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[notmydayjob]

a walk in two worlds | john laurens x reader.

words: 1.8k

warnings: a little bit about slavery just because its john, parent death, fluff and some possibly sexual comments if you think on it

desc: your father is british general whose been called to fight in georgia, with him gone and you alone in new york things are bound to happen, especially after you meet a certain soldier boy.

this is my first hamilton fic and I wanted to say a couple things before it got it started. First of all I am white writer and I write my fics to be inclusive but there may be things that I may not realize are excluding people because I’ve had the privilege of not being excluded so if you notice anything then please message me and I’ll be more than happy to edit it. second i wrote this at 3 am and even if nobody reads it i’ll probably make a pt2 but lemme know.

i kinda picked and choosed what i wanted to use from hamilton and real life so obviously not historically accurate 

There’s nothing quite like summer in the city, children running in the streets, the sound of hooves on the brick laid roads, and the hot sun shining down on busy men and women. You had just moved into the city with your father but soon after you arrived your father was called away to join the fight in Georgia. You were left behind with only your housekeeper who functioned as a Nanny when you were a child. Your mother had died when you were very young and your father worked so Joan was the closest thing to family you had. Before your father left he gave you three instructions. One, the city can be a dangerous place for a young beautiful girl, don’t go downtown. Two, if you must stray from the house never go anywhere unaccompanied. Three, the revolutionists are reckless and ruinous, stay away. Your father was a smart man but often worried too much especially for you. It took nearly three days to convince Joan to let you leave the house. “I will come with you then, just let me finish my chores, and then we may go, but we are staying uptown, it’s nice here, awfully quiet too.” She said when she finally caved. You thanked her profusely but unbeknownst to her when she turned her back to you, you slipped out the back door. When your father left he took the carriage with him and the coachman had not yet returned so you had to walk into the city. You weren’t complaining though, the weather was warm and the fresh air was refreshing after a  week of house arrest. As you approached the downtown district of Manhattan you noticed a noticeable drop in wealth due to many of its residents being either college students, revolutionists, or merchants. A young man stood on a soapbox in the city square ranting about the unjust taxes and the recent events in Boston while a large crowd cheered around him. Propaganda flyers were hung on every storefront and street lamp, you took one and quickly shoved it into the bottom of your basket next to a small bag of coins. For about 20 minutes you strolled around going between stands of vendors selling fruits, fans, furniture, and everything in between. You stopped at the stand of a man selling vegetables and began picking out a few. You clearly felt a presence behind you but stayed focused on your task. “What is a pretty young lady like you doin’ in the city all by herself.” The presence spoke smoothly. You looked up from under the brim of your hat to see a man around your age maybe a few years older. His curly black hair was tied up tightly at the back of his head. Your eyes then traveled to the rich blue coat he proudly wore. “Minding my own business.” You said flatly as you turned back to what you were doing. “You know there are a lot of dangerous people out here who might want to take advantage of such a pretty girl.” He said clearly thinking he was very smooth. “Is that so?” You responded as you paid for your goods. Maybe you were naive but he didn’t seem threatening, he seemed young, reckless, and a flirt which could be just as bad. “Yes ma’am, maybe I should be your escort to-” He began again but you cut him off. “What’s your name, sir.” You asked him curtly and for once turned to fully face him. “John Laurens.” He tipped his head to you. “Don’t you have something to protest Mr. Laurens.” You brushed past him and continued down the street but he was quick to follow you. “I’m a wonderful multitasker.” He chuckled softly at his own joke. You wanted to hate him, you wanted to believe everything your father said about revolutionists but this man was charming and had a gravitational pull that was nearly impossible for you to resist. You knew if he stopped following you then you would follow him, you just hoped he didn’t know that. “I’ve never seen you around here before.” “Is that supposed to be a question, Mr. Laurens.” From the side of your vision, you could see the grin on his face, he liked having you riled up. “My father and I just moved uptown.” “So a rich pretty girl.” He said to himself with the full intention of you hearing to which you scoffed. “Am I wrong?” He stepped out in front of you locking his honey brown eyes with yours. You simply rolled your eyes in protest. “That’s what I thought.” His smirk was so genuine and charming it made you