#but I don’t think I can go back to Virginia because I’ll go insane | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

honeypiehotchner · 4 years

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winter love (all i want for Christmas is you) -- Hotch x Fem!Reader

Hi hi hi!! I have literally been writing this on and off since September, and now I finally get to share it!! A few quick things: this fic has very much Hallmark vibes but does have a good dose of angst too; for the sake of this fic, Aaron was born and raised in Virginia; and Jack was never born (sorry buddy!).

I listened to Michael Bublé’s songs “All I Want for Christmas Is You” and “Cold December Night” a lot while writing this, so feel free to play those while you read! xx.

(The gif is from google because once again, my gif search is broken on here because apparently this post is too long?? Rip me)

Summary: You’ve returned back to your hometown after leaving to get your education, but you didn’t expect to run into your childhood best friend (and first love).

Word count: 9.4k

HOTCH MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

If you told yourself a few months ago that you’d be moving back to Virginia, you would’ve scoffed and probably laughed -- loudly. Your mom, on the other hand, would’ve been elated, and swore she knew it.

Like she’s doing now.

“I’m just so excited to have you home again,” she gushes, helping you carry boxes of your clothes up to your old childhood room.

The room needs some work, like taking down all these embarrassing posters and changing the sheets to something not so cringe-worthy (thankfully, it’s a full-size bed instead of the old twin you grew up sleeping on). But it’ll be fine for the time being. It’s not like you’re going to find an apartment right before Christmas, or that you even want to. It’s been a while since you’ve spent a full Christmas season with your mom.

You’ve been studying out of state for the past six years, working to get your masters and doctorate degrees — which you’ve completed. But now you need a job and a new start, which is why you decided to come home.

You’ve missed Virginia a lot more than you’ll admit. It’s hard not to miss your hometown when you’re gone from it for so long.

“We need a Christmas tree,” you say, as you come back down the stairs. “Christmas is next week, how do you not have a tree up yet?”

“I wasn’t going to get one without you,” your mom says like the fact should’ve been obvious to you.

You laugh as you plop down next to her on the couch. “I know. We should go tomorrow.”

“Whenever you want to,” she smiles, squeezing your arm. “Have you been to your coffee shop yet?”

“My coffee shop?” You raise an eyebrow. “Since when has it been mine?”

“Since you practically lived there during high school,” your mom counters.

She has a point. “Well, no, I haven’t. I just got here.”

“You should go.”

You raise both eyebrows this time, turning your entire body to face her. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you trying to get me to go back there?”

“Why don’t you want to?”

You give her a look. “You know why.”

“I don’t.”

She does. She knows exactly what happened there.

“I’m not repeating it,” you mutter. “And I’ll be finding a new coffee shop, thank you very much.”

“Oh, you can’t let one bad experience stop you from going there!”

“So you do remember!”

“How could I forget? When you were a wreck for months after. I still never forgave him for that, you know.”

You shake your head, settling back against the couch pillows. “It’s been long enough now that I think forgiveness won’t hurt anyone.”

You say that, and yet you don’t want to step foot in that shop ever again.

+++

It was the summer before your junior year. Aaron was a rising senior, so there was the weight of it being his last year already hanging in the air. Especially when he was already looking at a pre-law track for college — meaning he’d be insanely busy after graduation with not much time for you.

Unfortunately, you didn’t realize that his being too busy for you would start before then.

You were a year younger — technically almost two, but the way your birthday fell, you were only one grade younger — but that didn’t stop Aaron from being your friend. At first you thought he had ill intentions (as most older boys in high school did), but he didn’t. He genuinely enjoyed your company, and you genuinely enjoyed his.

More than genuinely. You say now that you don’t believe in love at first sight, but you know that’s because it already happened for you, and you believe it to be a one-time deal.

That one time was when Aaron sat across from you at the lunch table.

You were alone and reading a book. You were a freshman then, and being an extra year younger didn’t exactly help in the whole making friends department. Especially when a lot of your peers were already aware of your age.

But Aaron wasn’t aware, nor did he even care.

He saw that you were alone, and reading, and he decided to sit with you. He wanted to read too, anyway, but he knew he didn’t always like being alone when he read. Something told him you were the same way.

He was correct.

It took almost the entire fall semester before either of you said one word to each other. Sometimes you’d be too engrossed in the book you were reading to even notice he’d sat down in front of you. And when you would finally notice, he would be the one with his nose too deep in the book to notice.

But eventually, you started sharing book recommendations.

Which eventually turned into helping each other with homework. You were always better at math and Spanish than he was (you were already in the sophomore levels of these classes as a freshman), but he was always good with history and English. He must’ve noticed you were in freshman English and history, but he never commented on it — at least not in a way that said he was bullying you.

That winter break was when you started going to the coffee shop together. It was within walking distance of the high school, so the two of you would go at the end of the day until your parents could pick you up. Sometimes your mom would drive him home, or vice versa.

And when Aaron got his license, he’d drive you both there and drop you off at home.

The two of you were inseparable. Almost literally.

Until Aaron met Haley.

Haley was in theatre. She was everything you weren’t. Aaron’s age, pretty, funny, outgoing, and worst of all: popular.

You watched your best friend fall in love.

And that wouldn’t have hurt as bad as it did if it wasn’t Haley he was falling for.

You kept your feelings for Aaron quiet, even to your mom — though you found out later that she always knew. You had almost thought he felt the same, or that he might be beginning to, and then suddenly he was talking about some girl named Haley.

Only she wasn’t just “some girl” to him, or even to you. Everyone knew Haley Brooks.

Slowly, your lunch table conversations were less about what the two of you were going to do the coming weekend, and more about Haley. How he was going to get her to notice him (join theatre, even though he never liked theatre before her). How he was going to ask her on a date (it wouldn’t be a date at first, just dinner after theatre rehearsal, that ended up being with the entire cast, but he sat next to her). How he was going to win her over (he brought flowers to the first performance and surprised her backstage). How he was going to ask her to be his girlfriend (that was the same night as the flowers, completely unplanned, but she said yes).

How he thought he might want to marry her one day.

The last hurt most of all. He confessed it to you one night out of the blue as he was driving you home after school. You knew you could handle him being in love with someone else. Some sick part of you knew — or hoped, rather — that the relationship wouldn’t last. What high school relationship lasts longer than a few months, anyway?

But when Aaron fell for Haley, he fell completely. And hard.

He started cancelling plans with you to spend time with Haley — before they were even dating. When they were dating, he stopped making plans with you altogether.

Then came the summer before his senior year.

