𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐇- spencer reid ✔️

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀'𝐒 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐅 kisses on the cheek, and faux words of sympathy from people she had never seen before in her life. The turnout for her grandfather's funeral was quite large, and Celia was certain that he barely knew at least half of the people in the room. Most people only showed up because they were eager to see the Clairmont family up close, and quite frankly, Celia was tired of having to constantly look over her shoulder. People looked at her and her family like they were some kind of circus act that only exist for their entertainment, yet they fail to realize that Alastor Clairmont was a real person, with people who loved him. 

In dire need of fresh air, Celia slipped outside, adjusting the hem of her black dress. She hugged her black trench coat closer to herself and tapped her pointed stiletto on the concrete. If she had to go back in there and hear another person tell her how she'd been as tall as their kneecap the last time they saw her, she'd scream. 

"You look tense," Nate pointed out, leaning on the brick wall only a few feet away from her. She hadn't noticed he was out here, but it made since he was nowhere to be found inside the funeral home. She turned to look at him, just as a trail of cigarette smoke fell from his lips. She pushed off the wall and walked over to stand beside him, the click of her heels on the cobblestone echoing loudly. "You don't mind, do you?" He asked, turning his head and blowing a cloud of smoke in the opposite direction of her. 

She shook her head, and held out her hand expectantly. Nate's lip curled into a smirk as he handed her his lit cigarette, and she brought the lit stick up to her mouth, sucking her cheeks in as she inhaled a small amount. She suppressed the urge to cough and let the smoke trail out of the corner of her mouth. 

"You used to hate cigarettes," Nathan mused, taking the cigarette back from her and taking another drag. "You used to tell me I smelt like an ashtray after you caught me smoking in the sun room."

"That's because you did smell like an ashtray. That stuff lingered on you for ages." She wrinkled her nose up, and Nate offered her the final drag of the cigarette, and she firmly shook her head. Nate inhaled whatever was left of it, and put the cigarette out with the toe of his new shoes. Italian leather, Celia guessed. 

"Granddad hated them, too," Nate whispered quietly. "I could only imagine what he would have said to me if he knew back then."

"He did know," Celia grinned. "He knew everything. Why do you think you kept mysteriously misplacing all your lighters?" Nate gasped, and turned his head toward her, his mouth agape in shock. "No!" He exclaimed. "You're kidding?" Celia shook her head and let out a breathy laugh. "That bastard had eyes everywhere, I'm telling you. I thought I was being sneaky about it, too."

"You were not sneaky whatsoever," Celia told him bluntly. "The housekeepers kept finding cigarette butts in the potted plants, and we all knew who they belonged to."

"Okay, fine, I guess I was an idiot, huh?" Nate admitted, shaking his head as if he were remembering those times when they were all teenagers. "Still am," he muttered quietly, and Celia wondered if she was supposed to hear him. 

"I don't think you're an idiot," she told him, and he scoffed. "You'd be the first," he replied. Nate had a way of pretending like nothing bothered him, but Celia knew that all of it was an act. "Your brother thinks I am, so does everyone else in this family."

"Maybe stop giving them reasons to think you're an idiot," Celia advised. "You keep their expectations of you low so you can't give them a reason to be disappointed in you."

"Did you become a psychologist since I saw you at Christmas?"

"Funny," Celia deadpanned. "All I'm saying is that you can prove them all wrong, if you really wanted to."