#plus the whole knight thing in general of the local police force

[theskeletoninthegarden]

Watching Nimona a second time and between feeling Emotions I couldn't help but admire, again, the general aesthetic of the city

[gothamslimpestwrist]

s1e2 selina kyle

killcount:

“doug” the childsnatcher: “soldier” (homeless guy)

oswald cobblepot: douchebag college bro from the car, probably the other douchebag college bro as well.

jim gordon: quillan’s janitor

“patti” the childsnatcher: cat scratch fever dude w/ no eyes

episode total: 5 total count: 12

the dark knight rises: shit is clearly fucked in gotham. crime families are ruling the city, yes, but honestly that’s the least of it; look at the police force. we see that bo, the first responder, is late to the scene of the crime because he takes protection money from a local restaurant & gave them first priority (in other words, he’s a crooked bitch demanding a racket, AND it gets in the way of him actually doing his job). the cops are pretty much, explicitly, just an extension of the mob at this point. 

interestingly, we also see the start of an exploration of the wayne’s corruption; falcone refers to “the wayne empire,” mirroring the way they talk about the crime families And Also setting the waynes up as, like, a picture of the wealthy elite taken to a whole ‘nother level. gotham is the last modern vestige of the city state--and that is the wayne empire. who takes the crown now that the emperor and empress are dead? 

in OTHER news, the waynes really fucked bruce over. the murder itself was the lynching pin, causing him to jump over the fucking edge, so to speak, but he is Just A Little Boy! he is so troubled! he’s self harming and alfred yells at him and HITS HIM for being stupid, he’s listening to loud music and drawing fucked up shit, he’s both burned himself and is apparently cutting, and alfred, seeing all of this, refuses to get the boy who saw his parents shot a therapist, because the waynes told him to essentially let bruce raise himself. “the children are thoroughbreds,” basically. 

quoth barbara (thinking about essen shushing the child snatcher case in fear of bad press): “i can’t believe the system is so corrupt.” quoth jim (thinking about how he was yelled at for not beating a perp, thinking about the cop/mob connection that demanded he kill a man to prove his loyalty, thinking...): “you have no idea.” 

oh! and jim tells bruce the kids need more than money to keep them safe.

sliding scale of barbara kean’s sanity: she seems to be doing alright, but she’s troubled by jim’s troubles. also, this episode sets up some shit that will lead to irreparable damage later on; jim, even when he’s telling her things, isn’t telling her everything. she knows it. she hates it. he specifically hasn’t told her about oswald, which gives her reason to believe he’s a murderer pretty soon. plus, what she does w/ the information he does give her about his work (go straight to the press) gives him immediate reason to start trusting her less... and so they spiral.

sliding scale of ed nygma’s sanity: he’s a little bit more of a lurker this episode. creeps outside the captain’s office until someone notices him, lingers inside until everyone in the room makes it obvious he’s not welcome. he’s trying his best, but he’s not... very... “well liked,” shall we say.

continuity: montoya and allen are looking into the murder of oswald cobblepot. he was their snitch, after all. so that’s problems... many things are subtly set up in this episode: falcone and fish discuss maroni and his anticipated power play (adding another piece to the political chessboard of this season), the atp drug the child snatchers use is established to have been developed for arkham asylum, which is also established to have been closed for the past 15 years AND to have recently been in the works for a reopening, specifically by thomas and martha wayne. and that’s all just offhanded discussion. also related to the atp, when ed is listing the only three places that still stock it, it’s quillan pharma, drakatech (?)... and welzyn, which isn’t relevant at all to THIS episode (quillan’s the one dealing with the childsnatchers) but WILL become relevant to everyone in a few episodes, when welzyn manufactures viper. oh, and naturally the identity of the man the childsnatchers are working for: the dollmaker. hm!! on a lighter note, harvey’s ex-white knight tendencies that we explore in spirit of the goat are foreshadowed here; essen accuses him of leaking the child snatchers story to the press, w/ the reasoning that he’d done it before. after jim & barbara established that it was the right thing to do....

parallels: jim & selina meet in this episode. they are... The Same™. (look, i’ll come back to it later, but even tho my parallel in the pilot was btwn selina and oswald, and even tho they’re the two that are the villain counterparts to our heroes, jim and SELINA are the matched set.) also, this is the episode where fish expresses the wish that penguin wasn’t dead (because she wants him to suffer), but also she tells jim & harvey that she knew it was a mistake to order them killed as soon as she did it. so that means something? 

