Crisp morning dew was still setting on the grass outside the BAU, but the team were called in already. This morning, it was cold and eerie- a stereotypical winter in Quantico; quiet, simple. Barely making any noise, you were approaching the briefing room to where two figures could be heard wittering. Already? You guessed correctly that it would be Hotch, but not Reid stood next to him. Maybe Garcia, but not Reid. Quickening your pace a little, you thought they'd started without you.
'Sorry I'm late, I thought you said five thirty,' you stumbled, flapping files in your hands. Both men stopped talking and stared at you, waiting for you to realise there was nobody else in the room. Wheeling the chair back, you sat down, briefcase still looped over your shoulder.
'Oh,' you pondered, 'I thought you were talking,' you said, gathering yourself together.
'No, no one was talking,' Reid covered, as everyone else flooded into the room.
Boarding the jet, Reid hustled himself towards you and begged for a game of chess. Fair enough, his young mind was bubbling with thought, but a game of chess at this time in the morning. Really? His slender figure jollied its way onto the plane, quickly setting up the pieces and whistling away to himself. Looking around, you questioned the air to see if anyone else was seeing this; usually, early calls meant you could rest on the journey, but apparently not today.
'Italian or Indian food?' he gestured the question at you.
'Excuse me?'
'Do you prefer Italian or Indian food?' he repeated.
'Italian- why?' you frowned.
'I was simply curious,' he said, turning all his pieces the right way and making his first move. Hotch walked past and looked in the opposite direction to you, barely acknowledging your existence. Spencer Reid kept talking, 'And would you rather go to see a movie or go to a theme park?'
'Spencer what is this about?' you called him Spencer, something you did only when provoked.
'I was just asking,' he said, glancing over at somebody behind him- looking a little offended.
'A theme park,' you smiled, picking at your hand, 'I'd go after the Italian and ride the wheel. It'd be nice to just, you know, see the stars,' and Spence clasped his lips together nodding as he didn't really understand the fascination.
After the game of chess, you must've dozed off when you heard Morgan calling your name but couldn't decipher if it were in this dream or real.
[ 'I won't tell you where she is. I don't have to. I just hope she doesn't give up on me.' You saw Hotch strapped to a chair, his face bruised and bloody; his infamous blue shirt torn, with blood around the tears from his cuts. You cried out his name but the man in front of you just kept attacking, prying Hotch for information- he didn't give in. 'Hotch!' you yelled again... ]
'Aaron...' you pleaded, this time for real; Reid was shaking you violently as you snapped out and saw him.
'Hey, you okay?' he queried, his hand still resting on your arm.
'Yes. I'm fine, what have I missed?' you sorted yourself out.
'You alright?' your boss asked- everyone was looking & you felt awful.
'Yes,' you scorned. He knew it was the terrors but didn't say anything. Morgan teased you for what you cried out, earning him a smack across the back of the head; JJ warned you, 'Now, children,' and you paused with a hand raised in the air. Briefing the team with new information, Garcia made the last fifteen minutes of the journey informative, before landing to solve murder. Thoughts ran like a train in your head, thinking non-stop right up until being introduced to the Chief of Police in Florida. What the fuck has Hotch gotten into him? Aaron doesn't make moves...does he?
'Beck. Beck, you in there?' Morgan waved his hand across your face.
'Yep, yes, 100% here,' you reiterated although Morgan was suspicious.
'Right. Prentiss and Dave, question the Wirrell family, they'll tell us more about their sons than we know, Morgan and Beck- go to the crime scene, see what the cops may have missed,' he said with a watchful eye, 'Reid and JJ- you're with me,' he said, making you scoff inside your head. Not in the mood for driving, you tossed the keys at Morgan- his eyebrows raised as he caught them, and his sunglasses hitched a little. You got in the SUV first and scoffed, audible this time.
'Okay,' he started, 'Spill. What's the deal with you?'
'Hotch and Reid have been acting weird around me all day,' you complained.
