonna be alright.

~

Emily's gone. She slipped out during Aaron's multi-agency task force briefing, and none of you noticed.

How could you not have noticed?

You're kicking yourself as Spencer pulls out a sheet of paper from one of Emily's contacts, with a list of undercover names all with the initials L.R. 

"Prentiss is the last name on the list," Rossi deduces as you mentally check back into the conversation. Your eyes scan the board with the name 'Lauren Reynolds' written at the top. "That means she's on Doyle's list too."

"Guys," Aaron calls out from Emily's desk, holding up her things in his hands, "she left her badge and gun."

"Why would she do that?" Penelope asks, her voice small like a child's. "We're her family."

That's when you finally find your voice. "She ran to protect us." You turn to Aaron then, your eyes flashing over his like it's the first time you've ever really looked at him. "How do we find her?"

"We need to profile their behavior," he instructs, moving to the front board. "Doyle is our unsub and Prentiss is our victim. We treat it like any other case." 

There's the small sound of a door opening and Aaron looks up, beckoning his chin to the back. "Because terrorism isn't an area we specialize in, I've reached out to an expert from the State Department...someone who can also shed light on Prentiss' past."

You whip around to the sight of a familiar head of blonde hair walking into the briefing room. The tension in your shoulders abates for a split second as gratitude cascades over you. God, you missed her.

JJ saunters forward and nods at each of you, her expression already rigid with concentration. "Let's get to work."

~

Profiling Emily takes you all to Boston, where the evidence from the previous victims adds up to the conclusion that Doyle is a family annihilator. When you also find out that he has a secret son, you and Derek lead the team to the warehouse where the son was last taken, in the hopes that Emily would have made the same connection.

The sound of a loud crash sends you running, but Derek is faster and he gets there before you. You enter the back room to find Emily bleeding out on the floor, a large wooden post stuck through her abdomen.

"I got her!" he yells into his comms before pressing his hands onto her wound. "Prentiss. It's me, I'm right here."

She mumbles something that sounds like his name and your chest floods with relief. You step out of the room to call for a medic, but when you get back, she isn't moving.

"Emily!" Derek yells as you sink to your knees beside him. Your pants are wet with her blood, and it feels like ice against your skin. How can there be so much blood in the human body? 

"Come on," he pleads, tightening his grip on her hand. "Stay with me!"

"Emily, please," you whisper, your throat hoarse from the unshed tears. You press your fingers to her pulse. "Please."

The medics come eventually, and she is taken to the hospital, where the whole team is holed up in the waiting room. Spencer hasn't stopped pacing since she was taken into surgery and you can't seem to take your face out of your hands, even as people press comforting pats on your shoulders. 

You don't notice anything going on around you until JJ comes back from speaking with the doctor with tears in her eyes. No, oh god no.

You barely register her words as she whispers, "She never made it off the table."

It's only then that you stand up. You're not sure what you're planning to do, but as soon as you try to move, your legs start shaking, like you're slipping in quicksand. Aaron steps towards you just as your body gives out and you collapse onto him, quiet sobs bubbling out of your throat.

"She was just here," you cry into his chest while you clutch his shirt as though your life depends on it. "How can she be gone?"

His hands rub comforting circles into your back as his arms tighten around you, keeping you upright, and you can't help but imagine that this picture looks vaguely reminiscent of his home last year when you held him up as he broke down. 

Emily's gone.

You can't even remember why you were so angry with him before. Everything outside of this moment feels so trivial, like you've been wasting so much time. You need him now, and you're so thankful he's here to hold you up even though his pain is just as big as yours.

Aaron wraps himself tighter around you, fighting the tears that are rushing forward, because they just aren't fair. His whole team is falling apart in front of him, and he's one of two people here who knows the truth.

You choke out another sob and he tugs you upward, helping you stand again as you wipe the tears from your face. Out of the corner of his periphery, he sees JJ pull Spencer into a hug, and she meets his eye over the younger agent's shoulder. So much pain.

"What are we supposed to do now?" you ask suddenly, your voice so small he's sure he's the only person who can hear you. "How are we supposed to keep going?"

The familiar echoing emptiness of guilt swallows him whole and he sucks in a sharp breath in a futile effort to keep himself from drowning. Your glistening eyes are so wide with despair, and he pulls you back into his arms, mostly for comfort, but also because he can't stand to see you in pain for much longer. When he finally finds his voice, all that comes out is, "I don't know."

***

You can barely remember the funeral. 

When you try to think about it, there are flashes of white gloves and red roses and rough, brown dirt, but the only thing that really sticks out is the pressure of Aaron's hand over yours as you stood in front of her casket while they lowered her into the ground.

So many funerals, so many gravestones. The eery familiarity that has made you numb to the loss, even as it threatens to tear you apart each time you let yourself think about her.

It has become a regular passage in the story of your life: meet someone new, learn to love again, and then lose them.

Tears prick your eyes as you settle into the stiff wooden chair in your kitchen. The team has been organizing impromptu get-togethers all month, mostly at the last minute and usually late at night. That's when the loneliness hits the hardest. 

You figure you should be used to it by now. Deep down, you know it's not something anyone ever gets used to, but believing that the pain will abate is easier than realizing it'll always be there, buried in your bones. 

The pain of your mother's death is still a phantom bruise under your skin, always there, but never at the forefront until you press hard enough. Losing Jeff was a whole other monster, hiding under your bed and within the confines of your mind, ready to pounce the moment you closed your eyes. Haley, on the other hand, was a fresh wound; sometimes, you still aren't sure that the gash has fully closed, but with time it has gotten easier to pretend that things aren't awful all the time.

You wipe a loose tear from your cheek as you check your phone messages and tidy up some of the plates from your table. Aaron came over last night, and you both sat in silence for a long time, until a photo of Emily on your computer brought you to tears again. He held you for hours as you shook in his arms, trying to keep yourself together, but ultimately failing.

The silver lining of his renewed presence in your life doesn't feel as sweet as it should, given the circumstances, but you'll take any win you can get. If nothing else, you missed the feel of his arms around you.

You flinch as the dishes clink together loudly when you set them in the sink, and you watch the water dribble from the faucet for a long time, pretending that all you see isn't her blood.

***

He doesn't know what to do. He wants to be there for you more than anything else in this world, but seeing you break down is like being stabbed all over again, only this time it's his own fault. 

When you called last night, he couldn't stay away. He misses you like he's missing a limb, and even if he wanted to stop himself from seeing you, he knows he couldn't. Your grief has brought you back to him, but it feels wretched, even as he shoves aside his guilt for an evening to comfort you at this low.

He had lost count of the number of work-related things he had kept from Haley when they were married, but he always had the excuse that she didn't need to know. That her life would be better without the knowledge of all the horrors that circled them everyday. 

He doesn't have the same excuse with you. You are well-acquainted with the tragedies that life brings, and if it was up to him, he would spill every secret he has ever hidden, because he loves you, and you're one of the last people in this world who still trusts him, and he's so scared that after this, he'll lose that too. 

But he keeps his mouth shut. And when Garcia invites him to a get-together at your place, he politely declines, because if he knows you all have each other, then he can take one night off from the debilitating guilt he somehow still hasn't learned to shoulder after all these years.

***

"Come on in."

Spencer, Derek, and Penelope shuffle into your house, handing you bottles of wine and bags of assorted snacks, before plopping down on your couch and making themselves at home. They've been over so many times in the last few weeks that you figure it basically is their second home at this point, not that you mind. 

None of you want to be alone, and that's why it works.

"What are we watching tonight?" Derek asks, his voice nonchalant, like it's just another movie night with your colleagues. He always starts the night acting like everything's fine, and it really irked you the first time he came over, until you realized it was a front that he just needed time to shed. "Didn't you say last time that you have the original Jaws DVD?"

"What if we watched The Empire Strike Back?" Spencer asks timidly from under a slew of blankets that Penelope has covered both of them with. His nightly ritual involves suggesting one of his favorite movies, even though it always gets immediately shot down. 

Derek chuffs, snagging some of the blanket from off your lap. "Maybe another night, kid."

"I don't care what we watch," Penelope sighs as she pulls open a bag of popcorn and chucks a handful into her mouth, "as long as it isn't sad." That's her only request. Nothing sad, please. Your nightly ritual is like a practiced dance. Each of you playing your parts, reciting your lines the same way, keeping it familiar. Establishing a routine.

You stand up, taking your cue, and grab a random DVD from your cabinet. Ten minutes later, you're all watching The Empire Strikes Back, and Spencer cracks something that looks like a smile for the first time since before the funeral.

You watch the movie in silence, and when the credits roll, you watch the names scroll over the screen as you muster up the energy to find the remote. When you finally click the TV off, the silence feels suffocating, and you hear Penelope sniffle from next to you.

Throwing your arm around her shoulder, you all squish yourselves together, like the pressure will keep the emotions in. 

After a long pause, Spencer is the first to speak. "It'll get better, right?" 

"It has to," Derek sighs, his chin falling to his chest as he takes in a deep breath. You know him well enough to be able to translate his exasperation into anguish, even as he tries to hide it.

"It will get better." You glance around the couch at your friends - the people who have been here for you through all of it - and nod your head, choosing this moment to really believe it. "It will."

***

It doesn't.

A week later, you are storming into Aaron's apartment after he dropped Jack off to stay with Jess, your words already pouring out even before he can shut the door behind you.

"How could you take the assignment?"

Your tone is laced with malice, but he can still hear the hurt underneath.

"How could you leave us here after everything that happened?"

This time the pain is clearer. Your voice breaks at the end and he steps forward to do something, but you twist your body away.

His hands fall hopelessly back to his sides and he doesn't know how to explain this to you, when he can't even explain it to himself.

"Strauss left your brief in the conference room." Your words are stronger now, and he looks up, his eyes squinting with anticipation. "You've known about this since before the new year."

You're right. He's known about the prospect of this assignment for almost a year, and then after, when it became a real possibility, he still chose not to tell you. Maybe before, he had the excuse that you weren't speaking to him, but after Emily...he doesn't have a leg to stand on.

"Why wouldn't you tell us?" you ask, the anguish coming forward in full force. "We need you here. Jack needs you. I need you."

He needs you too. But he also needs to stop hurting you. And he can't see that happening while he's still here.

"I'm sorry," he whispers softly. I love you, I'm sorry.

You let out a sigh and your shoulders fall, like you've lost all of the fight within you. You look so defeated, and it feels worse than when you were yelling at him. 

You're right here, but you feel so far away, like he's looking at you through tinted glass.

"Fine," you say after a beat. "Call me when you're leaving."

Your shoulder brushes his as you whip past him, and he doesn't muster up the courage to speak again until you're already gone.

***

The call comes soon. Too soon.

You meet him at his apartment, and Jack immediately gives you a hug before latching himself back onto his father. You don't know what Aaron told him, given how you don't even know how long he's going to be gone, but you can't imagine it was helpful to a six year old boy who only understands that his father is leaving for a long time.

"I called Jess to pick him up," Aaron explains in a hushed whisper as Jack runs out to get his shoes, "but she's busy until the afternoon."

"That's okay," you say, crossing your arms in front of you. It's a defensive maneuver that's about all you can muster up right now. "I can drop him off at her house after we get you out of here."

You try to say it lightly, but your tone sharpens at the end, making him flinch. You sigh, an apology in itself, because you're trying so hard to be supportive. You know you're mad at him - no matter how hard you try not to be - but this isn't the time to show your anger.

Jack comes back into the living room, and you usher the young boy out the door as Aaron lugs his duffel bags behind you and out to the car. The drive is mostly silent, and Jack doesn't say a word until you help him out of his carseat and onto the tarmac at the base. 

"I'm gonna miss you, Daddy," he whispers, his little hands reaching up to grab his father's hand. "Come home soon."

Aaron picks him up and squeezes him in a big hug, before setting him back down on the ground. He looks at you then and you shrug, pressing your lips together. "What he said."

"I don't know how long this is going to take," he says, mostly directing his words at Jack, even though he keeps glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. "Probably a few months though."

A few months. That shouldn't feel as long as it does. 

"Bye buddy," he says then, kneeling down to hug his son again. "Go sit in Y/N's car so I can talk to her about some grown up stuff for a minute."

Jack bounces back to where your car is parked, and you watch him get in before turning back to look at Aaron. There's a resoluteness in his expression that shouldn't surprise you, given how driven he is by his sense of duty, but it still catches you off guard.

"You'll be okay there?" you ask, needing to get that out of the way before the rest of it.

He nods, before inching his hand forward to brush against yours. It's a small gesture, but you're not ready yet.

"I'm still angry," you whisper, pulling your hand back slightly. "I don't want to be, because you're leaving, and I want you to have a clear head out there, but I can't help it."

"It's okay," he says softly, his brow furrowing.

"No," you sigh, shaking your head. Your throat is thickening with the threat of tears and you don't want to cry in front of him now either, but there are too many emotions swirling around your brain to keep any of them straight. "I'm not really mad, okay. I know you're trying to do the right thing, but she's gone, and the team is not okay right now, and I need to find a way to handle it on my own."

I can't do it by myself, you want to say. I'm in love with you and you're making it seem so easy to leave me here to shoulder the burden of everyone's grief.

"I'm sorry," he says again, his voice softer this time. 

You're so much better than me, he thinks as he watches you stand so stoically before him. I love you and I can't bear to see you in pain when I'm part of the reason why.

"It's okay," you repeat after a beat. Then you reach forward and take his hand, like he tried to do earlier. His hand is warm and calloused, and it feels rough against your palm, but it grounds you, tethering you to this moment. "I'll see you when you get back."

He nods, before pulling you forward gently into a hug. Your chin tilts up to sit on his shoulder and he squeezes you to him once before letting you go.

When he lifts his bags and walks toward the loading ramp, Jack leaps out of the car and grabs your hand as you both wave goodbye.

He flashes you both one last smile before waving back and disappearing into the plane.

***

The first month is the easiest. You let the futile anger take over; let yourself pretend that you don't actually miss him. 

Seeing Jack and Jess makes it less painful, and you slowly find yourself spending more time with them than at home. Jess tries to spend time with Jack at Aaron's apartment to help him maintain a stable environment, but with his father gone, it doesn't help you notice the absence less.

"He's not eating as much," Jess mentions to you one night after she puts him to bed and joins you out in the living room. At first, being at his place without him felt intrusive, but you've gotten used to being there. "He was picking at his food all through dinner."

"I noticed that," you agree as you pat the spot beside you on the couch. "I'm sure it's just a picky eating phase. Once he settles back into a routine with you it should be fine."

"With us," she corrects with a small smile. "I need all the help I can get, and I really appreciate you being here so often."

"Oh, honey, of course." You give her forearm a squeeze before grabbing both of your empty glasses from the table and taking them to the sink. "I was worried I was becoming more of a burden on you by being here so much, but I'm glad it's welcome company."

"Always," she says, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. You set the glasses down and turn back to see her staring at the tiny picture frame of her and Haley on her counter. "She always made it look so easy."

You nod, not wanting to interrupt her moment. After a beat, Jess releases a heavy sigh and shakes her head. "She was the perfect mother. If I can be half as good of a caretaker for Jack as she was, I'll know I'm doing something right."

You smile unconsciously, remembering a moment from years ago. "I swear Aaron said the exact same thing once. He was upset about leaving work late again when they first had Jack, and I had to assure him that he wouldn't miss every childhood milestone just because he had to work late once in a while."

He was so terrified of being anything like his father. You tried your best to show him how impossible that was, but those are the kinds of things people have to learn on their own.

Jess looks down, deep in thought, and your phone chimes then with a new message. It's from Derek: Hotch sat phone call, 15 mins

"Jess," you whisper, getting her attention again. "Aaron is scheduled to call us over the satellite phone in a little bit. I'm gonna go into the office to see if I can talk to him. Is there anything you want me to tell him?"

She thinks for a moment before shaking her head. "Just that Jack and I are doing well. And we miss him."

You nod and press a kiss to her cheek before grabbing your coat and driving over to the field office. The sky is dark by the time you arrive, and it feels foreign to walk into an empty bullpen. The team has shrunk so much since he left, and lately it's just been you, Spencer, Derek, Rossi, and Penelope around here.

You knock on Aaron's office door once before stepping inside.

"Sounds good," Derek is saying as you shut the door behind you. "Yeah, keep us updated." He sees you then and beckons you closer before turning back to the phone. "Y/N's here. I'll hand it to her."

You take the phone from him and tentatively press it to your ear. There's a slight buzzing sound and when he says "Hello?", his voice sounds far away.