neither here nor there, but gertrud tells montoya & allen how elegant and well dressed oswald is, and bruce comments on the orphans’ scruffy appearances and buys them new clothes... we love a dandy, i guess.

characterization: we meet some irrelevant street kids that selina knew; zeb, smoke, and mackey (corey in the house). i’m basically using the characterization tab as fanfic reference so i might as well record that.

lazlo, fish’s lover, is relevant, in that falcone beats him to get to her. it definitely does affect her, though she says she only keeps him around for exercise. maybe more b/c of falcone’s threat and the fear of what it implies, though. 

and gertrud! ozzie’s mom. everyone connected to oswald, even outside (maybe even especially outside) of his mob connections, is a little twisted. she’s no different; she’s clearly a bit out of her head, she mistrusts the police (which i guess we’re supposed to think is suss, though really...Fair and Just), she’s got that almost creepy codependency with oswald while not really knowing what’s going on there. (other examples: elijah, oswald’s gothic horror father, martin, oswald’s lowkey homicidal son, edward, oswald’s fascist dog, jim, oswald’s corrupt boyfriend...) she also seems to think oswald has run off with some painted lady (actually, she says painted slut), which might be indicative of her experiences w/ van dahl and some unstable jealousy more than it is of oswald, who’s... you know. 

in other news, jim is all over the map here. he stops harvey beating mackey (and later, quillan, after they’ve already gotten info out of him) and protests that they should leak the story to the press, but he also seems content to keep his mouth shut until barbara takes doing good upon herself. he adapts to the mob shit pretty quick, but expresses disgust w/ the corruption in the system. he gets off on the wrong foot w/ mayor james because he disagrees with locking up the kids w/o a trial, but he doesn’t... step in... either. we see this willingness to compromise and bend the knee that means he’ll never be the hero gotham deserves. 

also, not to be a jim apologist on main or anything (ha, ha), but he’s just so... brainwashed. all this, & he still tells alfred that being a cop, which has thus far caused him nothing but pain & misery, is the “best job in the world.” because he thinks he’s helping people. (and he likes getting to feel like a hero... so where do the misguided good intentions stop and the selfish motives begin?) he also kills a man for the first time on screen this episode because for all its examinations of dirty cops... gotham is still, at the end of the day, Copaganda. in an actual moment of me drinking I Love Jim Gordon juice, jim is the one who advocates for bruce going to therapy, and tries to convince him to go personally, even when jim himself is too emotionally stunted for it to help him. 

also, backstory: harvey pegs his love life, saying, “high school sweetheart, then a bunch of hoes (read: eduardo dorrance) overseas only made you sad... and then there’s barbara.” he also calls jim a monkey riding a race horse; jim’s face is really good @ that. i misinterpreted the line about high school sweethearts back in the day to mean that barb was jim’s highschool sweetheart. this is on account of auditory processing disorder and also general dumbassery. anyway, the point is that jim is a boring, predictable bitch! whom i love.

...in terms of characterization from the episode that i don’t agree with, i can’t really see oswald writing all the shit that they had on his conspiracy board, lmfao. “crybaby brucie,” “gordon=STOOGE,” & so forth. i pretend i do not see it.

[danyka-fendyr]

Unknown Subject

Yes this one is named after an episode of Criminal Minds. Sue me. (Please don’t though CBS you would not have much of a case but I don’t have the money for it even if you tried). Anway, this was a request from the lovely @lettersofwrittencollective and should I be writing other things? Yes. But hey! I got inspired, okay?

Summary: Spencer finds himself falling for the mind of an unsub as the team tries to navigate their way through a tricky series of puzzles, but...are things what they seem?

Warnings: Generally disturbing themes of violent death. The usual Criminal Minds murder stuff. Also, I’m giving the reader a brother, so if you don’t have one...just pretend you do. Y/B/N is Your Brother’s Name. Also, the reader is in their mid-twenties for plot purposes.

Wordcount: I could have counted the words in this fic but instead I got distracted staring at Spencer Reid’s beautiful hair. Like...who is his stylist? I need to know for science and also because I’m considering a haircut.

“Well this is interesting,” Rossi grumbled, examining the body lying cold on the table.

