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geniusgub · 4 years

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north//chapter six

a new chapter in honor of me starting school tomorrow :( this is another filler chapter (but it’s important later on!!) and the plot picks up in the next chapter, I promise!

genre: fluff, angst

pairing: season nine spencer reid x female oc

warnings: none

word count: 5.9k

AMELIA

ONE MONTH LATER

Spencer is constantly talking about his job. He loves working for the BAU more than anything. The work he does is taxing but he loves helping people and he will continue to help, even if it means he spends hours upon hours working his ass off. Frankly, he spends more time working than he should but he does it because he loves it.

However, he often tells me that his office is a bit dull in the appearance department. He has told me about the piles of books that cover most of his desk and the two picture frames, containing a picture of him with his mom and then one with his godson. Besides those things, though, there is nothing else to bring him comfort when he is sitting down and finishing his mountain of paperwork. His dull desk echoes the dull colors in the bullpen. Maybe that's on him and his lack of design skills, but that doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t have any design influence from a third party. I want him to have something uplifting and positive when he sits at his desk, and I decided that I would make this happen. I’m sure Spencer doesn’t pay much attention to the sad colors of his desk when he’s working, but that doesn’t mean it won’t weigh on my mind until I know I’ve done something to brighten his desk.

I devise a plan after a date night when Spencer tells me about how boring it is to sit at his desk for hours and do paperwork. So when Spencer tells me the team is on the last day of the case they're working on, I throw on my boots and head to Quantico.

The building is incredibly intimidating at first because the building is humungous and, of course, I've never been here before and I have no clue where I’m supposed to go. But I park my car and grab my backpack, and I'm only wandering around the parking lot for a few minutes before I finally find the entrance. I’ve never felt more out of place in my jeans and white blouse in the sea of pantsuits, but I ignore that and walk up to the receptionist, signing in to get a visitor pass.

"Here to visit someone?" The receptionist smiles at me, and I sneak a look at her nametag that says her name is Jeannie.

"Yeah," I say as I scribble down my name. "Well, kinda," Jeannie hands me the visitor pass and points to the top of her shirt to tell me to clip mine to the neckline of my blouse. "My boyfriend is coming home from a case today so I wanted to leave him something to cheer him up."

"That's really sweet of you. He's a lucky guy," Jeannie smiles at me. "I'll see you on your way out."

I give her another smile before heading over to the elevator, and thankfully I get in alone because I'd be far too intimidated if I was in an elevator with real FBI agents. Okay, yes, I'm dating an FBI agent, but Spencer is really just a teddy bear and he doesn’t even wear suits to work. He doesn’t even leave his gun in his holster when he’s with me and he doesn’t parade it around and internalize the power a gun usually provides someone. It’s not like I’ve never seen or even held a gun before, but it’s refreshing that he doesn’t flaunt his gun.

I step out on the sixth floor and come face to face with the bullpen that I've heard so much about. I dodge a few scurrying people and pull open the glass doors and quickly realize that I have no idea where Spencer's desk is. It didn’t cross my mind until now that the bullpen would have more than just one desk. So I stare out over the banister for a moment before locating the pile of books I've heard about. I hurry down the small set of stairs and pass a few confused agents who can tell I clearly don't belong here. But, once more, I ignore their stares and walk over to Spencer's desk, and to my expectations, it's exactly how he described it- dull.

I reach into my backpack and pull out a picture frame, setting it beside his computer. I debated on leaving a picture of me because I know talking to me brings him comfort after a hard case so maybe seeing a picture of me might help too. But I know he hasn't told his coworkers about us yet and I don't want to put anything on his desk to make him uncomfortable. So instead of leaving just a picture of me, I made him a small piece of art with my signature on the bottom corner. He seemed to really like the small amount of art I’ve shown him so I figured that a piece of my art would be a viable replacement for a photo of me.

The next thing I leave one Spencer’s desk is a small tin filled with the last of the Christmas cookies we made together, tucking it right under his computer. I've realized that he sometimes goes without eating, especially during his long workdays, so having a snack readily available is a good idea. Then I grab a post-it from the top drawer and a sharpie, scribbling a message that reads pinky promise with a heart next to it and sticking it to the bottom of his computer. It's out of immediate sight of any prying eyes, and even though Spencer has probably never used this computer before, it’s right beside his books that I’m sure he uses every day. A post-it note from me isn’t much, but I hope it is enough.

"Who are you?" I hear a voice behind me as I'm flattening a note-so-sticky corner of the post-it onto the computer.

I whip myself around, expecting to see literally anyone other than the person I find. I'm expecting to see a woman in a pantsuit with her arms crossed and her brows furrowed, ready to scold an out-of-place 25 year old for being in a government building unsupervised. But I come face to face with a woman who has blonde hair brighter than mine, a headband with two pink puff balls on them, an outfit filled with bright colors and contrasting patterns, and heels higher than anything my ankles could handle. She's holding an octopus mug, and I can smell the lavender tea from here, and she's not wearing an ID badge like all the pantsuit-wearers are. She doesn’t even look like she’s about to scold me for creeping around a federal agent’s desk, but rather, she looks curious.

"I'm Amelia," I give her the sweetest smile I can conjure up.

The woman squints her eyes suspiciously, and tilts her head to look behind me. "And why are you going through Boy Wonder's desk?" I laugh at the nickname and tuck it into the back of my brain for later use. "You only have a visitor badge on and I've never seen you before and I've never heard your name."