It had been months since you saw him last. You had a new lunch period the second half of the year because one of your favorite teachers asked for help during the period, which meant you didn’t have lunch with Aaron — but you don’t even think he noticed.

June came and went. The two of you barely saw one another, barely talked when you did. But when you did, you clung to those moments like they were your only lifeline. In a way, they were.

July finally came and he actually made plans to see you. He said he wanted to get coffee again, catch up, hang out for a few hours, sit in silence, even, whatever you wanted. You were excited.

Some part of you thought that he had broken up with Haley — wishful thinking, but you were sixteen and in love, what else were you supposed to think?

But he hadn’t broken up with her. They were very much in love. You know. You witnessed it.

Apparently, Haley didn’t like the idea of Aaron getting coffee and lunch alone with a female friend. So, she took it upon herself to tag along.

You saw them sharing a kiss through the window, Aaron’s back facing you. When they pulled away, Haley’s eyes caught yours, but she said nothing to Aaron, just pulled him back in for another kiss.

You didn’t go into the shop that day. And you haven’t since.

The last time you saw Aaron was the day before he moved to college. He was stopping by to say goodbye to you.

You were reading a book in your room, and your eyes caught the movement on the driveway. You told your mom to say you weren’t home.

You watched him leave from your bedroom window, hands stuffed in his pockets.

+++

You heard that Aaron and Haley got married. Not because you wanted to hear, but because your mom told you. She probably meant well, but you drank an entire bottle of wine that night. You weren’t even 21 yet at the time.

Of course, it’s been years since then. You’re all fine now, and you’ve got the student loan debt to prove it.

But even with three degrees, job hunting can be a bitch. Especially this time of year.

You need coffee.

You blame the fact that this coffee shop is the best one around. And the fact that it’s Christmas season, meaning they have your favorite drink again.

Dark chocolate peppermint mocha. It’s a godsend. And you haven’t had one in years.

Well, you have. But they haven’t been from here. They haven’t had this shop’s specially made peppermint whipped cream, or the peppermint stick that can be used to stir.

You hate how much you have to psych yourself up before you walk inside. You don’t even know where Aaron is these days or what he’s doing. He could be halfway across the country for all you know.

So, with that fact in mind, you walk inside. You embrace the familiar sight and smells, remembering what it felt like the last time you were here.

You move toward the counter, falling in the short line to the register. And your stomach flips when you see a familiar face standing in front of you.

Well, his back is facing you, so you don’t see his face, but you know it’s him. There’s this thing about first loves. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the last time you’ve seen them. You’ll always recognize everything about them. The back of their head, their shoulders, their hands, the way they walk.

Their voice. Even if it’s deeper than the last time you heard it.

Maybe he won’t recognize me.

But what you don’t know is that no amount of time could pass to make you unrecognizable to Aaron.

Or that he saw your reflection in the glass case next to him when you got in line, and he’s been internally trying to figure out what the hell to say to you since.

If it hadn’t been for his voice, you wouldn’t have recognized Aaron at all. A black coffee? That’s it?

The barista pours it and slides it over to him before he’s even done paying. He’s at a coffee shop -- this coffee shop, and he orders a black coffee?

Who is he?

You step up to the register as he steps away, and you swear you see him looking at you through the corner of your eyes. But you must be seeing things because why would he do that?

You focus on ordering -- a medium peppermint mocha, complete with the whipped cream and peppermint stick. After paying, you step to the side to wait for your coffee.

You nearly knock right into Aaron, but you stop yourself, well aware of his presence.

Another thing about first loves: you’re always painfully aware of their presence.

“Hi,” he says, awkward and fumbling even though it’s only one word. He’s wearing a stuffy suit and tie, which seems odd, but you’re positive that’s just normal lawyer attire. He probably lives in a suit these days. His hair is shorter than it used to be and he looks older, but so do you. Despite all of this, he’s still Aaron. He’s still the same Aaron Hotchner you fell in love with at sixteen.

“Hi,” you return the awkward smile, tugging on the strap of your purse. After a beat, you nod toward his drink. “Black coffee, huh?” You try to tease. “Who hurt you?”

He laughs loudly then, shoulders and head shaking. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Hotchner,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around yourself.

The conversation dies for a moment, so you busy yourself by looking at the different cakes and pastries in the glass case. You probably should’ve gotten one, but maybe another time.

Another time. Fifteen minutes ago you wouldn’t be caught dead in this shop and now you’re already thinking about another time.

“Are you busy?” Aaron suddenly asks, prompting you to look at him with furrowed brows. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” you smile gently, knowing you might regret this later. But it’s been over a decade since you’ve seen him last. One coffee won’t hurt.

And I’m over him, you remind yourself, no matter how untrue it might be.

Once you have your peppermint mocha -- finally, you think, it’s been too long -- you walk with Aaron to find a table. A lot has changed about this shop, but one thing that hasn’t (because there isn’t much that can be changed) is the seating.

Aaron leads you to your old table. The table the two of you practically lived at.

It makes your heart warm and ache all at once. The drink you decided to order isn’t helping matters either.

“So…” You pause, shifting in your seat. “What are you up to these days?”

“You stole my question,” he jokes.

“Tough,” you smile into your drink. “I asked it first.”

He chuckles, but answers anyway. “I’m working for the BAU now.”

“The B-A-What?”

“The-- FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Your eyes widen. “Did you… Did you really just say you’re working for the FBI?”

“I think so,” he says. “I’m the unit chief.”

“You’re the-- Okay. So, you don’t work for the...the BAU, they work for you.”

“We’re a team,” he offers.

“Said every boss ever,” you quip, taking a long drink of your mocha. You take the peppermint stick in between your fingers and stir, eyebrows furrowing down at the swirl of coffee and whipped cream. “So...what do you do exactly?”

He opens his mouth to answer, then stops, hesitating. “Do you really want to know?”

You give him a look. “Of course I do.”

“It’s not great.”

“Aaron, just tell me, or I’ll start reciting my dissertation word for word.” Your statement stuns him to silence, so badly that you almost laugh. “That’s boring. Working for the FBI can’t possibly be boring.”

“Oh, it’s never boring, that’s for sure,” he mutters. “We profile serial killers.”

“You what?”

He laughs. “We look at their behaviors and crimes and build a profile, what they might look like, their age, that stuff.”

“Intriguing.”

“I can’t believe you’re interested.”

“I can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t be,” you counter. “You know I thrive off this stuff.”

“I remember,” he says quietly.

And just like that, you remember, too.