“The kill was fairly efficient, but inexperienced as you can see,” the ME said. “The victim was poisoned, but judging by the blood samples we have, it was clumsier than intended. We’re guessing this was a first kill, since no experienced poisoner would use a mix like this.”

“So the swelling on the face and the purple coloring are a result of that?” Spencer leaned in closer.

“That would be exactly right. The victim actually asphyxiated from other problems caused by these chemicals before the poison could reach his heart. It should also be noted that it doesn’t take much to get these ingredients. Most of them can be found commonly around the house. Take bleach, for example.”

“How did the unsub force the victims to take poison like that? It can’t have been administered orally,” Rossi said.

The ME shook her head. “It wasn’t. Interestingly, it seems the unsub injected it through the victim’s nose, like one might with a nasal clearing device, the kind you would normally put saltwater in. It would appear that the victim’s mouth was taped shut, and if the killer plugged their nostrils, they would have had no choice but to swallow.”

“It would have been a reflex,” Rossi said.

“Exactly. We can see this in the chemical burning in the nostrils as well as the mouth. Additionally, it appears the victims were all lured from well-populated places, then drugged and taken somewhere more remote.”

“What could convince these men to follow someone out of a party though?”

Reid was leaning in closer to the body. He spoke into the brief silence. “What is that? In the throat there?”

The ME reached for her tools, fishing in the victim’s throat until she found...a note.

“Something borrowed and something blue

Only he can save me from you

Where men fall to their knees and wind chimes don’t sing

When you are ready, give me a ring.”

Rossi recited the poem aloud.

“Well call me crazy, but it sounds like this unsub wants to get married,” Jennifer said.

“Yes, but look at this,” Reid said, pointing to the second verse. “‘Only he can save me from you’. What does that mean? It almost sounds like it was written from the perspective of the victim...But then who is he?”

“Maybe the unsub imagines all of these men to be unworthy suitors. I think, given the victimology and this message, we can safely conclude that this unsub is a woman. We know that she’s kidnapped multiple men all with roughly the same physical appearance between the ages of 20-30, and we know that the kills have been clean and efficient with no signs of sexual sadism or torture. Maybe ‘he’ is the one true love who will save her from all of these other ‘lesser’ men,” Hotch suggested.

“Maybe, but something about it doesn’t quite add up. If we know she’s holding multiple men hostage, then why the specific usage of ‘you’? Why send this message to us, the FBI, to find? In fact, if it’s meant for some white knight, why leave it with the body at all? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yeah. What about this line with the wind chimes here? What does that mean?” Morgan pointed it out on the board where Reid had copied the message over.

“It would appear to be a clue to the unsub’s location,” Rossi said.

“This lady has got to get better at her clues,” Garcia said from where she was on speakerphone.

“Garcia, can you look up levels of low wind activity in the city and neighboring towns? This unsub has a pretty clear comfort zone, so this might narrow it down some, assuming that ‘where wind chimes don’t sing’ is a specific reference to geographical location.” Reid spoke.

The sheriff of the town poked his head in. “There’s been another body found.”

“Well, our unsub is definitely getting bolder,” Morgan observed.

This body had been left out in a park, in contrast to the carefully hidden body that had washed up on the riverbank before.

“Check for a message in the throat,” Reid suggested.

Sure enough, there was another one.

“I hope that you can understand

Know that this was not my hand

All the cards are on the table, but who signed the deed

Can you solve the riddle, Dr. Reid?”

“Oh that ain’t good,” Morgan said.

“So it’s a riddle for Reid?” Hotch questioned.

“It would certainly seem that way,” Morgan said.

“Listen to this, ‘know that this was not my hand’. That almost sounds like the unsub is saying she didn’t do it.”

“Well it seems pretty clear to me that she uh..did,” JJ pointed out. “Y’know, seeing as she’s leaving notes in corpses. Plus, look at the line about all the cards being on the table. Maybe she’s saying it wasn’t her hand of cards.”

“Even if you’re right, though, that still implies a claim of innocence. Like the unsub is deflecting blame,” Rossi said.

Reid set down his coffee cup on a map, and Blake moved it so that it wouldn’t leave a stain.

“I just got the toxicology report from the lab. It looks like the same chemicals as before were used, just a more refined combo. You guys...I think we need to look at the very real possibility that we might be dealing with a younger unsub here. Maybe even a minor. If you combine the fact that her victims are mostly in their early to mid-twenties with what we know about her poison of choice...these are all common household cleaners. Something you could snag while your Mom wasn’t looking.”