"Hi," you say softly, turning your back to Derek for some semblance of privacy, but he has already pulled out his phone and started typing something. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," he says, sounding slightly distracted. "It's really busy over here. How are yo- you all doing? Jack and Jessica?"

"They're good," you tell him, hoping he can't hear the tightness in your voice over hearing his for the first time in weeks. "They really miss you. We all do."

"I miss you guys too." 

You hear some muffled voices on the other end of the line, and you jump in with your questions before he gets called away. "Any updates I can ask about? Like when you'll be done."

"Not right now," he says with a sigh. "It's still need-to-know."

"Right," you whisper rigidly, even though it's not fair. He's trying his best, and he's doing what's right, but you keep punishing him. Because of your own feelings, your brain adds at the end. 

"It's protocol," he says, even though you're both well aware of how this works.

"I know," you sigh, your fingers gripping the phone tightly. "I have to go back to Jess's."

"Y/N, wait-" he starts, but you are already handing the phone back to Derek.

He takes it uncertainly, but you just shake your head and exit the office.

***

"Did you watch the other movie I gave you?"

You whip your head around to look at Spencer, who is looking at you intently. You had been staring at Aaron's office door for the better part of the last hour.

You frown apologetically. "Not yet, Spence." He had loaned you his DVD of one of his favorite Star Wars movies, and each time you tried watching it, you were just reminded of the immediate aftermath of losing Emily. "I'll find time soon, though."

"That's okay," he shrugs as you inadvertently glance up at the door again. "I know it isn't everyone's thing. I just thought you seemed to enjoy the one we watched at the movie night."

"I did," you assure him, reaching out to pat his hand. "I promise I just haven't found time yet."

He smiles at you, and you return it before your eyes dart up to Aaron's office door at the sight of movement. A small, unrealistic part of you expects Aaron to emerge, but it's Derek instead. Derek took over his office a month after he left to Pakistan, because the secure line was already set up.

"He has a lot on his plate these days," Spencer says, drawing your attention back. He's watching Derek speak to someone at the top of the stairs, his forehead crinkled with stress.

"We're down quite a few hands," you nod, pursing your lips. "Maybe we can convince Derek to bring JJ back permanently."

Spencer lights up and you can't help but grin too. "We definitely should."

***

The cases start piling up, and you welcome the distraction as the passing months begin to weigh on you. The whole team has been under a lot of pressure from the brass, and Strauss has been hinting at a prolonged assignment in Pakistan that may take up even more of his time.

After a particularly grisly case, you invite Penelope over to unwind with some wine and chatting. It doesn't escape your notice that you're missing half of your usual girls' night attendees, but you keep the wine flowing, and soon you aren't focusing on anything other than the new guy Penelope met at her grocery store.

"He's so sweet," she gushes as she leans over the table to grab another chip. You're both sitting on the floor of your living room, and you reach out hastily to steady her glass as it gets precariously close to spilling over. "And I think it says a lot that he shops at such a high quality grocery store."

"Oh, absolutely," you nod, lifting your own glass in a mock salute. "You can tell a lot about a man by how he eats."

"Tell me about it," she sighs, her words starting to slur. Maybe opening the second bottle was too much. "I once dated a guy who only ate protein bars and steak."

Your face twists in disgust, and you set your glass down, feeling the rush of tipsiness hit you. "That's definitely not a balanced diet."

"I tried to tell him," Penelope says, before her face falls into a sad frown. "I really tried."

"Okay, okay," you say, trying to change the subject as her eyes fill with drunk tears. "Back to the grocery store man."

Her face breaks into a wide smile comically fast and you let out a high laugh. "He's so sweet. He really is just the sweetest guy."

"So I've heard," you grin, taking another sip of wine.

Turns out your last glass was one too many, because an hour later, after sending Penelope off in a cab and clearing away your dishes, you're still feeling the buzz from earlier.

Your face feels comfortably warm and you grab your phone from the counter, with the intention to call Emily, when you suddenly remember-

Your smile falls in an instant and tears are rushing forward before you can clearly form a coherent thought. You drop the phone and rush upstairs to take a hot shower to wind down and calm yourself, but even as the burning water washes over you, you still feel wound tight, like your emotions are trapped inside of you.

She was the first person you would always call after a tipsy night, and now she's gone. 

Everybody's gone.

JJ, Emily, Aaron. Aaron.

A sob chokes out and you press your hand over your mouth, your body caving forward under the billowing steam fogging up the glass. You miss him so much, it's like you're not even yourself anymore. 

You let out another soft sob as the water begins to calm you down, but you can still feel the echoing hollowness inside of you. You wish he was here, holding you, telling you it would all be okay. That you didn't ruin everything by pushing too hard, too fast. That you love him and he loves you, and it can all be perfect again. 

"It'll be okay," his voice whispers from behind you, and suddenly he's there. Not really, but with your eyes closed and your mind still foggy, it almost feels real. "I'm sorry I left. I should've been here."

"You should be," you gasp out as his arms close around you from behind, holding you tightly under the soothing warmth of the water. "You left me."

"I know," he says, his breath tingling the sensitive spot behind your ear. "I'll never leave again. I promise."

"You promise," you whisper, mostly to yourself, as you turn around. His lips glide over your shoulder and up your neck, and suddenly his mouth is on yours.

You gasp as his hands slide down your body, his fingers gently caressing the sides of your breasts as he makes his way to your waist. His lips are so soft against yours and when his tongue runs along the seam of your mouth, you moan loudly, letting him swallow up the sounds.

He feels so real under your hands as you trace the jagged scars along his abdomen, and when his tongue glides down your-

You sit up with a gasp, your head pounding with the beginnings of an oncoming wine hangover. Your sheets are messily strewn around you, and your skin is sticky with sweat, but you can't bring yourself to get up. You take a large gulp of water from the glass on your nightstand and check the time: 3:02 AM.

Falling back with a huff, you run a hand over your face and fruitlessly try to sleep through the rest of the night.

***

Summer brings its own set of struggles.

The heat makes each case feel ten times longer than it already is, and with September fast approaching, Jack gets more and more antsy about starting school for the first time.

"He's been shut in his room all day," Jess sighs over the line as you make yourself coffee with your phone pressed between your shoulder and ear. "I think he's sad that he's starting school without either of his parents here."

Your heart breaks as you imagine Jack alone in his room, waiting and wishing for his dad to come back in time for his first day of school. Then an idea pops into your head.

"I think I know what to do."

An hour later, you, Jess, and Jack are waiting in line, under the beating sun, to get into the Smithsonian's zoo. Even tho you can already feel the sweat starting to drip down your back, Jack looks downright giddy, so you take the win.

When you finally get inside, he makes a beeline for the monkey exhibits, and you and Jess meander along behind him, chatting about her new side gig.

"I'm starting the part-time job in the fall," she explains as you stop behind Jack at the front of the chimpanzee enclosure. "It works out with the start of the school year, in case Aaron is gone for a while longer."

"That sounds great," you smile, giving her a small side squeeze. "You deserve something to take your mind off of everything too."

She shrugs, ever the neutral party, before looking at you with a smirk. "I hear there are some changes happening at the BAU as well?"

"Right!" you grin, following Jack to the next exhibit. "JJ was helping out temporarily, but she's officially back on the team. She also mentioned to me that she might be considering enrolling in profiler training so she can be a full-time field agent."

"Good for her," Jess smiles. "Lord knows you guys could use some extra manpower right now."

It's right then that your phone chirps with a text from Derek saying that Aaron is calling in again this afternoon. The urge to speak to him for the first time in weeks tugs at your gut, but then you glance over at Jack, who looks happy for the first time in just as long, and before you know it, you're typing back your response: Not today. Busy with Jack.

***

The next time Aaron calls in, you don't have an excuse. 

You're at work, scribbling out the last few lines of your latest case report, when Derek tries to call you into his office. You haven't spoken to him in over a month, and he's asked for you each time he called, but still you refuse.

"Y/N, come on," Derek chuffs, running a hand over his face. "You know he wants to talk to you. He's by himself over there."

That's what gets you. By himself. As though you aren't alone too. As though you hadn't been completely fucking alone when, over the weekend, you found a pair of socks Emily must have forgotten at your place months ago, and had a full body breakdown on the floor of our foyer. 

Each time you're close to forgetting that he left you here to fend for yourself, it comes back in full force, and right now, you would rather do just about anything other than put on a neutral face and ask him how he's doing over there.

"Next time," you say, hoping the finality comes across in your tone. It must have worked, because although Derek shakes his head disappointedly, he doesn't ask again. 

When you go to Aaron's place after work to see Jack, Jess pulls you aside, a worried look on her face. 

"We spoke to Aaron yesterday," she explains, her arms crossed over her chest. The bureau set up a secure line for them so she and Jack could speak to him periodically. "He seemed to be doing well."

"That's great," you say with a nod, unsure of why she's updating you when she thinks you spoke to him today. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," she says, waving away your concern. "I told him about Jack starting school in a few weeks, and about my new job. Then when I mentioned you - how you've been coming here a lot - he looked really happy that you were involved, but...he sounded off for the rest of the call."

Your shoulders tense up and you try to relax, so as not to give yourself away. "Damn Jess, they should make you a profiler."

She says your name sternly, and you can hear the Haley in her voice. "I'm serious. Have you guys not been speaking?"

"It's okay," you say, shaking your head. "I just need some more time, but I'll talk to him soon."

She twists her lips into a sad frown and you sigh, not knowing what to say, but she beats you to it. "He misses you...and I can tell you miss him."

You don't have an answer that she will want to hear, so you stick with the usual. "I'll talk to him next time."

***

"Do I have to go?"

Jack's bottom lip juts out in a sad pout as you adjust the straps of his little backpack on his shoulders. 

"It's your first day of school, bud!" Jess is trying to sound excited, but you can hear the sadness in her voice too, now that she won't have Jack all hours of the day anymore. "It's an exciting time!"

"You got this, baby," you smile, pressing a loud kiss to the top of his head. "Your dad is so proud of you."

"Your mom would be too," Jess adds with a sad smile. "Now go on in, Jack. I'll be right here waiting for you when the last bell rings."

He considers this for a moment, before nodding. Then he looks at you. "What about you?"

"I have to work," you say softly, matching his pout and making him let out a small giggle. "But you can tell me all about your first day when I see you this weekend, okay?"

"Okay," he nods, before grabbing the straps of his backpack and marching toward the front door.

"There he goes," Jess says wistfully, linking her arm through yours.

You let out a small sigh before shooting her a smile. You love him so much, and you're so glad you get to be here as he grows up, but you're so sad that Haley is gone and he's missing out on this moment. "They grow up so fast."

***

The next time Aaron calls in, you're talking to Dave in his office about his latest cabin trip. He is filling you in on the species of fish that live in the lake behind his place when Derek walks in with the notification that Aaron is on the other end of the line in his office.

Dave nods, saying he'll speak with him at the end, and Derek almost skips over you until you follow him out the door.

"You sure?" he asks as you follow him up the stairs.

You nod, bracing yourself for the guilt as you pick up the sat phone. "Hello?"

"Morgan?" Aaron asks, his voice confused over the line. 

"No," you say, shaking your head even though he can't see you. "It's me."

There's a moment of silence before he clears his throat. "Oh, I'm glad you could come in."

You say something that sounds like "of course" and suddenly he can hear his heartbeat in his ears. He hasn't heard from you in weeks, and even though he's probably coming home soon, he's so happy to hear your voice he could cry.

"Jess said you were there for Jack's first day," he says slowly, trying to find his voice. "Thank you for doing that. I know it's a lot before coming into work."

"It's not," you say genuinely, momentarily alleviating all of the anxiety he has been having around missing everything in his son's life. "He's the perfect kid. I'm lucky to be a part of his life."

He closes his eyes, wishing with every fiber of his being that he was there with you right now, and not thousands of miles away. "Thank you."

"Any time."

There's silence for a few moments before your breath stutters. "Do you know when you're coming back?"

His heart cracks at the soft sadness in your voice, but he still isn't allowed to share anything that is strictly need-to-know. "I don't."

Your breath catches in your throat and he hears the quiet sob as it breaks over the line. "I miss you, Aaron."

His fingers grip the phone so tightly he's afraid it may shatter in his hands, but there's nothing else tethering him to his life back home. This metal box is the one thing that is keeping him alive out here, and even though he left home so that he could stop lying to you, he's still doing it.

That's why he swallows thickly and says the one thing he knows isn't a lie: "I miss you too."

***

The team got called into the office for an emergency that no one has explained to any of you, and you take a seat in the briefing room as everyone else files in, matching looks of confusion all around you.

"Anyone know what we're doing here?" Dave asks as he leans back in his chair.

You're about to shrug when a figure walks into the room in a dark blue button down and an unfamiliar scruffy beard.

Your eyes widen and your breath leaves your body as you start to stand up, but then he motions for you all to take a seat, so you sink back down. He glances at everyone in the room before his eyes finally land on you. You can't believe he's here. That he knew he was coming back and still didn't tell you.

"What's going on?" Derek asks, breaking your eye contact with a jolt. "Everything all right?" Aaron ignores him. "Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team. As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle."

You don't know why he's bringing this up again but then he continues. "The doctors were able to stabilize her and she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under covert exfiltration."

Your heart falls. No, there's no way. "Her identity was strictly need-to-know. And she stayed there until she was well enough to travel. She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to, for her security." Your teammates break their silence at the same time. 

"She's alive?"

"But we buried her..."

You're still unable to suck in a big enough breath to regain the ability to speak, but then another figure walks in and you suddenly understand what people mean when they say their heart skips a beat.

"Oh my god," Penelope whispers from behind you as your feet unconsciously carry you forward and toward her. Toward Emily.

You pull her into your arms, relishing the feeling of your friend hugging you back after you thought you would never see her again. Her arms squeeze you tightly and you suck in a shuddering breath, trying to calm down your heart rate.

She's alive. Emily's alive. Aaron's back and Emily's alive.

The thoughts ping pong around your brain, fighting for dominance, but another one buried deeper in your mind floats to the surface, refusing to be ignored.

He lied.

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[strawbeerossi]

August || Chapter Five

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid, fem!reader x Emily Prentiss 

Description: After a conversation with Emily, Spencer drowns in a sea of regret and guilt. That’s when JJ gives him a harsh reality check.

Content/Warnings: Spencer/JJ centric chapter, friendships are threatened, drama, emissions of guilt, regret, Spencer thinks of you and Emily to a deep degree, a break up ensues, one use of Y/N. 

WC: 2.1K

Y'all know the drill. 450 notes for next part!

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The sound of the ceramic shattering on the ground had you looking at the floor first, the overly sugary coffee surely going to make the floor sticky and give everyone’s shoes that annoying sound of them getting stuck to the ground.

“That’s going to be a pain to clean up.” Was all Emily could say, unphased by his reaction. Truth be told, he had no reason to react the way he did. He had made his bed the moment he got with JJ, losing every chance that he had with you. “Pick up the pieces, don’t need anyone getting hurt.” She added.

“So this is what you two do whenever you're supposed to be working? Not very professional.” Spencer huffed, kneeling down to pick up the remains of the navy blue coffee cup, his head shaking. 

“Everyone is entitled to a lunch break for an hour every workday. What anyone else does outside of this office is absolutely none of your business.” The unit chief countered back while she was heading over to the bullpen doors. “When you’re finished, come to my office. We need to talk.” 

You were looking between Spencer and Emily, hands pushed into your pockets while the both of them had their little back and forth. “Can we all just calm it down? There’s no need for any more drama than this team already has.” The voice of reason. How fitting.

“I am calm. I just find it shocking that you’re kissing our boss in the elevator.” He commented, the shards rested in the palm of his hand as he pushed himself to stand up straight.

“You have no right to be mad and you know that.” You countered, deciding against furthering the argument as you approached the doors to the bullpen. How dare he act angry at you after what he did. He had no logical reasoning to act like a child over your decisions.

You knew that this was him lashing out, showing that deep down, he really is bothered and has noticed what he lost out on. That could’ve been you and him kissing in the elevator instead of you and Emily, the both of you could be going out to lunch together… He knew where he went wrong and this was going to haunt him. 

Spencer was always dramatic in that way, needing to see just what he lost before it was hitting him like a freight train. It was something he did with JJ, then he got with her and things haven’t exactly been smooth sailing in the department of their relationship.

He felt immense guilt, especially whenever JJ and Will had to make plans for the boys to visit with her. She should’ve been home with her children, not with him. Although it was seemingly too late, he highly doubted Will would take JJ back. 