"I wasn't going through his desk," I say, stepping aside and gesture to the tin of cookies, but don’t bring attention to the two other things I have left. "I was just leaving him something for when he gets back from the case to cheer him up, that's all.”

"Hmm, that’s really sweet actually," she hums, inspecting the desk once more. But then she shrugs her shoulders and takes a step closer to me, jutting her hand outwards. "Well, I'm Penelope Garcia, technical analyst for the BAU.”

"Oh," I shake her hand with a growing smile, "I've heard a lot about you."

Penelope's eyes widen, hand clutching mine in the mid-air, no longer shaking. "Spencer? He’s told you about me?"

"He's told me about the whole team, actually!”

"Wait, wait," she abruptly puts down her cup of tea on Spencer’s desk and holds her hands out in front of her, her eyes somehow getting even wider, "I don't need to be a profiler to fit the pieces together. You're here and bringing Reid things for his desk to cheer him up, which, again, is so super sweet. And you're bringing him Christmas cookies and he was watching The Polar Express on Christmas and he never watches movies like that. And he's been wildly happy the last few months and oh my god, you guys are totally dating! You're totally Spencer's girlfriend!" Penelope doesn't even wait for my answer before throwing her arms around my shoulders and pulling me into an embrace. "I'm a hugger and I hope you're a hugger."

"I'm a hugger, don't worry.”

Penelope pulls away from our hug and then gasps, grabbing onto my cheeks with a grip that might be a little too tight. "Your hair! The braids! It's beautiful! I could never do braids like this! I'm so jealous!"

"It takes a lot of practice. I could braid your hair for you, if you want," I offer. "I don't have anywhere to be until Spencer gets back."

"Ooh, I smell a date night!" Penelope bounces up and down on her toes, grabbing onto my hands and starting to tug me out of the bullpen. "That's adorable and I'm taking you up on your offer. Let's go, I'm taking you into my lair. I've got music and snacks and lots of fun things and it'll be awesome."

Penelope leads me back out the glass doors and down the hall, through a gray door and into a room filled with stuffed animals and many computers. It doesn’t look like anything anyone would expect to see in an FBI agent’s office, but I’m gathering that Penelope is a different type of agent than the too-serious pantsuit-wearers

"I've got some hair ties here," Penelope pulls open a random desk drawer and pulls out a bin of different sized hair ties. Then she twists around and opens a bigger drawer, revealing a whole hoard of snacks. I can’t help but laugh as I reach in and pull out a bag of chips. "I'm usually in here for hours upon hours so it's imperative that I have good snacks," Penelope says, spinning around in her chair to put her back to me. "Okay, Miss Amelia, make me beautiful with your magical braiding fingers!"

"You're already beautiful, Miss Garcia," I quip, running my fingers through her hair to get out the few knots she has in her perfectly curled hair.

"You flatter me, Miss-I-Don't-Know-Your-Last-Name. I should do a background check on you," Garcia suddenly says and then starts typing on her computer. "I do it for everyone's boyfriend or girlfriend on the team, don't worry. It’s my own mandatory procedure to protect my bestest friends and make sure nothing hinky is going on with their significant others."

It becomes hard to breathe for a moment as I struggle to swallow the lump that forms in my throat. I nod slowly as a way to calm myself down, chewing on my bottom lip as my chest starts to tighten. "My, um,” I gulp one more time but the lump doesn’t slide down my throat, “my last name is Stark."

"Even your name is perfect, it’s so unfair. Amelia Stark. Sounds like a stage name," Penelope quips, typing my name into some fancy FBI search engine. Some pages pop up when she types in my name, and the first thing on the screen is my website, filled with pictures of my artwork from through the years. "You're an artist! I could tell that from your tattoos, which I love, by the way. I love your artwork. If I could afford any of your work, I would totally get it because everything is so beautiful."

"Oh, thanks," I laugh as a way to distract myself from the following files on her computer, and I try to still my trembling fingers by slowing down my braiding, making sure each braid is tight and not bumpy and beautiful looking.

Penelope exits my website and starts looking at a new file. "You're a-" she is abruptly cut off, thankfully, by a high pitched beeping sound, "oh! That's the team! They wanna video chat from the jet!"

The trembling in my hands only worsens at this. My hands still and my eyes widen. "You're the only one who knows about me and Spencer and I think he wanted to keep it a secret for a little while longer.”

"They can't see your face from where your standing. Just keep standing where you are. And keep braiding!” Penelope instructs me quickly then answers the video chat. I keep my hands braiding as I watch the faces of the members of the BAU pop up. I observe all the team members and their positions on the jet. There’s a blonde woman who, by process of elimination of the blondes I have been told about, I conclude is JJ, the mother of Spencer’s godson. A brunette is beside JJ and I recognize her as Alex Blake. Derek Morgan is behind them, deep in conversation with someone whose face is blocked by the headrest of a seat. "How are my favorite crime fighters? How can I be of service on your trip home?"

"Garcia," a hard-faced man says, and I catch sight of Spencer beside him. I watch as he squints his eyes and leans closer to the screen and I wonder if he recognizes me from just a shot of my chin to my hips. Well, he must recognize me because my tattoos are perfectly displayed and he obviously knows what they look like. "We're an hour away from Quantico but when we get back can you make sure to have Anderson put that box of case files in my office?"

"Of course, Sir," Garcia answers and types something on her computer. "Is that all?" She's giggling through her words, letting her head get pulled and tugged when I include new hair in the braid.