It’s so easy to forget about all the hurt he caused, all the pain he left behind. Especially because you know he never intended to hurt you. He would never do that, not to you, not on purpose. You never told him how you felt. It’s not his fault he couldn’t read your mind.

“Well, you’ve got a doctorate,” he says, shifting the conversation. “What else are you up to?”

“How did you know it’s a doctorate?” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you profiling me? Did I use that correctly?”

“Yes,” he smiles. “And no, not intentionally. You said you’d recite your dissertation. Those are normally written to get doctorate degrees. You always wanted one, I assumed you met your goal.”

“You assume correct,” you nod. “I’m back to start job and apartment hunting, but after the new year. I wanted to spend some time with my mom.”

“How is she doing?”

“She’s good, she--” You pause, shaking your head with a laugh. “She actually brought you up yesterday.”

“Me?” Aaron looks genuinely shocked.

“Yeah, you,” you knock your foot against his leg without thinking, but you pay no mind, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to it. “She’s actually the one who put the bug in my ear to come here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I haven’t been back here since…”

It takes him a moment, but he nods slowly. “Right.”

“Yeah,” you draw your legs closer to you on instinct. “But that was a long time ago. How are you and Haley?”

You don’t expect the way his face falls. You glance down at his left hand. No ring.

“We got a divorce a few years ago, split up about a good year before that,” Aaron explains. “She’s good, last I heard. Remarried already.”

“Wow,” you murmur, not knowing what else to say. “What-- I mean, what happened?” When he hesitates, you backpedal. “Sorry, I shouldn’t even ask, it’s probably a sensitive question.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron chuckles. “I don’t mind talking about it with you.”

That sends a dangerous flutter through your stomach. “Okay. Well I’m all ears.”

“Oh, it’s not a long story, it was just my job,” he shrugs. “I took the unit chief position and she was happy at first. But then, there was a period of time where we had what felt like case after case after case.” He shakes his head. “I was barely home, but I was barely in one state for long, anyway. It was a stressful time. We were everywhere at once.”

“That does sound stressful,” you frown. “Has it slowed down now?”

“Kind of, it has its moments,” he admits. “But being gone so much, it took a toll on her. She wanted to start a family, but said she couldn’t do that if I was never there.”

“But I mean she had to have known how your schedule would be with the new job, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, then shrugs. “It’s been so long now that I stopped trying to understand her thought process.”

“I get that,” you say sincerely. You understand not wanting to waste energy on something like that anymore. Sometimes you just have to give it up and have peace with the fact that you’ll never understand.

“What about you?” He asks suddenly, catching you off guard. “Seeing anyone?” He adds it quietly, like he’s shy.

Aaron Hotchner. Shy. Around you.

“Oh,” you nearly laugh at the prospect. “No. No, I’m not. Do you really think I would be if I was moving back in with my mom?”

He laughs, bringing his coffee to his lips. “You have a point there.”

A comforting silence settles over the two of you after that.

You shouldn’t feel slightly giddy that his and Haley’s relationship didn’t work out in the end. You’re over him by now, anyway. But something about being right has you fighting a smile. You smother the urge, though, knowing he probably doesn’t want to hear anyone, let alone you, say, “I told you so.”

You do feel bad for him, genuinely. Divorce is never easy for anyone, and you hate he went through that. Especially like that. Haley knew his work schedule would change. Why would she act supportive if she knew this in advance? Just sits uneasy with you, that’s all.

Of course, you feel that overprotective-best-friend nature coming back to you.

“What plans do you have now that you’re back?” He asks, keeping the conversation up, but you can tell he’s earnest — which makes you smile.

“Nothing, really. My mom and I are getting a Christmas tree later, but that’s all I have on my schedule.” You pause, giving him another look. “We both know you were my only friend in high school. Who do you think I’m going to see while I’m here?”

“Hopefully a lot of me,” he replies easily, smiling around his coffee.

And for once, you don’t hesitate to reply. “I hope so, too, actually. I didn’t think you were still around here. And I really didn’t expect you to be working for the FBI.”

“This might be presumptuous of me, but what are you doing this weekend?” He asks, quickly adding on, “A good friend of mine is hosting a Christmas party for the team, and I’ve basically been threatened to bring a plus one.”

“Threatened, huh?” You raise an eyebrow.

He nods seriously. “They won’t let me inside without one.”

You gasp comically, keeping up the act. “Well you can’t miss the party!”

“I know,” he sighs, propping his head in his hand.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to come with,” you say, still deadly serious.

But Aaron’s lips split into a grin the same time yours does. “It’s this Saturday.”

“Lucky for you, I’m free.”

He doesn’t stop grinning. “I can pick you up, if you want.”

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you say. “I should probably give you my number, shouldn’t I?”

“I was going to ask,” he admits.

You roll your eyes playfully. “I figured.”

After exchanging numbers, the two of you return to your idle conversations. Only, they’re less idle than they ever have been before.

He vents about still not understanding how people can be capable of the things he sees. How he knows that everyone is capable of unspeakable things, but it’s how they do it that still makes him stumble sometimes. And you try to sympathize, though you know you can’t. But still you tell him not to try to understand.

“You’re a good man,” you say. “You’re not going to understand it because you’re not like them.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I know that, consciously. Sometimes it’s good to hear it from someone else.”

Then he tells you it’s your turn, and again, you don’t feel the need to hesitate.

You tell him how you weren’t planning on moving back here at all. But the job market where you were didn’t...fit you, for some reason. You never felt like you belonged, and so maybe that’s why you wanted to come back here.

Because even though you left this place heartbroken, you still felt like you belonged when you were here. You felt like you belonged when you were with him, but you don’t tell him that.

Something tells you he heard it anyway, though. Being a profiler and all. Which you still don’t quite understand, but you’re sure he’ll have plenty of time to tell you in the coming future.

+++

After an hour or two, you decide it’s time for you to head back home. Partly because you need to make some lunch for yourself, and partly because you’ve watched Aaron dismiss at least three phone calls in the last twenty minutes.

But he didn’t say a word each time, so you know he won’t tell you who it is or if he needs to go. It makes your heart warm at the thought that he wants to spend more time with you, but if it’s his job, then he needs to go.

He walks you to your car and you hug him around his neck, unashamedly taking a deep breath of his cologne when you stretch up to wrap your arms around him. He didn’t wear cologne back in high school. But this one smells good.

You mentally prepare yourself on the way home for the amount of questions your mom is no doubt going to ask.

You’re supposed to be going to pick out a tree with her today, which means you were supposed to be home a little earlier than this, which means your mom probably already knows what happened and you won’t even get a chance to explain yourself.