Reid shook his head. “The text doesn’t match up with that theory though. Both notes are written from an almost poetic standpoint as if whoever wrote them comes from an educated background. Someone with this kind of literary prowess would have to either be very well-read or much older than you’re suggesting, likely both. Look at the rhyming patterns and the choice of words. This kind of messaging system, this kind of crime is simply too organized for a teenaged girl to pull off.”

“Wait...you guys.” JJ stood, crossing to the board that still had the first message sprawled across it for comparison. “Remember who we couldn’t figure out who ‘you’ could be? What if we’re dealing with multiple unsubs here?”

Rossi’s eyes lit up with understanding. “And one of them wants out.”

“Likely the submissive one,” Hotch said, latching onto the theory. “If we assume that the line about this not being her hand is a claim of innocence than it’s entirely possible that the dominant one roped her into this against her will somehow. It could be that the submissive one is the one luring these men away from the clubs and bars most of them disappeared from and drugged them, but it’s the dominant one doing all the killing.”

Spencer stood from the table, crossing to the board. “But by that logic, we’re assuming the older party is the submissive one, which almost never happens.”

“The unsub could have leverage against her,” JJ suggested. “Garcia, look up all missing men that fit the age parameters and type of this unsub, and then check to see if they have sisters, mothers or even aunts that have also gone missing recently.”

“On it!”

It wasn’t long before Garcia had an answer for them, with a search that specific.

“Bingo! Your hunch was right, my clever crime-solving friends. Y/B/N and Y/N Y/L/N both went missing when they went on a road trip together two weeks ago.”

“That’s right when the kidnappings started. Garcia, is it possible that Y/B/N was the dominant unsub’s first victim?” Reid asked.

“Oh, definitely little Einstein, but not for the reason you’re thinking. It was actually the sister who filed complaints of a stalker with local police. They assumed that the stalker nabbed the two and that at this point, they were probably long dead.”

“Was a suspect ever identified for the stalker?” Morgan asked.

“You know there was, lover. And you’re never going to believe this, but the suspect was, in fact, a teenage girl. Joanna Bridges, 18 years old, still in her senior year of high school. Apparently, Y/N was something of a friend to the girl. Reportedly Joanna was a bit of a loner, and Y/N, a senior, took pity on her lower classman. That all changed though when she went off to college. 

“Joanna brought a whole new meaning to separation anxiety and things got real nasty real fast. As one would suspect, fights ensued, the friendship fell apart, and then for the next four years our dear Y/N thought no more about it. Flash forward, she’s coming home, and Joanna is finishing up her senior year of high school, but she is less over it. She starts showing up at Y/N’s house making all kinds of unwanted advances, but after being rejected several times, she turned to more subtle methods, including but not limited to lurking in the background, leaving anonymous gifts, and just generally being creepy. Unfortunately, the police could never find concrete evidence, which brings us to the present. And before you ask, yes, I have addresses for both parties, and I am sending them to your cells now.”

“Thanks, baby girl,” Morgan said.

“You can thank me when you get home,” Garcia purred.

“Reid, you and JJ go to the Y/L/N house. Rossi and Morgan can go to the Bridges residence, and Blake and I will stay here and see what more we can find out about the wind chime clue.”

“Okay,” JJ said, coming back from interviewing the parents. “Apparently, like most teenage girls, Y/N pretty much lived in her room. Everything we could possibly need to know about her life before she went off to college is going to be here. If this is all really about her, then maybe we can find some clues here.”

“I mean, that much is obvious. Look at this room. It’s lived in,” Reid said, tracing a finger over a picture frame on the desk. “There’s dust here, but not much, indicating that the room was cleaned at about the normal intervals for the girl she would have been at the time.”

“Okay, Y/N, where did you hide your secrets? A diary?” JJ checked the bookshelf and then classic hiding places for a diary. “Nope. Doesn’t look like she’s kept a diary in years. Not since before middle school, even. That’s weird. Reid, if you were a teenage girl, where would you keep a diary?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t keep one. It’s like asking someone to read your thoughts. The concept always seemed incredibly invasive to me. The only journals I kept were scientific. I’d much rather have people read my work, personally.”