Hotch squints at the camera the same way Spencer did, leaning closer to the screen. "Garcia, who is that with you? She's got a visitor pass."

"Just my friend, Hotch!" Garcia answers far too quickly for it to be a truth, and it actually makes me choke out a laugh. "She's just braiding my hair because she has magical fingers!"

Hotch doesn't look too convinced but sits back in his seat and looks at whatever is in his hand. "I need you to run a background check on someone for me."

"My technologically magical fingers are ready. I’m not the only one with magical fingers," Garcia, thankfully, exits out of my background check and begins a new one. I have to hold back a sigh of relief as the lingering fear in my body seems to dissipate, but my fingers don’t stop shaking and my heartbeat doesn’t slow down. Hotch gives Penelope a name and she starts typing, then starts rambling off all these gross things this guy has done. I scrunch up my nose and try to ignore what she's saying. "Are you still coming home or did you get another case?"

"We're still coming home," Blake answers.

"This is for a consult which is why it's important that Anderson get those case files into my office," Hotch gives her a pointed look and a nod of his head before returning his attention to the file in his hands.

"Of course. I just emailed him." Garcia says.

"Hey," JJ speaks up and becomes the third team member to move closer to the screen, "none of us know your name or who you are but I really like your shirt!"

It takes me a moment to recognize that she is talking to me and not Penelope. "Oh, thanks!”

"Does anyone need anything else?" Garcia asks the team. "No? Awesome, I will see all your lovely faces when you get back. Are we going out for drinks?"

"I'm game for drinks," Morgan shouts.

"Me too," Blake grins, turning around to high five Morgan.

"I actually can't," Spencer speaks up, and, I swear, Penelope almost bursts from excitement. "I have plans. Sorry guys, maybe next week."

"Pretty boy's got plans?" Morgan teases, leaning over the chair to ruffle Spencer's hair. Spencer grimaces and fixes his hair, swatting Morgan’s hand away when he tries to mess it up again. His pouty face makes me smile and I lift my chin out of the frame to shield my smitten smile from the team of expert profilers.

"Yeah, I do," Spencer responds, trying to return his attention to the book in his hand, but Penelope knows that Spencer and I are supposed to have a ‘date night’ tonight so she takes this golden opportunity to tease.

"And what are these majestic plans, Doctor?" Penelope grins and she hands me a hair tie when I gesture that I need one.

Spencer glances up at the camera and then back at his book, concealing a smirk. "Don't worry about it."

The team oohs and ahhs, knowing Spencer is hiding something, and it warms my heart to see him interacting with his best friends. Even though they're teasing him, he's grinning and he’s blushing and he looks so gorgeous. I haven’t really gotten the pleasure of seeing him react with someone other than me so seeing it now makes me fall even harder for him.

"I have no clue what's going on here," Hotch says, silencing everyone, "but make sure you get that stuff done."

"Will do, Sir," Penelope salutes to her boss.

"And track Reid's credit card so we know where he goes tonight," Hotch smirks, and the last thing I hear before the video ends is Spencer groaning.

"We love Spencer," Penelope sighs dramatically, wiggling in her chair as I finish up with her braids. "We tease him but we love him so much."

"I can tell you guys do," I tie off the end of the braid and pin it in place, admiring my work. "There, done."

Penelope materializes a hand mirror and gasps when she sees her hair, turning her head to see every angle she can. "This is amazing! How'd you get so good at this?"

I wring my hands together as I pull away already reaching for the backpack that I had placed on another desk, and the strap slides out of my shaky fingers at first. "Um, a lot of practice. I used to braids my sister’s hair all the time when I lived at home. And honestly, Penelope, I should run before the team gets back."

"You definitely should," she jumps out of her chair and pulls me into another hug. "Thank you so much for doing my hair. And thank you for making Spencer so happy. It sounds cheesy but he really has been a million times happier, it's like he carries the sunshine with him and I guess that sunshine is you." I choke on an answer to her compliment but she doesn’t give me any time to come up with an appropriate response to her. "Can I at least have your number before you go? You know, just in case. And in case I'm having a super rare bad hair day and I need to stop at your house before work."

I hastily pull my phone out of my pocket and hand it over to her. "Yeah, of course," Penelope puts her number into my contacts and sends herself a text before handing it back to me. "It was really lovely to meet you, even if it was by accident."

"And it was wonderful to meet you. If anyone's dating our resident genius then I'm glad it's you. I have to say, I didn’t picture Spencer with someone who has tattoos and piercings but I really, really like you. I’m glad you’re dating him," Penelope leads me out of her office and over to the elevator, pressing the down button for me.

"I think that was a compliment so I'm just gonna say thank you,” the elevator rises too slow for my liking, and I find myself starting to shuffle back and forth on my feet and tug on my shaking fingers. “Hey, could you just make sure Spencer stops by his desk before he leaves? I would really appreciate that.”

“Can do,” she salutes to me the same way she did to Hotch as I step through the elevator doors before they are all the way open. “I can’t wait to see you soon. Have fun on your date night!”

///

SPENCER

///

Everyone is chatting on the elevator ride up but I’m silent, my hand shoved in my pocket, waiting for my phone to buzz with a text from Amelia. I expected some sort of text from her, especially after she saw me on the video call with Penelope. But I didn’t get any texts or calls from her so I just assume she is busy and I can ask her about her secret trip to the BAU when I see her later.

"So you're really not coming tonight?" Alex asks as we leave the elevator.

