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psychedellic-phase · 4 years ago

Text

Fifteen (pt 13)

(gif by me! I use the iphone app momento)

tw: language, angst, mentions of drug use (relapse), mentions of miscarriage

word count: 7.3k (im sorry)

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Spencer got up from the cold tile floor, fuzzy unicorn in hand, and faced the window above the kitchen sink. He stared out of it, admiring the snow that was still falling lightly, wondering if it was raining in Seattle. His memory flashed to the last time he stood in the rain with you, but he tried to shake the images away. Instead he watched the snowflakes hit his windowpanes and melt. He hoped that maybe you were somewhere staring out of a window, admiring the dreary weather, and thinking of him too.

He found his place against the dishwasher again, sliding down as his mismatched socks gave way so he could stretch his long legs out fully. He pulled the nearly empty box onto his lap and appreciated the light weight of it, as he continued with his twelfth letter and thirteenth item. Thirteen, a number whose history of unluckiness stems all the way back to the thirteen attendees of the Last Supper, and tracks through the number of steps leading up to the gallows, all the way to the number of letters in the names of some of the most infamous criminals.

Thirteen was a haunted number, which rightly accompanied a haunting letter.

“This one’s long. It’s a month of tarnished memories packed into a few pieces of paper. So far I’ve gone through half of a college-ruled one subject notebook and I’ve had to change pens twice. It’s nearing 2:30, and the wine is finally hitting my empty stomach. Sorry in advance for the way my handwriting will be. I’ll try to make this make as much sense as I can.

If you look at your thirteenth item it is the notepad I stole from that resort in Florida. There isn’t much around to signify this letter. You don’t keep mementos from one of the saddest days of your life, but for some reason I took this useless paper and shoved it in my purse on my way out. Good thing I did, or you’d have no item to attach to these memories. Though I suppose that might be better.

The resort was where we were going to be at for our ‘babymoon,’ whatever that is. What a dumb idea, I’m still mad at myself for letting Garcia talk us into one. She just made it sound so appealing.

Once everyone knew I was pregnant, Hotch pretty much sat me in Quantico with Penelope. There were a few local cases where I was lucky enough to go visit the ME’s office, but usually I kicked my feet up in her lair while you were out in the field.

“A what?” I said one day as she ran DNA through CODIS. The two of us were drinking herbal tea, and I was barely 16 weeks. I just looked like I had a big lunch in my stomach, not a baby the size of an avocado.

“A babymoon. It’s like a honeymoon, but you go when you’re pregnant. It’s one last trip for mommy and daddy to go on and spend quality time together. How many trips have you and Dad-Wonder even been on?”

I shrugged. We didn’t travel much for pleasure. We traveled for work, so on our rare days off we liked to be at home.

“I mean we’ve gone to Vegas and Connecticut a few times.”

She rolled her eyes, “Visiting family, my dear, is not a vacation! I was thinking you two would go to the beach. You guys relax and wade in the ocean and Spencer can build sandcastles that defy every law of physics!”

I laughed at that. You and the beach? It just didn’t feel natural to me. Probably because you aren’t capable of actually relaxing.

“That does sound fun,” I said and I spoke to my barely there stomach, “And it would make daddy take a few days off.”

Penelope squealed and started clicking at her computer, “I’ll find a resort online right now! Okay so how about Marco Island? It’s gorgeous and in Florida, so it’ll be like eighty and sunny, even in the beginning of December.”

“I’ll have to talk to Spence about it. I mean I know it would be fun and all but we really should be saving money for a crib, and car seat, and bassinet, and high chair, and a rocking chair, and a baby swing, and a—“

Garcia stopped me from spiraling out of control, “That is why you throw a huge baby shower! People buy those things for you.”

I rubbed my tummy again, “Oh no, Daddy is very particular about what things are bought.”

“That’s why you have a registry, Momma Bear. Now, no more excuses.”

Before I could even call you, she had put in both of our requests for days off and we had a week long reservation at this fancy resort that you see listed at the top of this notepad, the “Crystal Cove”.

I was only slightly mortified that she did all this without me asking you. Mostly, I was happy. I was afraid you wouldn’t say yes, but if PG already booked it, you kind of had to agree. And to my surprise, you did.

When you got back from that case we were at home, you eating something I had poorly made from a random cookbook on a shelf. I had decided to start cooking more, so I could make homemade meals. I wanted to be that mom who cuts sandwiches into flower shapes and always has fresh baked bread and cookies laying around. I wanted us to be those parents; the ones who are so sickeningly in love that their kids roll their eyes every time they kiss. We were those parents, kind of, if we could even be considered ‘parents.’ At that point, I don’t think we were. But we were definitely in tooth-rotting, sickeningly sweet love.

“So, I have a surprise for you,” I said, coming up behind you and rustling your hair.

“Hm?” You said, stuffing your face like you hadn’t eaten in days. You probably hadn’t. You’re the king of forgetting to eat. Maybe that’s how you stay so skinny.

“I booked a trip, well I guess technically Garcia did.”

“A trip?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, a trip, to the beach. Penelope called it a ‘babymoon.’”

You laughed, “A babymoon? I’m not familiar."

I smiled and sat across from you, “It’s like a honeymoon, except it's just me and you relaxing and spending quality time together before this lil dude makes his appearance.”

You smiled, “I’m telling you, it’s a girl.”

I rolled my eyes, “It’s definitely a boy, but stop ignoring my offer.”

“Well, it’s not really an offer so much as it is you telling me that we’re doing this.”

“Okay, yes Garcia helped me book it already, and yes she put in our requests for days off, but you can say no.”

You did your little nose twitch scrunch thing, “I’d never say no to quality time with you, Love.”

You leaned over and kissed me, and I squealed, “I’m so excited! I have to buy maternity bathing suits now! Oh and a sunhat!””

Spencer smiled fondly, recounting that day. He was thrilled to go, minus the part where he’d have to wear shorts, and flip flops. Something about the piece that goes between your toes makes him squeamish. He was looking for the right opportunity to use something special he had bought for you, and you had just given him it. A week on a beautiful beach with the love of his life? That would be the perfect time to ask you what he had been waiting to ask you since JJ’s wedding. He was going to take Hotch’s advice; stop waiting, start doing, and get down on one knee with a blue velvet box.

He never got the chance to. The trip was supposed to be in the beginning of December, around your week twenty-four. You never got that far.

He got up from the ground, immediately digging around in a drawer full of pencils and compasses and rulers, finding the blue box in a corner. It was covered in pencil shavings and dust. He hadn’t looked at it in months. He held it delicately in his hands before opening it.

It was plain, but he remembered you said that was what you wanted.

“Oval, of course and silver,” You had explained to Penelope and JJ at a night out years ago. Derek and Spencer sat on the opposite side of the table, but his ears perked up at the mention of rings.

“I like just the band,” JJ said, admiring her own ring, “And I have Henry’s birthstone, the citrine, so I didn’t need another one.”

“What kind of stone Y/N? I’d love a pink diamond! Or a ruby! Imagine!” Penelope gushed.

You shook your head, “I’d take cubic zirconia, if it was coming from the right guy.”

Both Penelope and JJ stuck their tongues out, “Nuh-uh!” Garcia said, grabbing her phone to scroll through more pinterest photos.

“Spence will be getting you a diamond.”

You rolled your eyes and whispered, “Don’t jinx it JJ! And I don’t want a diamond.”

Her mouth dropped, “No diamond? Really.”

“Diamonds aren’t ethically sourced.”

“Lab grown! Get lab grown!” PG piped it, showing you a picture of a ring, just an oval in a plain silver setting.

“That! That’s the one!” You said and Garcia giggled, going on a rant about her dream wedding.

Spencer had gotten that exact ring. Lab grown, oval, classic, beautiful. It was what you wanted, and you deserved everything you ever wanted.