“Wait, Reid, that’s it. If Y/N was like most teenage girls, she would have been intensely private. But you said that her writing was advanced. Not just the work of someone who well educated, but someone who was a literary enthusiast. What if, instead of keeping a diary, she wrote poetry about her life? That way, if anyone asked, she could just dismiss it as a story.”

“Her writing does indicate experience. That was part of why I thought it couldn’t be a younger unsub. It’s too well established, too firm in its identity and style. It would make sense if Y/N is as clever as we think she is. With her poetry, she would have been hiding in plain sight, just like she was when she left us those notes.”

Sure enough, after further going through the girl’s room, they found notebooks filled with poetry. Upon first glance, they could have been mistaken for school notebooks, classic yellow and black spiral bounds, but their contents read very different.

“Look at this, Spence.” JJ ushered him closer from where he stood reading across the room reading at a much faster pace than she could. “This one talks about someone in her life who tried to hold her back. Someone who couldn’t grow up and was mad at her for trying to. That sound like anyone we know?”

“Here, let me see that.” He flipped through the notebook in a matter of seconds. “From the sounds of it, there was some serious emotional manipulation happening her. Joanna guilt-tripped her hard and made some serious attempts at gaslighting. If she had been a little older and more experienced, she might have met with more success, but her attempts were too clumsy for Y/N not to identify them as what they were eventually. She wanted to believe the best, but Joanna aggressively drove her away. ironically in an attempt to keep her close.”

“Well Joanna is older now, and probably has enough experience to be a master manipulator if she started that young.”

“We have to tell the others, see if they found anything,” Reid said, dialing Morgan’s cell and explaining what they had found.

“Yeah, that’s pretty consistent with what we’re seeing here,” Morgan said. “This girl could write the textbook on emotional manipulation, from the way her family tells it. Not that they knew what was happening. They were just as under her spell.”

“Wait, Morgan...do you think the kidnappings could be to try to manipulate Y/N into killing with her?”

“Could be,” Morgan said. “I mean, think about it. It would be the ultimate sign of dedication. I would die for you, but would you kill for me? Just do this one thing and everything will be forgiven.”

“The only problem is, Y/N doesn’t want to be forgiven. She’s smart enough to know that she’s not the one in the wrong here.”

“It’s only a matter of time though before eventually, Joanna convinces her otherwise and she breaks though.”

“Well let's hope we get there first,” Spencer said before hanging up.

While he and Morgan had been talking, JJ had been wandering the house, investigating. “Spence, come take a look at this!”

He headed out onto the back porch where JJ was, only to find dozens of wind chimes. 

“Mrs. Y/L/N, where did all of these wind chimes come from?” JJ asked.

“Oh, they were gifts. Most of them were from that sick, twisted stalker who kept sending her all the anonymous messages.”

“Were any from Joanna?” Reid asked.

“As a matter of fact, one was. She used to make them, and she made one for Y/N before they grew apart.”

“Which one of these is it?” JJ asked.

“Oh, it’s not any of these. It hangs inside, in the kitchen window. The glass it’s made out of was stained by hand, and it will fade if left out in the weather. Most of these are the same, but Y/N never cared if any of these got damaged. I think the only reason the first one is still in the kitchen is because it reminds her of a better time.”

“Ma’am, you said these were made by hand?” JJ said.

“Why yes, I believe so. Joanna’s family had some land by the water, I think, and they used to melt down the sand into glass. Very crafty, they all were.”

JJ whipped out her cell to call Garcia. 

“Your resident Bill Gates impersonator in the house, what can I do for you darling?”

“Garcia, can you tell me if Joanna and her family had any kind of craft business having to do with glass? Wind chimes, maybe?”

“One moment, please....Yes, as a matter of fact, they did. The Bridges own a little arts and crafts store famous for their beautiful wind chimes made from sand gathered from a plot of land they own near the water here and all-natural dyes. Unfortunately, these little beauties have to be kept indoors to stay at peak condition, meaning that they will never make any cheerful tinkling noises.”

“That sounds remote enough to be a holding location. Garcia, can you give me an address on that beach house?” 

“Sending it your way now sugar plum. PG out!”

The team raced for the house, and Spencer couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. Something told him this girl wasn’t a bad person. Well, actually, she had told him that. Specifically him, which was odd. How had she decided that he would be the one who could save her, and how had she even heard about him?