In the end, your prediction was correct.

“How was your peppermint mocha?” You glance over to the couch and find your mom sitting there, idly reading a book.

The question is as directly indirect as they come. You raise an eyebrow and kick the front door closed (yes, she asked before you even stepped foot inside the house). “It was good,” you reply, shrugging your jacket off your shoulders. “Why?”

“Oh, you enjoyed it for almost two hours, so I was just wondering.” Your mom fights back a grin, but she’s not doing a very good job.

You sigh. “Just go ahead and ask.”

She closes her book. “Alright, fine, I will. How is Aaron?”

There it is.

“He’s good,” you answer rather pointedly, making your way into the living room. “He’s working for the FBI now.”

“Oh, I knew that already.”

You plop down next to her on the couch. “Seriously?”

“Of course!” She cries, like it should be obvious. “Small talk happens when you see someone in the store.”

“Right,” you scoff. “Anyway, thanks for not telling me him and Haley divorced.”

She grimaces.

“Yeah, exactly,” you nod at her expression. “That’s how I felt. I bet it was just awesome of me to ask about how him and his ex-wife are doing.”

“I’m sorry,” your mom says. “It completely slipped my mind. It’s been so long since those two split.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when it happened?”

“Because I didn’t want to bring him up,” she answers sincerely. “You seemed like you had really moved on. I figured it didn’t matter, and I didn’t want to make you start thinking about him again when you had finally gotten over it all.”

“Oh,” you murmur. “Well, thank you, then, but...still. I feel like an idiot.”

“Did he seem angry when you asked?”

“No, the opposite,” you sigh. “He explained what happened and I let him talk about it for a second, but he seems mostly moved on from it.”

“I don’t know how he can be,” your mom scoffs. “She’s already remarried, you know.”

“Yeah, he told me.”

Your mom shakes her head. “I should’ve shook some sense into that boy when he came to say goodbye that day.” Then she pauses, poking your leg. “And I should’ve made you say goodbye to him. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“I didn’t wanna talk to him,” you shrug. “We barely had all year, anyway. And one goodbye would not have stopped him from going to college and marrying Haley, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sighs. “It’s fun to think about, though.”

“Well stop thinking about it,” you mutter. “We are friends and he’s probably seeing someone by now. I don’t even know how long I’ll be here, so.”

Your mom raises her eyebrows. “I never said anything about what you guys are now.”

Damn. Caught. “I know, but I’m just...catching you before you do.”

“Mmm, more like catching yourself.”

“Shut up.”

She lightly hits you with a pillow. “Don’t say that to your mother,” she jokes. “Especially not when I’m right and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Are you ready to pick out a tree?”

“Of course,” she replies. “Just let me find my shoes.”

While she’s getting ready -- because “finding her shoes” really means fixing her hair and makeup and changing outfits a couple times -- you get a text from Aaron.

Aaron: It was nice catching up with you today

You smile and type your reply. Ditto. We should do it again sometime.

He doesn’t reply, but you figure he’s busy at work, anyway. And you’ve got a tree to pick out and decorate, so you’re technically busy, too.

You try not to think too much about it.

+++

And truthfully, you don’t think much about it, until Aaron finally replies. It’s hours later when you’re decorating the freshly-cut Christmas tree in the living room, with Michael Bublé’s Christmas album playing through the stereo speakers. It’s just like when you were younger.

You check your phone and see that it’s Aaron texting you back, but you pocket it before reading the message. You’re busy.

Your mom notices the change on your face. “Everything alright?” She asks as she places a snowflake ornament on one of the smaller branches.

You nod without thinking, hating yourself for even feeling what you’re feeling right now. A glittery red ornament hangs from your index finger as you try to find the right branch to hang it on -- and while your mind wanders all over the place.

“Clearly not,” your mom replies. “But alright.” She turns and reaches into a different box, picking up one of the golden jingle bells that she always hides deep within the tree each year. When you were younger, she’d hide them without you seeing, and then on Christmas Eve you’d have to search the tree for them before you could open one present before going to sleep.

You snort a laugh, always loving her way of getting you to open up: sarcasm. “It’s just Aaron.”

“Aaron?”

“Texting me,” you explain, looking down at the glitter coating your fingertips from the ornaments.

“Aren’t you going to reply?” She asks, grabbing another jingle bell.

“Technically he’s the one replying from earlier today.”

“Okay…”

You sigh. Time to cave. “He invited me to a Christmas party this weekend.”

Your mom doesn’t even try to hide her excitement or her wide grin. “Really? That’s great!”

Is it? You want to ask, but you stop yourself. “Yeah,” you shrug. “I guess so. It’ll be nice to hang out with him more.” You pause, finally hanging the small glittery red ornament on the tree that you’ve been idly holding for the past two minutes. “Apparently a friend of his is hosting it and basically told him he wouldn’t be allowed inside without a plus one.” You chuckle quietly, knowing Aaron had to have rolled his eyes when his friend told him that.

“So it’s...a date, then?”

“What? No,” you shake your head. “No, no. Not a date. He didn’t phrase it that way.”

“Sweetheart, plus one implies date.”

“Who says?”

“Everyone!” Your mom laughs. “Bringing a plus one to a wedding is usually a casual date, if not bringing your significant other along.”

“This isn’t a wedding, it’s just a Christmas get together.”

“Same difference.”

“Well, I think you’re doing that thing again where you try to plant seeds in my brain for things that are unnecessary,” you raise an eyebrow at her when she avoids eye contact, so you know you’ve caught her red-handed. “All that aside,” you sigh. “I’m over him. It’s been so long. If something was going to happen, it would have already.”

“Whatever you say,” she shrugs indifferently, grabbing the final jingle bell to hide in the top of the tree. For a brief moment, you wish you hadn’t been watching where she hid them, so you could do the search on Christmas Eve one more time.

+++

You bump into Aaron one more time, two days later, at the same coffee shop.

“Back for more?” He teases as he slides into the seat across from you, another black coffee in his right hand.

You’re sitting at the table the two of you call home with yet another peppermint mocha sitting in front of you and your laptop. More job hunting is the task for today, even though you’re ready to give up and just pick it back up after the New Year. It’s not like your mom is making you pay rent, and you have enough in savings to help with groceries (without her knowledge, of course, because she refuses to let you pay for anything) and buy your own coffees. But, you decided to give it one last go today.

That is, until Aaron slid into the seat in front of you. Now, you close your laptop and place it back in your bag. “Just needed some fuel for more job hunting,” you grin. “What are you doing here?”