Spencer looked at the notepad. He could tell you had a hard time picking an item for this letter. He knows this letter is the end, the other two are the epilogue of a story he wishes you kept writing. Crystal Cove is the place where he had planned on asking you to marry him, but it ended up being the place where your love story ended. He tossed the notebook to the side and decided that the souvenir for this letter was now going to be this ring. This ring that sparkled and shined, even in the dull incandescent lights of his kitchen. This ring that belonged on your finger, and not in the back of a drawer. This ring that you didn’t even know existed, but if you had, maybe you’d still be together.

“I did buy three maternity bathing suits, and you bought shorts. Spencer Reid in shorts. It was going to be the best trip ever. We were going to snorkel and look at sea turtles and sunbathe and drink virgin piña coladas by the ocean. We were going to get couples massages and spend every moment loving and appreciating each other.

The actual trip? Much different than the one we had planned on paper, but let’s first discuss that time between the hospital and the trip.

It was four weeks. Four weeks of me sitting at home while you were off at work. Four weeks of the door opening and Derek walking through, not you. And on the odd chance that it was you opening the door, you’d be appearing at odd hours of the night to grab a new suit or a file or a snack and then getting back in your shitty car and going to your apartment. Each time I heard that comforting sound of your satchel hitting the floor, I’d crawl out of the cave of blankets I was in to find you, and you’d act like I wasn’t even there.

For the first few days, you asked me how I was and if I was feeling better, then you’d check your phone and wave goodbye. After that, I was lucky if you’d say hello, then I was lucky if I even got a glimpse of you. You never held me. You never kissed me. You never told me you loved me.

I got all my information about you from Derek. Every day I texted you, “Have a good day at work! Talk soon?” And everyday you didn’t answer, so I’d ask Derek if you were okay. He’d always tell me what you were doing. Usually you would take a stack of files of cases to a dark room and make preliminary profiles to send back to the departments, alone. I’d tell him thank you, and the next day would be the same nonsense.

Those four weeks dragged. It was like every minute was an hour and everyday was a year. I was healing, even without you, everyday I felt better and better. But that’s relative to the day before. I haven’t felt ‘good’ yet. I haven’t felt ‘happiness’ yet. But I will. And I’m counting on that.

My mandatory leave was four weeks, and at the end of that Hotch called me in for a ‘mandatory psychological evaluation.’ I didn’t tell you about it because you weren’t speaking to me, and even when you did you were angry and snappy and rude.

I didn’t pass the evaluation. Even though the BAU wrote those damn questions, I still didn’t pass. When my four weeks were up, you were expecting me at work, and I never showed. You didn’t notice how not okay I was because you were too busy handling your own feelings, which I understand. You have to take care of yourself first, deal with your own trauma before touching anyone else’s. So, your trauma was none of my business, a concept you should've applied to my healing process.

I was supposed to come back on a Monday and when I didn’t show you came to the house. You opened the door and yelled my name. It was a sound I hadn’t heard in weeks, and it felt good. I thought you had finally come home. I thought you were finally ready to heal with me, but you weren’t. You were there to judge me.

I think I ran to where you were, a smile on my face that I didn’t think I was capable of making, “Hey!”

You looked so put together in a neatly pressed suit, but your eyes exposed you. They were bloodshot and the bags were so large they almost reached the end of your nose. I had on one of your shirts; it was comforting at the time. Not so much anymore.

You looked me up and down, a small scowl forming on your face, “Where were you today?”

I took a deep breath, and I lied, because lying to you felt easier than telling you the truth. The truth that I was not deemed stable enough to come back, even though I wanted to. I needed to be distracted. I was ashamed, scared, confused.

“I-I didn’t go.”

“Didn’t go? You’ll get fired Y/N.”

I sighed, “No, my leave got extended.”

I could feel the way your eyes bore into my skull as I dodged eye contact.

“Extended?! It’s been four weeks.”

“I’m not ready!” I desperately wanted you to see through it. I thought I was ready, but the papers disagreed.

“Hotch let you do that?” Your voice was increasing and I found myself inching away from you.

“He encouraged it!” Another lie. He didn’t ‘encourage’ it. He forced me.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag and opening the door again.

“You’re leaving? Spencer c’mon I-”

You cut me off by slamming that door in my face.

That’s when I started closing myself off. I started dreading the sound of your feet against the floor at three am. I started to put my own walls up, but they would dull in comparison to the Great Wall of Spencer you built around yourself to keep me out.”

Spencer was always good at putting walls up. In fact, you were the only person to ever get him to take (almost) all of them down. There’s a side of him he doesn’t show anyone, a side of him that he reserves for himself, and when something happens, that’s where he goes. He goes to the corner of his brain where he feels safe, and the walls come up to protect him.

And in those last four weeks, he did just that. He put the walls up, shut you out, and decided that was better. Except it wasn’t better, it just was easier. It was easier for him to bypass you and find a new outfit for work tomorrow. It was easier for him to disappear in the office until the odd hours of the morning. It was easier for him to hide away from you, because when he’s exposed he always gets hurt. It was easier to act like everything was fine, even though everything was the opposite of fine.

He never needed to go to the house, part of him was drawn there like a moth to a lantern. He was drawn to you. As much as he didn’t want to see those four walls, he still needed to check on you. He just did it in his own damaged way. He’d get a glimpse of you in old sweats and a shirt with a hole in it, hair a mess and mascara from two weeks ago adding to your eye bags and he’d be reminded that he couldn’t be there for you. He would never be enough, and he’d retreat into the comfort of solitude.

He was so preoccupied with being hurt, that he didn’t realize just how much he hurt you too.

“I had forgotten about the stupid trip, and so had you. You were too preoccupied with work and not speaking to me and I was preoccupied with crying and trying to speak to you. I only remembered the trip when I got an email from the airline about the flight, they had to move our seats or something stupid. I decided that was a reason for you to actually need to speak to me like I was a person, so I took advantage of it.

I intercepted you at home one day. I had been sitting in the kitchen waiting for you. You came home at two am.

“Hey,” I said, immediately as you walked through the door. You looked surprised that I was up.

“Hi, I’m just gonna—“

“Spencer, stop. We have to talk.”

You crossed your arms, not leaving the threshold of the door, “No. I told you a million times Y/N, I don’t want to talk.”

“Not about...” I couldn’t find the words and you started up the stairs.

“Are we going on this damn trip or not?” I said, my voice cracking from lack of use.

You stopped, looking over the banister at me, “You didn’t cancel it?”

“I didn’t think of it until now. We’re supposed to leave in two days.”

You groaned, “Why didn’t you cancel it?”

I threw my hands up. As if all of this was my responsibility?

“I was preoccupied! Did you cancel your days off?”

You shook your head, rubbing your face, “No, God. Can we still get a refund?”

I was hurt that you didn’t want to go, but not surprised. As I stared at the front door from my spot at the kitchen table I decided that I was going to go no matter what. It was going to be refreshing to look at the ocean instead of an empty nursery. That would be my distraction.

“I-I’m going. I’ll pay for your half, but I’m going. I’m losing my mind here, Spence.”

You looked at me again, still contemplating your options.

“I get it, okay? You can’t be in this house, but neither can I. Maybe we can talk and stuff on neutral ground. I-I just want you there with me, the way it was supposed to be.”

Then you took me by surprise, you nodded, “Yeah, yeah we’ll go.”

I’m sure I lit up like Rockefeller Center at Christmas, “Really?”

You rubbed your eyes, “Yeah, we can go Y/N.”

I was feeling lucky, so I pushed it, too hard, “Are you staying tonight?”

Your voice went from sleepy to sour, “No.”

And you vanished up the stairs, taking all my hope in us with you.

I knew deep down it wouldn’t end well. I knew it was going to be fighting and yelling and arguing, but any time with you was good time with you at that point. And I favored the little bit of serotonin and dopamine you flood my brain with as opposed to staring at the gray walls of the kitchen alone.”

