Lies - Criminal Minds || Spencer Reid Fanfiction

11. Realisation

Nah, that just wasn't him.

A few moments later my phone started ringing on the table. After checking the caller ID I answered it to Spencer.

"Hi."

"I was expecting a formal 'Hotchner', none of that this evening?" He chuckled. Had he started drinking too?

"I have the night off." I said sarcastically.

"Oh of course," I heard him puffing and knew he was outside. "I'm downstairs having a smoke. I wondered if you fancied having a drink at the bar or something?" I nodded my head, swirling the small drop of whiskey left in my glass.

"Sure, I've drunk the mini-bar dry anyway." He laughed but little did he know that I really wasn't kidding. That thing only stocked three miniatures.

"Alright. I'm on the back patio. Just come out whenever you're down here."

I looked at my reflection in the mirror, peering at my wild hair and nose-bandage. I really did look a joke.

Wincing I peeled the bandage from my nose and gently applied the thinnest layers of cream. There was no way I was going downstairs to a bar with a bloody nose bandage.

I contemplated freeing my mass of hair from its band but decided against the idea. God knows what the humidity would've made it look like.

Sighing I pulled a thick jumper over my head and slid into my tennis shoes, taking my purse and key-card with me as I left the room.

I was half-way downstairs when I realised I'd forgotten my phone. Deciding it wasn't important and that if anyone had to reach me they could just call the hotel instead; I carried on downstairs.

I felt a little inferior compared to all the gorgeous women in their fancy outfits but I'd had a rough day; the last thing I needed was to get glammed up with a padded shoulder and semi-healed freshly-broken nose.

I ordered two whiskeys for Spencer and I before heading out onto the back-patio, finding him finishing his last drag before stubbing the butt into the ash-tray. 

He was sat at a black glass table and chairs overlooking the pool area. The music was a little quieter out here and there were fewer people, but it wasn't derelict.

"I got us some drinks." I announced as I approached the table.

"I already got them in." He laughed, nodding to the two clear glasses at the table already. "I didn't know you drank whiskey." He added with a slight frown as I set the glasses down.

"I don't normally, but ever since Vegas, I guess I've acquired the taste." I shrugged, settling into the seat opposite him, playing it safe with some distance between us.

"I got us a couple of vodkas and started a tab. Figured it'd be a long night." He shrugged and I arched a brow.

"When did you become the drinker?"

 He smirked and cast his eyes out over the patio. In the lighting, his eyes looked almost black.

He was wearing a dark woollen jumper and jeans with his usual battered converse but his hair hung damp from the shower he'd had before.

He was lucky; I'd stepped into my shower before wincing and chickening out. There's no way my padded shoulder was up for that amount of pressure.

"I guess I discovered the only way to press pause on an eidetic memory was to silence it with booze." He shrugged, twirling the ice in the glass of vodka he raised to his lips.

I nodded my head, fair enough.

"How's the shoulder?" He asked as I began drinking my own vodka.