He never came and found you.
The next time you saw Spencer was at the jet. He walked past you, refusing to make eye contact with you as he sat at the far end of the jet furthest away from everyone, folding his legs over each other. He prodded at the eyelets of his faded Converse tennis shoes with the frayed laces, biting his lip, lost in his own world of wonderment.
He didn't even contribute when the team was discussing the case close to landing which made you finally pull your phone out, shooting him a quick text: Hey, everything okay?
His only response to you was: All good. Thanks, though.
That response alone was enough to convince you that he wasn't telling the truth. The way he stared out his window, the sheer reluctance in his eyes as he fumbled with his hands in his lap only added to your ever-growing pile of evidence.
You'd almost gotten up to talk to him until Hotch cleared his throat, saying to everyone, "When we land, I want all of us to go to the crime scene. (Y/L/N), the media's already gotten hold of the story. I want you working with the press to warn the residents in the area and diffuse of any panic."
The second time you saw Spencer was when the team was delivering the profile.
"We're looking for a young couple from North Dakota— late teens to mid-twenties. We believe they may have been recently married," Hotch began explaining to the officers gathered around the room. "We're seeing that alcohol plays a significant role in these crimes. It's allowing them to kill freely and recklessly."
"Our unsubs are killing surrogates who represent those responsible for deep-seated wounds. These two most likely met at an alcohol support group and they get a sexual charge from the kill," Morgan remarked.
"The change from gas station to alcohol support meetings suggests that one of them might have a slight moral compass that led them to get help," JJ said.
"Ultimately, we believe one of the pair is a sociopath while the other is a psychopath," Rossi added.
"What's the difference?" One of the officers asked.
"They're similar pathologies but a sociopath is less likely to participate in criminal activity and can be lured by a dominant while a psychopath is a consummate leader and likely to engage and destroy anyone in their way," Spencer replied. You looked up at him as he spoke, that nervous, gut-wrenching feeling taking its place as you wrapped your arms around yourself, watching him. "The most recent attack was twelve hours ago which means they're most likely heading west of Helena and towards Idaho. All surrounding areas should be on high alert."
Hotch concluded the meeting with a firm, "Thank you." The cops began to disperse from around the room as you pulled yourself away from the wall you were leaning against, watching Spencer as he walked over to men's restroom, pushing the door open before walking inside.
There was no way you were gonna let him get away that easy.
Making sure the team wasn't looking, you ran after him, swinging the bathroom door open. Spencer spun around, his eyes wide as he looked at you, heat rushing to his cheeks. "(Y/N)!" He cried, his voice a high-pitched squeak. You walked over to him, placing your hands on your hips. "Y- You can't be in here! What are you-"
"-Save it," you interrupted him, crossing your arms. "Why didn't you ever come and talk to me? What happened? You didn't get trouble, did you?"
"What? No, I didn't. Hotch doesn't know about that. (Y/N), you really should-"
"-No, I'm not leaving. I just... Come on. Talk to me. Please," you pleaded with him. "What the hell happened? Why did Hotch wanna talk to you?"
Spencer looked at you for a moment, the aversion clear in his eyes before he finally sighed, looking away from you as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. He handed it to you, pushing a hand through his hair as he watched you unfold the piece of paper, reading it.
"It's... an invitation," you said, furrowing your brows. "To speak at a high school reunion? I don't see what the problem is."
"Look at the name of the high school."
You did.
"Oh."
It was the same high school that Spencer had graduated from. The high school where you knew he'd been bullied profusely, made fun of for simply being a young, budding genius. Your eyes scanned the invitation, reading it over in your head. "They want you to give a speech on your success as a FBI agent. What's wrong with that?" You asked, looking at him.
"What's wrong is that I don't want to," he grumbled in response as he snatched the letter away from you. "I wasn't even gonna go to the reunion until the school board called Hotch and asked if he'd be willing to give me a few days off so that I could go and speak."
"Well, what did Hotch say?" You asked, leaning back against the counter.
"He told them that I could do it— that the team has a few vacation days coming up anyway and that he'd be willing to speak with me about going. So they emailed him a copy of the invitation, and, well," Spencer waved the invitation in the air before folding it up and pushing it back into his pocket, sighing.
"But you don't want to."
"Of course I don't want to. You think I wanna have to go back and see the same people who made my life a living hell all throughout high school and just give them another reason to hate me by 'sharing my success story?' Absolutely not," Spencer groaned, leaning back against the counter beside you, rubbing his eyes with his hands. "I know it's silly to be so upset over something so trivial, but I-"
"-Hey," you quickly cut him off as you reached up, placing your hand over his shoulder. "It's not silly." He pulled his hands away from his face, crossing his arms in front of him as he sighed. "I'm sorry," you said, looking at him.