“I took off for lunch for once and thought I might find you here.”

“Oh?” You raise your eyebrows. “Were you seeking me out, Hotchner?”

“Maybe a little,” he admits with a shy smile. “Are you still good for tomorrow?”

“As long as you are,” you nod. “What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at five, if that’s good?”

“Perfect,” you smile. “Are you ready to introduce me to your friends?”

“Depends,” he exhales exasperatedly. “Are you ready to meet them?”

“They can’t be that bad.”

“They might be. If you aren’t used to them.” He pauses. “They don’t know you’re coming, by the way.”

“What?” You almost laugh. “Why not?”

“I told them I was bringing someone, but I didn’t feel like hearing it all week about who I was bringing.” He pauses again, like he’s holding something back, and then he lets it out. “They know all about you.”

You blink. “They do?”

“Yeah,” he smiles gently. “I talk about you all the time.”

“No,” you shake your head. “No you don’t. There’s no way.”

“You’ll believe it tomorrow,” he chuckles. “I’m sure they’ll try to embarrass me.”

“I-I mean...what do you even say about me?”

He shrugs. “That you were my best friend in high school and...that I missed you and wondered what you were up to these days, and how we used to hang out here.” He looks around the shop, then back to you and your bewildered expression. “What?” He laughs. “You didn’t talk to your friends about me?”

“No, I did,” you laugh quietly. But I said different things. And most of the time I was crying because I missed you, especially my first year of college when my roommate tried to get me to go on a double date with her boyfriend and his roommate, but I refused and had to confess that I wasn’t over you and that you broke my heart, and I was such a mess that she brought ice cream and chocolate back after their date.

But you don’t say any of that. Obviously.

“I just didn’t expect you to even...think about me, I guess,” you finally spit out, still shaking your head. “I mean...we haven’t talked since high school, I figured you’d forgotten or moved on, at least. Especially since you had Haley.”

Aaron’s expression softens and turns sad, quickly. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t know you thought any of that.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you wave his worry away. “It’s years ago. Water under the bridge.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. Then, he says, “Haley was jealous of you, you know.”

You immediately look up from your mocha, your eyes wide in shock. “She was what?”

“Oh yeah,” Aaron laughs. “Devastatingly jealous of you. She swore we were dating or that I was in love with you or something.”

Or something. “Wow,” you chuckle, trying to mask your hurt as much as possible. “Why did she even think that?”

You know why. You know exactly why. Because before her, you and Aaron were attached at the hip. You sat together during lunch, walked each other home, hung out at the coffee shop, went to school functions together (well, you’d actually go with a big group, but you two always ended up together anyway), and so on and so forth. Anyone would’ve been an idiot to not assume you two were dating.

“We were so close,” he shrugs. “She said she was so surprised when I asked her to be my girlfriend because she swore I was dating you. She actually asked me that, when I gave her the flowers. She said, “What about Y/N?” And I said, “Y/N? She’s just my best friend.” And she didn’t believe me.”

“That’s so crazy,” you say, but you’re really thinking back to that day you and Aaron had decided to meet up here and hang out after so long. When Haley crashed the hangout. When she locked eyes with you and smirked before pulling him back in for another kiss.

She was jealous. She was jealous and she knew exactly what she was doing that day.

Aaron’s phone starts ringing and he sighs heavily, pulling it out. He almost declines it, but then stops himself. “It’s the boss,” he says. “My boss. I’ve gotta take this. I’ll text you later?”

“Sure,” you smile, knowing he might forget or get too busy to think about it. But that’s okay. “Good luck with the phone call.”

“Thanks,” he chuckles. “I’ll need it.” And then he brings his phone up to his ear. “Agent Hotchner,” he says, and you hate that you find it so hot.

+++

You almost cancel with Aaron a dozen times before 2p.m.

You blame the conversation the two of you had yesterday. For some reason, the thought of Haley being jealous of you had never crossed your mind. Because to you, it was so obviously the other way around. Of course, you weren’t vocal about your jealousy, but you were certain she knew. Not that it was the other way around.

Old feelings have already resurfaced, which is bad enough, but the talk about Haley and about how Aaron’s friends know all about you made things worse. Especially the latter.

Why would he talk about you so much if the two of you hadn’t spoken in years? Not even years, but like an entire decade. Why would he still talk about you and think about you that much?

You have dwelled over those questions since he left the coffee shop yesterday.

But now, you have no idea what to wear, and Aaron will be here any minute. You’re assuming the attire is casual, not fancy, since it’s just a get together with his friends -- who all happen to be his team of agents. FBI agents. Because he’s just casually the Unit Chief of the BAU.

It still baffles you. He wanted to be a lawyer. Not in the FBI. God.

He’s still your Aaron. That’s what shocks you the most. He’s experienced law school, marriage, practicing law, working for the FBI, becoming a Unit Chief, divorce, and yet he’s still the Aaron Hotchner you were best friends with in high school.

You wonder if you’re still the girl he was best friends with in high school. Or if you’ve changed so drastically that he doesn’t see you that way anymore.

You take a deep breath, going back to digging through the many boxes of clothes that you have yet to unpack. You need a sweater or something. That’s safe enough, right? It’s too cold for a dress, and frankly, you’re not in the mood for wearing one, anyway.

Finally, you find the sweater you were looking for. You tug it over your head, figuring your jeans are fine enough. You’ll wear some low heels to make it look like you put in a little more effort.

Your quick thinking is to your benefit because the doorbell rings almost as soon as you’re done doing the clasp on your second heel.

But because your mom is quicker than you, she’s already opened the door and let Aaron in before you can make it downstairs. And by the time you are coming down the stairs, Aaron is sitting on the couch with your mom, making idle conversation.

“Hey,” you smile at him, resisting the urge to glare at your mom. “Ready?”

“If you are,” he nods, standing to his feet.

When he turns, you shoot your mom a look. “We’ll be back later.”

“You’re not in high school,” your mom laughs. “You two have fun for as long as you like.”

“I know,” you say. “But I also know you’ll wait up until I get back.”

“And you can’t stop me,” she replies pointedly.

Aaron laughs at the two of you, your banter just as he remembers from all those years ago. Neither of you have changed one bit.

After a final moment of bickering, you bid your mom goodbye and leave with Aaron.

In the car, you ask, “Have you told them about me coming yet?”

From the driver’s seat, he shakes his head. “No, so prepare yourself for a lot of questions.”

“I think you’re the one that’ll be in hot water, but alright,” you chuckle. “I can hear them now. ‘Why didn’t you tell us you were bringing her!’”

