𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐇- spencer reid ✔️

𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. Come hell and high waters, thanksgiving was one of the only times that they could all really spend together. Sure, they had Christmas, but growing up, it was always thanksgiving that really brought their family together. So, it felt wrong to forget about their little tradition. Although, it would be Celia's first time ever hosting something like this, but she wanted to keep their little thing going. 

"It looks fine," Spencer assured her as she ran around their table adjusting the place settings. Everyone was coming soon, and Celia was determined to make everything perfect. She'd surprisingly managed to cook a turkey without burning their house down, and everything was going exactly according to plan. There was no room for anything less than perfection. "Stop worrying. Everything looks great."

"I know," she admitted. "But it's our first time hosting since you moved in. I want everything to go smoothly." Although the couple hadn't been living there long, Celia could say with one hundred percent certainty that the place had already begun to feel like home. She'd lived in her old apartment longer, and yet somehow she never quite felt at ease there. This place felt lived in, it felt comfortable for her, which was something she wasn't used to feeling. "I'm going to check on the cookies," she announced. They shouldn't have been ready yet, but she felt the need to check on them anyways. 

"Cookies?" Spencer perked up, following her into the kitchen. "What kind of cookies?"

"Pumpkin chai," she replied, opening the oven and taking in the sweet smell wafting from there. "I found the recipe online." She shut the oven and dusted her apron off, glancing at the clock on the stove. Everyone would have been arriving very shortly. 

Right as the clock hit five, the doorbell rang, and Spencer glanced toward Celia with a perplexed expression. "Someone's punctual," he commented. 
     "Probably my brother," Celia replied. If she knew anything about Sebastian Clairmont, it was that he was on time for basically everything. Celia untied her apron and followed Spencer to the front door, beaming when she saw her brother standing on the other side of it, a bottle of expensive scotch in his hands. "Hi, Seb!" She said happily, throwing her arms around her brothers neck. It had been so long since she'd seen him in person, and she missed having him around, even if he could be a massive pain in the ass sometimes. "Happy thanksgiving."

"Happy thanksgiving, Cece," he muttered, wrapping an arm around her loosely. He'd been getting better with the whole 'being affectionate' thing, Celia would give him that. "Am I the first one here?" She nodded, ushering him into the house. It would be the first time that her brother had seen the new place, so she gave him the grand tour. She led him down the hallway into the living room, filled with family photographs and books lining almost every shelf in the room. The built in fireplace happened to be one of Celia's favourite aspects of the house, and one of the main things that spoke to her when she decided to buy it. Everything about this place felt like a perfect combination of the two of them, and it was reflected in practically all of the decor. 

"I like what you did with the place," he commented as Celia led him up the stairs. As Celia pushed open the bedroom door, she noticed how her brothers eyes lingered on the book case in the corner, where both her and Spencer had placed a bunch of photos. Sebastian had stopped and picked up a photo in his hand, and Celia glanced over his shoulder to see that it was a photo of a young Sebastian showing Celia how to hold baby Nathan in her arms. "How is it possible that you look exactly the same?"

"Good genes?" She suggested, shrugging her shoulders. Her brother offered no response, and his eyes lingered on a family photo of them and their parents, and he glanced over when he noticed his sisters shoulders go stiff. Celia missed them so much, and when she thought about them, it was still as though there was a gaping hole in her chest that she could try to fill with other things, but never would be successful. Sometimes, she'd find herself sitting on the couch just wishing that she could have a conversation with her mother, then remembering that she couldn't. "They'd be proud of you, you know," her brother told her softly, trying his best to comfort her. "And if they were here to see you, I bet they'd tell you that."