smile back to which he beamed brightly. “So what does the pretty girl’s father do for such wealth.” He posed. “Old money.” You stated simply to avoid the topic but he was clearly not satisfied. “He’s a general.” You stared intently over at him to gauge his reaction. John immediately stopped in his tracks and the smirk on his fell. “I take it we’re on different sides of the war.” He nodded slowly not meeting your eyes. His sudden quietness intrigued you, it seemed like that would have only made him mouthier. “That’s right.” Your voice was nearly inaudible but your beg for him not to turn away was loud enough for him to stay even for just a moment longer. You were not content with those being your last words so you continued: “My father believes that the King is a just one.” You chose your words intentionally, hoping he would take the bait yet shocked when he did. “And what do you believe?” You didn’t quite know how to respond to his question. No one had ever asked for your political opinion, especially not a man. “Well,” The small grin was already appearing on your face. “The price of tea is far too high nowadays.” The smile was quick to come to his face though he played it off with a joking scoff and eye roll. “So, does the beautiful young lady have a name?” “Y/n.” “Y/n,” He repeated your words testing it out to see if he liked it, apparently he did because the next thing he asked was where the two of you were headed next. You went to the silversmith, and he talked about growing up on a plantation in South Carolina and the things he saw happen to his father’s slaves. You went to the bakery and he told you his dreams of giving those men their freedom so they could join him in fighting in the war. You found him more endearing the longer you talked to him. You let your guard down and showed him your interest in what he had to say and you no longer tried to hide the laughs and smiles that he pulled out of you. “What about you?” He asked as he held the door to the general store open for you. “What about me?” You asked promptly. “Oh, come on, I’ve done nothing but talk, you have to return the favor.” His smirk grew quickly. You simply rolled your eyes but let yourself smile to show that you found the joke at least a little funny. “There’s not much to tell until two weeks ago I stayed in my home back in London and did what I was asked.” You explained. “Will you grab the jam jar on the top shelf for me?” You could probably reach it but you wanted to see how quickly he would please you. He in fact did follow your request but not before taking a step closer to you, pressing you against the shelf as he reached over you to grab the jar above your head. “You don’t seem like the type to quietly obey.” John’s voice was low, lower than you’d ever heard it before and quiet enough so that you were the only one who heard his words. He did this on the purpose of course, what he said was only for you. He brought his hand down to give you the jar, your hand resting on his for just a moment. That’s when you realized this was the first time you’d touched, and now that’s all you wanted to do and the brushing of hands wasn’t nearly enough. As you went to stutter out an answer the shouting that was coming through the front door pulled both of you out of your moment. “Y/n M/n L/n, there you are, oh my god!” Joan ran straight for you. Her pale cheeks flushed and grey hair falling loose from her low bun. “I thought you’d run away, do you know how upset your father will be?” “Father isn’t here, you don’t have to tell him anything.” You proposed. “Is this your mother?” John interjected as he held his hand out for her to take. “No, she’s my handler.” You said with a hint of annoyance. Joan gave John her hand and he promptly placed a kiss on the back of it, you felt yourself become envious of her hand. Her cheeks turned bright red, you were sure she would tell you about how she hasn’t gotten this much attention from men since she was 20. “Joan this is John Laurens, John Laurens this is Joan.” You nearly groaned out. Joan quickly spoke up again right when you saw her eyes fall on Johns’s coat. “Oh my! Y/n we must be headed home now!” She grabbed your hand and began to drag you to the door. “Joan, Joan!” You shouted for attention before dangling your basket in front of her face. “I’ll pay for these.” She took the basket from your hands. “You wait outside.” She shooed you away. You exited the shop making sure that John was following. “Maybe we should make a run for it.” You turned to John as he chuckled. “I don’t think so, you’ll give the poor woman a heart attack.” He said then a silence fell between you. “I don’t want this to be the last time I see you though.” “Neither do I.” You said softly. “May I write you?” John quickly turned towards you, swooping your hands into his and holding them close to his heart. “Yes.” You nodded as you stared intently and how he held you. “John, this won’t be easy, my father would never-” “I know.” He said simply as he smiled at you and for just a moment you didn’t care about what your father would say. “Alright, Y/n, it’s time for us to head home,” Joan said as she came out the door. “Goodbye, Y/n.” He took your hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. “Goodbye, John Laurens.”