"It's fine," he replied, shaking his head. "It's not your fault. I just... I never wanted to have to go back to that horrible place."
"Well, why don't you take me with you?"
Spencer looked at you as he uncrossed his arms. "I can't ask you to do that."
"You didn't. I offered. You said it yourself— we have a few vacation days coming up. Take me with you! I mean— I've got nothing better to do." You looked up at him as you smiled. "Give yourself a chance to prove to them that you're not the loser they said you were. You're so much more than that. Come on— I'll even be your own personal cheerleader! What do you say?"
Spencer looked at you, a smile stretching across his lips as he chuckled softly. "That I don't deserve you."
His words made your heart flutter inside your chest. You smiled up at him, pulling yourself away from the counter as you moved to stand in front of him, holding yours arms out to him. He laughed, bending down to wrap his arms around your waist as he pulled you into a tight hug, your eyes falling shut as you leaned your head against his shoulder, smiling. The scent of cinnamon and citrus seemed to roll off of him, engulfing you in an influx of warmth and comfort.
"You know I'm always gonna be here for you," you asked, pulling away from him as you looked up at him, "right? Because— you're my friend first, and nothing's ever change that. Not even when what we've been doing is... well, you know... over."
You failed miserably to hide the disappointment in your voice as you spoke the words into infallible existence. Spencer smiled at you, heat flooding his cheeks as he nodded, his own voice reluctant. "That's a conversation we should probably have pretty soon, huh?"
You nodded, but you knew the truth.
It was a conversation you definitely did not want to have.
~~~
"Get some rest, everyone. We'll meet back here in the morning. We need to hit the ground running first thing tomorrow," Hotch said to the team at the hotel as he passed out the room keys, slinging his go-bag over his shoulder.
"Every time we close a new case, I think that I've seen it all," Morgan said as you, him, JJ, and Spencer boarded the elevator. "Now we've got two married teens running rampant in the streets shooting up gas stations and alcohol support groups with an endless supply of alcohol on their hands."
"I like seeing the new cases," you announced, playing with the straps of your bag around your shoulder. "They're always so interesting to me."
"Yeah, because you like crime," Morgan said, smirking at you.
"I have my dad to thank for that," you shrugged at him. "He's the one who got me into crime dramas in the first place."
"Have you ever thought about completing the training to become a profiler?" Spencer asked, looking at you.
You shook your head at him. "I like being the media liaison. I get to answer people's questions and talk to families who've lost loved ones— that's what I do best. And plus, I don't have to kill anyone. I don't know if I could ever do that."
"She does have an incredible shot, though," JJ said, looking at you. "Have you guys seen this girl shoot a gun? What did you score on your last gun qualification? A ninety?"
"I was so disappointed when I didn't get a hundred," you groaned, nodding at her.
"I didn't even score a hundred until my eighth qualification," Spencer said, his eyes widening as he looked over at you, the color draining from his cheeks.
"Let's face it— women are bad bitches and men should be the ones worshiping at our feet," you said, smirking up at him. He shook his head at you, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"Hey, where did you guys disappear off to the other night?" Morgan asked, looking between you and Spencer as he smirked, crossing his arms. "You both left without even saying anything."
"At the bar?" You asked, looking at him, and he nodded. "You guys didn't see what happened?"
"We were busy trying to get Garcia into an Uber. I think she had more to drink that night than Stephen King did in a lifetime. Why? What happened?" JJ asked, looking at you suspiciously.
You almost felt relieved as soon as she'd said the words, your eyes flicking to Spencer's for a brief moment. So they hadn't seen what happened then. "This idiot got so drunk, I had to drive him back to his place," you giggled, smacking your hand over his shoulder, hearing him wince beside your ear. "I practically had to drag him up the stairs to his apartment— he was so drunk."
"Wait, really?" JJ gasped, looking at Spencer.
"Oh, yeah. It was a real treat," you snickered, smiling up at him. Spencer rolled his eyes at you before returning the smile, mouthing, "Thank you," to you, to which you nodded back at him, giving him a furtive wink.
The elevator stopped on your floor and you stepped out, turning around to wave goodnight to your colleagues before you made your way down the hall to your room. "Wait!" You heard Spencer's voice call out behind you, and you spun around, watching him as he ran after you. "This is my floor, too. I just wasn't paying attention," he said, looking at you.
You looked past him, watching the elevator doors close behind him before you looked back at him, smirking. "Is this really your floor?" You asked, folding your arms over your chest.
"Of course it is," he smirked as he walked past you, looking around at the doors lining the empty hall. "But— just for argument's sake— which room is yours?"
"In here, genius," you laughed, grabbing his hand. You pulled him over to your room, pushing the key card into the lock before you shoved him into the room, laughing. "So what kind of mischief did you wanna get into tonight?"