Spencer only agreed to go because he thought he was getting there. Everyday he felt a little better when he’d walk through the door, but he still wasn’t ready. He thought a week of no work and no one to talk to except you would bring the walls down. This would finally be the catalyst in a reaction that was taking far too long to complete. He also couldn’t stand the thought of you flying and spending a week alone. He felt better about you being alone here because you weren’t really alone. You had Derek visiting, Garcia dropping off baskets, phone calls from Emily, the odd visit from Rossi, and apparently phone calls to Hotch, but on that island you’d really be alone, and he was worried about how you’d handle it.

“So two days later we got on a three hour flight to Miami, and I drove our rental car to this resort. We didn’t talk much the whole time, besides some small talk about the flight and other odd comments. It was painfully awkward, and I regretted even coming.

We didn’t speak until I used the keycard to open the door, and we stared at the one king sized bed in the room.

“Oh,” was all you said when you realized you’d have to share with me.

“What?”

“There’s only one bed.”

I rolled my eyes, “Spencer, we’ve shared a bed for three years.”

You just stood at the door with your hands fidgeting on the handle of the suitcase, “I’ll call down and ask for a cot to be brought up.”

“A cot? Are you serious?” I couldn’t believe you, “Why come if you wouldn’t even share a bed with me? I said I’d be fine alone.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but changed your mind.

“Great communication skills Spence. Really, I’m impressed.” You rolled your eyes and finally started to unpack your bag, “I came because I was worried about what you’d do here all alone.”

Part of me was happy you were worried, but a bigger part was annoyed, “I’ve been handling being alone fine, thanks.”

You scoffed, “Yeah. That’s why you need Derek to bring you food everyday, because you’re doing so well.”

I bit my tongue and tried to speak calmly, “Well at least someone checks on me everyday.”

That shut you right up.

The three days you were there went as follows: we slept as far apart from each other as we could, despite how badly I wanted to cuddle into your arms. We’d get up in silence, eat breakfast in silence, walk to the beach and read in silence, eat lunch and dinner in silence, and each night we’d yell at each other until we fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed.

Remember what I said to trigger the fight on December third, your last day there? How could you forget? It’s the fight that broke us up.

“So, I was thinking of going to a counselor,” I said, staring at the waves lap the sand from the balcony of our room. The air felt cold for eighty degrees. But maybe that was just because the air between me and you had been cold for weeks.

You were sitting next to me, but I could tell you were worlds away.

“Spence,” I nudged, trying to snap you out of your daydream.

“Hm? What?”

“I said I’m going to go to a counselor.”

You twisted your face, “A counselor? What for?”

I shrugged, “I-I think it’d be good for me. It’s a grief counselor.”

You turned to look at me, your brow covered in sweat and your eyes watery. You were incessantly bouncing your left leg, rubbing at your nose, and you seemed disinterested in every single thing I was saying or doing. In fact, you’d been acting that way since the first day you disappeared to your apartment.

“Counselor? Yeah,” You were fidgeting, barely making eye contact.

A feeling I can only describe as pure dread formed in my stomach. I thought I might puke, but I swallowed the feeling and kept talking, “I got a recommendation from Hotch. He said he went to Dr. Stevens after Haley died. He said it really helped.”

You were still not listening.

“I think it’d be good if we went together.”

That finally got your undivided attention. “Together?” You snapped, “No.”

“Why not?” I said it with an air of exhaustion and despair. I was tired of this. So fucking tired of it.

“I’m not going to a damn therapist, Y/N,” You seethed, your metal deck chair scraping against the concrete as you stood in front of me.

The sky looked stormy, palm trees whipping in the wind as you came before me. The bags under your eyes looked like bruises, and you had on sleeves. It was eighty and you had on sleeves.

“Okay, I’ll go alone then. I think he could really help us though.”

I was giving up on fighting. I didn’t understand how when I was at my absolute low you could just keep kicking me while I was down. All I wanted was for you to go to someone and talk about it. That’s it. You were acting like I’d asked you to move a mountain for me, which, might I add, at one point you would have done.

“He? You really think a male therapist is going to help? You lost a baby, Y/N—“

“WE,” I clarified, for what felt like the fiftieth time, “We lost a baby.”

You rolled your eyes and ignored me, “You lost a baby. How does a male therapist help you through that?”

I was angry now. It was bubbling up to the top and I thought I might explode.

“He’s a grief counselor! He’ll help me through my GRIEF! And I think you should go because clearly you have a lot going on. You always have! You should’ve been seeing someone for years.”

“Oh, I have a lot going on?” You sneered, “Of course I have a lot going on! I go to work everyday to bring you home a paycheck so you can sit around all day and do nothing.”

I stood up, got close to your face, “I’m on leave.”

“Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that.”

You bypassed me and went inside, and my hot anger turned into wet anger and fat tears were rolling down my cheeks.

“Do you know how traumatic this was on my body? Do you? Everything hurts and you were supposed to be there! You were supposed to take four weeks off too! You were supposed to be there for me!”

“Yeah and who’s there for me!” You yelled, louder than I think you ever had; at me at least. You had thrown your suitcase on the bed, haphazardly grabbing your clothes from the drawers and shoving them in.

“I would’ve been,” I said softly, coming up behind you to grab your arm lightly, “If you had let me.”

You pulled back, “Don’t touch me!”

I reached up to wipe my eyes and crossed my arms in front of myself defensively, “I want to be there for you, Spencer. I do. Why won’t you let me?”

You didn’t answer, because even you didn’t know why. You just stood over the suitcase, one arm on either side of it, hair matted to your sweaty face, panting and panting.

The facts I had chosen to ignore were staring me in the face again. Or maybe I was just that oblivious.

“I’ve never seen you like this. This isn’t you, Love,” I tried to say in my most soothing voice. The dread had clawed its way back up to the back of my throat.

“Or maybe this is me,” you said softly, and I swear you were crying. Or maybe I hoped you were, that way we were both sobbing. That’s as close to togetherness as we could get.

“Maybe this is who I am now, or who I’ve been all along.”

I reached out for you again, but stopped myself, “No, Spencer. The real you isn’t this angry, and bitter, and mean.”

You slammed your hands against the bed, “Yes it is!”

“Is that what you’ve been doing all this time?” I said sadly, shaky breaths between words, “Is that what you’ve been going to your apartment and doing?”

You turned around, skin sweaty and eyes red, “What? What are you talking about now? God, do you ever stop talking?”

I snapped, ignoring your last jab there, “Are you using?”

Your face contorted into a sour expression, “Am I using?”

“Yeah, Spencer! Are you? Because I can’t see any other reason for why you’re so irritable and sweaty and out of it! So I’ll ask you again, are you going through withdrawal?”

You looked like I had literally punched you in the gut, and I kind of had. It was a low blow, I’ll admit it, but I was seriously worried about you. If an event would trigger you, this would’ve been it.

“What? No!”

I wasn’t sure whether or not I should believe you, but I knew I had to support you either way. I love you, even when you’re angry at me, I still love you. Even when you throw clothes and seethe at me through gritted teeth, I still love you. That’s my fatal flaw. No matter how many reasons you give me to stop loving you, I never will.”

Spencer let out a shaky breath, lower lip pinched between his teeth. Was he really that terrible? He didn’t remember being so spiteful. Reading it back, he understood why you thought he was high, and he had thought about it more than he cared to admit. But he hadn’t touched the stuff in seven years, and he wasn’t about to start again now.

‘No matter how many reasons you give me to stop loving you, I never will.’

That line made him want to cry, hands clenching the ring box as if it were a stress ball. That line simultaneously felt like a stab in the gut and a breath of fresh air. He had given you so many reasons to walk away, and the one reason to stay was there in his palm, unused.

““It’s okay if you are. I understand this is a... hard time. I’ll support you through this,” I put my hands out to touch your chest.