He made it known on several occasions that she made her bed and she had to lie in it, to suffer from the loss of a loving marriage. In a way, it made Spencer feel dirty. What would Henry think of his beloved uncle when he got older? What would Michael think? In their story, as well as yours, Spencer was the bad guy. 

Those thoughts were in his mind all day after that. Even whenever being scolded by Emily, he just wasn’t present in the conversation. All he could think about was how happy you seemed with her, the way you looked at her. It made him feel nauseous. 

He knew Emily would take care of you at the end of the day but all he could do is think about what he lost. Emily was the lucky one, the one who didn’t break your heart into a million pieces. She got to hold you, to kiss you, to bask in your love and presence. 

His mind wandered farther, the idea of you two being intimate together. The idea made jealousy tug at his heart. She would be the one to worship you, to bring a rush of euphoria over you so strong that you wouldn’t dare think about another person in the same manner. 

It made him irrationally angry, upset at Emily because she was lucky enough to step in to the relationship that should’ve been shared between you and him. 

“Are you even listening?” Emily’s voice made Spencer look over at her, his eyes searching her features. She was angry at him, the comments he made earlier being the driving force behind it. He understood why, however this talk was unnecessary. 

“Yes. I’m listening. I just think this is all a waste of my time and yours. I’m sorry for making the comments I made but you have to admit, you are our boss at the end of the day. If you can’t handle what I have to say, imagine hearing what other people will say.” He stated. 

“I can guarantee you that nobody would care as much as you do. There will have to be a tedious paperwork process done for this to continue, but I don’t mind it.” It was a wonder how Emily kept her composure despite Spencer’s shitty attitude. “I am just asking you to stop with the comments and quite honestly, you need to grow up. The Spencer that I know would be happy for his coworkers who are also his friends. He wouldn’t be throwing a hissy fit over jealousy.”

“Look. I am happy for you, for her. I’m not jealous either.” Debatable. He didn’t care to admit things like that. “I just don’t like how I didn't know. She used to tell me everything!” 

“And then you ruined that for yourself. You know that I love you but you’re acting foolish. I don’t want to constantly have battles between us, alright? Just take this time to reflect and realize what you did wrong and then let all of that built up anger go. Now, go and wash your face. Get your shit together.” 

That was the end of the conversation, the male slowly pushing himself to stand before making a slow retreat from the office. Washing his face was good, would clear his head, settle his nerves.. So, he made a b-line straight for the men’s washroom. Although unbeknownst to him, JJ was hurrying out of the bullpen right behind him.

“What happened in there?” She made her presence known as she grabbed Spencer’s arm, startling him in the process. “What are you trying to pull now?”

“Trying to pull? Are you serious? Emily wanted to have a private discussion with me. I suggest you mind your own business, Jennifer.” He spat, the built up aggression causing him to breathe heavier thn usual, his face red. He needed to get to the bathroom now. 

“Woah, hold on. You think you are allowed to get rude with me because you don’t know how to leave things alone? Spencer, don’t be ridiculous.” She began although the male’s hands were raised in self defense as he looked in her direction. He had no time for this.

“I know how to leave things alone. I’ve proved that enough these past few weeks. You just don’t like that all the attention isn’t on you for once. Nobody really cares what you have to say in regards to this situation. I don’t care. You don’t like the way I carry myself and that is your problem. I can’t change myself just to make you approve.” 

“Are you crazy? I’m just telling you to leave them alone.”

“Yeah, well how about you leave me alone?” He spat, now turning on his heel to get to the bathroom. He knew taking out his anger on JJ wasn’t fair but she just always poked and prodded at him. He hated that. 

As he made it to the bathroom, he was staring at his reflection, the man in the mirror being someone who he could barely recognize. The old Spencer would’ve never taken things this far. He would’ve been too afraid of backlash, would’ve pulled away entirely once he saw the hectic nature of what his decisions could unleash.. 

With the sink water steadily running, he was leaning down to splash some cold water on his face. He just needed to calm down, to think through this situation and what his options were. His brain was amazing with conjuring up ideas and theories, although it was like as of late, he was lacking.

“Get your shit together.” Spencer spoke to himself, his eyes closing to avoid looking at himself, at who he became over the years; a man who broke someone’s heart, broke a family, and broke a team dynamic. Hell, he might’ve even broken himself in the process.

The sound of flowing water coupled with his breathing was all he could hear, blocking out the rest of the world as he was bringing himself back down to a more calm and collected state. His decisions have never haunted him like these past few ones have. 

Once calm, his hand was turning off the water, his eyes watching a steady pour slow down to nothing. Alright. He was alright. 

Upon exiting the bathroom, JJ was still there, arms crossed as she was waiting patiently for him to come out. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.” She stated, looking up at the man in front of her.

“I don’t want your help. I just- I feel like this isn’t working. I don’t like this relationship or whatever we have anymore. I can’t keep up with it, I just can’t.” He blurted out, heart beating like a drum in his chest, threatening to burst out of his chest cavity.

A tense silence came over them as JJ pursed her lips together. “After I left my husband to try and make this work?” She asked, not giving the man time to answer as she took in a breath. “Fine. Maybe you’re right. You can’t do this anymore. Because now you’ve realized the weight of your decisions. I always wanted you to reflect and realize what you did wrong, to take accountability. I just didn’t expect it to lead to this.”

“I just can’t do it. I can’t look at Henry or Michael without feeling immense guilt. I broke up the dynamic they were used to, at least contributed to it. We’ve both lost important things to us. The only difference is, you’re lucky enough to have your children. You could salvage a cordial relationship with Will. I’ve lost everything.” 

“You’re unbelievable!” The blonde stared at the taller male in disbelief. “You are throwing a pity party for yourself because suddenly you feel the need to be jealous over what Emily has? After this whole experience, I can tell you that Y/N is much better off with her than she is with you.”

The ugly truth that hit Spencer harder than a train derailed from the tracks.

“I have to agree that this needs to end. You also need to leave those two alone. If anything, take my advice on that. Let them live. Let them be happy.” She frowned while bringing her hands up to tiredly rub at her face. “She doesn’t love you and you need to realize that.”

Those words stuck with Spencer, even whenever he made it to his apartment later that night. He was pacing around his living room, arms over his chest, as he really had time to think about everything. The silence never did him any favors, but he couldn’t even ignore his thoughts with a book like he usually could. He tried. 

Every conclusion that he conjured up was the same; he needed to leave you alone. Not that easy, though. You knew him better than the others did. You two talked and shared a lot in the time frame of knowing each other.

He got a horrible idea, one that he knew he shouldn’t have had, but it was an idea. 

With his hand digging into his pocket, he was eventually retrieving his phone, getting into it before getting to his contact list.

There wasn’t much scrolling that had to be done, eventually finding a familiar name. Your name. He was silently outweighing his options. You could answer, you could block him, or you could flat out ignore him.

So, throwing caution to the wind, he hit call, slowly sitting in the middle of the floor as he patiently waited for an answer.

[watermelongirl01]

The Tattoo

Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Criminal Minds x Supernatural

Summary: Your first humankind case reveals a new Hotchner´s side you didn´t know.

Content Warning: Flirty Hotch, Homicide description, Abuse, Rape, Violence, Triggering situations. (Please let me know if I let something out.)

Note: This is my version of the episode "Jones" in the early seasons, I changed a lot of the things but not all of them, It is just how I would've liked the case to be in my opinion, and obviously added a bunch of other things to fit the thread of my story, like Jason Gideon not being there. I hope you like it.

“Short stuff, are you ready?” 

“Nope”

“Come on, you’re going to be just fine.” Morgan gifted you a reassuring smile.

This was your first time filling in for a member of the group. Normally it wasn’t necessary, but the team was reduced to four. Emily was on mandatory vacation and JJ stayed at home to take care of a sick Henry, so now your presence was requested.

“It’s not what I’m used to.”

“No it’s not, but you are a great agent and will do just fine.” He said gently squeezing your arm. “You will charm them all.” 

“Of course I will, there is no doubt.” You smiled back.

“Let’s go then.” 

You both walked to the briefing room where the rest of the team was waiting, Morgan quickly walked to the empty chair In front of you, slightly pushing you to the side, leaving you with no option but to sit next to Hotch, not that you minded but lately all the members of the team have been acting a little weird.

You looked at Morgan with a questioning look but he completely ignored you and lowered his gaze to read the case files.

“We have a serial killer in New Orleans. Two men’s dead bodies were found over the last month, and a third body was found last night, the same MO, male, throat slashed, they were all found in semi-public places in the French Quarter.” You heard Penelope explain.  “The local police have no leads and no suspects so far, Mike Weller, the head detective is waiting for you.”

Hotch nodded and looked at everyone in the room. “Wheels up in thirty.” He said before disappearing out the door. 

—

When arriving, Hotch sent you and Reid to the forensic lab to examine the body.

“No hesitation marks.” You said pointing to the terrible wounds.

Spencer nodded. “Cuts are methodical and almost procedural.”

The forensic doctor looked at both of you. “The person who did this definitely had medical training, there’s no other way he could have done this.”

“He?” You glaze up to the doctor.

“No defensive wounds and took out pretty big men.” You frowned. “Although all the toxicology tests showed signs of alcohol.” 

“Any relatives came to claim the body?” Spencer asked.

The doctor nodded. “His wife came with his former colleague.” Both of you looked at him with a confused expression. “He was a retired officer.”

“The lead detective didn’t say anything about that.”

“I’m not surprised, he wasn’t popular at all, he had a reputation for being a dirty cop.” 

“I’ll call Garcia.” You said getting your phone out.

But suddenly Spencer’s phone began to ring and he immediately answered. “Where? Okay, we’ll be there.”  He looked at you as he got off the phone. “Another body was found, call her on the way there.” 

—

“Same MO.” Morgan informed. “Some people saw him leave the bar down the street.” 

“So, he was drunk just like the other victim.” You said while eyeing the Weller. “Do we know his profession?”

“Does it matter?” He asked with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

You step aside standing closer to him and shrugging your shoulders. “Humor me, detective.”

Detective Weller side-eyed you but nodded. “He was a well-known lawyer.”

“I see.” You crossed your arms while raising an eyebrow. “You forgot to mention that the fourth victim was a cop who used to work at your police station.”

“I don’t think it is relevant to the case.” Weller huffed.

“Well, we don’t know that yet.” You insisted. “Do we?”

The BAU men were looking at your disagreement with confusion, and suddenly a strong back wearing a gray and elegant suit got in between, blocking your vision. It took only a few seconds to recognize that it belonged to Hotchner.

“We would like to have access to all of the information available, it’s vital to be able to get the unsub’s profile.“ You heard Aaron talking to the detective.

“Sure, Agent Hotchner.” After Weller left the crime scene, Hotch turned around to see you.

“You are riding with me.” Hotch left the place hurriedly making you roll your eyes and toss your keys at Spencer.

You manage to keep up with Hotch’s pace and climb up on the SUV, some minutes passed and neither of you talked, but you got tired of the unbearable silence.

“If you’re going to scold me, just do it now.”

“I’m not.”

“Hotch he was in the wrong, you know that, right?”

“I’m aware.” You shot him a puzzled look.

“Then why get in the middle of my conversation?”

”Because that wasn’t a conversation, he was starting to raise his voice.”

“I can take it, Hotchner.”

“I know you can, doesn’t mean I want you to.” You felt how your facial expression softened at his comment. “Listen, some of these detectives think we are here to make them look bad, they feel threatened.”

You rolled your eyes. “How are their insecurities my fault?”

Hotch chuckled a bit. “They are not, just go easy on them so we can keep the case.”

—

You, Hotch, and Spencer stayed at the precinct to read all the new information about the victims while Rossi and Morgan left to talk with the new possible witnesses. Currently, you are on your third cup of coffee and your fifth case file.

“I can’t believe we were missing all this information.” You hissed.

“Simmer down.” Hotch murmured.

You looked at the evidence board leaning against the table, focusing on the victim's photos, and frowning when looking closer.

“Oh.”

“You found something new?” Spencer asked.

“Hmm, have you seen that all the victims have tattoos?” Both men got closer to look at the photos. 

“Well actually, in some religions tattoos are forbidden because they think of the body as a temple.” Spencer babbled and immediately stood up from his chair. “Some other religions even think that if you get a tattoo, you’re not allowed in heaven.”

“Really?” A look of confusion crossed your face.

Spencer quickly nodded while pointing up with his finger. “You shall not make any cuttings in your flesh for the dead, nor tattoo any marks on you: I am the Lord. Leviticus 19:28.” He added.

“So, we think this is a religious matter?” You asked.

“It could be a coincidence. Let’s ask Garcia if she can find something about it.” Spencer took his phone and left the room, leaving you and Hotch alone, looking at the board side to side.

“Well, that’s concerning. You know, some tattoos are meant to protect you.”

Hotch turned his head towards you. “What do you mean?”

“There’s this kind of tattoos that are protection symbols, usually hunters get them.”

“You have one?” Hotch’s upright posture was visibly shaken.

“I'm no hunter.” You said before walking back to the table, Hotch following you. “But yes, I do have one.”

“I’ve never seen a tattoo on you.” Hotch frowns

“That´s because it’s not in a visible spot.” You giggled while turning your back on Hotch to take out another stack of files.

Hotch’s eyes were found unconsciously roaming over your body. He had seen you in the summer, in short skirts and tiny tops, or with risky cleavages, hell he even had seen you in your pajamas when you shared a hotel room once or twice, but he never noticed any tattoos. That can only mean one last place. 

Hotch knew you were busy getting the files so his eyes ended up going down your back to your ass, He was positive your tattoo was on your hip or ass. 

You could feel Hotch’s eyes going down and up your body, You even turned your back on him longer than needed, so he could linger his sight on you even longer. Anyone could’ve said it was just Hotch’s curiosity but you saw that tiny shade of lust, sparkle in his eyes for a brief moment when you mentioned you having a tattoo.

You turned your body in a slow move and caught him still hypnotized by your body. “Looking for something Hotch?”

“Hips or ass, agent?” He asked with a straight face but his voice showed a hint of playfulness. He was teasing you.

The question made you smirk. “You’re not gonna hear it from me, you’re going to need to find out in another way, Sir.”

But before he could open his mouth to speak, Spencer came back to the room with bad news.

“Another body appeared, no tattoo.”

–

“Body number five, we can barely keep up with this guy.” you heard in the distance.

“Do we know who he is?” Hotch asked.

“Since it matters so much, His friend says he is a salesman.” Weller said, sending a nasty look at you. “No connection.”

“Detective Weller, I would appreciate it if your answer were directed at me. When I ask a question.” Hotch replied.

Weller huffed with irritation and you thought you heard him grumble something, but you’re not sure if he was agreeing with Hotch or cursing you under his breath. “We have five bodies, Agent Hotchner, and no correlation.”

“Okay, all victims were partying late at night with their friends and killed in the alley with no one noticing, how did the unsub manage to get them alone?” Hotch looked at his team, they were all lost in thoughts.

“A woman.” Detective Weller's mocking laughter echoed in the room.

“Let her finish.” It only took the look on Hotch’s eyes to harden, to force Weller to shut up.

“What is the only temptation for a straight man that’s going to lure him away from his friends and make him leave the bar?” Your expecting eyes were moving around glancing at your team’s faces.

“A woman.” Rossi repeated while nodding his head.

Hotch turned on his heels and looked at the detective. “Gather your men, we are ready to give a profile.” 

—

“Ready?” Hotch whispered in your ear, making the baby hairs on the back of your neck stand at the sound of his voice.

“What?” You whispered back feeling numb by his closeness.

“Ready to give the profile?” 

“Hotch, I’ve never gi-.” Your voice trails off. “I don’t think it is a good idea.”

“It is.” He assured you pushing you to the side and walking to the room full of cops.

Lost in your thoughts you barely felt two hands holding your arms from behind, giving you a light squeeze. “You got this, Kid.” Rossi left your side and followed Hotch in the other precinct's room.

You sighed and took a deep breath. This was your first time profiling a human case, not covering up supernatural events or rehearsing made-up stories. This felt different, good different.

You walked confidently and stood in the middle of the room surrounded by your team.

“We are looking for a woman between 30 and 35, she’s friendly, she’ll lure with charm but kill with rage.” You began your speech, feeling every pair of eyes looking at you with attention. “We believe she kills men to reclaim her power.” 

“She probably suffers from low self-esteem but covers it well.” You heard Morgan's voice.

“We believe this woman went through a catastrophic event, that’s when the killing started.” Rossi pointed.

“She has medical training, you should consider EMTs, doctors, or veterinarians.” 