"Actually, there's something that I haven't been able to stop thinking about doing ever since you came and found me earlier," he said, smiling at you as you closed the door and locked it.
"Oh?"
"Come here."
Next thing you knew, Spencer was on your bed, laying flat on his back as he smirked at you, your heart racing inside your chest when you finally realized what he wanted you to do. "Oh! You wanna... oh. I mean..." You smirked at him, setting your bag down on the floor. "Say less, Dr. Reid."
Peeling your clothes off one by one, you walked over to him, moving to sit on your knees on the bed. Spencer smiled at you, grabbing your hand in his before you swung your leg over his chest, facing his torso, Spencer's hands moving to grip your thighs. He pulled you down on top of him, his tongue immediately dragging up your slit. You groaned, your eyes falling shut as you hung your neck, reaching down to work the buttons of his shirt between your fingers.
He pushed his tongue into you, the warmth of it sending chills racing down your spine, the synapses in your body firing with every lurid lap and curl. Spencer moved his tongue to your clit, circling it as you dug your nails into the toned flesh of his stomach, a groan from him reverberating against you.
"Fuck, Spencer," you whined, grinding your hips against him as he dragged his nails down your thighs, your skin igniting like a fire at his touch. Your eyes flew open as you moaned, eyeing the bulge in his pants in front of you.
Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you reached down, fumbling with his belt before pulling it loose, feeling Spencer halt his actions for a moment before resuming, his teeth grazing along your clit. You let out a loud moan as you pushed his pants and boxers down, wrapping your hand around his hardened dick, feeling him moan against your clit.
You swiped your thumb over his tip before licking from the base of his dick to its head, closing your mouth around the tip. Spencer dipped his tongue mercilessly inside you, his hands gripping your thighs so tightly you worried you might bruise, sinking your mouth down on his dick as you groaned, closing your eyes.
Spencer bucked his hips, hitting the back of your throat as he worked his mouth over your clit, his muffled moans quavering around you. You brought your head up, swirling your tongue around his tip as you brought your hands down on his hips, holding him there. He groaned, his dick throbbing inside your mouth as you flatted your tongue against him, taking him deeper as you sank your head down, a trail of spit slipping down your chin.
Spencer pushed you off of him, his loud groan ringing in your ears as he pushed two fingers inside of you, curling them against your g-spot. You groaned, the sound vibrating against his dick. "I already know I'm gonna last longer than you," he panted, his thumb moving in circles over your clit.
"Mm," you moaned in response, bobbing your head up and down at a quicker pace, accepting his challenge. Spencer pulled you back down on his face, his tongue lapping up your wet slit, pushing into you.
The knot in your stomach began to take form, knowing you were close. You dug your nails into the skin of Spencer's thighs, his dick hitting the back of your throat as you forced his hips down, his body jolting beneath your touch. Spencer's dick throbbed against your tongue, your pussy clenching around his. Then you moaned, feeling yourself come undone on his face, hearing Spencer groan beneath you before his dick twitched and he came at the same time, you hollowing your cheeks as you swallowed quickly.
You rolled off his body, laying on the bed beside him as you moaned, Spencer panting beside you. "Fucking hell," he grunted, his eyes flicking to yours.
"Guess you were wrong," you snickered, winking at him, and he rolled his eyes at you, smiling.
You sat up, placing a hand over his chest before you leaned down, pressing your lips softly to his. Spencer's hands moved to your hair, pulling you closer to him as he deepened the kiss, his tongue grazing along your bottom lip. You parted your lips, letting his tongue slip into your mouth, a small laugh coming from you.
Spencer pulled away, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and tugging on it before he fell back on the bed, smiling up at you. "Thank you," he said, reaching out and pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, his fingertips brushing your cheek lightly.
"For what?" You asked.
"For being you."
"That's the only person I know who to be," you shrugged, grinning down at him.
"Would it be okay if I stayed?" Spencer asked, his eyes searching yours through the darkness, his hand still cupping your cheek.
"Is that even a question you have to ask?"
"I don't know. The last time we did this at a hotel, you didn't want me to stay," he replied, looking at you. Rolling your eyes at him, you smacked your hand lightly against his cheek, laughing.
"Well, this time, I want you to stay."
And he did.
After you both got ready for bed, you climbed in beneath the covers, waiting until Spencer climbed in beside you to curl up in his arms, the comfort of his body flush against yours warming you. "Hmm," you giggled, your eyes already growing heavy. "You smell good."
"Do I?"
"Has no one ever told you that?"
"No, no one has."
"Well, you do."
Then you both drifted off to sleep, curled up in each other's arms.
~~~
𝐴𝑈𝑇𝐻𝑂𝑅'𝑆 𝑁𝑂𝑇𝐸.
I'M SORRY THIS CHAPTER IS SO SO LATE but i hope you liked it :)) who's ready to go to vegas in the next?? ;))