He laughs loudly. “That’s not a bad impression, actually.”

“Why, thank you,” you smirk. “It’s a hidden talent of mine.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm.”

The two of you share a grin as he keeps driving.

+++

After some time -- long enough that you were beginning to wonder where he’s taking you -- Aaron finally turns into a subdivision. But it’s still not what you were expecting.

You assumed FBI agents must make good money, but not this good. This is a mansion. It’s massive. There has to be at least six bedrooms in there, maybe more.

“Is your friend a millionaire or something?”

Aaron chuckles, “Maybe. Probably. Maybe more.”

“More?” Your eyes widen. “Wow.” And then Aaron pulls into the driveway. “Wow.”

He puts the car in park and says, “Try not to look too surprised. Dave won’t shut up about the house if you get him started.”

“What if I want to hear everything?” You ask, scrambling out of the car to look up at the house. “Jesus Christ.” Then you whip your head around to look at Aaron exasperatedly. “Does your house look like this?”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “No. This is too big. Dave’s crazy for buying it.”

“He’s definitely insane,” you nod. “I mean, what do you even need a house this big for?”

Aaron shrugs. “Christmas parties, I guess.” He pauses, holding out his arm for you. “Ready to face the lions?”

You roll your eyes through a laugh, loosely holding onto his arm. “Quit being so dramatic. I bet it’ll be just fine.”

“Let’s hope so,” Aaron replies. Because truthfully, he is a little worried that they might scare you off. They have a habit of doing that.

The two of you walk up to the front door, and you try your best to act like you’ve been in the general vicinity of a house this big before. Dave must be a really good friend of Aaron’s, because instead of knocking or ringing the doorbell, Aaron twists the doorknob and walks right in with you on his arm.

“Dave’s making pasta,” Aaron whispers, smelling the air. He shuts the door gently, wanting to surprise the team as much as possible.

You sniff the air, too, smiling happily. “Smells really good. Is that carbonara?”

“Good nose,” a voice says from the kitchen.

“That’s Dave,” Aaron chuckles, walking you down the hall toward the smell.

The team’s eyes all widen dramatically and comically when Aaron Hotchner steps inside the kitchen with a woman on his arm.

“Well, hello,” one of them says, sliding off the stool at the counter to saunter over to you. He’s all suave and swagger.

“Derek Morgan, this is Y/N,” Aaron introduces you quickly, knowing the reaction your name will get.

“Hold up,” Derek pauses, glancing between you and Aaron. “Y/N? As in the Y/N?”

“I don’t know about being the Y/N, but that is my name,” you laugh. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Derek says, a hand over his heart to add to the sincerity. “Where have you been hiding all this time?”

“Getting a doctorate,” you shrug, only now realizing that your hand is still holding onto Aaron’s arm, but he doesn’t seem fazed by it either, so you don’t move.

“Oh, alright,” Derek chuckles. “Hey Reid, we’ve got another doctor here.”

The man in question, Reid, looks up from the book he was reading with furrowed eyebrows. “Hi.” He waves.

“Hey,” you wave back. “What’re you reading?”

“War and Peace. In Russian, though.”

“In-- Wow, okay.”

“He’s a genius,” Morgan explains.

“I see that,” you chuckle.

Aaron finishes the introductions for you. “That’s JJ, handles the press for us because none of us want to do it.”

“He’s not wrong,” JJ replies with a laugh. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” you smile.

“You met Reid, his first name’s Spencer,” Aaron supplies, and Reid is too far gone in the book again to notice. “This is Emily Prentiss.”

“And I have been dying to meet you,” Emily says. “You are exactly how he described.”

“In a good way, I hope?” You laugh nervously.

She nods. “Definitely.”

Aaron points to the other woman at the counter. She’s dressed in all sorts of crazy colors with glasses that match her outfit. And before he can introduce her, she says, “I’m Penelope Garcia, technology extraordinaire. I keep them out of trouble.”

“And we love you for it,” Derek adds.

“And this is Dave,” Aaron finishes.

“It is very nice to finally meet you,” Dave says, and actually shakes your hand. “Do you know how to make carbonara?”

“Yes, actually,” you say, earning a surprised look from Aaron. “I went through a phase when I was younger, wanting to make anything and everything that sounded good, so I’ve made this a few times. My mom loves it.”

Dave loves the sound of that. “Would you like to help me?”

You practically light up inside and out. “Seriously? I’d love to!”

“Oh, here we go,” Derek groans. “He’s roped her in.”

You ignore him, slipping away from Aaron to grab the other apron off the hook by the entrance to the kitchen. You slide your head through the loop and tie it at the back in a matter of seconds, too excited to contain it.

“I almost went to culinary school, you know,” you say to no one in particular, but Aaron is listening, and so is Dave.

“Why didn’t you?” Aaron asks.

You shrug. “Didn’t seem practical.” Which isn’t the real answer at all. The real answer is you got your heart broken and needed to do a complete 180 in life, so you did. Culinary school was out. Getting a doctorate was in. You turn on the water in the sink and begin washing your hands. “What do you need me to do?”

For the next hour, you help Dave make the carbonara, occasionally answering any questions Aaron’s friends have for you.

Aaron pours you a glass of wine and sits at the counter, watching you cook. You look more at peace than he’s seen you since a few days ago when he first bumped into you again.

You catch him looking at you more than a handful of times. It feels good. Spending the evening with his friends, his team, with him. You’ve missed spending time with him more than anything else.

Dave serves up the carbonara, telling you to sit down since you helped so much already. You don’t make him ask twice.

+++

After dinner, everyone moves into the living room, scattering on the various couches and chairs. Reid has finished reading War and Peace, so the book sits discarded on one of the coffee tables.

You take the spot on the couch next to Aaron, careful not to spill your wine. Penelope sits on the other side of you, with Derek on her other side, which all but forces you to move closer to Aaron, and something about the look on Penelope’s face tells you it was done on purpose.

You’re not exactly complaining, though. With a full stomach and a fresh glass of wine, Aaron’s presence is even warmer than before. You pay no mind when he shifts his left arm, stretching it over the back of the couch and allowing you to scoot closer, your legs pressed against each other’s.

The conversation continues, and somehow the subject of relationships is brought up.

“Yeah, why was I the only one asked to bring someone?” Aaron asks. “I’d like to see all of you find a last minute date.”

Another warm rush goes through your body at the word date. This is a date. Alright then.

“I think you did just fine,” Dave says, nodding to you. “Don’t you?”