“I’m not high and haven’t been in years!” You swatted my hands down.

“Then what the hell is going on!?”

“I’m angry and I’m sad and I’m heartbroken!” You yelled, going back out onto the balcony to stand in the rain that had started pouring down in sheets.

“Spencer! Stop!” I followed you out, tears mixing with rain to the point that I didn’t know which was which.

“I’m just confused! It’s hard to see the point in all this anymore. Maybe it’s just not worth it,” You said, yelling at the ocean not at me. Rain soaked our clothes instantly. Part of me was hoping this scene would end like the ‘notebook’ we’d kiss and you’d spin me around. I guess this is kind of like the notebook, it’s a story to help you remember us. Except you don’t have Alzheimer’s and I wrote 15 letters, not 365.

“Maybe what’s not worth it?” I was yelling too, just so you could hear me over the sound of the wind and the rain.

“This!” You gestured between us. I felt like you knocked the air out of me, my whole body stinging.

“But I love you!”

“All of this has made me realize that love isn’t everything! I love you too but we need more than that!”

That was the first time I’d heard you say ‘I love you’ in a month, but it was a double edged sword. I bit my lip so hard I think I started bleeding, “Love isn’t enough? Are you kidding me, Spencer?”

You swallowed thickly, “No! I’m not kidding. I’ve never been more serious!”

“So what? That’s it?” I said it quietly, but I wanted to scream at you. I wanted to scream that you were being an idiot. You were being ridiculous. You were being unnecessarily cruel. But I didn’t. I was tired and water logged. I had finally given up.

You ran your hands through your hair, “No–it’s–we we aren’t over Y/N. I’m just saying that it’s gonna take more than love to fix us.”

“Well maybe if you were ever home, we could actually try. But you aren’t. You’re always gone! So explain to me how we’re going to fix this. What’s it gonna take Spencer? What do you want from me?”

You took a deep breath, uttering words I was so sick of hearing, “We need space and time.”

“Space? Time? It’s been a month Spencer! I let you go to work. I let you spend every day at your damn apartment. I stopped calling. I stopped checking in. How much more space and time do you want?”

“Thirty-four days,” you mumbled, just so I could barely hear. The thunder rolled, mostly drowning it out.

“What was that?”

“It’s been THIRTY-FOUR days, Y/N. Thirty-four. I don’t know how you expect me to be okay after only thirty-four days.”

“I don’t expect you to be fine! I expect you to speak to me! To look at me! I want to go to bed crying and have you there next to me. I want to be there for you when you’re crying. The only way we get better is if we do this TOGETHER!”

The anger looked like it melted off of you, and I took that as my opportunity to approach. I threw my arms around your soaked body as you shook with sobs into my shoulder. I held you like my life depended on it, because in a way it did. You wrapped your arms around me too, and everything felt okay. We were standing in the pouring rain, holding each other as we cried, and somehow I felt more okay than I had in the thirty-four days prior. It felt like maybe you were coming back to me.

You weren’t.

We stood like that for what felt like hours, and eventually I pulled you inside. I wish I didn’t. I wish we stayed there, holding each other in the rain until the sun came up and dried us off. I foolishly thought the rain washed our sins away.

“It’s going to be okay,” I said, my head on your shoulder as we wrapped ourselves in towels, “I promise.”

You shrugged me off of you, going back to packing your bag.

“Spencer, stop packing, please,” I begged, grabbing the items you were putting in and taking them back out.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” you said plainly, taking a shirt and putting it back in.

“I-I thought—“

“Thought what, Y/N? That because I cried to you and told you I loved you that we were magically okay?”

I stammered, “No. No! But I thought it meant we were in this together now.”

“You just accused me of relapsing an hour ago.”

“And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, but that’s not a reason you should go,” I pleaded, reaching for you again. I thought if you walked away I’d never see you again.

“You don’t trust me,” your voice cracked.

“No, Love, I—“

“Don’t call me that.”

The pain in my chest bloomed, sending a wave of heartache through my entire body. A heartache I still haven’t been able to shake. It’s still there. Some days it's a thunder crack and sometimes it's a low grumble, but it’s always there. The rain hasn't stopped.

I hadn’t even realized that you were completely packed until you zipped the suitcase shut.

“You’re really leaving?”

You stopped at the door, hand on the handle, to turn and face me. I didn’t need to use my profiling skills to see how much pain you were in, and my pain doubled at the sight. I’ve always been an empath when it comes to you, feeling what you feel like it’s my own.

“I am.”

I crossed the room and threw my arms around you, sobbing into your chest. To my surprise, you wrapped your arms around me lightly.

“I understand,” I said, looking into your eyes, “We can’t be there for each other the way we need to.”

You nodded into my shoulder, “Stay. When you get home from this we’ll talk. I just need a few more days.”

I shook my head, finally coming to the realization that we didn’t work anymore. We weren’t healthy anymore.

“Don’t bother. The writing’s on the wall, Spence,” my voice wavered, and I regretted every word as they left my mouth, “I’ve been waiting for that person from the hospital to come home to me. I’ve been waiting for the Spencer who lends me his shirts and fact dumps and eats IHOP and ice cream with me to come home.”

I felt your breath stop under my arms, “But that Spencer, the Spencer I love, isn’t here anymore. We need to be alone.”

I felt you shake with tears under me, and that triggered mine, “We have to break up.”

I wish I never said it. I wish I gave you those few days, but we both know those few days would’ve turned into weeks and months and we would’ve ended up here anyway. I wish you didn’t let me say them. I wish you kissed me to shut me up and told me I was being stupid. I wish I didn’t watch you go down that elevator, tears on your cheeks. I wish I didn’t spend the other four days in an empty king sized bed, crying for you.

I realize now that you changed. I did too. Instead of wishing for the old you, I should’ve learned to love the new you. I think I would’ve, if I had given it a chance. Actually, I know I would’ve. I think I’d fall in love with every version of you that could ever exist or has ever existed. You and I, we’re meant to be together.

I know you probably don’t believe in it, but I like to think that we’re twin flames; we’re two halves of one soul that somehow ended up in two bodies and constantly pull to find each other again. I’ve read a lot about them recently. Twin flames don’t necessarily end up together. They can even just be two people with an intense friendship. They’re people who help each other grow, even if that means they’re only in your life for a short time. I like to think that we are that case, and that in some parallel universe I’m with you and we have our daughter and we’re happy. I just wish that I was in that universe now.

I know it’s for the best that we went to the damn Crystal Cove and broke up. I’m sure someday in the future I’ll be pleased with that decision, but for now, I still regret it.”

Spencer stared at the notepad, eyes flicking between that in his left hand and the ring box in his right. He took the ring out and admired it in the light. It glinted and glimmered, delicately refracting light onto the cabinets. He slid it halfway down his ring finger because that’s as far as it would go. He imagined it was on your slender, perfectly manicured hand instead of his, but an ache formed where his heart was when he realized it’d never end up here.

Spencer grabbed the notebook. It was unlined and the paper felt flimsy and thin. He got up from the floor to find a pencil in the drawer the ring had been hidden in, and took it out to scrawl his own letter to go with his own memento. A sixteenth letter for a sixteenth item you had no idea even existed.

“Y/N,

I’d like to consider this letter sixteen, to go with the engagement ring that’s in my palm. I bought this ring the day after we ate dinner at Rossi’s and showed everyone tiny FBI onesies. I have your perfect ring here in my hand, a plain silver band with a lab-grown diamond in a four-prong setting in the center, just like you told Garcia you wanted. I should’ve given it to you the day I bought it, but I waited until the perfect opportunity presented itself.