'How so?' he said, turning the wheel.
'Reid asked me this morning if I would rather have Italian or Indian food and if I would either see a movie or go to a theme park. That's not something Spence would ask on his own accord, is it?' you looked at him.
'I guess not. Maybe they're planning something for you,' he suggested.
'Maybe. That was after he spoke to Hotch- alone- this morning. Whatever it is, I'm not enjoying it so far.'
'C'mon Beck, the kid might just be asking out of curiosity!'
'He's a boy wonder, he wouldn't have to ask unless it wasn't for himself,' you thought, biting the inside of your cheek. Morgan leaned backwards in his seat and looked to his left, seeing the crime scene in a ditch just below.
On return to the police station, Hotch looked at you as he sipped his coffee, Spencer did the same, in complete unison the two men were surveying you; this caused you to slam the files down on the desk and probe them.
'What are you hiding?' you tried to interrogate two of the most secretive people in the team.
'Nothing,' Spencer avoided and Hotch too shook his head.
'Well you're both hiding something from me, I'll find out eventually,' you stated with confidence and walked away. The minute your back was turned, you heard Hotch whisper to your colleague. Pissed, you pushed open the door and nearly took Morgan out. Pulling out your phone, Garcia was the first number you called.
'What can I do for you my sweet?' she chorused.
'Garcia, what do you know?'
'Know about what?' she questioned your question with a question, irritating you more.
'Why Hotch and Spencer are acting up! It's killing me, if you know anything just spill it already,' you shouted, near to boiling.
'Okay, okay. Spencer booked a table at an Italian restaurant, he asked me to do it for him!' and a silence broke.
'Thanks, Garcia,' you said, defusing.
'Whenever I can be of assistance...' she spoke, a little quiver in her tone. After you hung up, this quiver in Garcia's tone completely vanished and another voice spoke on the line.
'Good job, Garcia,' and he hung up too.
Handcuffing the Wirrell family's sons, you and Rossi set the last two hostages free and they hurled towards their parents, brothers- family. It was a rough case, not to demean any other cases, but when two brothers murdered several girls on behalf of their dead sister- just to get back at their parents, the day was always a little overwhelming. Sitting at a bar with a scotch seemed like a good idea on your arrival home. Huddling in warm clothing, the team boarded the jet, away from the cold of Florida nights and the case that you left there. It was night, the dead of night- the jet was eerily silent as every single person- including you, had been dozing. Reid's legs interlocked with yours and you kicked his foot slightly by accident, making him shudder awake
'Sorry,' you whispered.
'No bother,' he smiled, getting comfortable again.
'No, I'm sorry for acting out today. You just asked me a simple question and I...' you trailed.
'Over-analysed, overthought, overreacted?' Spencer filled the gaps.
'Yes,' you chuckled, and rested back again, looking over Virginia as you were about to land.
Clock, you needed a clock. Ah, 10pm, is that still a reasonable time to drink? Pondering over the idea, you weighed up the odds of how risky it was to end up in a bar at that moment but gave in to the urge and went.
'Hey Spence, wanna grab a drink with me?' you asked, linking your arm in his.
'The probability of me ending up in a bar at this time is a 75% chance of unlikeliness, so-'
'Hit me with the statistics after I've had a drink,' you swayed, but were stopped in your tracks.
'Beck, may I have a word?' your boss leaned over the railing.
'I'll wait for you downstairs,' Spencer nodded, smiling at Hotch as he left. You hitched your bag further up your shoulder and prepared yourself for anything; he opened the door for you, and you perched on the round table, letting your bag fall off your arm. Hotch crossed his arms.
'What's up?' you said innocently as he was trying to find the words.
'I don't know if this is professional or even acceptable, but I am willing to pull some strings to do this,' he gathered.
'Hotch, what's wrong?' you moved a little closer to him, his eyes beginning to wander.
He spoke, meeting your eyes with a smile, 'I'd like to take you out to dinner.'