“It’s more likely we are dealing with the Aileen Wournos archetype, motivated by paranoia and fear, luring men with sex.” Spencer added.

“She certainly knows the terrain, so be careful out there.” Hotch remarked.

A couple of hours later after the profile, Detective Weller came in a hurry with a piece of paper in an evidence bag.

“Forensics found a letter on the victim's body.” He said handing it over to Hotch. “She’s mocking us.”

“Dear boss, he wanted it. With that sharp tongue and vulgar hand. I thought you’d like to know that another will soon get what he deserves.

Yours truly.”  

“That 's weird.” All eyes searched Spencer’s voice. “Typically offenders write letters to be heard. Jack the Ripper bragged about not being caught yet this Unsub isn’t using correspondence to flaunt her latest kill. Only to explain why she did it.” He explained while moving his hands around.

“It’s possible that she considers herself a vigilante. That the man she’s killing deserves to die.” Rossi blurted.

“Then, every kill she’s acting out is a fantasy of revenge or a real revenge?” Everyone in the room returned to their thoughts wondering at Morgan’s question.

You shifted in your place with uncertainty. “Maybe she is contacting us not because we are on the case, but because she believes we understand.” With fingers tapping against the wood, you began to unravel the tiny hints in the letter. “The Unsub wrote, He wanted it as she couldn’t help herself. What if she’s mirroring the man who raped her?”

”Where are the files stored from your Sex Crimes Division?” Hotch looked at Weller’s direction.

The detective stepped out of the room momentarily and returned with a medium-sized carton box with a few files that barely stuck out of the box. “Here they are.”

“That 's it?” You let out with a surprised tone of voice.

After several hours of trying to match your profile with any file in the box, you were exhausted. You decided to take a quick break and enter the bathroom, You locked yourself inside one of the bathroom booths and sighed while your hands held your head.

The sound of the door being opened ripped you out of your pessimistic thoughts. Suddenly a hand left a piece of paper report at your feet, leaving you uncertain on what to do. You tried to thank the person but, you were answered with fast footsteps leaving the place.

You took the paper and read in a whispered voice, Disturbance at Jones.

~~

“Care to tell us what happened then, detective?” Hotch asked.

Detective Weller shifted in his seat with discomfort. “How did you know about this incident?”

“It was in the box you gave us, Weller.” Morgan said while leaning against the wall, looking directly at Weller.

“I don’t think so.”

“Maybe you misplaced it, who cares?” You argued. 

He looked at you with disdain. Aaron couldn’t help himself and stepped closer to you showing protection. “This happened when the head detective before me was in charge, I took some of the declarations but that’s it.”

You smirked with satisfaction Knowing you were right all along. “The detective before you as our third victim?” He nodded.

“What happened there, detective?” 

“One of the boys asked her if she wanted to play pool. Witnesses claim she was up for anything. His friend, not far behind.“ All the eyes were on him. “He claims she knew he was there, She said she claimed for help but not a single person claimed that they heard her.”

You shook your head in disbelief. 

He continued, “That’s why it was registered as a disturbance. She wanted to press charges. But the head detective back then told her it was a waste of time.”

“How is this just a disturbance?” Rossi asked, frowning at Weller.

“As far as I was concerned, no such rape ever took place, and the boy was a colleague’s son, he is a good boy.”

Something in your stomach twisted and anger started to build up.

“We are trying to know her name; she could be our Unsub.” Morgan pointed out. Weller sighed when this realization dawned on him, but he slightly shook his head as he was ashamed of not knowing the answer. 

But you were sure shame wasn’t a feeling men like that could understand.

“You don’t remember her name?“ Morgan asked with incredulity.

“It was nine years ago.” 

“What about the name of the good kid that raped her?” You bickered.

~~

“Mr. Tibideaux, we need you to answer a few questions about a disturbance you were involved with.“ Hotch’s voice resonated inside the four walls of the interrogation room.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Disgust appeared in your face, but you hid it by biting your tongue. You didn’t know why Hotch asked you to be there, but you hated every minute of it.

“At a bar called Jones, It was Mardi Gras.” Hotch reminded him.

“You know, then I must’ve been drinking or something. Cause I don’t remember a thing.”

With your feet tapping the floor, you were counting the seconds to be able to leave the room and be away from the so-called good boy.

“We just need to know the name of your accuser.” Hotch demanded. If he was annoyed there was no way to know.

“Look, I told you. I don’t know what you are talking about”

You roughly massaged your right temple, fuming.

”The statute of limitations is up, we just need a name.” He added calmly.

“Someone accuses me of rape, I’m gonna remember her name.” You taunted.

“Well, what can I tell you, Cher? I guess she didn’t make that good of an impression.“

Your eyes narrowed dismissively.

”Unlike yourself right now.” You retorted.

“You know. I’m guessing if someone did do something to that girl that night then she was probably asking for it. Maybe even liked it.”

You controlled the urge to smash his head against the table and abruptly took the file out of Hotch’s hands, you opened it and began to display all the victim's photos in front of him.

“You know Hotch, maybe we are not too late, she murdered these men and I’m guessing it’s only a matter of time before she works her way back to the one she really wants to kill.” You tilted your head to look at him but he was busy looking at the pictures with a horrified look. “Is she making an impression now?

Your words suggested you were talking to Hotch but your sight was set on the other man in the room.

“You don’t want to tell us, fine.” You snickered. “Cause Daddy can’t make this go away, and I have no problem waiting for your dead body to give me a new hint.”  

You leaned closer, you didn’t have to talk anymore, you knew your eyes were saying enough. But you continued.

“In fact, I wouldn’t like anything else, so I’m gonna go ahead and set my alarm for tomorrow morning when I get the call from the police.” You ranted.  “Cause, believe me, I’m going to sleep better knowing there is one less offender out of the streets.”

After hearing the name you needed, you stormed out of the room leaving everyone behind without looking back until you heard a voice calling for you.

“That was out of line, agent.” You abruptly stopped and turned on your heels to look at Weller. 

“The only thing out of line is how pathetic you are at doing your job, Weller.” You turned back at him one more time and kept waking till reaching a quiet corner to make a phone call.

“Work me.” You hear Penelope’s voice on your phone.

“We have a name. Sarah Danlin. I need an address.”

“1141 Sherman Avenue. It looks like she was a med student at Tulane but she dropped out.”

“Let me guess, February nine years ago.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.” 

~~

You returned to the hotel room by Hotchner’s request, and you knew he was in the right to send you back, you got carried away by your emotions. 

You were a mess. Closing your room door, you let your emotions overpower you once more. Tears were falling down your face. You weren’t sure what you were feeling. No one ever prepared you for this kind of case, you felt powerless, empty, and lost. And finally, rage possessed your emotions.

You tossed glasses and trails of empty dishes, and your luggage and clothes flew around the room until your energy and strength gave up and tiredness reached you.

You are sure the hotel staff let Hotch know, cause he kept checking with you constantly. He let you know when they arrested her and how she told them she killed every man who helped cover up her abuse.

You heard your door being open and looked at Hotchner with a questioning look when you saw him standing there.

“How did you open my door?” 

He showed you his key. “We are sharing.”

You frowned. “Since when?”

“Since now, there has been an unexpected cut in the budget.” You nodded knowing it was a lie and he probably wanted to check on you. But you said nothing.

“Some things fall by themselves, I think there’s a ghost.” You said when you caught him looking at the mess on the floor.

“I think you can manage that.” 

He left his duffel bag on the floor and sat next to you on the bed. 

“Are you okay?” He asked.

That simple question was enough to break your strong façade. It was a question you normally have no problem answering with a lie, and you didn’t know if it was the situation or just because Hotch was the one asking. But it brought you down to tears. 

He took you in his arms and hugged you tight.

“I’m sorry.” 

“It 's okay.” He softly mumbled on your head reassuring you. “You said what you needed to say.”

You quickly shook your head.

“I meant it.” You sniffled. “I was willing to wait.”

“I know.” He said while caressing your back with soothing movements. 

“So, normally you have to deal with these detectives making your job impossible?”

“Yeah, all the time.” He chuckled. 

“God, it’s exhausting.” You laugh a little 

“You don’t?”

“No, they basically beg me to take the case out of their hands.” 

Hotch sighed. “You need to learn new methods for the interrogation.” He searched for your eyes. “I mean, only if you want to keep coming to these cases with us, you want to?”

“Yeah.” You smiled at him.

“You are a profiler now, welcome to the team.”

~~

Back in Quantico, you were getting ready to leave your office when you got a call from an unknown number. You hesitated but finally answered after letting it ring for a couple of seconds.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Dean?” You frowned looking back at the number.

“We need a little bit of help.” Reality sank on you.

“Tell me you are not calling from where I think you are calling.” 

“Agent Henriksen got to us.”

“Damn it, Dean, How the heck did he manage to do that?”

“Bella Talbot.”

“That bitch again?” You sighed. “Where are you?”

“Colorado.”

“I’m on my way.”

[youraverageenglishstudent]

sometimes i forget that Criminal Minds is a REALLY REALLY REALLY POPULAR series and it just blows my mind when people know about it...like huh...what do you mean you know this niche show?

[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 12

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader warnings: language, minor political/bau issues mentioned/talked about, smut eluded to. We've come back to the chapters that jump through moments in time! This is also the time that you read this, then skim through the series and see if you can pick up on the foreshadowing cause next chapter is what it was leading up to lol. I'm going to crack down and fly through as many chapters in a row of this series while writing and queue them for once a week. LMK if that timeline seems okay or if it should be more frequent or less, I wanna continue that habit for new series!

Heather was seated at one of the window side tables at Peacock Alley inside the Waldorf, a coffee and a bloody mary in front of her while she looked through the menu. Her gaze drifted out the window, wondering if she was there too early, if you were running behind or if it was a combination of both. Just as she was about to check her phone for both the time and conformation, she spotted what she was sure was your car pulling up to the valet.

Sure enough, you slipped out of it, passing the keys and a wad of cash over to the worker with a sweet smile before tossing your bag onto your arm and making your way to the hotel entrance. Her head tilted in confusion but before she could really get lost in her thoughts you had rounded the corner into the lobby restaurant, sunglasses pushed back onto your head as you glanced around in search of her. A small smile took over your lips when you spotted her, hurrying over to the table.

“You’re early.” You greeted, placing your purse down on the windowsill as you slipped into your seat.

Heather shrugged, “she got clingy, I kicked her out before she could start begging for room service and the girlfriend treatment.”

You nearly snorted, shaking you head at the other woman, “I didn’t realize you were entertaining.”

“Rob’s out of town, both the kids are on campus, you were occupied so I was bored.��� She replied, picking up her coffee for a sip when the waiter came over to start you on your own drinks and you figured you may as well match Heather.

“Thought your go to place was the Conrad.” You asked, settling in as your drinks were dropped off and you could take a couple of sips.

“It is. But she was brand new and I wanted to be cautious, figuring we were meeting here in the morning I made it convenient.” She took a sip of her coffee, a brow raised in your direction, “which is why I’m particularly curious as to why you were pulling up to the valet instead of coming from the elevator.”

“I came from home.”

“Did we not plan to meet here for as little hassle as possible? We could have just met at my place if your date fell through.”

“It didn’t fall through.” Your brow scrunched, not able to get an immediate reply from Heather as the waiter came over to take your orders. You opting for a quinoa power bowl while she went with the mushroom and asparagus omelet.

“Did you change hotels?” Heather asked as the waiter left the table.

“No.” You shook your head, “we were at her place.”

“Oh?” She asked with slightly wide eyes and you laughed.

“Emily’s sick of not sleeping in her own bed. And to be completely honest I was getting bored of hotel life too.” You glanced up to catch the look on her face and you rolled your eyes, “Heather, this isn’t like one of us is some money hungry twenty something who’s going to go psychotic when the other one won’t leave her husband for her. Not everything mimics your life experiences.”

“So you’re not getting all domesticated on me?” She asked with a smirk, “because I need that wild, spitfire woman for work.”

“No.” You nearly grimaced, “we’re still going out for fancy dinners and shit, the sex is just occurring in a different environment and with a plethora of more toys.”

“Mmm.” She replied over a sip of her bloody mary, “so whose place were you at last night?”

“Hers.”

“You stay over?”

“Yes.”

“Careful.” She chided.

“What?” You asked her, your nose scrunching in confusion and she simply chuckled.

“Never mind.” She took another sip of her coffee, “you know… I saw Jackie the other day.”

“Not a surprise considering your line of work.” You replied, hoping the sudden heat on your cheeks wasn’t as present as it felt. “How is she?”

“Had one hell of a hickey on her neck… said she finally got around to having some good fun a couple of weeks ago.”

“Good for her.” You bluffed.

“Huh.” Heather clicked her tongue.

“What?” You huffed, wanting to move onto the next subject.

“Were you too drunk or too horny to realize that it was my main driver who picked you up from the club?” She smirked over the rim of her glass, “and to think you didn’t even bother to call me.”

“Heather it was nearly five in the morning.” You replied dryly, “besides, you always have to be in control of everything, you get power hungry in group situations, dynamic never would have worked.”

“Oh…” there was a devilish grin on her lips as she leant back in her chair, “so tell me then… did they gang up on you or was poor Jackie your little play toy?”

“Please.” You laughed, your voice quieting, “you know that’s what she prefers.”

“Tell me more.” With a smirk, she leant in, her elbow on the table, chin propped up in her hand.

“Absolutely not.” You shook your head, eyeing her up, “but I guess now would be the time to point out that hickey on your neck…”

“What?” Heather’s hand shot to her neck, gently prodding at the skin until she found the sensitive spot, “fucking brat. I told her no marks!”

“And that’s why you’ve got to make better choices.” You shrugged, leaning back in your chair, “I’m careful to not leave marks.”

“That’s because you don’t bite hard enough.” She nearly scowled, digging into her purse to pull out a compact and do the best coverage job she could in the meantime.

You were left laughing, the topic finally diminishing as food was swiftly delivered. Heather, having had enough of being prodded and teased slid the compact back into her purse and picked up her fork.

“How are we doing for next week’s assembly?”

“I’ve got Harris, Tart and Durant set up for speakers, Ashley’s been finishing shirts, banners, badges and stickers and Colton’s been going door to door every day this week.”

“Good.” She took a bite of food, “where are we with backing from Underwood?”

“Working on it. He’s been out of State so often it’s been hard enough to track him or Claire down even for a phone call. I’ll get there soon, I promise.”

“Good girl.”

**

While your dates continued around the city, it almost felt like you had more freedom when you weren’t trying to stay in or near a specific hotel. Dinner or drinks could be closer to your place or Emily’s, wandering the waterfront on the way back to her apartment. While things were a little more comfortable, there were still some unspoken rules that the two of you simply continued to follow.

Emily always made sure the payment was sent to you within an hour of a date ending, whether that be midnight or eight in the morning the next day. You kept your dates limited to weekends, both to keep things on a running schedule and to try and avoid crossing over with work. Staying the night wasn’t required, it never had been in the hotels, especially if one of you knew you had a busy week and wanted a day to prepare for it or decompress from the weekend. There was nothing in the contract about cuddles and sweet dreams, it was about sex, enough aftercare that everyone was alright and money. There were nights you were too wiped to move, falling asleep before Emily could even fully check in with you and there were other nights that once you’d caught your breath, you were dressed and out the door. Emily would admit she did enjoy spending the nights in your bed, but she still missed her own just as much and if she was willing to drive at the late hour, she was pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek and heading home to it.

Some mornings you’d wake up tangled in each other’s limbs and take the time for some lazy morning sex, which usually ended up leading straight into round two, three or more as you fully woke up. Other mornings you would wake up to the sound of the shower, Emily prodding your side what felt like seconds later with a to go coffee cup and you were on your way home straight away.

Coffee was where it ended, there was never breakfast, never brunch or dilly dallying as you talked about your plans for the rest of the weekend. It was a quick shower, a coffee in a cardboard cup and an ‘I’ll call you’ to set up your next date. While you had dinner or drinks most nights, they were had out, it was never homecooked, no dancing around each other in the kitchen while you put together a meal. Bottles of wine were often left forgotten on the coffee table as Emily made a home between your legs, bringing you to your peak over and over again until you were tugging her off you to return the favour.

Emily’s apartment was normally your setting, her toy collection happened to be more extensive than yours and it seemed like there was always something new to discover and play with. It also helped her keep a semblance of control in her mind, you may have been playing this game for months now, but she was still wrapping her brain around exactly how things worked. She was still new to it, learning the ropes as she went and she wanted to make sure she was doing her best. When she was in her own apartment, it was her surroundings, she knew every nook and cranny and felt more relaxed and able to take control.