[notmydayjob]

I want hamiltrash friends

:3

Reblog if you also want hamiltrash friends

Let’s all be friends 💕

[notmydayjob]

Requited

This is my manifesto of my love for criminal minds and the lovely Dr. Spencer Reid. Also I know some of the ages are a little fucked up but just suspend your disbelief for a second.

Summary: You grew up with Spencer but after meeting again years later due to one of Spencer’s cases you find yourselves rekindling an old friendship and maybe a little more.

Warnings: all the angst you’d expect from a CM episode, and sassy sexy Dr. Reid being adorable.

It’s been five, no- six years since you’ve seen him. You tried not to keep track but that was easier said than done. He was your best friend in Elementary and Highschool but as you both grew up you grew apart as well.

 You and Spencer were the most unlikely of friends as kids, the same age but nearly three grades apart. That of course was Spencer’s fault. You met in the third grade after your family moved to Nevada and Spencer was the only kid who was also sitting alone. After a while, you made more friends but none of them were as interesting as Spencer. He could read so fast and he knew so many things and sometimes you could even get him to recite books from beginning to end for you. He asked you things that you’d never really thought about like why the sky is blue or why the grass is green and when you said you didn’t know he’d explain it to you with big confusing words until you’d make him simplify it for you. You weren’t dumb but you weren’t Spencer, and part of you always knew he wouldn’t stick around. When you went to the fourth grade he went to fifth, spent two months there, and then went to sixth. You thought that would be the last time you saw him.

On your first day of Freshman year, you headed to the cafeteria with your friends and when you sat down and looked up you saw a kid your age, with long hair that curled at the ends, and big glasses, and was rapidly flipping through the pages of a book. One of your friends made a snarky comment and the other laughed but you stood up and quickly walked other to the boy, you honestly didn’t know why. Maybe it was because you hadn’t seen him since third grade or maybe it was because he had gotten so handsome in your time apart. 

“Spencer?” You said to the boy which made him shoot his head up in confusion. You waited for a second to see if he’d recognize you but after a moment of silence, you continued. “It’s (Y/n), we knew each other in elementary school.”

“Oh, yeah I remember. I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you.” He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and smiled up at you. Spencer didn’t really smile that much, not at people at least, but he always smiled at you. You sat down next to him, eager to get caught up. 

“I figured you’d be finished with college by now,” You joked which caused him to chuckle softly.

“Next year, I’m a senior now.” He recognized the apprehension in his voice. Even when you were little Spencer got teased a lot for being ahead you couldn’t even imagine what it was like now.                                         

“Are you even human?” You giggled. “What are you even reading that you haven’t read before?”

And so your friendship picked up again, exactly where it left off. Now instead of why the sky was blue, it was theoretical mathematics and physics.

The two of you spent the whole year together, you’d go to the library and he’d finish three books in the time you could finish chapter one, and still, if you were lucky you could get him to read to you. You were there when he got his acceptance letter from Caltech, he was so nervous when opening the email but he’d never admit it. Once you forced him to open the letter and you began to read it but by that time he had already finished it. 

“I got in.” He said almost too calmly. 

“What?” You gasped. He spun around in his swivel chair and looked up at you with a smile. 