You shrug, not sure of what to make of it. “I’m having fun, so I guess so.”

“See?” Dave gives Aaron a look. “You did fine.”

Aaron gives his friend a tired glare. “Only because she happened to be back from getting her degrees. Otherwise, I would’ve been stuck.”

“Nah, man, you could’ve called Beth.”

You feel Aaron tense next to you, but you aren’t sure if he tensed up or if you did. Maybe both. Probably both. You weren’t aware there was someone else.

“Who’s Beth?” You ask as casually as possible, ignoring the heated glares Penelope, JJ, and Emily alike are sending Derek. Seriously, Derek would be dead three times over right now if looks could be deadly.

Aaron shrugs before answering you. “Her and I dated briefly last year.”

You nod slowly, trying not to seem hurt or upset or anything by this because it’s ridiculous of you to be fighting back tears, but you can’t help it.

It’s high school, goddamnit, it’s fucking high school all over again.

The topic of conversation shifts thanks to Reid being the endless supplier of random facts. One question about Russian from Emily and he’s taking over, washing the awkwardness away in two languages.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t work as well for you as it does for everyone else.

You set your wine glass down on the table and tell Penelope you’re going to use the bathroom. You have no clue where it is, but she doesn’t know that.

Aaron does. And Aaron hears the tone of voice you use.

He waits until you’re down the hall before he stands to follow you, foregoing any explanation to his friends. They already know what he’s doing.

Aaron’s suspicions are correct when he hears the front door close and sees your coat no longer hanging next to his on the hook by the door. He grabs his and only gets one arm through a sleeve before he’s opening the door, eyes searching the premises for you.

Thankfully, he finds you after two seconds, and his racing heart slows a little. You’re standing by the reindeer lights on Dave’s front lawn. Your coat is only hanging on your shoulders, something you’ve always done since high school when you were upset.

“It feels more like a blanket,” you had told him one day. “Blankets are more comforting than jackets.”

He doesn’t see the difference, but you do, and that was enough for him.

He has both arms through the sleeves by the time he’s next to you. He gently touches your arm to get your attention, adding a soft, “Hey,” for good measure.

You turn your head at the sound, having already known he was coming because you heard the front door open. In the back of your mind, you had wanted him to follow you out here, but now that he’s done it, you aren’t so sure this is what you wanted.

You wanted to ignore the feeling. Get it to disappear on its own. Survive the night, then never talk to him again. You were heartbroken, but it was better when you weren’t speaking to him. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron says softly. “Beth and I haven’t spoken since our last date a year ago. It was only three dates. We weren’t serious at all.” He pauses. “I have no idea why Derek said that. He doesn’t think before he speaks sometimes.”

You nod, not having it in you to laugh at Aaron’s small jab, even though he is entirely correct. Derek is a quick thinker with a sharp wit, but you can see how it might backfire sometimes. Like tonight.

You believe Aaron, you really do. But it’s so hard. “Did you love her?”

Aaron is stunned for a moment, but says, “No. I don’t think I did.”

“Okay.” You shake your head, looking down at the grass. “I’m just trying to figure out why Derek would’ve brought her up if...if you guys dated so briefly.”

Aaron sighs. “I don’t know.”

“And is this a date?” You blurt, finally finding the courage to get that one out. “Because if it is, I…I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

You shake your head again, trying to find the right words, but they always seem out of reach. “Just...tell me this won’t be like high school.”

This time Aaron is too stunned to form a real answer. “What?”

“Please,” you sound like you’re about to cry and you feel so pathetic that you wish you had never agreed to come tonight. But you’re here anyway. “I was in love with you then, and I’m still in love with you now, but I can’t do that again. So if this is a just friends thing and always will be, I need you to tell me before I hurt myself all over again.”

Aaron can’t believe his ears. He swears he heard you wrong. He must have. “You were in love with me in high school, too?”

“Yes-- Wait, too? What do you mean too?” Now you’re looking at him, eyes wide in confusion, shock, every emotion possible. “Too?”

“I was in love with you, Y/N,” he chuckles, reaching for your hands. “I thought you just saw me as an older brother. That’s why I never...said anything.”

“What?” You breathe, letting him thread his fingers through yours. “Are you serious? You better not be pulling my leg, Hotchner. Don’t do that to me.” You tug on his hands for emphasis, giving him a stern look.

“I’m not joking,” he says, taking a step closer. “I wouldn’t joke about this.”

“Oh my god,” you say, disbelief a powerful thief of words. “I can’t believe… So you went after Haley because…”

“Because I heard from one of her friends that she had a crush on me,” he admits. “I did love her, but not as much as I loved you. Never as much as I loved you.”

You don’t know what else to do or say. He looks so beautiful in this light that it hurts, and now he’s saying words you never thought you’d ever hear.

“Do you forgive me?” He asks. “For breaking your heart?”

“Only if you forgive me for breaking yours,” you whisper.

He shakes his head. “I broke my own. I should’ve told you how I felt.” He pauses. “I even talked to you about Haley all the time. Is that why you didn’t say goodbye to me?”

You nod. “It sounds so stupid now, but I was so hurt.”

“I’m an idiot,” he laughs. “I’m the dumbest fool to ever walk the Earth.”

“We both are,” you correct him, taking a step closer. It’s cold out here, but he’s warm. He’s always been so warm. Like home.

And you-- you’ve always been who Aaron thinks of when he thinks about being happy. It’s always been you. A moment like this, and a thousand others. He wants them all. And to think, you do too.

His lips meet yours in a long-awaited kiss, cold noses bumping against one another, his warm hands holding your face, your chilled fingers finding their home on his neck, stealing his warmth.

From the window, the team watches, and Emily exchanges money with Derek.

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silhouetteofacedar · 3 years

Text

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 20: Nattduksbord

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

This means something; Mulder can feel it.

This signifies a shift in their relationship; a step forward, from platonic partners to a romantic couple. It’s a shared experience that has the potential to change their dynamic forever. Years of trust, fighting together against a common enemy, seeking the truth… it could all come crashing down today, in a shopping mall in Woodbridge, Virginia.

They’re going to IKEA.

Summer is on the rise, and the humidity is close to stifling as they buckle into his car. Scully’s wearing a little striped t-shirt, capri pants, and sandals, revealing sky blue painted toes. For a disorienting moment Mulder wonders if he’s going to develop a foot fetish. Probably not, but Dana Scully could make even the most vanilla of men want to do crazy things.

“Do you have your shopping list?” Scully asks as he starts the car.