What you didn’t know about the trip to the Crystal Cove was that I was going to propose to you there. I was going to get down on one knee in the sand at sunset after dinner. I even had a whole speech planned. I was going to tell you that I never thought I could love anyone as much as I love you, or that anyone would ever love me the way that you do. I was going to say that it amazes me how everyday, I wake up and love you more than I did the night before. And everyday I think it’s be impossible to love you and our daughter more than I do right now. I wanted to tell you that I want to wake up every morning and feel that for the rest of my life. I want the good, the bad, the ugly, I want it all. I want Korean film festivals and IHOP breakfasts and to talk to the moon. I want tubs of ice cream and overly sentimental flowers hanging from the wall. Most of all I wanted to say that I want to spend every day of my life making you happy.

That speech still applies today. I still love you enough to ask you, but I don’t think you love me enough to say yes.

It’s okay. It really is. I haven’t decided what to do yet, but if you do read this, just know that it’s okay. I promise you, it’s okay. I’m not the bitter, angry man I was at the Crystal Cove anymore. I changed again, and I hope you’re right. I hope we are twin flames and your soul will come looking for mine, and I hope it happens in this universe, not the infinite parallels that may or may not exist. I miss you and I want nothing more than for you to come back. Come home, Love, please come home.

-SR”

He stared at the notebook page, before tearing it off and folding it in half, placing it in his pocket for safekeeping. He went on his computer and bought the cheapest one-way ticket to Seattle that he could find. He needed to see you. He needed you to see this letter, see this ring. He needed to make this right.

The flight was a red eye, leaving at midnight, so he’d get to the Seattle field office by eight. He looked at the leather watch and saw that it was nearly nine. He decided had to finish, and he had to finish now, as he grabbed letter #14.

PART 14

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Taglist!

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #spencer x you #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #cm #matthew gray gubler #mgg #dr spencer reid

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fancat-not-fangirl · 5 years ago

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It’s Not You Pt.18

a/n: I’m back!!! HELLO EVERYONE I MISSED YOU!!!!! A great big thank you to those that wished me a great vacation! Maine was awesome, although it was pretty cold and rainy. We rented a house that was right by the beach, and the view was amazing. Don’t even get me started on the sunsets. There were so many hermit crabs omg they were so cute (but terrifying at the same time). Having seafood for a week straight got kinda old though. But I doubt you want to hear about me rant about Maine, so without further ado, here is chapter 18 of It’s Not You! I hope you enjoy!

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His mom was home.

Cas had mixed feelings about that particular fact. On one hand, of course he was happy and excited that his mother was home. After all, he had been looking forward to spending the winter holidays with her for months. But on the other hand, how was he supposed to tell her about what he and Dean had found out? How would she react?

Cas was terrified that his mom would never look at him the same way again. Absolutely terrified. What if she thought that Cas was afraid of her?

The time for thinking and worrying was brief as the front door was soon swinging open and Claire was stepping inside the house, bringing a cold gust of wind in behind her. Cas scrambled up off the couch as she set her luggage down in the foyer. She started unwrapping the scarf from around her neck, also taking off her coat and sighing in relief from the lack of weight.

Cas waited until she was done and as soon as her boots were off and she straightened back up he was launching himself at his mother, wrapping her in a hug. His mom smelled so incredibly familiar. Comforting. Like cookies and s’mores and clothes fresh out of the dryer. He loved it. He loved her.

And her voice. As soon as she breathed his name into his neck, Cas melted. Even though it had only been mere days since he’d last seen her, it had felt like years.

But it was too soon that she was pulling away, smiling up at him as her eyes then went past him and caught onto Dean, who was leaning against the wall, softly smiling at the reunion in front of him. Cas grinned and stepped aside so that Claire could bustle her way past him and pull Dean down into a tight hug. Dean hadn’t been expecting that by the looks of it, and Cas almost laughed out loud at the shocked look on his soulmate’s face. But a split second later Dean was smiling again and wrapping his own arms around Claire.

“Merry Christmas, Claire,” Dean said as they pulled apart. “We were lost here without you.”

Claire gave him an amused look and patted his cheek. “Merry Christmas to you too boys. But I doubt you had too much trouble here. After all, the house is intact. You both are alive. What could possibly have gone wrong?”

And as they all stooped down to pick up the luggage she brought in from the car, Cas exchanged a look with Dean. If only she knew.

Which she soon would.

Cas’s stomach flipped a bit at the thought of what was to come, but he plastered a grin onto his face and took one of the bags from his mom’s hands, insisting that he’s got it. “I bet you’re tired, mom. Dean and I’ll make dinner. You go rest a bit.”

“What about your presents?”

Cas smiled at her. “After dinner.”

“If you say so.” But as Claire turned away, Cas caught something on her face. He didn’t know how to place it. The only thing he could have possibly called it was dread.

“You okay, mom?”

Claire looked back up at him and smiled, the previous haunted gaze vanishing. Maybe he had just imagined it. “I’m just tired. Don’t worry about me.” And with that, Claire gave them one last, adoring look before making her way upstairs. They could hear the shower turn on, and soon, his mother’s off-key singing filled the house.

Rolling his eyes, Cas set out to help Dean unpack some of the luggage. All of the dirty laundry they immediately put into the washing machine, and the various books and pens they brought up to her rooms.

“Your mom’s really bad at singing,” Dean whispered under his breath to Cas as they walked past the bathroom, which was radiating the wrong notes and tunes of Jingle Bell Rock. Cas rolled his eyes. “Tell me about it. Sometimes, it sounds like someone’s strangling a cat with a severe case of bronchitis.” At Dean’s amused laugh, Cas’s eyes widened. “Don’t you dare tell her I said that.”

Dean smiled devilishly. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, angel.”

Pointing an accusing finger at his soulmate, Cas threatened, “No, I mean it, Dean. One word about that to her, and you’ll be the one that’s getting strangled.”

Dean laughed again, and Cas firmly decided that if Dean even breathed in Claire’s direction with the intent of telling her what Cas had said, he would make sure that Dean never saw the light of day again.

Future plans of revenge were soon forgotten though as the boys stared down at an empty kitchen.

“So,” Dean started, opening the fridge. “Nothings changed, has it? We still only have leftovers?”

Cas mentally kicked himself. Of course nothing changed. He and Dean hadn’t gone to the store after their trip to IHOP, and the few meager pancakes wouldn’t nearly be enough for a full dinner.

“What do you want to do?” Dean asked, closing the fridge and not even bothering to open other cabinets to see if they contained anything dinner-worthy. “If you want, I can make a quick trip to the store, get us the stuff we need. Or,” Dean offered, “We could always order take-out.”

Cas thought for a moment. His mother would be done in the shower in around twenty more minutes. That didn’t give them much time. Dean would only make it to the store by that time. Of course she could wait until he got back and they prepared dinner, but that would take too long. Take-out it was.

“Sushi?” Cas asked hopefully. He hadn’t had sushi in a while. In fact, the last time he’d had it was weeks back, when he was at college. Not unlike his preference of hamburgers, Cas only liked specific sushi. And so did his mom. Which made ordering all the more easy.

“Sure,” Dean shrugged, taking out his phone and going on the nearest sushi place’s website. Cas didn’t need to see the menu to know what he wanted. He always got the same rolls, as did his mother.

Dean seemed to have a harder time deciding.

“There are hundreds of them here!” He gestured helplessly at the menu. “How am I supposed to choose one?”

Cas smiled and gave the confused Dean an amused look. “Choose two then.” As if that solved his problems.

“That doesn’t help me whatsoever!”

Cas chuckled. He leaned over Dean’s shoulder to read the items on the menu. Reaching over, he pointed to one of them. “That one. The Godzilla Roll.”

“Should I get that one?”

“No. The opposite. Stay away from it.”

“Well gee, that really helps me narrow it down. Thanks a lot, Cas.”

Cas playfully hit Dean’s shoulder, but when Dean gave him an injured look, he smiled and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek.

“You know what, whatever.” Dean grumbled. “What’s this one with?” He picked a random roll on the menu and skimmed through the ingredients. “Avocado. Sure. Fish? What type of fish is this?” Before Cas could answer, Dean raised a hand to cut him off. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll get it anyway.”