The lines were still in place, even if there was a change of scenery.

**

Emily heard an all to familiar beeping interrupting her dreams and she rolled onto her side, scrunching her eyes briefly in an attempt to keep them shut and regain whatever sleep she still had left in her. You coffee always auto brewed and most mornings the two of you ignored it if you wanted to sleep in or have a morning session before parting ways. A chill ran through the room and she let out a small shiver, shifting to pull the covers tighter around herself and was surprised at just how easily she suddenly had the entire duvet in her hands.

Begrudgingly cracking her eyes open she looked around the room, it was still dark, sunrise being later and later as the city sunk fully into autumn. Rolling onto her back she was able to assess that you definitely weren’t in bed with her, the bathroom light was off but the fan was on, a likely sign you’d had a shower and started your day already. The second sign being that your pyjamas were strewn over one of the chairs across from the bed, your phone absent from the nightstand.

She knew that you were likely letting her sleep until you absolutely had to kick her out, but the exhausted part of her was really hoping maybe this was a quick thing and you’d come back to bed. She perked up when a light at the bottom of the stairs flicked on, her ears picking up the sound of your voice. Either someone was over or you were on the phone, but either way you sounded far less than pleased.

Letting out a soft sigh she pushed up to sitting, stretching out her body and rubbing at her eyes as she willed herself out of bed and into the cool morning air. She tiptoed quietly over to the door, if you did have a house guest this early, you likely didn’t need them knowing that you’d had overnight company. After listening for a couple of minutes she determined that you were definitely on the phone, there was barely any time for someone else to get a word in and whenever they did, downstairs was silent aside from the pacing of your heels or sound of coffee brewing. Emily crossed the room again, quickly getting redressed and collecting her things, quietly making her way down the staircase to the main floor, finding you with your back to her.

“Patterson I swear to god if you hang up on me— Yes! I already know that. He doesn’t need a parent or guardian if he’s of age. Did he ask you to call her? No. Exactly—What did I just say? Like hell you need to print him! You’re not just toeing the line you’re by far crossing it! Don’t think I know you just want him booked to get your name all over the press, I’ll have your fucking badge.” A slight pause while you pinched at the bridge of your nose, a voice chattering on the other side of the line, “no. Of course I don’t think you’re just going to toss him back out onto the street. Mr. Dalton is already on his way down there to make sure you don’t think about breaking any other rules or laws and believe me I’ll be making a trip down there myself to talk to your Captain.” Hanging up the phone you dropped it to the island, stopping to take a hefty swig of coffee, “fuck.”

You finally turned back to the island, dropping onto a stool and pulling your laptop toward you, movement out of the corner of your eye causing you to glance up, jolting slightly as you realized Emily was on the same floor as you.

“Shit, sorry. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“No, no. Don’t worry about it.” She replied, smiling softly as she stepped into the room. You made a noise, gesturing toward the empty to go coffee mug beside the coffee pot and she took the hint, mixing it to her liking. “Anything I can help with?”

You nearly snorted, glancing up to her, “morally, ethically and legally? No.”

“Oh…kay…” She took a sip of the coffee to make sure it was right before popping the lid on and you let out a frustrated sigh.

“Jordan got picked up for a drunk and disorderly last night.”

“Jordan?”

“Heather’s son.” You grimaced.

“Ah.” She nodded, suddenly more than well aware the severity of the situation, “DUI?”

“Luckily he didn’t get that far. But this fucking prick Patterson… fucking white shield who thinks he’s hot shit…” you grumbled, “he pays paparazzi to follow around teenage and older kids of politicians, especially at bars or parties. Tips them off to whenever he knows security is escorting them, they get the pictures, he gets to swoop in and make a couple of bullshit arrests, they split the bank. He thinks its gonna be his way up the chain.”

“Sounds like a piece of shit.”

“He is.” You mumbled, “and now I get to spend the rest of the weekend putting out fires and trying to keep this out of the press and away from Heather. Lord knows she’ll only lose her shit and knowing Jordan he’ll turn something flammable into an explosion. I—” you were cut off by your phone ringing and you immediately picked it up, “Yeah? I don’t care that it’s only five in the morning, the car is coming to the back entrance and you are to get Jordan into it without a single soul seeing him. Drive him back home, make sure he’s in the guest house, I’ll call Rob.”

Emily picked up her coffee cup, tapping on the island to gather your brief attention, giving you a little wave thank you for the coffee and to let you know she was saying goodbye. All things considered the best option for her right now was to get out of your hair.

**

“Shit, shit, shit!”

Getting an early or overnight call for a case on a Saturday morning was already annoying as is, but this was linked to one of the cases they had been working on that week. Meaning the call was Penelope saying she’d found an out of state connection and everyone was to be at the jet in thirty. While Emily’s go bag was in the car, it only had enough outfits for a few days and the one she’d worn the night previous certainly wasn’t Section Chief appropriate.

“Take whatever you need.” You sleepily waved in the direction of your closet, flicking on the bedside lamp before rolling over and going back to sleep as she began to rummage through your clothes.

Emily made it to the jet just in the nick of time, dropping her bag and managing to grab a coffee and bottle of water before settling into an empty seat across from Tara. She could feel the other woman’s eyes on her, examining the outfit choice and she shifted in her seat, the shirt was definitely a little snug around her chest but it was the best option she could find quickly.

“That’s a nice colour.” Tara complimented, “looks really good on you.”

“Oh. Uh, thanks.”

“It new?”

“No,” she let out a semi awkward laugh, scrambling to come up with some kind of fib, “kind of old, figured I’d start cleaning out my closet last night, grabbed the first thing I could.” She shuffled in her seat again, tugging the fabric away from her chest before leaning forward to grab a case file, “what’d Garcia find? Do we know what we’re walking into?”

“Second page.” Tara replied, the corner of her lips curving up into a smirk and Emily could feel her cheeks burning pink, feeling like she was back in high school hiding a secret from her mother.

**

You sped through the doorway to Heather’s office, placing a now lukewarm coffee down on her desk as the check in that you were there before briskly turning around and she barely looked up from her laptop.

“Sorry, traffic on the I-395 was a fucking mess. I’ve never seen so many accidents this early in the morning.”

“It’s getting icy out there.” She replied, her eyes still on the screen in front of her, “turned the heater on in your office, you’re welcome.”

“Thank you.” You replied with a huff, barely making it to the doorway before the wheels started turning in Heather’s brain and she eyes shot up.

“Hold up!” She called and you froze on the spot, turning back to face her, “you live uptown…”

“Yup…” you nodded, feeling the heat creeping up the back of your neck.

“And if you were coming from the Waldorf you would have taken Pennsylvania.”

“Yes again.” You nodded, nearly gulping. Heather surveyed you for a moment, her eyes narrowing as her lips twitched up into a grin.

“It’s Thursday…”

“You ever heard of wine Wednesday Heather? Zooz has an incredible happy hour and it’s walking distance from Em’s.”

“Hmm.” Her head titled, “must be a nice place.”

“I have work to do.” You began to turn away again, but she called out once more.

“Speaking of, pick a hotel for Sarasota this morning and Elise will book it.”

“I thought we were going to Laguna?”

“They changed locations, something about the right hall not being available.” She shrugged, “at least Florida’s an excuse for a shopping trip.”

“Huh…” your head titled as a grin broke out on your lips, “I could use a new swimsuit.”

“Could always go without one.” She smirked back and you rolled your eyes.

“Very professional.”

“We’ll have a private terrace.” She replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“And here I thought I was picking the hotel.”

“You’ll pick something suitable; cost isn’t a concern.” She shrugged, “I’m not going to be slumming it in Florida for a week and not indulge.” Her eyes flicked up and down your body, “hell, why don’t you call Tony, take the afternoon to get some shopping done.”

“He’d love that.” You laughed as you thought it over.

“I’m sure he’s not the only one.” She replied, tilting the screen of her laptop back as her eyes fell back down to it once again, a smirk remaining on her lips.

**

Girl’s night at Garcia’s always meant a couple of cocktails and when Tara had offered to drive, having to be up early the next morning, everyone was on board. JJ was the first drop off, leaving Emily in the front seat with Tara navigating the streets of Washington.

“What is going on with you?” Tara asked, a small laugh leaving her lips as she glanced over at the other woman.

“What?”

“Your nerves are radiating off you and you keep shifting in your seat like a dog that hasn’t figured out if he’s going to the park or the vet.”

She laughed, “it’s nothing. I just went from not really recognizing the street to realizing I’ve got a friend who lives around here.”

Tara glanced at her watch, “it’s not that late, if you wanna make a pit stop or for me to drop you somewhere, I can do that.”

“No, no don’t worry about it.”

“Emily,” she prodded, “c’mon. I can keep a secret.”

“It’s nothing like that!” She swatted at her hand, “just haven’t seen her in a bit.”

“Call her or I’m pulling over the car.”

“I—what?” Her eyes darted up to the other woman who suddenly pulled into the right lane, “okay, okay!”

Your phone began to buzz on your desktop and you let out a soft sigh, thankful for the interruption as you pulled off your glasses, blinking your eyes a few times as you picked it up.

“Walton.”

“Hey, it’s Emily.”

“Oh, hey!” A smile crept onto your face, “what’s up?”

“I.. uh.. I was just in the neighbourhood, figured I’d see if you wanted to grab a drink?”

This sigh you let out this time was much wearier one that Emily could practically feel, “I would absolutely love to but I’m still at the office and likely will be for a few more ours.”

“On a Saturday?”

“Yup.” You exaggerated the word, popping the ‘p’, “bunch of extra tasks on hand this week and we’ve been spread pretty thin. I definitely can’t go anywhere until the boss does.”

“Shit.” She muttered and you reached across your desk for your agenda, flipping through a couple of pages.

“Looks like I can squeeze you in on Tuesday? Probably not ‘til ten at the earliest and I wouldn’t be able to stay.”

“No, no, don’t worry about it, the usual weekend is fine.”

“Weekend is all conference prep and we fly out Monday afternoon.”

“I would hate to add to your schedule, we can wait until you’re back.”

“It’s fine.” You laughed softly, “lord knows I could use the relief.”

“Alright.” She chuckled, “I’ll see you Tuesday.”

“I’ll call once I’m finished up, let you know when I’m on my way.”

“Sounds good. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Emily dropped her phone with a soft sigh, sliding it back into her pocket, a sense of relief washing over her when Tara pulled back into the left lane and signalled to make the turn towards her original destination.

“I thought you hadn’t seen her in a while?”

“Huh?” Emily’s brow furrowed as she looked up at her.

“’The usual weekend is fine’?” Tara raised an eyebrow, “who have you been meeting up with every week?”

“No one.” She fibbed, sinking deeper into the seat of the car.

“Oh come on Emily.” She laughed, “doesn’t take much to realize you’ve been spending time doing something other than work. You actually don’t reply to non urgent work texts on the weekends anymore, better moods Monday mornings…”

“No profiling the profiler!” Emily protested, punching Tara’s arm, “I thought I was getting a nice ride home, not an interrogation.”

“Okay, okay.”

Tara held up a hand in surrender, shaking her head at the other woman as she pulled up in front of Emily’s building. She said a quick thank you and goodnight, pulling out her phone when she was waiting for the elevator. If you were working this late on the weekend the least she could do was send over some dessert as a pick me up.

__________________

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[msschemmenti]

girl next door 🏠- 2

jemily x reader

a/n: chapter two! i’m also posting this on ao3 under my user over there (eternaldulcet) :)

DC was turning out to be a rather enjoyable living experience for y/n. She’d finished unpacking within her first week and now was just settling into her new life. With June becoming July, the heat was high, but nothing compared to the summers down south she’d grown up in. She was rolling through all of her onboarding at the college and when she wasn’t on the campus, she was exploring DC. She’d seen the staples– the White House, Lincoln Memorial, and all that political jazz. But she’d found some real gems on her commute to work and back.

Aside from all the architectural and historical sites she’s seen, she really can’t express how enjoyable DC has been without acknowledging the gift that is Jennifer Jareau sprinting through the neighborhood. That first morning really had been a surprise, a beautiful, wonderful surprise! One that she very seldom missed now. Their schedules seemed to match in the sense that whenever JJ was out on her morning run, y/n was sitting on her porch swing nursing a cup of coffee. Or she’d made it part of her schedule. Not consciously but why change it now?

For the first week or so, they’d exchange a smile and wave and continue on their day. JJ headed for the stop sign at the top of the hill and y/n returned to her house. But one morning JJ switched it up a bit and detoured up y/n’s drive with a smile. She pulled her earbud out and smiled up at y/n, “Good morning neighbor.”

y/n pulled her eyes away from JJ’s sculpted stomach and met her eyes with a sheepish smile of her own. “Good morning indeed!” she nervously replied, pulling the mug of coffee closer to her chest.

JJ’s smiled quickly turned into a smirk and she leaned back in a stretch, one she knew highlighted all the physical features she worked so hard to maintain. “I see you’re an early riser like me.”

“Mmhmm, I sure do love the morning.” y/n nodded, distracted as all get-out. Hearing JJ’s pleased chuckle, y/n scrambled to sound more intelligent than she had initially. “I mean, I’ve really been enjoying the DC mornings. Plus once classes start I’ll be getting up this early anyway.”

JJ nodded, switching to a deep lunge, “Right, Em and I were wondering if you had started yet.”

“I’ve done all my onboarding with HR, so now it’s just meeting with my department chair and things like that. Classes start mid-August, so I’m soaking up my last real moments of freedom this month.” y/n explained around her mug.

“Gotcha, calm before the storm.” JJ smiled standing to her full height again, catching y/n’s wandering eyes. “Well let us know if you need anything before then. I’m not sure how much help we’ll be but we’re here either way.” They bid each other adieu and they part ways. From then on, if Emily and JJ are in town– it becomes a routine. JJ runs, y/n gawks, they talk, and part ways.

Emily, not exactly having the desire to wake early, catches y/n much later in the day. They too had developed a sort of neighborly wave routine, usually as Emily backs out of her driveway or the rare occasions that she and JJ make it home before dark. It was one of those days that she caught y/n struggling with a package that had been left at her mailbox. JJ’d left something in the car and sent Emily out to retrieve it, but she was complaining far less when she caught sight of the struggling younger woman.

Hurrying down the sidewalk she chuckled and swooped in to lift the other end of the box, “Let me help you with that.”

y/n sighed in relief as some of the pressure eased from her back, “oh thank god. I never did learn how to lift with my legs.” They side stepped their way up to the house and over the steps and with a bit of maneuvering got the package inside.

“where do you want it?” emily asked as they paused in the mud room.

“i’m pretty sure this is my bookshelf for my studio, so probably in there. i’ll lead.” y/n said studying the box before steering them both to the back of her house.

all the houses on the block basically have the same layout— so it wasn’t that surprising to see y/n was using this room as a work space considering jj and emily had done the same. what was surprising was the stark contrast to their office. they’d prioritized functionality and necessity in their space. walls were bare and the two desks took up most of the room. but y/n’s studio was way different. one corner was set up like a recording booth— walls covered in soundproofing foam and various microphones. a piano sat in the center of the room paper spread across the top of it. and the rest of the room held books piled high on the floor, different chairs.

“i can see why you need the bookshelf.” emily teased as they lowered the box to the floor near the books.

y/n chuckled and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “yeah, don’t judge me. after i left my last school— i may have done a little shopping in my colleague’s offices. you can never have too much literature. plus i’ve got to build up my repertoire for students.”

“no judgment at all! i’ve got my fair share of books lining our office as well. most of my mine aren’t work related though. but i didn’t realize there was so much reading involved in vocal music.”

“oh yeah, everyone feels important enough to publish. somethings work and others don’t. i just try to know as much as i can.” y/n shrugged, moving to straighten the pages on the piano. “if you’re not reading the david rossi profiling collection, what are you reading?”

emily laughed outright, “oh those are on our shelves, i tend to read classics from all over the world. i like to practice the languages i don’t get to use as often.”

“a linguist,” y/n hummed as she smiled over her shoulder at emily.

“something like that,” emily said bashfully before deflecting. “what do you know about david rossi? that’s a pretty crazy name to pull out of thin air.”

y/n giggled with a shrug, “i did some research after you guys left. i was curious about the world of profiling and he has like a million books about it.”

emily laughed and nodded, “yeah, that’s rossi for you.”

y/n’s eyes widened a bit as she turned and leaned against the piano, “you know him personally?”

“oh yeah, he works with us. trust me, he gifts us all signed copies of his million books for every holiday.”