“I got in!” He shot up and wrapped his arms around you. You were taken slightly aback at the physical contact. Spencer was a slight germaphobe but you still found opportunities to invade his personal space...respectfully.

And then again he left. The good news was Caltech was only a few hours away, you still saw each other on weekends, sometimes you’d come to visit his dorm and sometimes he’d come back home and visit you. You were also there when he had his mom hospitalized, you both knew it was the best thing to do but it was still hard for him to do. That was the first time you ever saw him cry, not when his dad left although you were sure that he did just never around you. Now Spencer cried, he tried to hide it from you but he couldn’t, you would wrap your arms around his waist and let him lean down to cry onto your shoulder. 

“I’m sorry.” He’d say to you after he had calmed himself.

“Why?” You asked as you ran your fingers through his long hair. 

“I never want you to see me weak.” He’d always say.

“You’re the strongest person I know.” 

As your senior year came to an end this time it was time for you to make the decision, stay, or go. Ultimately you stayed, applied to somewhere local, you didn’t want to admit that it was because Spence was close or because the town reminded you of him but you couldn’t deny it played a role. You hated Las Vegas, it was full of gamblers, pimps, and prostitutes and the heat was terrible. Sometimes Reid would take you to the Strip and you’d watch the people come and go, maybe that’s when he decided he wanted to be a profiler, you could sit there for hours and listen to him get all into people's business. Those were the memories you stayed for. 

Your third year was when Spencer left for Virginia, two Ph.D. 's in Math and Engineering, working on a third in Sociology and he chose to go to the FBI Academy. You were so proud of him but your heart broke to watch him get on that plane. You both cried when you said goodbye at the airport.

“I’ll call you every day.” He said, and for a while, he did but after that first night when you stayed up past midnight waiting for him to call but he never did. That was when you realized it would never be the same. You spoke to him every day, every week, every month, once a year, but now six years since he left and you haven’t even spoken to him in five. Until today.

“What the hell is happening?” You asked your boss as you saw a group of men and women going through the files in your office. 

“The Feds,” He nodded at the group on the other side of the windows. “They wanted information on a kid you used to work with...David...Dave… the last name started with an O I think.”

“Davies Ortega?” You knew exactly who he meant.

“Yeah, yes! They want everything you have on him, they have a warrant but you weren’t here-”

“Yeah well, I am now.” You sighed as you pushed through your colleagues who were watching with confusion.

“If you wanted to see my files you could have asked nicely.” You said as you came through the door. 

“Dr. L/n, I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner with the FBI, were you Davies Ortega’s psychiatrist?” A tall man with dark hair turned to you.

“Yes sir, I was.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “You have a warrant?” A dark-haired woman handed you the paper.

“You got something to hide?” A fit man with dark skin questioned.

“The Ortega’s are a rich white-collar family and the father is the DA, I’m protecting my practice.” You quipped back. “Your warrant says you have the right to the Ortega files and the files you’re going through aren’t those so if you’d please stop invading my client’s privacy I’ll show you what you’re looking for.” Each of them dropped the files they were holding.

“Thank you,” You said and then made your way to your desk, opening the locked cabinet beneath it and pulling out several thick files.

“That much?” The dark-haired woman said. You chuckled softly and then pulled out yet another stack of files.

“That much.” You corrected. 

“Ma’am we’re going to have to go through all of this and ask you a series of questions, I think it would be best if we did this at the police station… for privacy.” Agent Hotchner motioned to the crowd around your office. 

“I think that’d be best.” You agreed.

The ride to the police station was horribly quiet and incredibly awkward. Luckily though it was very short. You walked through the front doors following Hotchner, you caught a glimpse of Davis’s photo pinned to a board next to the photos of several women dead. You couldn’t make out too much because someone called out your name from behind you, not Dr. L/n but Y/n. You quickly turned to see a tall thin, brown-haired man with his hands awkwardly in his pockets, Spencer.