And half an hour later Claire was coming down the stairs just as the doorbell rang with their delivered order. Paying the shivering delivery man, Cas took the bag into his hand and kept the wallet in the other, shutting the door behind him with his foot. He didn’t mention the fact that he lost his balance and almost went crashing down onto the floor with their food.

He set the bags down on the table, taking out the boxes and chopsticks, setting them before each person. Dean warily eyed the mess of a roll before him. Taking the chopsticks into his hands, Dean gave his roll a suspicious poke. Looking up at Cas, Dean asked cautiously, “Are you sure this is what I ordered?”

“I don’t know Dean,” Cas laughed and sat down before his own rolls, which beckoned him to eat them. “What did you order?”

“Do you think I remember?” Dean mumbled, and Cas and his mother laughed.

Patting Dean’s hand, Claire grinned at him. “If you don’t like it, you can always have some of mine.”

Dean gratefully looked at her before his gaze turned to Cas, who already had his chopsticks in hand and whose first roll was halfway to his mouth. “Don’t you look at me, Dean. You’re not getting any of my food.”

Dean stuck his tongue out at Cas, who did the same before stuffing his face full of food. Claire followed, cramming as much of her salmon into her mouth as she could. Dean was left staring helplessly at the monstrosity in front of him. He picked one up and examined it from all sides, as if checking to see if anyone had rigged a bomb to it. Determining that it was safe, he put it into his mouth.

Cas and Claire looked on in anticipation as he chewed and then swallowed. His face remained impassive for a moment, then it split into a grin. “This is actually pretty good. I don’t know what the hell it is, but it’s really good.”

They all laughed and dug in, silence filling the room as they focused on their food.

The silence didn’t last long, because soon, Claire began fidgeting, throwing them nervous glances, and Cas had to know what was wrong. “Mom, are you sure everything is ok?” So maybe he hadn’t imagined the look she had on her face before she had gone to shower.

Claire sighed. “Boys, I have to tell you something.”

Cas froze, and from the looks of it, so did Dean. Did something happen to Gabe? To Sam? There had been plans that they would spend New Years together with Sam and Gabe. Were those plans off? Did something else come up?

Claire seemed to shrink in on herself. Oh, this was bad. Did something bad happen at work? What if she got fired?

Seeming to just want to get it over with in one, big breath, Claire braced herself before blurting out, “Dean, I’m the nurse that messed up the medications for your mother.”

Oh.

There was a moment of silence. Nobody moved.

Then, Cas and Dean stole a glance at each other and, seeing the look on the other’s face, burst out laughing. It would have been a momentary thing if only they hadn’t then looked at Claire’s face, which, with it’s shocked and horrified appearance, sent them into another fit of laughter.

Cas didn’t think he’d laughed that hard since the time that they had their whole Soulmate Screw Up thing back in October. But now he was cackling just as uncontrollably as he did that day, if not more. Because this really was hilarious. The thing that he had dreaded telling his mother for days had been the very thing that she had been dreading to tell him. As if he didn’t know everything already.

Dean seemed to find this situation just as hysterical, and had now almost fallen out of his chair with the wheezes of laughter that were coming out of him.

The only person that seemed to find the entire ordeal unamusing was Claire, who was sitting rooted to her chair, an expression of utmost bafflement and terror slapped onto her face. She was looking between the laughing boys as if they had suddenly gone insane. But who could blame her? She had just confessed to being the one that deprived Dean of a mother, and instead of the expected reaction of shock and anger, she had gotten cackles and howls of laughter.

“That was the last thing I was expecting,” Dean managed to get out amid cackles. “Tell us something we don’t know.”

If anything, Claire looked more confused. “What? But I don’t-”

Regaining his ability to form complete sentences without breaking into fits of laughter, Cas cleared his throat. “We already knew that, mom.” Before she could say anything else, Cas launched into an explanation. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about on the phone. We found Mary Winchester’s files in our basement, and so we tried calling you so that you could tell us if you were the nurse assigned to her. But,” Cas gave Dean a guilty look before continuing. “We couldn’t get ahold of you, so we assumed the worst and got into a fight.” Seeing the wide-eyed look of worry on Claire’s face, Cas quickly added, “But it’s ok now. It wasn’t even that big. We’re ok. I promise.”

There was a brief moment of silence.

Claire smiled. “Well then, that just makes my job a hell of a lot easier.” She visibly deflated, the stress seeping out of her. It was obvious that she hadn’t been looking forward to breaking the news to them after- after what?

“Wait, mom, why did you decide to tell us this now?” Cas asked.

“Your brothers, that’s why.”

Cas and Dean shared a look. Sam and Gabe knew? How had they found out? Did they have a fight as well?

“You know that amulet that Gabe only wears on special occasions?” Claire directed the question at Cas, who nodded. “I never told you boys this, but it belonged to Mary Winchester.” Cas heard Dean suck in a breath. “She gave it to me as a thank you gift of sorts. Something I can remember her by. And when he was a kid, Gabe loved it. He’d always steal it from me and I’d catch him wearing it around the house. I don’t really know why. He was a strange kid.” Cas snorted in agreement. That was an understatement. “So I gave it to him with the promise that he wouldn’t lose it because it was very important. And then he started wearing it on holidays and to parties and such. And so he wore it on Christmas. And Sam recognized it.”

Dean looked like he was thinking, then interrupted Claire. “Would this amulet look like some type of weird face with horns on it? Maybe a bronze color?”

Claire nodded.

“In all of the pictures of my mom I’ve seen, she always wears it.” Dean said. “No wonder Sammy recognized it.”

Giving him a small smile, Claire continued. “Gabe couldn’t remember how he got it, so he and Sam decided to call me. To ask me if I knew a Mary Winchester. I said I did. And it all escalated from there.” Cas and Dean both winced. They had wanted to keep it a secret from Sam and Gabe for this specific reason. So that they wouldn’t cause any rifts between them. But unfortunately, it couldn’t have been avoided.

“After a lot of accusations and, I’ll admit, a little screaming, I explained everything and they understood. That’s when we decided that you both had to know as well.”

Dean snorted. “The irony. When we found out, all of us decided that Sam and Gabe didn’t have to know.”

Claire’s brow furrowed. “‘All of us’?”

And so Cas and Dean told her more specifically the story of how they found out. From how Cas was upset after she left, to them going to the basement to look at photo albums, to the spilling of the files (Claire had them swear that they put all the files back in order), to the broken record, and to Dean storming off to his father’s, coming back the next day with apologies and presents.

“It seems as if your boys’ break wasn’t as boring as I had thought it was,” Claire said at the end. “I leave you two alone for one day and this is what you do.”

Cas and Dean both gave her their guiltiest looks. They hadn’t meant to cause so much trouble. But, if it made him feel better, Cas did admit that even if they hadn’t had their argument, they still would have found out the truth sooner or later. Even if sooner had come a little too quick for his liking.

Claire suddenly gasped. “Speaking of presents, I have some for you two.” She shot out of her chair and quickly flew up the stairs and into her room. Cas too, had gifts to give, and he also rose from the table. Instead of going up the stairs, though, he went down, and into the basement. Next to the place where he had hid Dean’s presents were Claire’s, and Cas grabbed them and padded back up to the dining room, where he saw Dean and Claire already there, presents in tow.

Dropping into his seat, he slid his gift across the table to Claire. “Merry Christmas, mom.” A present came sliding back to rest between him and Dean. “Merry Christmas, boys.”

They watched her open their presents first.

Rustling and crinkling filled the room as she unwrapped Dean’s present for her. Her face filled with adoration as she removed a salmon pink, painstakingly knit hat from its wrappings. It was obviously made by Dean. There were loose ends sticking up in places, and the pattern was a little uneven, but Cas knew just how long Dean had spent on it.