“well i’ve heard of tootin your own horn, but seems he’s taken that saying to a whole new level.” y/n shook her head. “well thank you so much for your help. i guess we can add that to my running list of reasons why having federal agents as neighbors is amazing.”

emily’s brow rose and she followed behind y/n back through the house. “a running list you say?”

“oh yeah, cataloging all the perks. top of the list— strong brunettes come to my rescue when lifting heavy packages.”

“always at your service. let us know if you need help building it. jj’s got a knack for all that diy home stuff.” emily saluted as she stepped out of the front door.

“you’ll be my first call.” y/n winked and waved goodbye.

-

“grayson, shut up! there’s no way you said that to him.” y/n gasped down the phone.

“why yes, i absolutely did. i think he was so shocked he short circuited.” grayson laughed.

y/n shook her head and wedged the phone between her ear and shoulder. she’d been working in the kitchen for the evening having caught the sudden craving for an apple pie. grayson had called right in the middle of her pulling the pie out and there really was no way to ignore gossip from her old office.

“well what did the rest of the team say?” y/n asked as she slid the pie out of the oven and onto a cooling rack.

“oh you know how they get. yasmine asked 100 questions, alice and rita giggled quietly. while the rest just looked around. god the office is not the same without you!” grayson whined.

y/n laughed and opened the kitchen window to air out the kitchen and the pie. “i know i know. im sure everyone is happy that we’re not there terrorizing everyone together anymore. but gray— you can’t say stuff like that during departmental meetings. bless his heart, you know javier is a power hungry asshole who does not take well to women questioning his decisions.”

“yeah yeah yeah— i’m just so sick of him making it harder for our music department to keep any majors. you know he plays favorites.”

y/n went to reply when a blonde head of hair caught her attention right outside her window, where her pie was cooling. she peered down and met jj’s bright blue eyes. she had a soccer ball at her feet and her hands on her hips. y/n’s quirked in a curious smile and she held up a finger for the older woman to wait while she opened the back door. “well you know that’s part of the reason i left anyway. he’s too big for his britches and nobody’s brave enough to tell him as much.”

y/n ushered jj in while she listened, “he keeps calling this meetings before classes start and trust, i’ll be telling him more than just that.”

“ah now you hush, you will do no such thing. go sit down somewhere and calm down. you know as well as i do, he’s like a dog on linoleum. all talk with that one.” y/n shook her head and blushed at the amusement on jj’s face. “listen grayson, let me let you go. my pie is done and i need both hands. we���ll talk next week, okay? alright bye.”

y/n pulled the phone from her ear and hung up with a sheepish smile, “sorry bout that, we always pick up for office gossip.”

jj shook her head and leaned against the kitchen island with a smile “you really are from the south,” she laughed.

“oh boy, what’s that supposed to mean?” y/n watched as jj laughed. her abs flexing just slightly through her tank top.

“i don’t think i understood half of what you were saying. oh and your accent— gets pretty thick when you’re speaking so passionately.” jj grinned.

“oh if you ever catch me drunk it’s waaaay stronger. but i’ll give you that, between Georgia and Kentucky I've definitely picked up some pretty interesting sayings over my life.”

“i bet, my grandparents had their little farm sayings in Pennsylvania but nothing as interesting as what i just heard.”

“well did you come over to eavesdrop or was there something else on your mind?” y/n teased as she moved to check on the pie in the window.

“well i was kicking the ball around out back when i suddenly smelled something very delicious coming from your yard. and i just had to check it out. the eavesdropping part was a happy accident.” jj smiled coming to peak over y/n’s shoulder at the pie.

“well i guess you’re in luck then, it has about 10 more minutes to cool.” y/n smiled pointed to the freezer. “if you’ll grab the ice cream out of the freezer, i’ll give you a piece.”

“you don’t to ask me twice.” jj nodded and pulled the vanilla ice cream out. y/n nodded in thanks and invited jj to have a seat at one of the island stools. as soon as jj took purchase on the stool both women heard a knock on the younger woman’s front door. y/n looked a little confused but jj waved her off and headed for the door. “it’s probably emily, i kinda just disappeared from the backyard at the smell of pie.”

y/n giggled and nodded and watched from the kitchen as the blonde ushered emily inside, “i should’ve known you’d end up over here somehow.”

“there’s pie over here. can you truly blame me?” jj shrugged, poking emily’s hip affectionately as they both made their way to the kitchen island and y/n.

“well i would’ve yes had you come back with no pie for me.” emily grumbled.

“don’t worry— i would’ve made sure you had a slice.” y/n winked at the older woman. “you know what they say, happy neighbor happy life.”

emily eyebrows furrow in confusion, “who’s says that? i thought it was happy wife happy life.”

“is that another southern saying we don’t know?” jj teased.

“no, i just think neighbors should also be happy. i figure you take care of the wife part anyways.” y/n shrugged, subtly eyeing the women for reactions to her words. she was pretty positive the women weren’t just roommates but she wanted to confirm. that way maybe her brain would start supplying a little guilt when she found herself damn near drooling over one or both of her neighbors.

jj and emily, laughed and nodded in understanding, but almost instantly peeped the younger woman’s intentions. “oh yeah we’re strong proponents of the happy wife lifestyle.“ emily nodded. y/n smiled. taking that confirmation for what she thought it was. no chance babe.

but the jj spoke, “but you’re absolutely right— neighbors should also be happy. i’m sure we can make both happen.”

[milfsincrime]

part two: at therapy appt

emily, crying: he always calls me such odd nicknames

therapist: what do you mean?

derek, arriving late: what’s wrong my little hovercraft?

[sunlightgalaxy]

EMILY PRENTISS IN CRIMINAL MINDS 7x23/24: HIT/RUN

[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 7: The end of beginnings

genre: angst, fluff, a lot of introspection

word count: 9743 (MY GOD IT'S A LONGER CHAPTER)

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: you and spencer finally give into the tension that's been growing between you, but what happens now?

a muted shade of green masterlist

previous chapter // next chapter

This chapter I'm dedicating to @chicaconfundidaycuriosa who makes my day with her hypothesis in the comments <3 thank you all for your support throughout this series!

“You do it.” 

“No!” You gasp, shaking your head so fast you feel like your brain is shaking too. “You do it!” 

“Your entire job is about people, you do it.” He insists, gently nudging you forward, but you don’t bulge. “Y/N, come on, it’s not that scary!”

“I’m not scared, I just hate talking on the phone! You wouldn’t know what’s that like, since you barely use yours.” 

“And now you’re diverging,” He giggles, pushing the phone over the counter to you once again. 

It has been almost thirty minutes of this and that is not really how you imagine spending your morning after all that had happened last night. For a moment there, Spencer’s voice fades to the background and all you can focus on are those beautiful, pink lips. Now that you know how they feel– the perfect balance of chapped roughness and natural softness; not now that you know how he tastes, something so naturally Spencer and minty toothpaste; not now that you know how he sounds when he whispers for more, more more. Not now, not ever.

Took you both some time to come down from the absolute high of acting like teenagers. What had started like a sweet, slow kiss, quickly turned into what teenagers would refer to ‘making out’, and suddenly you two were a little hurricane of hands, lips, and tangles bodies trying to make it to the room. The feeling of his hands on your waist, tugging you closer, pushing you down– “Y/N?”

Your cheeks explode in a fiery red shade when you realise he’s caught you daydreaming. 

Again. 

“Yeah?” Shaking your head slightly, look down at the phone being pushed between you two. 

“Are you going to call her?” 

To be fair, you haven’t really explained everything to him considering how… distracted… you were last night. And then this morning. And even now, mind going not so far away from the kitchen to the room, where absolutely nothing had happened last night. Absolutely. Nothing. Frustration settled after a while, a thrumming hum in the back of your head that never really let you fall asleep. It was only natural that after so long craving this, you had been excited at the thought of finally letting it happen, of allowing yourself to enjoy a moment that had meant as much in your dreams as it did in real life… but then you two made it to the bed. And you laid down. And suddenly, the underlying need behind every push and pull of his perfect lips against yours started to fade, and his hands that explored your body oh so eagerly started to slow down, and before you could say anything, he was backtracking to forehead kisses and getting up to brush his teeth. 

Like it had been just another day. 

Just another kiss. 

“I don’t want to,” You whisper back, eyes wide in a vulnerable state that has nothing to do with Abigail or the fact that you are about to hire her to take care of your store. 

This is not even about last night.

This is about this morning. 

This is about the fact that when you woke up, he wasn’t there. His side of the bed was tussled, and the pillows were thrown around, but Spencer was missing. For a moment, your heart sinks. You scramble around the bed, feeling out his side, searching for something, anything, that would give into your dwindling hope of last night not having been a dream, because god knows how many dreams you’ve had of him. But then you hear it, the sound of the shower running and the light humming of a man who has not a single musical bone in his body, and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. 

Then it downs on you. It wasn’t a dream. Spencer kissed you last night, that’s a fact. And now he’s about to come out of the bathroom and you refuse to let the first thing he sees, on such a special morning, be this messy hair, panicked face version of yourself. The way you roll out of bed, rushed to the point of tripping on the blankets and falling on your knees with a hiss, is enough to have you laughing at yourself. Your cheeks blush when you think of facing him so early in the day and despite the excitement of it all, you are nervous. What will he say? What will he do?

Making breakfast seems like a great way to ease your overthinking mind of any incoming anxieties, and it’s a simple matter of action and reaction. 

Action, breaking the eggs over the hot pan. Reaction, frying some eggs. Action, putting the bread in the toaster. Reaction, getting some toast to eat with your eggs. Action–

“Good morning.” Action, Spencer comes out of the shower.

“Good morning,” You call back, looking down at the pan with such an obsessions you barely notice him stopping behind you. 

You do notice his hands landing on your waist, though, and when he turns you around, you can smell the fresh scent of his minty soap he loves so much. His smile calms you a little, and he leans forward, coming down, down, down… until his lips touch your forehead. “Slept well?” He mumbles, reaching behind you for a toast and then walking away to grab his bag from wherever he hid it. Blinking, you can’t even answer his question. Is he fucking teasing you or is he serious? 

Safe to say, you don’t really speak up then nor later, and that’s how you two end up where you are, sitting in front of each other in a stupid battle over who calls who. 

“Why don’t you want to call her?”

Eyes cast down, almost in shame, you shrug. “I…” How do you explain it to him without sounding crazy? “I don’t know, Spence. She makes me feel… weird. Like she knows something I don’t.” 

“Oh sweetheart,” His nice words can’t hide the smile on his face. “It’s just change. And you’re human, Y/N, which means you naturally don’t like change. But it’s okay, I promise. You already asked Garcia to dig as deep as she could and nothing came up as suspicious. You also refuse to entertain the idea of hiring your second choice because you said, and I quote, ‘he grabbed a book with greasy hands.’ So, this is pretty much the only option you have.” 

Great. Instead of a kiss that you crave, you get the dose of reality check you deserve. “Thank you, Spencer,” You grumble, the irony of your words not missing the spot when his smile falters. You grab the phone to dealing the number you’ve been avoiding for so long, but you stop before pressing call. “Fuck.” 

“Y/N–“ The magic of last night is gone when his phone rings and you know he has to go. 

“Go,” You whisper, patting his shoulder with dejection. At this point, the morning is ruined and, to be very honest, he is partially at fault. 

A kiss is not something you would consider casual. You know a lot of people do, and that’s okay; you don’t mind about how other people live their lives. You do, however, care about what Spencer thinks and does, and in your books, kissing you and then ignoring it the next day is simply not acceptable. But then you sit with it for a while, and your brain starts whirring up. Usually, when you open your eyes, the sun is barely up and Spencer’s breathing is regular enough to keep your head going up and down, up and down, up and down. The more you two cuddle, the more you realise you love the sound of his heartbeat– you were yet to see him hurt, but you’ve heard enough stories from past cases that now, whenever you got that little extra confirmation that he is okay, you feel a sense of relief that you can’t really explain. Yet, that morning, when you finally make sense of what the fuck was happening without the your usual warm body next to you, you don’t feel relief. You don’t feel anything, to be very honest, because for a moment, your blood turns cold at the idea that Spencer might have woken up and regretted it all. 

“I feel like I shouldn’t,” He frown, cocking his head to the side in that way that makes you think he’s about to tell you something about yourself that you’ve never asked. “Y/N–“ “Go to work, Spencer,” You repeat yourself before pressing ‘call’. The phone in your ear is enough to keep him from trying to chase you. “Abigail? Hi! This is Y/N, from the bookstore… Yes. Yes, and from the uh, from the building. I’m calling with good news– you seem like the perfect person for the position. You– oh, no, no, it’s okay, you don’t have to bring me anything, it’s fine!”

This is the last thing you need– Abigail and her nosy nature. “What’s going on?” Spencer I next to you and his mouth is so close to your ear you shiver a little when he speaks. 

“Abigail, please, I’m about to go out and– oh, no, my… Spence is going to work. Thank you for offering to bake a cake but I’ll just se you at work, okay? Alright. Yeah, okay, thank you! I’ll be sending you a follow up email with all the information for next steps. Thank you! Have a good day! Bye!”

“Y/N, did Abigail do something to make you uncomfortable?” His hands on your shoulder that hold you at arms length are starting to annoy you. Now he didn’t even want you close? There is more to it and you know it. Above all, you’re not completely illogical, but your brain is working overtime and your heart is hurting, and now every little thing Spencer does will be an issue. 

Fed up with it all, you stomp your feet and walk away. “Go to work, Doctor Reid!” The impetuous way you huff as you turn around and slam the door of his room shut has him gasping, and you can hear if from where you stand, embarrassed by yourself and your ridiculous, childish behaviour. Still, you refuse to go back out there until you’re sure you’ve heard the door closing behind him. 

“Fuck me,” You mutter after you sit there in your own silence. The apartment doesn’t feel the same as it used to anymore. It’s not a matter of coming in and watering his plants anymore. You don’t just walk around looking for clues from the scattered books in his apartment anymore. You actually know things now. You know parts of his life that he had to tell you, parts that you didn’t have to guess, and it actually felt good— he was opening up out of his own volition and now you’ve ruined everything. Maybe you got greedy. Maybe you got greedy for his welcoming arms and whispered pet names. Maybe it all felt too good, and, just like Icarus, you might have flown too close to the sun, and now you are falling, wings melted and ruined. 

Before you know it, you’re already dialling your mom’s number. 

“Mom?” You are sitting on the floor, legs pulled to your chest with a ridiculous pout on your lips, and from the way she laughs on the other side of the line, you think she can hear it. 

“Well, look who it is,” She teases. It’s easy to picture her face when she says that. You two have made a dance out of it, this whole loving sarcasm thing, and she always go first. Naturally, you just follow her lead. “My daughter who forgot I exist.”

“Aw,” You smile, shaking your head in amusement. “Is this my mother? The one who knows how pick up the phone and dial my number if she wants to talk to me?”

You two laugh for a while before she speaks again. “I’m serious, sweetheart, I’ve missed you. I haven’t seen your face in a while and… and your dad misses you too, you know?” The slight sniffle on the other side of the line breaks your heart a little. 

“I miss him too,” You whisper, voice a bit too soft for her not to notice. 

“Y/N, is something wrong? Did something happen?” It’s no surprise your mom panics quickly when it comes to you, specially after everything that happened in New York. “Is it Josh? Did he find you?” 

God, how it hurts that she even has to worry about that. “No, no, it’s not Josh, it’s…” You are yet to tell her about Spencer. And not in the context of this entire situation with Cat, but about Spencer as the wonderful human he is. About his quirks and his love for books and his chess addiction and… and the fact that he has your heart in the palm of his hands and you’re scared. You’re so scared. “I met someone.” 

Her gasp has your eyes shutting– it’s so nostalgic, that noise of motherly surprise, that you can’t help but bask in it. Growing up, you had always been very close to your mother, enjoying days out together on Sundays and always trusting her to keep your secrets safe from the world. She was your biggest fan, too; supported you on everything you did, cheered from you from the sidelines of every game you wanted to try, helped you convince your dad to let you go to parties you never enjoyed. Never had she unfairly punished you, never had she betrayed your trust, never had she treated you with anything but love and pride. Hiding things from her is hard, possibly one of the hardest things you have ever done, and you hate how easy it’s becoming to deflect her questions and ignore her comments, because truly, all you want to do on days like this, where your heart hurts and your spirits dwindle, is to go to her and cry. Is that too much to ask? 

“Tell me about this person,” She immediately shuffles around and you picture her in the same living room you’ve grown up reading book after book. If you have to guess, she has her usual coffee mug next to her, an addiction you blame her for passing onto you, and she’ll throw the old knitted blanket she’s so proud of making over her legs.