“Oh my god,” You smiled as you rushed towards him, standing up on your toes, practically jumping and wrapping your arms around him. He wrapped his arms around your waist in return and tucked his face into the crook of your neck.

“The two of you know each other.” An unfamiliar voice said from your left side. You and Spencer jumped apart like two teenagers caught together behind a closed door. 

“Uh, yeah,” Spencer spoke up. “We grew up together. We were uh… close.” 

“Close, huh?” The blonde-haired woman smirked.

“What are you doing here?” Spencer turned his attention back to you.

“Davies Ortega,” You said simply to gauge his reaction. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, that’s not good.

“You’re his doctor?”

“I was,” You nodded.

“Dr. L/n, we shouldn’t do this here, follow me.” You grinned at Spencer before following Hotchner to a small room with a table and mirror, you were sure it was a window from the other side. You were left alone to fiddle with your thumbs and try to work out what was happening. After about 15 minutes the door opened...and Reid came in.

“I’m surprised you’re allowed to talk to me.” You grinned, that probably didn’t look good because of the circumstances but you couldn’t help it.

“I spent the last ten minutes convincing them that you would tell any of us what we need, but you’d be more comfortable with me, wanna prove me right?” He cocked his head at you.

“Anything for my genius.” Although it had been five years it felt just like you’d been teenagers walking on the strip just yesterday. “You think Davies killed those girls, he’s your unsub.” Spence talked about this stuff all the time even when he was in college, you knew how this worked. 

“Yeah,” Spencer spoke softly and nodded. “That doesn’t surprise you?” 

“No,” You said hesitantly. “I know this is being recorded, will the parents see?” 

“No,” Spencer said, slightly confused. “Are you afraid of them?”

“I’m not afraid.” You said quickly and defensively and he raised his eyebrows at you. “ I told them that Davies needed to be institutionalized and they nearly got me fired. Rich people can do whatever they want no matter if their child is a total sexual sadist.” 

“Sexual sadist?” He repeated. “Do you really think he is or are you exaggerating?” 

“Oh come on Spence, you don’t need to do that.” You sighed. “I know he’s messed up, you know he’s messed up it doesn’t matter who says it doesn’t change that.” He chuckled slightly, he should have known he couldn’t pull anything without you knowing.

“Why did Davies come to see you?” Reid continued.

“He was adopted when he was six, removed from his birth mother’s custody for neglect. The Ortega’s adopted him not long after, he went from having nothing to anything he wanted, he began to act out and they couldn’t handle that. He killed the family cat too.” You explained. “Even they knew that was a warning sign.”

“Why’d he stop coming?”

“I suggested hospitalization, they didn’t like that so they found a new psychiatrist. No matter where they took him it was the same though. Eventually, they got him institutionalized just last year he turned eighteen and there was nothing they could do. With this kid, it was never a matter of if… it was when.”

“Alright, thank you, we’re gonna need to keep the files for now but you can go soon.” He sighed and stood up to leave.

“Wait, Spencer.” You stopped him. He turned to look at you and it nearly took the breath out of your lungs but you still continued. “You’re about to go to his house right?” He nodded.

“He used to write stories, they’re in my files, he wrote about killing but they all ended the same way. He said before they could take him he would kill as many officers he could before and then himself.”

Reid nodded slowly, understanding that was your way of telling him to be careful. You followed Reid out of the room and he told you to wait with the blonde-haired woman who would clear you to leave.

“My name’s J.J.” She offered you her hand. This wasn’t the introduction of an FBI agent but instead the introduction of a friend of a friend. “Wanna help me go through these files?”

You sat down with J.J. and helped her go through the files, every once and a while she’d ask you about Spencer.

“So were you ever...with… Spencer?” She asked with a hint of suggestion.

“No,” You chuckled. “I had a crush on him when we were teenagers but that was all.”

“Did he feel the same way?” She pushed a little further.

“Spencer is about as transparent as glass, I never got the feeling he did.” You tried to leave as much emotion out of your voice as possible. 