"No, I'm not. I really do have plans," I repeat, getting unconvinced looks from the whole team. Morgan holds the door for everyone as we step in and head to our desks, either loading or unloading our bags. I take a step towards my desk but before I can get more than a foot closer to it, Garcia comes barreling through the opened doors just before Morgan closes them.

“Hello, lovely friends!” She exclaims, somehow speaking louder than her normal excited voice. “I’m so glad you’re back, all safe and sound.”

Morgan chuckles, throwing his arm around her shoulders. “You-”

“Reid,” Penelope completely cuts off Morgan, and everyone’s eyes dart between me and her, “You should totally go to your desk before you leave. Okay, see you guys later.” With those rushed and frantic words, she turns on her heels and bolts back out of the glass doors.

“Well then,” JJ laughs, becoming the first to break away from the group and head to her desk, “that was weird, even by Penelope’s standards.”

Completely and utterly confused, I turn and walk towards my desk. My feet still on the carpet before I even get to my desk, though, because I first notice that my chair is out of place. It's pulled out a little bit- I always make sure to push it all the way in before I leave- and when I go to push it back under the desk, I find Garcia's lipstick-stained mug. When my eyes get drawn away from the mug, I find a new picture frame beside my computer with a piece of artwork that I quickly recognize to be Amelia’s. A huge grin comes to my face. So this is what Amelia was doing here.

With the stupidest of smiles on my face, I inspect the rest of my desk, hoping to find another surprise from my goddess of a girlfriend. And, to my elation, I find a familiar tin under my computer, and when I pull off the top to see what is inside, I discover the rest of our Christmas cookies. And when I turn the top of the tin over, I find a post-it note in Amelia's handwriting.

for when you forget to eat during cases -A.S

Her calligraphic handwriting is so beautiful. My heart is pounding and I swear I could cry as I put the top back on, wanting to preserve the freshness of the cookies for as long as I can, and set the tin back where Amelia had intended it to be. I grab Garcia's mug and I'm about to turn to return it to her when I catch sight of the other post-it stuck to my computer.

"What's that?" JJ is suddenly at my side, making me jump. "Pinky promise? What does that mean?"

My stupid smile has never been bigger. There’s no suppressing my joy now. "Not important. Have a good night. See you tomorrow."

I head past her and out the glass door, walking quickly to Garcia's door and knocking, barely waiting for an answer before entering. She's spinning around in her chair when I enter, squealing when she sees me. "Come give me a hug, you!" She jumps up and throws her arms around my shoulders, completely ignoring her mug, and my aversion to touch, but I don’t care at this moment. "I absolutely love her. She's sweet and she clearly cares about you if she came here to bring you cookies and leave you cute messages to make you happy after cases. Plus she braided my hair! Look!" Garcia pulls away and points to her head, showing me a braided hairstyle that I have seen Amelia wear many times. Most notably, our sixth coffee date. "I’m kind of already in love with her so it’s understandable that you are too!"

Penelope’s choice of such strong words jolts me back to reality, but I don’t have it in me to correct her. Correcting her use of the word love feels wrong. "Well, I'm glad you like her," I hand Garcia's mug back to her and she hurries to add it back to her collection of stuffed animals and knick-knacks. "And if you could just-"

"Keep it a secret? You got it! I'll zip my lips and I'll throw away the key. Your super juicy and cute and adorable and loving secret is safe in the lair with me," Garcia grins. "Now get out, for real. I heard from your blonde beauty that it’s date night tonight. Don’t be late! Get going!"

"Yeah, I'm going. Thank you, Garcia, it means a lot that you'd do this for us.”

"Anything to see you happy," she smiles as I hurry out of her lair, almost sprinting, not even bothering to use the elevator and opting for the stairs instead.

///

I knock on Amelia's door, not even bothering to stop at home before going to her apartment. Something clatters inside her apartment and then some sort of muffled shouting and within another second, the door creeps open. I quickly scoop Amelia into my arms and spin her around in a hug, in maybe the most enthusiastic embrace we’ve shared. She latches onto me immediately, pulling her legs up to wrap around my waist, her head tucked into my neck. I feel her blow a puff out of her nose in a sad excuse for a laugh.

"You're absolutely remarkable," I compliment, twirling her around once more before attempting to set her back down on the floor. But Amelia doesn’t move at all. She just fists the back of my cardigan and holds me closer. I don’t mind this new embrace, though, so I tighten my grip around her waist too. "I saw you on the video chat and I thought it was you from that white shirt you were wearing, and then I heard your voice and I knew right away. And, of course, because of your tattoos."

"Just wanted to do something nice for you," her voice has never sounded so weak. She sounds wildly exhausted, even more than she does in the mornings, and the way her nails start to dig into my skin through my cardigan and shirt heightens my senses. “You deserve something nice.”

My eyebrows furrow at Amelia’s quiet voice. I hate this. I hate the darkness that she is radiating. It’s wrong of me to always expect her to be grinning and extroverted and bouncing off the walls like she always seems to be. Everyone has off days, but I have yet to experience an Amelia-off-day. I hate it. I place my hands on her waist and try to pull her away from my body so I can see her face. “What's wrong? You sound upset.”

"Nothing's wrong," she answers far too quickly for it to be the truth. Amelia’s movements are in slow motion as she untangles herself from my hold, placing her feet flat on the ground. When she’s no longer wrapped in my arms, she immediately turns her back to me and tries to walk off. I follow after her as quickly as I can, catching her hand in mine so she can’t go any further. “I’m fine, Spence.”