“Well, his name is Spencer–“

“Spencer is a good name!” She whispers to herself and you smile. 

“It is,” You agree, stretching your legs in front of you and wiggling your toes, glad to be distracted by anything and everything that gets your mind off of last night. “He is a good guy. My favourite customer, actually. That’s uh, that’s how we met.” 

“At the store? That is adorable!” 

“Yeah, he reads… a lot,” That is the understatement of the century. “He was my first client when I opened up, and we kind of became friends and gotten closer. Then I kind of, uh, started apartment sitting for him, whenever he was away at work and we just–“

“Oh, what’s the apartment like?” 

“It’s… beautiful,” You mumble, looking around with a small smile playing on your lips. “The walls are this pretty shade of green and it’s really cozy? Books all around. I like it here.” 

“Here?” Oh no. “Wait, are you at his house right now?” 

“Yeah,” You mumble, picking the lose threads on the socks you borrowed, one blue and the other purple with polkadots. For the life of you, you couldn’t find matching pairs in his sock drawer. “I’ve been here a lot, lately.” 

“Is he out of town?” 

“No.” The silence that follows speaks volume, and for the first time ever, you realise that your mom might not be just worried. She scared, too; for the daughter she saw so happy one day and then moving cities the next. “Mom?” 

“I– I’m happy for you, sweetie,” Her words are kind, but the edge of hesitation is there. “And you’re not going too fast, right? You said you’ve known him since you opened the store, so that’s a year and something, and–“

The assumption that you are repeating the same mistake you’ve make with Josh annoys you. You’re not the same person you used to be, you’re not like that anymore– needy and blinded by love and all the shinny things it brought you. You’ve come a long way since then, and you know your mother recognises that, you do but… but you’re still embarrassed. Embarrassed about who you were. About who you loved. It’s a bit ridiculous, how whenever one of your parents bring him up, you immediately raise your defences, walls coming up so high you can’t even see over the green field of life that awaits you on the other side. 

“Mom,” You wince when your voice comes out a bit too harsh. “Sorry. Mom, I’m fine. We’re… nothing. I’m here because… because a pipe burst in my apartment and he was kind enough to let me stay at his place.” 

“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry sweetie, I didn’t mean to– I mean, I’m glad you have someone to help you out when we’re so far away.”

“I wish you guys were here,” You whisper, slowly getting up to move to the living room. You immediately sit down in the armchair, grabbing your blanket and covering yourself. If you couldn’t hug your mom, this would have to do. “You’d love him.” 

“Yeah? Is he handsome?”

“So handsome,” You giggle, and it’s an instinct, looking to the side table in search of that familiar frame of Spence and his team at a fancy dinner. You love his smile when he’s happy, so wide and taut that it almost looks like he has too much emotion in proportion to his body. “And he’s so kind, mom. He’s kind, and gentle, and oh so smart. A genius, really.”

“Of course he has to be a genius to keep up with you and the hundreds of books you read in a year,” Her reply is comical when you think about it. The idea of Spencer having trouble keeping up with you, and not the other way around, makes you laugh. “So why do you sound so sad, if he’s such a great guy? He’s treating you good, right?”

“He treats me amazingly, it’s just that… we kissed last night.” 

“And it was bad?” Her teasing makes your shoulder relax enough until you are melting onto the chair. “That’s why you’re sad?”

“Mom! No!” Cringing, you hug the throw pillow closer. “It was great. Amazing, even! It’s just that it was our first kiss and then this morning he just… didn’t do it again.” 

“Oooohhh, I see what’s going on,” She chuckles. “You expected him to talk about this and he didn’t, did he?”

“How do you know?” 

“Because you dad was the same way–��

“Oh gross, no, no, no!” You refuse to fall onto this freudian trap. “I’m not dating my dad!” 

“Wait, so you guys are dating? Is this you telling me you have a boyfriend?!”

“No!” Groaning, you know you’re between a rock and a hard place. There is no escape anymore, and you have to come clean. “I don’t know! We kissed, but then he didn’t talk about it this morning and he just left like nothing happened, and and– and yesterday, he didn’t even say he likes me! I’m too old to be on this whole will-they-won’t-they thing, mom! I need verbal confirmation!” 

“Well, have you asked him? Or told him how you feel? Or tried to start a conversation?” 

Squinting at the phone, you huff, incredulous at her insinuation. Her correct insinuation. “Mother! Whose side are you on?”

“Always yours,” Your mother laughs. “Which is why I’m saying talk to him. If he won’t start the conversation, do it yourself. I raised an independent young woman, and this is the perfect time to prove it.” 

You wait a second before sighing. “I’m scared.”

“Of what, sweetie?” 

“Of everything. Of what happened before. Of it happening again.”

“Y/N,” Your mother say and suddenly you think you’re about to get scolded through the phone. “You can’t be afraid of your future because of one mistake you made in the past, sweetheart. I– I’m sorry we didn’t notice. I’m your mother, I should’ve noticed, I should’ve said something, and I’m never going to make that mistake ever again. So I’m saying something now. You haven’t sounded this excited about pretty much anything in a while. You… You sound like how you used to be. But better.” 

“Mom,” There is no one to witness the way your lower lip trembles at her words. Back then, you thought you were doing a good job keeping your parents safe from it all– you thought you were good at hiding the tiredness with makeup and the miserable tone of your voice with sweet high pitched laughter. None of your parents ever talked about what was happening, either. They didn’t ask questions like how your mom does now; they didn’t see past the beautiful necklaces, the pretty dresses, and the important parties. They were blinded, much like you were, with the fake promises of a happiness that never came. And now here you are, scared out of your mind to jump into this again, and yet, everything fades away when your mom guarantees you she’ll never let this happen again. As grown as you are, nothing reassures you more than your mom– your biggest fan and your biggest protector. 

“I’m scared too,” She whispers, like she’s telling you her biggest secret. “I’m scared my baby will hurt again and I won’t be there to help. I’m scared I’ll never be able to visit. I’m scared about a lot of things when it comes to you, sweetie. But I prefer to focus on the silver linings.”

Ah. So that’s where you get if from. “And what are the silver linings here?” 

“You being you,” It’s as simple as that for her. “And that’s all I really want.” 

For about an hour, you two stay on the phone, chitchatting about the randomise things. It’s no secret that you miss New York– the bustle of people, the endless lights, the pollution and its grey hue in the air. God, you miss it a lot, but what you miss the most is the ease of everything. Moving around is quick, whatever you need you just need to turn the corner and a deli will surely have it, and, above all, whenever you want to see your mom and dad, all you have to do is take the express from the Upper east side down to Midtown and you’re there. You’re at the same small apartment you grew up in, the same brick walls, the same loud neighbours, hell, even your room still looked the same as you left it! But that’s not what you need right now, even though you would love to see your old room with such new eyes… what you need is that feeling of warmth spreading through your chest when it dawns on you that you are home.

“Mom, I have to go,” You finally say. “But let’s talk more often, okay? I miss you and dad a lot.” 

“We miss you too, sweetie. I love you.” 

“Love you too,” Hanging up the phone is harder than you expected it to be, but you don’t have a lot of time to suffer in silence. 

Spencer is a man who naturally avoids all forms of technology. He is not the biggest fan of computers and cellphones, and whenever he texts you or calls you, you feel like you’re winning in life. You’re the exception to his firm, firm rule. But for work purposes, he had explained, he had to be reachable at all hours, meaning Spencer has something you haven’t see in ages– a landline phone. When it starts ringing, that nostalgic loud, shriek of a ring that never fails to make you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack. 

Instinctually, you reach for it as if you are the one expecting a call. It would be so easy to just pick up the phone and say Dr. Reid’s residence, how may I help you? Yet, you don’t. You stop yourself just as the tips of your fingers touch the phone and you pull back. This is exactly what happened last time– a box for him and the consequences ending up being yours to face. Since then, you’d like to think you’ve grown smarter, and so you let it go to voicemail. 

“Hello, Dr. Reid, this is Nurse Kenny from Bennington Sanitarium. I’m calling about your mother.” 

Somehow, this still feels like facing the consequences for something you didn’t do. 

—————————————

 In your defence, you did try calling Penelope before panicking. You called her, you called Spencer, you even called the BAU hotline in a feverish desperation to reach your boy wonder. All the hurt from that morning, all the pain and the insecurities immediately fly out the window as soon as the nurse hangs up with a final call me when you can. 

“Fucking hell,” You push your way through the crowd trying to make out of the subway station, everyone rushing through the steps to finally be set free in the loud streets of Washington, and if it was any other day, you might have taken the time to enjoy it. The sun is high, the air is cold, and the smell of coffee reaches you almost instantly. 

But there is not time to be happy when all you can think about is Spencer– his face crumpling up in that way it does whenever it goes uncharacteristically serious, his brows furrowed in worry, his hands frozen in place like the rest of his body. It kills you being the deliverer of bad news. It’s something you have always tried to avoid, ever since you were a tiny little girl and you had to tell your friends that no, you didn’t like My Little Ponies and then later on that also no, you didn’t want to go to that party. The disappointment in their faces always makes you crumble, give in, give up, anything to see them smile again. 

This time around, you can’t do that. You can’t give up, or tell him something he wants to listen to instead. This has to do with his family, and you don’t know anything about his family– so you know they mean a lot to him. Oddly enough, it’s one of his little weird habits that you find the most endearing; for someone that talks a lot, when it comes to the people he loves, Spencer doesn’t talk at all. Maybe this is the price to pay to work at the BAU… when the most despicable and inhumane people in the world know his name, he has to do everything in his power to not let them find out any other. 

“Ma’am, where do you think you are going?!” The security guard approaching you is, to say the least, terrifying. You forget that you have to sign up, so uses to walking in with Officer Kaper and his badge, except this time around, you didn’t have time to call him. You did everything Spencer told you not to do, and he will lecture you on it later, you just know he will, though you don’t really care about it, as long as he talks to you after this, you don’t care about what words come out of his mouth. 

Because sure, it was an accident– listening to the nurse’s message was an accident– but you still did it. There is no hiding it, you did it and my god, you feel terrible about it. Feels like something akin to looking through his phone while he is in the shower, close to searching through his letters at home, similar to reading through the annotations in his books. This is private. It wasn’t enough to be living at his apartment? Sleeping in his bed, stealing his clothes? You also had to go ahead and listen to his private messages? “I’m here to see Dr. Spencer Reid,” You say, lower lip trembling at the thought of a possible confrontation with this man. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but it’s urgent, I need to see him, I need to talk to Spence, he’s not picking up his phone and–“

“Do you have a form of identification? You have to sign in,” When he takes a step closer, you immediately shrink back, shoulders hunching forward in a tense attempt to cover yourself from his eyes. 

“Of course, yes, I’ll… sign in, but can you– I’m so sorry, but can you call Penelope Garcia? She is the BAU’s tech analyst, I think. She has a lot of computers and–“

“Get in line.” 

It’s an order more than a request, and you consider telling him to fuck off. Your nerves are high and you feel a sense of urgency that you have only felt one time before in your entire life– and that was when you moved to D.C. The thing no one tells you about signing in into the FBI is that is practically impossible. People like to think that all you need is a government issued ID, and technically, they are right– there is nothing else you can provide them other than you driver’s license, but the hoops they have to go through to grant you access add another ten minutes or so onto the wait that is already killing you. 

Until the clerk says, “Here you go, ma’am,” And gives you your visitor’s pass like it’s nothing. 

Like it doesn’t hold the weight of the world for you then, as you shove it into that stupid guard’s face and runs to the far left end of the hallway. At this point, you’ve been at the building enough times to know how to get upstairs, but despite the faint familiarity of it all, you continue to feel displaced and singled out whenever those beige walls surround you. Your oversized cream sweater is like a beacon of light in such a dim office, but it serves its purpose to keep you warm against the powerful air conditioner in there. How Spencer gets anything done under those circumstances, you don’t know, but the shivers travelling up and down your arms are enough to keep you alert and on the look out for the most likely presence to see– your favourite bright pink, bleached blonde geek. 

“Excuse me, can I help you?” He’s wearing a suit, much like the ones Agent Hotchner wears and you have to hold back tears. It’s all very intimidating, knowing that at any point one of these people could find you suspicious and start asking you questions. 

“Uh, y-yeah, I guess you can,” Clearing your throat, your hand squeeze the shoulder of your bag tighter, and when his eyes move to look at the slight movement, you know he’s a part of the BAU. You know he’s reading you like Spence does. “I need to find Dr. Spencer Reid,” Saying his full name still feels odd to you. “Could you maybe tell me where he is?” 

“Oh? Reid?” This expression you know– surprise. “Are you his girlfriend or something?” 

“His girlfr– I uh– I mean, I–“ It takes a moment for you to realise that if you say no, then you have to explain to this stranger what you really are to Dr. Reid, and that is a can of worms you rather not open right now, so instead of being honest like you always try to be, you blush and nod. “I uh, yeah. I am.” 

“Oh wow!” His genuine shock to the news ticks you off a little. It’s not all that crazy that Spencer would have a girlfriend, considering his charming awkwardness and his bright, beautiful smile. “He never mentioned a girlfriend before, I didn’t–“

“Is he here or not?!” You kind of shriek, widening your eyes in hopes to make him pity you enough to move on with this a bit faster. 

“No, he isn’t. I think his team just left for the tarmac, they got a case in this morning and–“ 

His voice fades to the background easily, your anxiety peaking through with that annoying ringing in your ear. Spencer left to another state and didn’t call you. Logically, you know that his job and his feelings for you, however good or bad they might be, are not connected. Logically, it is easy to make that distinction. However, you are not a logical person all the time. You are not a genius like he is, and sometimes, you let your heart lead; you let your emotions take over like a tsunami inside of you, crashing and crashing and crashing, until you are nothing but a crumble of what you once was. 

You are ready, too. Ready to give up and delay the inevitable until the nurse can reach him directly, until you’re not the one having to panic, until he can deal with this personally. Consider it an addictive habit of a you of many moons ago, a Y/N who let things go to protect herself and avoid unnecessary confrontation. Confronting Josh was never the best option, so you had to come up with strategies. Plans, schemes, lies. You hate that you’ve become good at those, hate that all the work you’ve done to leave those behind is now at risk, but something deep inside of you can’t let this go. 

Something that you know very well is the need to make Spencer proud. The need to be there for him after all the times he was there for you. It’s your time to be the hero. 

“Call Hotchner.” 

There is a harshness in your voice that is very much planted there. The same goes for the twitch of your brows, the bite to the inside of your cheek, the averting gaze to the floor. It’s time to tell the story the profiler wants to read, and you double down when you let out an exasperated sigh, pushing your disheveled hair back. “I need you to call Hotchner and get Spencer back here right now.” 

You shouldn’t want to laugh with how he fumbles with his phone, quickly dealing the boss’ number, but all amusement is gone when he mumbles something about an Spencer’s girlfriend and passes the phone to you. “He wants to talk to you.” 

“Oh god… hello?” You say, voice wobbling a little. 

“Miss Y/L/N?” In the background, you can hear some chatter and nothing else. Are they in the jet already? Have you failed? “Is everything alright? Why are you in the office?”

“I am truly sorry, sir,” You gulp down, glancing at the man in a silent request for some privacy. “But I need to speak to Spencer. He is not answering his phone and it’s an emergency. Penelope wasn’t answering either, so I thought I could come find her, but SSA Greenberg asked me if I needed help and–“

“Is that why you told him you were Spencer’s girlfriend?” 

“Family emergency trumps everything,” You explain, the heavy weight of you guilt settling in. For some reason, you think you got Spencer in trouble. 

“Miss Y/L/N, is this about your case? We explained that we would have cases alongside–“

“Sir, it’s his mother. I don’t know the details, but there was a call and they asked him to call them back as soon as possible.” 

The eery silence that follows has you holding your breath. You are not sure how much his team knows about the intricacies of his personal life, but they surely know more than you do, considering the immediate rustle you hear on the other side of the line.

“We’ve just arrived at the tarmac. I’m sending send Reid and Garcia back to help us from there,” Agent Hotchner says, voice dripping with authority. “Wait for him there. Tell Officer Kaper he will be relived as soon as Reid arrives.” 

“Office Kaper is… not here.”

“…We will discuss this later. They should be arriving in twenty.” 

“Okay. Okay, good,” You breathe out loudly. “Thank you, sir.” 