“If I’ve learned anything from working with Spencer it’s that he can lie if he has to.” She chuckled.

Not long after you saw Spencer, Hotchner, the agents whose names you learned were David Rossi, Emily Prentiss, and Derek Morgan. They were all rushing out, wearing blue FBI vests, and fully armed. Spencer walked over to you.

“Hotch and the Sheriff said you can go, what are the two of you up to?” He said as he looked at the messy table of papers.

“I’m just helping J.J. with the files.” 

“Well, we uh- gotta go.” He held out his last word, you knew he was just as worried he wouldn’t see you again as you were. “When we’re done… I’ll call you. I swear.” You just nodded and wrapped your arms around his waist before once again watching him leave.

“Doctor,” Hotchner called you. “You’re free to go,”

“Yes, sir I know…” You said apprehensively.

“But?” 

“I think I’d like to stay until you get back,” Maybe you wanted to know what would happen to Davies, maybe you wanted to make sure Reid was okay, either way, he didn’t ask, he just nodded and left.

You sat there with J.J. for an hour as the team checked out the house and confirmed Davies was inside. J.J. got a message on her radio that they were going in, you both sat quietly at the table holding your breath and waiting for more news. Ten minutes went by before you got the next message. 

Shots fired; Federal Officer down. 

J.J. clasped her hand over her mouth and put her other over yours reassuringly. 

Suspect has been injured and is in the ambulance but should make it. 

A small wave of relief washed over you but the words Officer down were still stuck in your head. After about half an hour people began filing into the station, Hotchner, Prentiss, Rossi, Morgan, and finally Reid.

You and J.J. let out a sigh of relief seeing the whole team alive and well. Reid smiled at you, clearly amused by the worry on your face. 

“You seem stressed.” He grinned.

“Oh shut up.” You smacked his chest before wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in it. “What about the officer?”

“SWAT got hit in the leg, he'll be fine.” 

“I was worried.” You finally admitted before pulling away. “So, when do you guys go home?” 

“Tomorrow morning, maybe tonight if Hotch is in a hurry.” He shrugged and you felt his demeanor change. “Y/n… I have to finish up here but afterward, would you want to… I don’t know, hang out?” His hands sat uncomfortably in his front pockets and his shoulders tense. 

“Yeah Spence, I’d like that.” You smiled up at him. 

“Cool,” He nodded with a proud and yet relieved smile on his face. “Meet me at The Strip...our spot, at 10 o’clock.”

“Of course Dr. Reid.”

“I’ll see you then Dr. L/n.”

The Strip was huge but you knew exactly where he wanted you to meet him, at the corner of the fountains facing the Ferris Wheel. By the time you got there at ten, you saw him leaning against the railing waiting for you.

“You got off early.” You said to alert him that you were there.

“Yeah,” He seemed relieved that you showed up. You stood next to him and leaned onto the railing as well. “I didn’t know you got your doctorate.” 

“Yeah, I got my masters and started working but did online courses for my doctorate while I was practicing.” Sometimes you got self-conscious talking about education with Spencer and he seemed to notice.

“That’s impressive.” He said genuinely.

“I never would have done it without you.” You shrugged off his compliment.

“Me?” He turned to face you, his attention now peaked.

“Yeah, I mean...yeah, you always used to talk about Dahmer and Gacy and how fucked up their childhoods were. It just wanted to stop it before it happened but clearly… that didn’t work.”

“Hey,” He placed his hand on your shoulder. Spencer shockingly hadn’t changed much in the six years you’d been apart. His hair was longer than it used to be and much messier and curlier, he dressed slightly different as well. As a teenager, Spencer rarely wore clothes that accommodated his tall but thin stature, and he never quite knew how to style his clothes. Now, his clothes fit well, his long sleeves were rolled up to reveal his forearms and he wore a black sweater vest and a dark blue tie. He looked mature and put together but at the same time, still kind of looked like his mom dressed him for the science fair. His socks still didn’t match.