"Amelia, do I need to remind you of my job? You can tell me if something's wrong," I tug her closer to me, dropping her hand and grasping her waist instead. I feel her breathing speed up under my fingertips.

"Nothing's wrong. I'm just tired, babe,” Amelia gives me a weak smile, one that doesn’t even reach her eyes. I’ve never seen her irises look so gray before.

"Do you want me to go home? I can let you get to sleep early-”

"No, no, please don't leave. I wanna hear about your case and your day and whatever else you wanna talk about,” she grabs onto my hand and pulls me to the couch. The couch is covered by the duvet from her bed as well as a mountain of pillows, and I have to laugh when she sits down and nearly disappears into the fluffy pillows. I pull back the blanket and sit beside her. Before I’m even fully sitting down, Amelia scoots closer and lays almost entirely on top of me, burying her face in my neck again. Her actions are incredibly concerning because while she has always been touchy and cuddly, this is on a whole new level of clingy. Not that I have anything wrong with cuddling and clinginess, but this Amelia is so different from the girl who usually opens the door.

"Okay well, the case wasn't good, by any means," I make quick work of toeing off my shoes, trying not to move too much and disturb Amelia, "but it was very, what's the word, satisfying to catch the unsub because he was just horrible."

"Aren't they all?" Amelia scoffs. "Do you ever not catch them?"

"If the case goes cold and the killer stops, then yeah, sometimes. That's when I feel the worst because then I feel like I can't get justice for the families and friends of those who were killed. I can't show them who killed their loved ones and they have to live in constant uncertainty. They'll just live their lives not knowing."

"That would feel so horrible.”

I’ve made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t profile Amelia and she has made it clear, in a lighthearted way, that she doesn’t want me to profile her. But in moments like these when something is clearly wrong and I want to help my girlfriend, I wish that I could use my skills to untangle the situation. Her body language and the inflection of every syllable that falls from her mouth and her microexpressions give away so much but I force myself to turn the other cheek and not pay any mind to them.

"I don’t really wanna talk about sad things today," it’s true, I don’t want to talk about one of the worst parts of my job but averting the conversation is to avoid adding more sadness into the atmosphere. Amelia clearly doesn’t need any more sadness. “Why don’t you tell me about your surprise trip to the BAU?”

"Got lost a little bit. The building is bigger than I thought it would be," Amelia gives me the first genuine smile of the night. "But it's really nice and I can see why you love it so much. And Penelope is wonderful."

"A part of me knew that you two would get along. You have similar energies, as both of you would say. I don’t understand the whole energy thing but whatever.” It’s my attempt at lighthearted conversation and it’s my attempt to make Amelia smile and then go on a rant about what it means to have a specific energy. But there’s no lightening of the conversation. She buries her head even further into my neck.

"Penelope is great, yeah. And, uh," her voice trails off, as it always does when she's about to say something that makes her nervous, "she told me she does a background check on everyone's boyfriend or girlfriend."

"Oh, yeah, that,” I laugh, rolling my eyes with a level of nonchalance that doesn’t fit the current energy of the room, “She says that to everyone but I don't think she actually does. I've never seen any proof. I never saw any proof for Savannah. She’s Morgan’s girlfriend," there’s a silence that follows my explanation and it doesn’t ease the tension that seems to suffocate me as the minutes fly by. I feel Amelia’s head bob up and down in a nod but no words come after. It takes me far too long to connect the dots. "Is that why you’re so-” I stop myself before I label her attitude in a way that might upset her further. I restart my thought. “Is the background check making you nervous? It’s kind of a joke. It’s nothing serious.”

"No," again, she answers way too fast for it to be the truth. "Well, I guess. I just- it's like when you're driving and there's a police car driving behind you, you know?" She overcompensates for her lies by talking way too much. "You know you're doing nothing wrong but you still get nervous. I mean, I feel like anyone would get nervous if they were told someone was doing a background check on them."

"Yeah, sure,” I nod my head despite having no clue what she means and suddenly not believing a word that falls out of her mouth.

The air, once again, falls dead. The suffocating feeling grows and I feel the need to flee. I need to get up and move around and escape how uncomfortable I am. It’s a horrible instinct, the worst I could have, but it builds in my chest and squeezes my lungs flat. Why am I feeling this way? Why do I so desperately need to leave Amelia when she is so clingy yet off-putting? Even if she isn’t opening up to me, she clearly needs me and I shouldn’t abandon her. She has never abandoned me on bad days. She makes every effort to comfort me and help to lift me out of my funk? I need to do the same thing for her. So why is it so hard?

“Hey,” I finally muster up enough confidence to speak even though my voice refuses to raise over a whisper, “do you want me to make something for dinner? I know you’re the better cook out of the two of us but-” I stop talking when I look down at Amelia. She’s fast asleep, her cheek smushed against my shoulder and her lips parted. It’s the most peaceful she has looked all night.

My head falls onto the back of the couch, eyelids fluttering closed. I wait for the thick air to travel out the windows now that Amelia is asleep, but it never does. It wraps me in its embrace in the same way that Amelia does. The tension pounds against my body when my intrusive thoughts start to swirl around in my head. It’s the most unpleasant of feelings but no matter how hard I try, they won’t go away. The walls start to cave in and I know that trying to hold them back is useless. So instead, I just succumb to the pressure and disappear into the pillows.