Once the call ends, once you give SSA Greenberg his phone back and evade all the questions he has about you and Spencer, once you push down the wave of relief that almost makes you fall to the ground… you make your way to Penelope’s office. You need credentials to walk into her lair, it’s not as simple as just opening a door– she is the gatekeeper of all things confidential, and you know not all people are authorised to walk in. The fact that this is the same woman who has invited you over for wine night and got so drunk she couldn’t stop talking about the one time she walked in on Morgan showering is actually insane. The Penelope you know can’t keep a secret for her life, but then again, this is not Penelope’s office. This is Garcia’s lair, and you need to remember that these are fundamentally two different people. Just like Spence and Dr. Reid. JJ and Jennifer. Prentiss and Emily. All of them had managed a level of separation that seemed practically impossible to you, leaving work outside of their homes in a perfectly packed box by the door. It makes you wonder, though, if when he walks out the door to go to the office, he leaves you behind in a box inside. 

Compartmentalising is not something you did well. You tried, back when you first arrived in Washington, at the recommendation of your therapist, but you seemed to struggle more than normal. At your core, you believe in honesty, in transparency, and despite everything you’ve been through, you never gave up on yourself, on your core self, not the self you’ve created to appease Josh. Though you did forget about her, for a while. Distracted by your new life, you missed your old self like you miss old high school friends; remembering the good old times but still doing nothing to reach out. 

Just like you told your mom, you’re scared it will happen again. That you’ll lose yourself in the beautiful world of Spencer Reid and lose sight of what matters– yourself. You might have learned this way later in life than you should have, but a relationship is a two way road and now you know that. Now, you want to know that, you want Spencer to show you that. There is a kind of romance in how he leaves books for you to read next to the armchair, a certain indication that he knows what you like. A type of care in how he buys the shampoo and conditioner you mentioned you liked one time almost eight months ago. This is where you are trying to meet him at, ordering the rare books he’s so desperate after through your unique contacts. Making him breakfast before work. Unfolding the corners of his books. Even though you express yourself better with words than actions, you don’t miss the way his eyes sparkle a little extra whenever he sees his coffee mug filled up for him first thing in the morning or how he always pretends to be caught off guard when you bring him a surprise book from the store. Spencer can read you like he has been born to do so, and yet, he still played along. For you, he’d always play along. 

Which is why, when they found you sitting on the floor next to Garcia’s office, he plays along. “Are you more comfortable there than sitting on my desk?” 

His casual tone shocks you a little bit. Scrambling to your feet, you meet him and Penelope halfway. “Spence!” You gasp, hands stretching out to touch him, feel him, ground him, anything. You just need to make sure he is paying attention, the hands on his biceps squeezing it slightly. “Spence, you need to call your mom! Something happened, and I tried calling you guys but you weren’t picking up, so I came here to tell you that you need to call her, you–“

“Y/N,” Spence whispers in that way that makes your heart speeds up. His eyes are stuck to yours, shinning with something you’ve seen before, something you’ve seen last night. “Y/N, my mom is okay. Hotch told me to call her as soon as he sent us back, she’s okay, everything’s been handled. Are you okay? Sweetheart, you’re sweating…” 

Garcia’s gasp falls onto deaf ears as you and Spencer lose yourself in each other. “I was nervous,” You mumble, trying to pull away and dab at your forehead, but he’s on it. His hands catch you by the elbow and gently bring you closer into what slowly turns into a hug. “I’m so sorry, Spence, I didn’t mean to listen to the message, I swear I didn’t, I was just there and the machine–“

“I know,” He nods his head distractedly and gently wipes you clammy skin with the wrist of his sweater. “I know, Y/N, you don’t have to apologise. Thank you for coming all the way here to look for me just to tell me to call my mom. I truly appreciate it.”

“Of course I would,” There is something building between you two, a tension very familiar to you now that you’ve been watching it pile on for the past couple of weeks. 

For Penelope, though, it is certainly news. 

“OH MY GOD!” 

Snapped out of the trance of those honeyed eyes, you turn to look at your blonde friend with a pale complexion. “Pen, no–“ 

“OH MY GOD, YOU TWO BONED!” 

“What?! No! Absolutely not!” Spencer takes a step back from you like he’s suddenly troubled by thought of being that close to you, and you can’t really hide how your heart breaks a little at that. 

“Yeah… apparently absolutely not,” You repeat, coming back down to your harsh reality since the bubble burst.

“What– What just happened?” She utters, but you don’t really give her a chance to develop her line of thought, grabbing the access card from her hand and swiping it through the reader to unlock her door. “Wait, wait, what–“

“I’ll stay here with Pen,” You say without looking back at Spencer. Your job here is done and until Officer Kaper can come pick you up, you know they won’t let you leave the building. “I’ll call Mike for a ride, so don’t worry about me going back alone. I–“

“He’s not here?” Spencer asks, looking around with that adorable confused frown of his. “Wait, Y/N, did you come here by yourself?! Didn’t we talk about–“

“No Spencer, we didn’t! We didn’t talk about a lot of fucking things, and then you left off this morning like you didn’t want to talk about it and, and, and I was panicking, okay?! You didn’t pick up the phone and I’m a big enough girl to take the subway alone!” Your voice certainly raises enough to have people looking at you two, and your cheeks fire up in embarrassment. You are causing a scene at his workplace, and in your opinion, that is unacceptable. Gulping, you look down, tugging Penelope into her sacred space and closing the door behind you. “I’m sorry. That was out of line. I’m really sorry.” 

“Y/N, wait–“ But the door closes midway through his sentence and despite him having access to enter, he knows better than to press on a sore spot. 

The worst part is that you kind of want him to. And you hate that part of yourself that wants such a reactive behaviour from this peaceful man. Spencer does plenty to show you he cares, even if he does it in his own quiet, subtle way, and that is enough for you. Fuck, that should be enough for you. Yet somehow, nothing seems to shut up that voice in your head telling you that yes, he is enough… but you aren’t. In your overthinking mind, you know that you are too average for Spencer. You’d never be able to keep up with him, with his spectacular brain and his humble attitude. At best, all you offer him are books, some observations here and there, and a warm body to hug at night. At worst, you’re a burden to a man who already carries the entire world on his shoulder. 

“You two?!” Penelope’s dramatic gasp is enough to put a pause on your pity party. “Boy genius and you?!” Scoffing, you sit down on the chair she pulled for you. “I know… sounds ridiculous, right? I mean, the man is a genius and I’m… well-read at best.” 

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no, we’re not going there,” Barely does she know you’re already there, that you’ve been there this entire morning. “What happened? Last time we talked, it was a crush and nothing else! And now you and boy wonder are ‘sweetheart’ing each other and the forehead kiss was just so adorable and–“ 

“We kissed.” 

The way it comes out to her, unlike how it did with your mom, is a confession rather than a posing issue. It makes your heart race and your sad face lifts for a second, enough to let a giggle escape. This is what friends are for, and you are happy to be living through this again. 

“YOU WHAT?”

“Pen, don’t shout!” You whisper, looking at the door like it’s about to slam open at any second. “What if someone hears?” “Would that matter?” She laughed. “You basically told the biggest gossip in the FBI that you are Spencer’s girlfriend.” 

“Oh my god,” You groan. Slowly getting comfortable in your chair, you pull your legs up to your chest and let your head fall on your knee dramatically. “He’s going to hate me.” 

“Now why on Earth do you think that? I’m pretty sure Spencer has had wet dreams of you calling him your boyfriend.” 

“Penelope!” It’s suddenly way too hot in her office, your entire body flushing instead of just your cheeks. “You are wrong, by the way… He had a whole dinner planned, you know? He was turning his apartment into the perfect date when I got back home, and he was cooking and he looked so good, Pen, so, so, so good and we just– I mean, it just happened! And then…”

Penelope is holding onto your every word, perfectly painted lips biting on her fluffy pink pen. “And then…?” Her wiggly brows are a dead giveaway of where her dirty, dirty mind is going. 

“And then, just as we get to the room…” You repeat, leaning forward as if you’re about to tell her the biggest secret of your life, only to deflate right after. “He pulls away, kisses me on the forehead, and goes to sleep.” 

“No!”

“Oh yeah,” You sigh, body crumbling in a defeated lump of limbs. “And then this morning? Nothing. Nada. Not even a peck on the lips as a ‘good morning’.”

“Oh wow,” She says after a moment. You find some comfort in how she seems as wordless as you were early today. “Oh wow, that’s… wow. It’s impressive, but it’s not shocking. Still, it’s… wow.” 

“Not shocking?” You shriek. “It’s very shocking!” 

“Oh, sweet pumpkin,” There is so much comfort in the clicks and clacks of her heels when she gets up and comes to give you a hug. Admittedly, Penelope’s hugs are much like one of a mother; warm, caring, and all encompassing. It’s enough to heal wounds you didn’t even know you had, like she is searching your soul the same way she searches the web for evidence– with expertise. “I sometime forget you’ve never known little boy genius when he was, well, little. Our pretty boy over there is not… the best with people.” 

“That’s mean, Pen,” You sigh, frowning a little. He might not say much about his feelings, and sure, sometimes Spencer is quite reserved to his own mind in a way that makes you think he assumes people won’t really understand what’s going on up there, but never has Spencer made you feel uncomfortable or bad about yourself. Saying he is ‘not the best with people’ actually upset you because despite a couple of hiccups here and there, Spencer is great with you. He remembers everything you say you like or dislike, he cares about your opinions even though sometimes you feel like you’re just saying the obvious, he is gentle with his touches and hugs. “Spencer is amazing, he’s always so careful with everything and everyone, and he’s so kind, and gentle, and considerate. He’s just too in his head sometimes, but that’s okay! So am I, so is everyone, you know?”

“It’s so cute how you’re quick to jump to his defence,” She teased, shaking you a little by the shoulders. “I know he’s all of that, trust me. I would die for Spencer– no, that’s too easy. I would kill for Spencer, and I actually almost did once! And–“

“Wait, what?!”

“And what I’m trying to say is not that he is a bad person, but that he can get a bit awkward. Try to think from his perspective, Y/N, the kid went to college when he was 14. All those crazy life experiences we had in college, he didn’t. And then he joined the FBI, and time just… got away.” 

“Are you trying to tell me Spencer Reid is a virgin?” You gasp, mouth hung open in surprise, because from the little action you two had going last night, you would not have betted on that. 

“God, no… or at least I don’t think so, but what I am trying to tell you, my cute bookworm, is that his experience is… limited to a couple of people. Very different people. One of his exes was a famous actress kind of people. They did long distance every single time kind of people.” 

Little by little, the engines in your brain start turning, and things start making sense. “He never… had a proper relationship?” Somehow, this makes it feel like all that weight that is sitting on your chest, the pressure of figuring everything out by yourself, the racing thoughts that can’t leave you alone… it’s all gone. All easing up in a lighter mist of confusion and sadness. 

Her curls bounce around her face when she shakes her head. “Not that we’ve known. So just… god, please give him a chance. He’s a good egg, a perfect egg, even! Just a bit confused with his own brain and, and, and he’s probably wondering what’s the proper procedure from here on out! He’s probably confused and wondering what to do and– and he’s so happy, Y/N. This morning, he couldn’t stop smiling. He didn’t tell  

Morgan to shut up when he made sex jokes. He didn’t hog the coffee machine. It was like he was in his own little world and it was so cute to see him finally acting like the boy he should have been all along. I don’t want to see that go away.” 

Penelope Garcia has a tell that you are pretty sure she doesn’t know about. It usually peek through her desperate rambles that you love so much, squeezing her voice out of her until she’s barely speaking. You know she’s self-conscious about her rambles, the amount of times she has apologised to you enough proof of it, but when she starts feeling guilty, like she’s staying something she shouldn’t have been, Penelope’s voice dies down, to the point that her mouth is moving but no sound is coming out.  

“Pen…” 

“I know you like him,” The intensity of her eyes behind her glasses is enough to have you looking away. “I know you do, you like him so much that you broke your security protocol and ran to the FBI to tell him that he needed to call his mom. Please don’t give up on him.”

“I’m not,” You whisper back, shaking your head so fast your neck hurts a little. “Pen, I’m not giving up on him, I don’t think I ever could. I’m just… insecure. I understand Spence’s experience is unique to him, but mine is unique to me, and I think we’re both in the learning process. I just wish he would’ve talked to me, you know? Spencer kissed me like there was no tomorrow yesterday and this morning he didn’t even acknowledge it. What if he doesn’t want to do it anymore? What if he changed his mind? You know, his brain works too fast and he could’ve thought about all the future scenarios in which this goes wrong and–“

“You know, sometimes you two sound so much alike that it’s scary. I’ll tell you the same thing I told him, get your head out of your ass, it’s not a hat.” 

“Hey!”

“Your intrusive thoughts are shitty!” 

“That is a really weird way to put it–“

“What are you two talking about?” Turning to look at Spencer, you’re surprised to see him all packed up with his satchel hanging by his side. You deflate a little at how ready he is to leave, thinking he’s going back to the tarmac to meet up with the team wherever they are, but he beats you to the punch. “Y/N, ready to go home?” 

“Oh,” You scramble to get up, grabbing your bag and your visitor’s pass and then nodding. “Yeah, I guess. Are you coming with?”

“Yeah, I told Hotch I’d be working from home in case my mom’s nurse called again,” He gives you that tight-lipped smile you love so much and you kind of swoon. 

“Alright,” You give Penelope a hug goodbye and from then on, you find yourself in the longest stretch of silence you’ve ever been before. 

The tension is there, taut enough that you feel like your stomach is being pulled out of your body every time he sucks in a breath a bit too hard or opens his mouth just to close it again. Every time, you think he’s going to initiate the chat, and, every time, he doesn’t. It disappointment after disappointment, and by the time you two make it back to his place, yo can’t keep it in anymore. “Spence,” You call softly, letting him open the door the the building without rush and following him inside. As per usual, he’s quick to let you lead, gesturing politely for you to go up first. “Spence, we need to talk about last ni– Abigail, what are you doing here?”

You’re not even at the top of the stairs when you see her, all sweaters and ponytails standing by your door. “Oh, hi boss!” Her joke makes you cringe a little, but you smile nonetheless. You must’ve done something to alert Spencer of how uncomfortable you actually are, his hand sneaking to grab yours as he squeezes past you to stand one step above, body almost covering yours completely. “Oh. Hi.” 

Her tone change is obvious even to your layman ears, and you squeeze Spencer’s hand in nervousness. “Abigail, right?” He asks, a small smile playing on his lips as if he’s trying to be nice, though the squint in his eyes tells a whole other story. “Good to see you again. Did you move in okay?” 

“Yeah,” The way she moves her head to the side, trying to get a glimpse of you, has red flags raised all up in  your head. “All moved in and ready to start work on Monday!”

“I’m happy to hear you’re excited, Abigail!” You reply with a forced chuckle, climbing the extra step to stand side by side with Spence. Your hands are intertwined behind his back, his fingers playing with yours, and if it’s to keep you calm or himself, you don’t know. “I’m excited for you to start at the store, too. Is there anything you need, though? I know I said I’d send you a starter email and a draft of a schedule, but I just haven’t had the time today. I’ll work on it as soon as I can!”

“Oh, no, no, no hurry!” Once she can see you, it’s like her whole persona changes. She’s bubblier when she’s talking to you, shoulders less tense and voice less tense. “I was just coming here to bring you this. It got delivered to my apartment by accident, but it has your name on it.” 

From behind her back, she pulls a brown package. It’s small and thin, and it doesn’t seem so have any logo on it. “Y/N, are you expecting something?” Spencer whispers, eyes not leaving Abigail’s hand and for a second you let yourself panic enough to believe she’s carrying a bomb. It felt like she was carrying a bomb. Like it was going to blow up and your entire life, your entire re-construed life with Spencer by your side, and everything would soon come crumbling down. 

“N-No,” You stutter back and your body goes frigid cold when Abigail takes a step forward to you two, arms stretched out to give you the package. “Oh my god, no, no, no one knows I’m–“

Quickly grabbing the box, Spencer wastes no time in getting you inside the apartment. “Thank you so much for bringing this, Abigail, but we really have to get home. As promised, you’ll hear from Y/N soon on that starter email. Have a great rest of your day!”

“Wait, I wanted to talk to Y/N about–“ The loud slamming of the door drowns her words out. 

Before even looking your way, Spencer is on the phone. “Hotch,” He breathed out, eyes wide in that crazed way that you’ve only see once before, in your shop when he had his gun out. “She found Y/N.” 

You know you can’t call this an ending, not when you two never even had a begging…

“We have to relocate her.” 

But it surely feels like one. 

---------------------------------------

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