Dean looked somewhat bashful as he watched. There was no doubt that he was nervous. “I know how much you like knitting,” he said quietly, “so I decided to try my hand at it. I know it’s not the best, but…”

But Claire obviously loved it. She immediately pulled it over her head and struck a pose for them. “How do I look?”

Cas laughed. “You look as great as always, mom.”

She beamed at him, and then at Dean, who was practically glowing with relief. She gave him a wink. “If you ever want me to teach you some tricks of the trade, you just let me know.”

Dean grinned. “I’d like that.”

Next was Cas’s present.

Claire gave the soft package a curious look as she stripped it of its paper. She let out a small gasp as she pulled out a onesie. It was bright red, and was peppered with small reindeer heads. The hood had antlers on it, and when Cas had seen it at the store, he had immediately known that it would be perfect for his mother.

“Oh, I love it, Cas.” She whispered, examining it from all directions. Her face lit up when she saw the sewed in Claire Novak on the left breast pocket.

“Dean helped me with that,” Cas admitted. “I suck at sewing.”

Claire instantly excused herself to go put it on, and when she came back, both Cas and Dean barely held onto their laughter.

“And that’s not even the best part,” Claire’s eyebrows rose at Cas’s words. “I got one for each of us. Including Sam and Gabe. So that we could all be matching on New Years. Kinda like in those magazines where the entire family has a matching onesie set.”

Dean hadn’t been on board right away with that idea, but after lots and lots of pestering on Cas’s part, he had finally relented. And it was a good thing, too, because Dean looked absolutely adorable in a onesie.

Cas didn’t think Claire's smile could get any bigger, but as soon as he was done talking, it proved him wrong.

He and Dean both received lung-crushing hugs from his mother, as well as way too many cheek kisses.

But now it was their turn. Unwrapping the paper around their gift, Cas and Dean both let out exclamations of surprise at the sight of what was inside. It was a box. A puzzle box, to be exact. And on the cover was a picture collage of them. No wonder his mom had taken so many photos.

There was one of them cuddling on the couch. Another had them kissing under the mistletoe. Others depicted them outside, making snow angels or building snowmen.

There were dozens of them, all arranged perfectly.

They opened the box and were met with hundreds of puzzle pieces that no doubt organized themselves to make that collage on the cover of the box.

“How did you-?” Dean got out, picking up puzzle piece after puzzle piece, as if to make sure they were real.

Obviously enjoying their surprise, Claire grinned. “I have my ways.”

Then it was Cas and Dean’s turn to wrap Claire in hugs, although they refrained from giving her too many cheek kisses.

“Let’s build it now?” Cas suggested, glancing at Dean for approval. His soulmate nodded, and they were about to leave for the living room when Claire stopped them with a stern look. She gestured at the still messy table, and the boys sheepishly put the puzzle down and started helping clear the table.

Claire insisted on doing the dishes this time, and shooed them away to go do the puzzle.

They pushed the half-built Death Star aside and decided to focus on making the puzzle. But, seconds before spilling all of the pieces onto the floor, Dean snapped his fingers and his eyes brightened. “Fort! We should totally build a fort!”

“A fort? Here?” Cas hadn’t built one of those in years. Not since he was still in elementary school. But back then, the forts could be small and he’d still be able to fit in them. He didn’t know how they would both manage to squeeze themselves into one now.

But Dean was fully confident in his fort-building abilities and nodded. “And then we can make the puzzle in the fort!” And the excited gleam in Dean’s eyes flushed all of Cas’s doubts away as they began assembling a fort.

Dean was in charge, that much was obvious. He’d point at the coffee table and gesture at Cas, who took it as an order to move it in the direction that Dean motioned at. He instructed Cas to get as many blankets as possible, as well as pillows and chairs. While Cas was getting the materials, Dean was pushing couches together and lugging chairs from halfway across the house.

And when Cas returned with armfuls of blankets and pillows, Dean slipped a pillow from the pile and swung it at Cas’s head, prompting a pillow fight.

You would think that these were two five year olds instead of students at college age.

Claire had bustled in at one point to see what the noise was about. At the sight of the LEGO Death Star sitting on the floor in the middle of their playful battle, she had shrieked that they immediately move it away, out of harm’s reach.

The pillow fight turned into a wrestling match, and the boys rolled around on the floor, trying to pin the other to the ground, crashing into most of the objects that were positioned as the inner structure of the fort. Cas had almost succeeded once, having tickled Dean into submission and trapped his arms to his sides, he was seconds away from announcing victory when Dean had heaved himself upward and turned them over so that their positions were reserved. He grinned fiendishly and straddled Cas’s waist, pinning his arms to the ground with his hands. Cas struggled against him but resistance was futile.

“I win,” Dean declared and leaned forward, lowering his voice to a whisper. “What’s my prize?”

Cas stuck his tongue out at him and tried bucking Dean off but the older boy held fast, only leaning down more and more until their noses almost touched. They didn’t move for a moment, savoring the closeness. And then Dean’s soft lips were pressing onto his own, moving slow and sweet. Cas relaxed into the touch, kissing Dean back with such love and affection that his head swam.

Dean loosened his grip on Cas’s wrists, bringing one hand to Cas’s head before running it through the messy hair there. Cas took the opportunity to lunge forward and flip them over, this time pinning Dean to the floor and pinning his arms to the ground, using Dean’s own previous position against him.

Cas beamed down at the struggling Dean. “Guess you don’t win after all.”

But then Dean wormed his hand out of Cas’s grip and pulled Cas down, their lips meeting again. This kiss was just as sweet as the last one, more even. It was sunshine and snow angels and Christmas trees and songs on the guitar.

It was home.

<><>

End a/n: As I mentioned in the update I am leaving again, this time for two weeks. Again, I won’t be able to post anything during that time so you guys will have to wait a bit for the next chapter. Spoiler alert! It will have Sam and Gabe in it! Get excited!

#it's not you #my fanfic #destiel #destiel fanfic #soulmate au #college au #spn au #fanfic

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abiteofnat · 7 years ago

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OUT IN THE WILD, WILD WEST LOOP...

THERE’S A LOT OF GOLD TO BE FOUND. In the form of pizza, pasta, tacos, booze, and everything good that’s bad for you. The Randolph Street area west of the highway that runs next to Chicago is becoming ~the~ place for dinner plans and Friday night dates as it’s being transformed from warehouse valley to an up-and-coming Broadway of food, which is great news for the whole city.

While I’m fairly certain not even the most extreme foodie has been able to eat at every single place in Chicago, it’s easy to find your favorites and settle into choosing from them versus really exploring a new section of the city. West Randolph has created a whole new division of restaurants and bars to float around and honestly they’re all hits; no where on this street is a flop and it’s such an aesthetically pretty area to be day or night. There’s the view of the entire skyline on one side, and then old, gorgeous brick building refurbished and repainted lining both sides of the street. Since this used to be a heavy factory/ storage area, there are still a lot of untouched lots which adds an old-Chicago vibe that O’Leary’s cow could probably fit right into, but with all the patios and twinkly lights spilling onto the sidewalks the restaurants really nailed the shabby-chic look.

Over the past eight months or so I’ve eaten my way through Randolph Street because every restaurant looks better than the last, and I can honestly say I love nothing more than dressing up a little and getting an early dinner somewhere new and cute to sit in for hours, and if I’m with my best friends or my family?!? OVER THE MOON. A good 6 p.m. dinner followed by wandering around the city in search of a night cap or a verrryyyy chocolaty dessert? PAST THE MOON AND TO JUPITER. My life philosophy is that the best moments are spent around food and loved ones, and that happiness really is that simple... which is why every weekend I go home to my family where we all love to eat out in Evanston and then get ice cream anywhere because we don’t keep treats in the house (since we all entirely lack self control) and dessert is a nightly “congrats” for getting through the day. But sometimes they want to come into the city and that’s when it’s my turn to find the top-notch noshes!