TAGLIST

@babybobbybones @blameitonthenight21 @thematthewgraygube @anepiphany @goldenalvez @reidscardigan @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @stxrryspencer @rxseinbloom @penelopecultinsp (your regular tag isn’t working, did u change your handle?) @whollytaciturn @thegingerfairchild @matthewreid @shrimpyblog @garcias-batcave @anamelessfacelessnerd @gublergirls @wonderlandhatter @matthewgublerswife

#nikos north fic #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #gublernation

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isobel-thorm · 4 years

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... 𝓕𝓸𝓻 𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓼𝓮 𝓸𝓻 𝓕𝓸𝓻 𝓑𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻

Grant and Matthew head to John’s house for Nic’s Valentine’s Party, and to share their big news. Considering their dating history, they’re less than sure it’ll go smootly. Grant Lyons/Matthew Rook, John Seed/Nic Raylan

| Pt 1 by @amistrio | Pt 2:

Grant Lyons stared at the double doors of John’s ranch. He and Matthew Rook had rang the doorbell nearly five minutes before, and considering it was mid-February in goddamn Montana, they were close to freezing due to the delay. And the elephant in the room - er, entryway, was getting heavier and heavier. It wasn’t bad, it wasn’t a secret, he just wanted to let his best friend know that he was going to be a married man soon, and for once, the excitement was killing him. He sighed and knocked on the door again. “I know it’s Valentine’s, but y’all better not be fuckin’ in there considering you two are the ones that planned this party and decided on this time!” he called.

Matt glanced over at Grant. “... Considering we’re about a third of the police force altogether, if one of us gets murdered tonight do you think Whitehorse is gonna send someone to investigate?”

“No one’s gonna get murdered.”

“Are you sure? Because John-”

“Is a relatively stable individual-”

“Who’s about to have his current girlfriend and her best friend, who’s his ex, who’s dating his other ex, who just got engaged to said ex literally….” he checked his watch. “six hours ago, all under the same roof,” Matthew cut him off. “Hope County is too damn small.”

“I think that’s the hunger talking.”

“And the cold. And the excitement. But seriously, it’s too damn small. Everybody knows everybody. Who thought living like that would be okay?”

“Hey, you chose to stay here when Earl offered you a permanent spot.”

“I was motivated,” Matthew protested, though there was a teasing lit to his tone, and he grinned at Grant knowingly.

Grant paused, then smirked. “That’s really gay.”

“Yeah? Well…” Matthew leaned into him and Grant moved to meet him halfway - but naturally, that was right when the door opened.

Nicolette Raylan was on the other side, and she blanched upon seeing what she had interrupted. It didn’t last long. A moment later, a grin split her face. “Wow, that’s-”

“Grant already made the joke, don’t you dare,” Matthew cut her off before she could continue.

She didn’t miss a beat and immediately pulled him into a bear hug that he returned full force. She tossed an arm around Grant’s neck to pull him into it a moment later. “Hi! You guys are finally here! I missed you!”

“You saw us literally two days ago,” Grant pointed out.

“And I still missed you. Get in here.” She waved them inside, and they followed.

The great room was decked out in all pink, red and silver decor. There were streamers and balloons everywhere, there were streamers on the stuffed animal’s heads, the dining room table had a glitzed out runner with a bunch of plates on it, as did the coffee table, and the railing of the stairs leading to the hangar was wrapped in ribbon.

It had been the most ‘Nic’s influence’ thing they had ever seen in anything that belonged to John. Leave it to her to go all out when it was just going to be the four of them hanging out. Still, there was a strange charm to it all.

Nicolette didn’t let them take in the sight for long. She ushered them over to the dining room table where a bunch of food was laid out- different bread, cold cuts, heart-shaped baked goods that were decorated to the nines- Nic had clearly spared no expense in any of it. Grant took a sandwich and a couple of cookies, and Matt piled on every single dessert option onto his plate. When Grant offered him a skeptical smile, he shrugged. “What? We ate lunch already, and Nic worked hard on these, I’m partaking.”

“I meant save some for the rest of us, I mean damn,” Grant teased. He went for one of the brownies on Matthew’s plate.

Matthew stabbed his hand lightly with his fork in retaliation. “There are like twenty more, get your own!” he countered before he crossed back to the couch and sat down.

Grant did as Matthew requested then sat beside him.

Nicolette came back over to the pair of them. She gave Grant a glass of whiskey and a bottle of coke to Matthew, then sat in the chair adjacent to them.

“Where the Hell’s John?” Grant asked.

Nicolette checked her watch. “Should be back any minute. Had some legal trouble. Apparently, Larry’s threatening legal action against the Ryes because Carmina’s contrails are chemtrails and they’re trying to poison the county or something. He’s apparently trespassing on their property and trying to fiddle with the plane so John’s getting paperwork ready to keep him off the property and such. Kim told me everything.”

“Fucking Larry,” Matthew sighed, and the other two hummed in agreement.

They made small talk after that, catching up on cases, until the great room’s entryway doors opened up again.

John stepped through, and upon seeing the three of them smiling and laughing away. They all turned to look at him, and Grant and Matthew offered a quick wave and a “hi!” He looked back and forth between all of them, then sighed. “This… this is my nightmare. I’ve literally dreamt about this.” When Nicolette popped up from the couch to kiss him, he returned it, though still looked like he was in pain.

Grant scoffed. “Why? We’re all friends, it’s not like we’re killing each other. Or plotting to kill you.”

“Yeah, well, your dream selves aren’t that civil,” John fired back. He huffed and dropped onto the couch.

“Could be worse, could be comparing notes on how you are in bed,” Matthew pointed out.