“That’s not your fault Y/n,” He looked you in the eyes making sure you were really hearing him. “Like you said it was just a matter of when. I talk to these kinds of guys every day, they’re irrational.”

“Yeah… I know.” You sighed heavily. A silence hung in the air, neither of you wanting to talk about the events of the day but not knowing how to proceed.

“So you like Psychiatry?” He said with genuine interest.

“Yeah,” You said unconvincingly, causing him to raise his eyebrows like you. “Well, yes and no. My boss is a total pushover and my co-workers are dramatic and invasive. I like what I do but not necessarily where I do it.” 

“So what keeps you here?” He furrowed his eyebrows and leaned all of his weight on his right arm so that he could face you. 

“Honestly,” You sighed and looked around, trying to come up with the best answer. “Nothing.” I guess that was easier than expected. 

“What about your family?” 

“Everyone’s all spread out by now, retired in Florida, the woods in North Dakota, you name it.” 

“You hate it here, why have you stayed so long?” Spencer said, obviously confused now. He knew better than anyone that you should have gotten out of Vegas the second you turned 18. “Why did you even go to college here?” 

“Cause you were close.” You looked down at your hands, suddenly feeling how long it had been since you’d talked to him.

“You stayed because of me?” His voice softened and was nearly inaudible.

“Yeah, I guess I did.” You looked into the fountain, squinting at the lights shining in your eyes. “We have good memories here, I guess that’s why I stay.” 

When you finally looked back up at him he was already staring at you. You were tempted to dart your eyes away but you found it impossible to look away from him. And then faster than anything you’d ever experienced his hand was on the side of your face and lips were on yours. His hand was gentle on the soft skin of your face and it traveled slowly to the back of your neck desperately bringing you closer to him. Your hands rested on his chest, fingers digging into the coarse wool of his sweater in an attempt to keep him there. With one step towards you, he closed the gap between your bodies and pressed you against the railing. You arched your back, pushing your body against him to prevent you from bending back over the railing. Spencer’s other arm wrapped around your waist pulling you impossibly close to him. 

The kiss had started slow and unsure but once you reciprocated it became desperate and hungry for what both of you had been wanting since you were teenagers. Spencer’s tongue grazed against your bottom lip requesting entrance which you gladly gave him. Your tongues danced together, not a fight for dominance but a dance between two equals trying to explore every piece of their partner. Spencer’s teeth softly grazed against your bottom lip pulling it between his before he reluctantly pulled his face away from yours but still kept his body pressed against yours. Both of you stood there not daring to move away from each other as you gasped for breath. 

“I think I’m ready to leave.” You said between breaths. 

“And go where? Virginia?” Spencer was obviously kidding but the way you looked up at him to gauge his reaction showed that you were completely serious. “Oh, Y/n no, you can’t uproot your life for me.”

“Oh come on Spence!” You slipped out from under him getting space to gain some confidence in your argument. “I hate it here, it’s hot, the people are terrible, I’m ready to quit my job after today’s fiasco.” Spencer just shook his head and chuckled, you continued.

“Come on Spence I love the East Coast, the people, the seasons.”

“The seasons? That’s why you want to come?” His smile turned into a proud smirk as he placed his hands on either side of you, pressing you against the railing.

“And good company.” You smiled before pulling him down to meet your lips. 

“I missed you so much.” He said between kisses. You went to say something back but before you could Spencer’s phone went off in his pocket. He dropped his head and let out a loud sigh that made you giggle. 

“Yeah, Hotch.” He said formally but rolled his eyes and grinned at you. There were a few seconds of silence but you could hear a deep muffled voice through that phone. “Actually, I was planning on staying for a while, I’ll catch my own flight back.” The two men exchanged a few more formalities before Spencer casually put his phone back in his pocket.

“You’re staying?” You looked up at him with a timid smile before he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and leaned his body against yours.

“Well, I gotta help you pack.”