Should you need a date night idea or somewhere to bring your best friend/family for a birthday dinner, here are some golden nuggets along West Randy.

1. Formento’s

I came across Formento’s on Instagram one million times before ever making it there as they are one of the restaurants that caught onto the “cacio e pepe” pasta trend before the rest of the city did, and the boomerangs of a soft egg yolk breaking over thick, peppery noodles haunted my dreams for weeks. When my girl Luzi asked where we wanted to get dinner one night over the summer when it was a perfect, breezy evening I didn’t even hesitate to suggest Formento’s- with a beautiful and lush patio and a menu packed with drool-worthy food, and she was like “Yes, duh”, so off we went! The waiter was a quirky gal full of suggestions and more than willing to walk us through the menu which is somewhat tapas style and an “encouraged to share” type thing, which always makes me a little anxious but all my brain could think was “cacio e pepe cacio e pepe cacio e pepe” so somehow along the way we also ordered olives and a kale salad but I barely remember those. The olives were marinated and served slightly warm, and they brought us bread thick with rosemary and garlic and wowie it was good enough to be a meal on it’s own. I would love to go back and try the burrata and the lump crab toast, but this place is more of a treat-yourself night out place than a drop in for a casual $50 dinner place so I’m biding my time for an event to celebrate there!

The pasta finally arrived after we had to move inside post surprise thunderstorm, and in the glow of candles and dim, sexytime lighting I met my love. A perfect swirl of al dente bucatini tossed in a light cream & cheese sauce spotted with freshly cracked pepper, and then an egg yolk perfectly contained and sitting on top like a fucking queen was almost too much to handle. I cracked the yolk and damn, this was one of those moments I wish my eyeballs had a camera built in because I was too engrossed in it to capture it on video.

This pasta was exactly as good as I wanted it to be and how Instagram made it look, and we all know Instagram is a catfish playground and with all the fuckin gross food going viral because of it you can never quite trust it... but this was good, tried & true. I’m thinking graduation round 2 dinner might be here in the spring... hmmmm.

Oh and the wine menu is dope as well, any nice red would pair well with the spicy + flavorful appetizers and the freshness of the pasta selection.

2. De Cero (slash) Hello Tacos!

Ok so the name of this restaurant still confuses me as it used to be De Cero and then they changed it to Hello Tacos! but both show up if you Google it... I promise it’s the same place. This was sooo the shocker of my summer because I was taken against my will to get tacos with my family after a nine hour bus ride from Nashville back to Chicago, and I wanted to shower and curl up in a clean, controlled environment for like five hours before entering the world again but the parents were hungry. And they were kind enough to drive downtown to pick me up, so to turn down a nice dinner out would have just been rude and extremely stupid. So off we went in search of something tasty and my dad suggested De Cero, which we walked into and instantly fell in love with. Even though I smelled like an actual dumpster (the Megabus is not a glamorous way of transit, but I love it) I was instantly coated by the scent of fresh tortilla chips, smoky spices, and freshly sliced lime. We sat down in a cozy wooden booth under a wall of beautiful quilts and were immediately offered a drink (their flavored margaritas are DELICIOUS) and told to pick 3 (!!!) salsas from their list of options. As someone who believes in coating everything I eat in like sixteen sauces, getting to pick three salsas and receiving huge bowls of them was absolute heaven. We got the Warm Chipotle which is for sure my favorite, imagine just a heavy, garlicky red salsa that’s delightfully toasty, the Tomatillo Lime Verde, and the Pico de Gallo. Later when I came back with a friend (legitimately one week later), I changed out the Pico for the Mango Habanero and it was incredible. I hate mango with every inch of my body, but in the way they marinated and treated the salsa it looses the tropical zing and is just really moist and sweet. All of these salsas? BOMB.COM. Exceptionally flavorful, and more than enough to bring home with you after.

For dinner, my dad and I got the Grilled Mahi Mahi tacos and HOLY GUACAMOLE THEY WERE FAB. The most succulent, meaty fish fillets dripping with marinate and then topped with an asparagus compote and then doused in avocado puree, all in a corn tortilla that can barely support the weight. These tacos were some of the best fish tacos I’ve ever had, and when I went back with my friend I tested my “was it good or was I starving” test by getting the exact same thing, and loved them all over again. Go check this place out, it’s cozy and adorable and offers epic Mexican cuisine!!

3. Bar Siena

This might be my favorite spot on the street so far, but it also has the most options and isn’t too crazily priced so that could be a big factor! Bar Siena sits on a corner a little further down Randolph and is the perfect mix of upscale-bar and classy Italian, with a giant light-up tree in the middle growing up through the second floor that offers scenic seating of the skyline and the rest of Randy. With a menu bursting with wood fired pizza, pasta, antipasta, cheeses, and OF COURSE some fancy as heck cocktails, it’s really really really hard to decide what you want for dinner. Yet, because I’m me, both times I’ve been there I’ve ordered the same entree. Some highlights on the menu (a mix of mine and those I’ve dined with who eat meat) include:

- Roasted Meatballs: IF I COULD EAT THESE, I WOULD. They come in a little dish of sauces, cheese, and with garlic bread on the side. Oh hellll yes.

- Burrata: This is the best burrata I’ve ever had. On crispy toast with thick, creamy burrata and apricot jam, topped with sea salt and some crunchy nuts, it’s a 10/10 combo. Get it.

- Kale & Granny Smith Salad: It’s a good, simple salad that’s light and refreshing with so much hearty food.

- The Prosciutto-Fig Pizza: IF I WAS A PIZZA, THIS WOULD BE ME. Even without the meat the spiced pistachio, truffle honey, and cheese on top of a perfectly baked white pizza is indulgently delicious. If I ever became a stripper, my name would be Truffle Honey in honor of this pizza.

- Wild Mushroom & Garlic Pizza: Lots of mushrooms, lots of cream and cheese, very good.

- SWEET CORN RAVIOLI: THIS IS IT. THIS IS THE PASTA OF MY DREAMS. CORN RAV STUFFED WITH MORE CORN, SAUCE, TRUFFLE BUTTER, MUSHROOMS, AND GOD’S LOVE.

AND THE WINE LIST IS GREAT TOO.

Y’all don’t skimp on dessert either; Bar Siena is attached to Bombo Bar, the small coffee shop and donut seller on the side with a walk-up window. They have the famed hot chocolate and matcha topped with a coordinating donut, biscotti or cookie, whipped cream, and sprinkles and toppings out the wazoo. They are absolutely crazy but soooo delicious and the hot coco is perfect for a cold winter day when you just want to get out of the house for a small adventure!

Some other hits along this strip are Soho House, Kaiser Tiger, and Maude’s. Soho House is an ~elite~ club that’s in an ancient, elegant building tucked off on a side street that has a cafe and breakfast nook on the first floor which offers delicious coffee and perfect vibes for writing, reading, and girl’s talk on a rainy afternoon. Kaiser Tiger is a warehouse turned bar that’s open, loud, inviting, and has a unique menu of bratwurst and cheese plates. It’s great for a drink or to grab a nicer bite before heading to the United Center for a game! And Maude’s is somewhere that’s on my wish list- I am DYING to go get a drink in this blue & white dream! The outside is cute as a button and I imagine the inside is even better. I love having places I can’t wait to try out, it keeps this city so fresh!

Until next time, Happy Eating!

-Natalie

#foodblog #food #Chicago #eater #brunch #lunch #dinner #coffee #drinks #happy hour #wine #Italian #Mexican #bar food #night out #date night

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fancat-not-fangirl · 4 years ago

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It’s Not You: Chapter 18

a/n: I realized that I haven’t posted chapter 18 on here of my fic so here you go. I’m also finally done with chapter 19 (which will be the last chapter) and I will put that up today, as well as add that to the masterlist. Enjoy.

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