“You guys could, we didn’t get that far,” Grant cut in.

Nicolette grinned behind her whiskey and coke. “And I already did that with Holly yesterday when we went to get coffee.”

“You what?!” John demanded.

Nicolette grinned. “All in good fun. She’s moved on, she’s with some Barry guy now. I mean, you are the most eligible bachelor in Hope County, you’ve dated what, half the people in the entire place from twenty-five to thirty-five?”

“You make it sound like there’s a support group for people who dated me,” John sighed.

“Well…” Matt shrugged, then looked at the gathered crowd pointedly.

John’s face fell, and Nicolette tutted and tucked her face into his neck. “You’re looking at it, you’re fine. It’s not like we’re much better.”

“Was I that bad?” John asked. When he was met by dead silence and the other three exchanging looks that were half apprehension, half conspiratorial, he scoffed. “Come on.”

Nicolette laughed. “We’re not doing this on Valentine’s Day,” Nicolette objected.

“Well, technically that only means you have to be nice,” Matthew clarified.

“And you started it, so fine, let’s hear it,” John countered.

Matthew sighed, realizing there was no way out of this, so he figured open the can of worms right quick, then weld it shut. He motioned at John. “You’re an overdramatic bitch. Nic can handle it because she’s also one.” He glanced her way, and then when she shrugged and nodded in agreement, he continued. “ I…could sort of deal with it, but had my own shit to deal with, and-”

Grant reached over and squeezed Matthew’s knee pointedly. “You’ve got a lot of stuff that can’t go unchecked and needs a lot of attention, some people aren’t up for that,” he cut him off. “I mean Hell, same with me. I have… a lot of shit to work through, so do you. There’s nothing wrong with that, but everybody deals differently. Hell, when we were a thing, same thing applied. I’ve had too much shit to work through to be there one hundred percent for you. There’s no shame in that, and it wouldn’t be fair to you to expect one hundred percent from me all the time,” he continued. “And then this one and that one came to town. Still had shit to deal with, but they deal better because there’s less to unpack, and they’ve got the personalities to take it head on. Listen, two majorly traumatic messes were doomed to fail. Put a less traumatized mess with each of them, you get this,” he motioned at himself and Matt, then at John and Nicolette. “Worked out just fine, didn’t it? Look at us now.”

John clenched his jaw but visibly considered the explanation, then Nic, the absolute hero that she was, lifted her glass to her mouth before firmly declaring, “Your mom’s a less traumatized mess.”

Thankfully that got a laugh from all of them and diffused whatever remaining tension there was. John, obviously the most bristled of the bunch, having realized that no, everybody’s grievances weren’t going to be aired and had been stuck into a relatively reasonable statement, turned to Nicolette with what had been said in mind. “I suppose it did.” When she squinted at him in return, he leaned forward to kiss her.

When it turned into two kisses, then three, then on, and what the other two thought was probably tongue getting involved, they simultaneously gagged overdramatically.

“Payback for earlier,” Nicolette countered between kisses.

“Oh, Hell no. We didn’t even make contact before. If anything, we need some payback. So,” he grabbed Grant, who had been snickering at the whole thing and yanked him forward into a kiss of their own - and maneuvered so he could toss his leg over Grant’s knees and scoot closer.

Matt was absolutely elated when Grant let out an exaggerated moan to boot to go along with it.

The other two finally broke apart.

“Oh, thank God, we were gonna have to ask you guys to get a room so we could have this party alone,” Matthew pointed out.

“It’s my house,” John protested. “Get your own damn room, you were further ahead than we were.”

“Yeah, where’s the fun in going as slow as you two? You don’t wanna drag the stuff out that much,” Matthew countered.

Nicolette laughed. “Oh, honey, it’s the other way around, do you really wanna ‘wham, bam thank you Man’ Grant after all he does for you?”

“I don’t have a single complaint, actually,” Grant cut in.

Matthew beamed, then flipped off Nicolette- and then stopped short when her answering grin dropped and her eyes went wide. Oh, right, the Elephant in the room.

Nicolette launched herself across the table so quickly even John looked panicked for a moment. He landed haphazardly on their entwined legs, and Grant scrambled to keep her upright when she nearly fell off the couch. She paid the fumble no mind. She grabbed Matt’s hand and held it up in order to look at the bright gold band that had found a home on Matthew’s ring finger. She gasped, then beamed and turned to Grant, then immediately punched him in the chest. “You ass! You told me you were gonna tell me before you did it so I could get pictures!”

“I - it was an in the moment thing, there was next to no planning,” Grant protested.

Nicolette squinted at him. “Liar. You just didn’t want an audience.”

His response was immediate... and devoid of regret: “I didn’t want an audience.”

She squinted at him, then scooted back so she slipped off of their legs and onto the empty part of the couch before she threw her arms around Matt and kicked excitedly. “I’m so happy for you guys, it’s about time!” She squeezed him harder. “Welcome to the family!”

Matt hugged her back. “Thank you, thank you.” She turned back around. “John! Say something!”

Grant waved his hand dismissively. “Leave him alone, this is probably super weird. We wanted to wait til things slowed down or Nic got sleepy and quiet before we told you guys,” he explained.

“No, it’s…” John sighed. “It’s fine, truly. Congratulations, and if you’d like, you’re welcome to use this place as a venue. As for why I got quiet there, well… why don’t you ask Nicolette why she’s wearing the only shirt she has that covers her collarbone?”