When the team made it into the house, they found Y/N held at gunpoint by a hysterical Joanna. The missing men must have been held somewhere else, but one that resembled Y/N lay on the floor unconscious.

“Joanna Bridges, FBI! Put the gun down,” JJ said.

“No!” Joanna screamed. “She doesn’t understand. I did this all for you. I never cared about him.” She gestured with the gun towards Y/B/N. “It was only ever you. I brought all of these men here to show you. They could never love you like I do. Don’t you understand?”

Spencer locked eyes with her. She was terrified, not that much younger than him. For a second, they seemed to click, and the look in her eyes changed.

“I understand, Joanna.” She reached out even though she looked like she might puke. “I understand now. You don’t have to do this anymore. It’s over.”

Joanna shook her head frantically. “Not until you kill one of them. You have to prove...you have to prove it.”

“Prove what, Joanna?” Spencer asked. “Prove that she loves you? She’s already proved that. She kept all the wind chimes you sent her. She wrote about you, in her poems. She loves you, I know she does. Don’t you, Y/N?”

You nodded frantically. “I do. I do, so just put down the gun JoJo.”

“You love me?” Joanna softened.

“Of course. Of course I do. So you see, you didn’t have to do this after all.”

“Say it.”

“Say what?” You asked, confused.

“Say that you love me.”

You swallowed, fighting the sick feeling in your stomach. “I love you.”

The second Joanna dropped her guard, JJ was on her, and you collapsed. You fell to your knees, but it wasn’t long before Spencer had an arm wrapped around you.

“It’s alright. It’s okay. Your clues lead us here. You were so brave and so clever,” he muttered.

“I thought,” you said, your breaths coming in shuddering gasps, “I thought if they would just call in the FBI...I read about you. I knew you could save me if I just left the breadcrumbs.”

“You did great Y/N. You did great.”

“She said, she said if I didn’t do what she said she would kill my brother,” you cried.

“It’s all going to be okay.”

A couple months later, you and Spencer were meeting for coffee. In the process of studying you and your...somewhat unique case, you two had become friends. A little more than that, actually. It was safe to say that you had a crush on him, but you had no idea if the genius reciprocated. If you had to take a guess, probably not.

“Hey uh...sorry I’m late. Paperwork.” He fiddled with the straps of his bag, an undeniable smile tugging at his lips.

“You don’t seem nearly put out enough to have been doing paperwork. Are you lying to me, Dr. Reid?” You teased.

He made a face. You had taken to calling him Spencer or Spence, and only called him Dr. Reid when you were teasing him or flirting with him. Not that he noticed the latter.

“You know I would never lie to you. Besides, I’m a terrible liar.”

You laughed. “Now that I know is a lie. You forget I’ve seen you in action. Put you in the same room as a murderer and you are one smooth criminal, Spence. Pun intended.”

He shook his head, but laughed anyway, sitting down across from you.

“Took the liberty of getting you a coffee. It’s only half full though to leave room for the sugar.”

“Actually, sugar is highly soluble-”

“I know, Spence. I was joking again.”

“Oh...Right.” 

He looked bashful, so you took pity on him, reaching out for one of his hands. It was your turn to be shy though when he intertwined your fingers. You blushed, finding it difficult to make eye contact.

“Sorry,” he said, pulling his hand away. “I can not do that if it makes you uncomfortable.”

You took his hand back, pointedly intertwining the fingers despite your continued shyness. “No. It’s okay. I like this.”

“Yeah? That’s good because I like you.” 

He blurted it out without thinking like it was one of his facts and he just couldn’t stop himself from saying it, consequences be damned. You could tell by the surprised look on his face that he hadn’t been planning on saying that.

“That’s a relief. I was afraid you didn’t feel the same way.” Your confidence bolstered by his confession, you leaned a little closer. “I like you too, Dr. Reid.”

His brow wrinkled in confusion. “Are you sure? Because you only call me Dr. when you’re teasing me.”

“For a genius, you can be really dumb sometimes, you know that? I don’t just call you Dr. when I’m teasing you. I call you Dr. when I’m flirting with you. Like I am right now.” 

You had leaned in closer so that your lips were inches apart now. 

“I’m all out of witty things to say now,” you breathed. “Your turn Spence.”

Spencer opted for action instead, kissing you gently.

“Mmm, you should do paperwork more often. I like what happens afterward.”