switchblade faith//spencer reid

11

a/n: hey everyone! thanks for waiting so long. i'm so excited to get back into this series and really have some fun with new ideas. i hope you're all doing well :) enjoy!

the drive to the airport is strangely sad. the landscape seems to stretch on, punctuated by miniature towns that we pass through-- places selling huckleberry pies and jams, gas stations with pickup trucks, hills. a highway cutting between two steep mountainsides.

it's evening and the sun is starting to sink, casting shadows at odd angles. the light swells behind the tops, slopes down the snow-covered sides into crepuscular oranges. places like this are so isolated, it scares me. it makes life feel like holding one end of a tin can telephone, the string connecting it to another tin can in DC. the vibrations of what i want traveling across the line.

Emily nudges my shoulder as I stare out the window. we're sitting in the back of a police SUV, a local officer driving at the front. I can see Reid in the passenger seat. his fingers are fidgeting again and his head is turned toward the window, so I can't see his facial features. I wonder what he's thinking about.

"is huckleberry any good?" Prentiss asks out of nowhere.

"it's decent. really popular." I shrug. I haven't had it since I was a teenager, but I bet I'd like it more now if someone offered me a slice of pie.

"I still can't believe you grew up here." she seems awestruck.

"oh, it's not so bad."

the time passes faster than I expected, and soon we're getting ready to board the jet. Spencer smiles at me in front of the steps and I follow behind him.

"sleep well?" he asks under his breath. the tone of it almost makes my face heat up.

we've spent the last few evenings hanging out, finding places to go talk around town. last night, it was a small bar that we just happened to find near the motel. although he seemed woefully uncomfortable at first in the place, he loosened up after a drink or two. we definitely didn't get drunk, even though a small part of me still aches to see that side of him.

but I enjoyed the ease of our conversation, and how his words seemed to carry a cheerful edge that I hadn't heard before. things between us have been going well. it's comforting to have someone like him around, someone I can confide in and laugh with, even if we're incredibly different.

every time he starts to talk about the things that fascinate him-- whether it be geography or Medieval literature or the physics of darts-- I could listen to him forever.

"it's just math and a little coordination." he'd explained over a glass of water last night.

"the latter of which you're missing." I'd pointed at the board, where his red-feathered darts were hopelessly off-center. a couple hadn't even stuck.

"I'm out of practice."

"did you play darts a lot in college?" the smile on my face was teasing.

"very funny." he'd smiled at me, those hazel eyes catching the neon light above the bar. even though it wasn't a great dig, something in me just wanted to grin. whatever I'd associated with Montana before-- that slightly nauseous feeling in my gut-- was melting away.

"I used to be a champ." I bragged, taking another sip of my drink.

"really? I'm not seeing it." he pointed at the dart board, where I'd thrown some poor (but also some pretty good) shots.

"I'm out of practice." I winked, watched the blush spread across his cheeks.

that's another thing about Spencer: he's easy to mess with. he gets red at the slightest suggestive behavior, even though I can tell it excites him. the air between us this week has been charged with playfulness.