Matthew and Grant exchanged puzzled looks, then frowned at the woman herself, who grinned after a moment.

“Not to step on your moment, buuuut…” she reached down to take the necklace she had tucked into her shirt. Usually, it had the silver Rook chesspiece Earl had given her a few years back, the silver key ‘to John’s heart’ that he’d given her on their one year anniversary, but now there was a ring hanging between the two charms.

Grant looked from it, to her, to John with another grin forming on his lips. “You too?”

John shrugged. “First thing this morning. Must have been something in the air.”

“Congratulations,” Grant replied. “Both of you.” He laughed when Nicolette threw her arms around him again. He took another look at the ring. “That is a big rock.”

“Well, when your house is this big you can afford all that,” Matthew pointed out.

“Stop it,” Nicolette smacked him lightly, then immediately beamed and bounced in place again. “You know what this means, right?”

“We’re gonna get shown up announcing our engagement by you guys announcing it too anywhere we go?” Grant asked, then laughed when Nicolette smacked him.

“No. We’ll stay quiet for a while. Promise. Anyway: Double. Wedding,” Nicolette cut him off from further protest.

“Hell no!” Matthew called. “That’s our day. Again, I’m not getting shown up on our own damn day.”

“What, afraid I’m gonna look better than you?” she challenged.

Matthew promptly opened and shut his mouth a couple of times, then took a decidedly long drink of his coke.

Nicolette sighed dramatically, then leaned against him. “Fine. No double wedding…” she began and offered Grant a conspiratorial wink, to which he put his hands up at. “But promise me I can at least plan most of yours for you.”

“Not all of it,” Grant cut in.

She shrugged. “Suits at least. And color scheme. I’m not letting you guys have a wedding that’s as much of a design disaster as you two are.”

Matthew went to protest again, and when he heard John laugh and then saw the man raise his eyebrows in agreement, he sighed. “Fine. Deal.”

“And in case everything is booked up somehow, or my fiancee here claims it’s not good enough for you two, you’re welcome to this place for the service or reception,” John offered. “I mean, I could just help arrange it at Falls End church. Must look fabulous decorated for a wedding.”

“Where would decor that would fit your guys’ standards fit in that place?” Grant asked.

John shrugged. “Outside? Nice lattice, maybe get some doves, have ‘em fly everywhere.” He paused to consider. “Hell, crows could be a more fun contrast. Would fit you guys more.”

Grant laughed and shook his head. “Sounds like a chintzy disaster. No thank you.”

John shrugged. “Fair enough. Again, if you’d like my house, it’s open to you.”

Matt looked around. “We might take you up on that, on second thought. Grant’s uncles would lose their damn minds over this place.”

“It’s… not gonna be too awkward for you?” Grant asked. “I mean we made the joke about this party being your two exes who are dating and your current girlfriend, but hosting our wedding’s another story.”

John scoffed and waved a dismissive hand. “Contrary to… apparent popular belief, I can handle seeing my exes happy- and judging by how this is going, in the same room. It’s not bad at all, so repeating it will be fine. Despite my apprehension and what I said earlier, you’re two of my dearest exes, so I’d still like to do right by you.”

Grant smiled softly. “That’s mighty kind.”

Matthew nodded in agreement.

“Well, you’re both worth it. Even when you take pride in insulting me,” John answered.

“We love you too,” Matthew replied.

Nicolette looked between them all, then reached over in order to clap Grant and John on the knees. “Look at this, my boys, we’re all gonna be married soon. Oooooh, what if we did a honeymoon together? That would be okay, right?”

“Whitehorse would kill us,” Matthew pointed out. “We already did that joint vacation.”

“Nope, he’s caught in a checkmate because he’s gonna walk me down the aisle. He’s gonna be too giddy to say no to anything for at least a year after that,” Nicolette pointed out. She looked between them. “Pllleeeeeeeeaaaaaaasssssee?” she stuck out her bottom lip.

Grant looked at Matthew, who put his hands up. He made a mental note to stop doing that so Matthew would stop getting it from him. He sighed. “We’ll think about it. That work for you?”

“Yes!” Nicolette flicked his nose, then stood in order to go sit in John’s lap. She reached back and got her own nearly forgotten plate of food and held it so both of them could pick at it.

Grant rolled his eyes, then looked towards his boyfriend- fiance, now, he corrected, and the thought made his chest flutter- and raised an eyebrow.

“No, fuck you, this is still my junk food,” Matthew objected playfully. It took him all of ten seconds to relent and feed him one of the brownies. When Nicolette ‘aww’ed in response, he threw the piece that Grant had missed at her, then went back to eating.

Grant laughed too, then took Matthew’s distraction as an opportunity to simply watch him. He was happy, relaxed- something either of them didn’t get to feel often. He looked at the other two. Nicolette was always outgoing, always recharged by people around her being equally happy, but even John looked more at ease than he had seen him before. Whatever apprehension about having exes and his current love under the same roof had already ebbed away from the good news and energy in the place. It was… beyond nice. He still couldn’t believe it. Four souls in varying states of being lost had found each other, then love had gone and paired them off, but here they were, still strong as a unit- a family in its own right. And he had never felt so at home in his life, just sitting in their company as they chatted away. It was going to be an interesting, exhausting few months or years, however long they picked until the wedding, but with them, he could handle anything- and he’d love every minute.

#Deputy Grant #Deputy Matthew #Deputy Nic #Gatthew #Johnnic #weird tone change bc this started off as The Roast of John Seed #but then they were all too nice #moodboards

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