He pulls the folded scrap of paper out of the chest pocket of his white t-shirt. “Right here,” he replies, eyes darting over to her for one more look as he holds out the list.

She takes it, catching his eyes momentarily. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?” she asks.

I want to suck your toes. “You look nice today, that’s all.”

“Oh. Well, thank you.”

Scully can probably tell he’s desperate for her; she can read him like a dog-eared, yellowed paperback. He’s simultaneously grateful for her sharp instincts and embarrassed by his carnal desires. He hasn’t gotten laid in four years, and he fears he’ll be too eager when the time comes. As it is, he can barely believe she’s let him have even the smallest glimpses of her as a sexual being. She’s intoxicating, and he’s dizzy with the knowledge that this beautiful, brilliant, downright edible woman actually wants him. Him, a mortal man of aliens and bad ties and a porn collection that’s gradually becoming least seventy-five percent redheads. A man without a bed.

Hence their Saturday morning pilgrimage to the shrine where all new couples journey to find furnishings, low prices, and themselves.

“So, we’re looking for one tall bookshelf, a locking filing cabinet, a bed, and two night tables,” Scully reads. She refolds the paper and reaches across him to tuck it back into his shirt pocket. “That’s clearly not all going to fit in this car,” she notes.

“I’ll get the bigger stuff delivered,” he says.

It’s only a twenty minute drive from Mulder’s place, and they have the air-conditioning on. Mulder is starting to relax; it’s been a long time since he’s had a partner, in the domestic sense, and he’d forgotten that it makes the mundane more bearable.

Scully clears her throat almost imperceptibly. “I’m proud of you, by the way.”

“Really? Why?” Mulder asks.

“You managed to get rid of a lot of stuff,” she says, turning up the dial on the car’s air conditioner. “And organization is very clearly not your strong suit, so progress should be acknowledged and celebrated.”

“Yippee,” Mulder deadpans.

“You know, it’s odd; we’ve known each other for all these years and I never asked… why don’t you have a bed, Mulder?”

There it is, the question he knew would come up at some point. He clears his throat, grips the steering wheel a little tighter. “I, uh… I lived with someone, around ‘91. Another agent, actually. We were together for a while, and then one day she took some assignment in Europe and that was that. I got rid of everything that was hers, and that, uh, included the bed.” Technically our bed, he thinks. He winces. He’s never talked to Scully about Diana before, and he wonders if she’ll be upset that he was withholding such a large piece of personal information.

Scully is quiet. “I’m sorry,” she says softly. “That’s… I didn’t know.”

“I’m sorry I never mentioned it,” Mulder says. “It’s not like it’s some big painful secret. I just… don’t really think about her anymore.”

“It’s alright,” Scully says. “I think it’s best for these kinds of things to come up naturally. And… I was dating someone when we met,” Scully confesses. “We broke up as soon as I got back from Bellefleur.”

Mulder looks at her quickly. “Really? Why?”

She furrows her brow. “Multiple reasons, but primarily I realized that this job, my assignment, was bigger than I’d anticipated. And the things you and I went through together, the things I’d seen… when I was honest with myself, I didn’t want to be tied down to him. To have to go home and have this man ask me how my day was, as though he could ever understand even half of what we do.”

“So you chose the job over him,” Mulder muses.

“In essence… I chose you,” Scully points out. “Whether I knew it then or not. I’d never be able to turn my back on you.”

Mulder exhales slowly. He’s strangely moved.

“Take a left at the next light,” Scully prompts softly. “And yes, I do realize the irony in breaking things off with a man because of his normalcy, only to continue trying to date so-called ‘normal’ men.”

Mulder shrugs. “No, it makes sense. Maybe he just wasn’t right for you, but the next normal guy could be, right?”

“Right,” Scully sighs. “Einstein’s definition of insanity. Doing the same thing over and over again while expecting different results.”

“I’ve been led to believe that being with me is another type of insanity,” Mulder points out. “And objectively, I can’t disagree.”

“You do make me crazy,” Scully agrees, voice low. “But that’s not always a bad thing.” He feels her small hand squeeze his thigh. “And I fully intend to return the favor.”

Mulder lets out a quiet groan, hands sweaty on the steering wheel. “You planning on giving me some roadside assistance, Agent Scully? Because I’m gonna need it if you keep doing that.”

She removes her hand, tucks her hair behind her ear. “I didn’t do anything,” she says innocently.

“Uh huh.” He pulls into the IKEA parking lot. “Well, we’re here. You ready?”

“As ready as a person can be for a labyrinthian furniture store on a muggy Saturday,” she replies.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Mulder says from his spot on the bedroom floor, surrounded by scattered pieces of a ‘HOLLEBY’ bedside table. “These instructions are useless and-” he flips through the booklet, “-thirty-two pages long, Jesus.”

Scully doesn’t respond; her eyes are glued to her own manual as she assembles a drawer from the second of the two nightstands. “Shh,” she hushes him softly. “I’m concentrating.”

“How have you managed to put any of these pieces together?” he asks, scooting across the floor to her. “There aren’t even words, just vague illustrations.”

She has a screw between her lips as she lines up two of the wood pieces. “I took wood shop in high school,” she says around the metal pin. She removes it and inserts it into a pre-drilled hole. “I guess that was some kind of preparation for assembling flatpack furniture?”

“That’s adorable,” Mulder says, rising to open a window. The room is stuffy with the day’s heat, and his t-shirt is glued to his back. “Do you still have any of the things you made in class?”

“The step stool in my kitchen,” she replies. “And my mom might have some things I’ve forgotten about.”

He casually strips off his sweaty t-shirt and tosses it in the laundry basket. “Remind me to look at that stool the next time we’re at your place,” he says. “Also I’m gonna order a pizza, you interested?”

Scully looks up at him then and is seemingly surprised by the absence of his shirt. “It’s hot in here,” Mulder explains, almost defensive.

“Oh, I’m not complaining,” Scully says, eyes shamelessly traveling his torso. “And I’m always interested.”

“Are we still talking about pizza here, or…”

“Make my half one with everything, please,” she says, attention returning to her project.

“Wait a minute,” he says, dropping to his knees next to her on the carpet. “I’m not done here.” He leans in and presses his mouth to the juncture of her neck and shoulder, tasting the salt on her skin. How she can still smell so good on a sticky June day, he doesn’t know; but he wants to lick her entire body.

“Mulder,” she sighs, putting down her screwdriver, “You’re distracting me.”

“That’s the idea,” he says, lips wandering up her neck and behind her ear. He flicks his tongue against her earlobe. “Forget the furniture, honey,” he says, all hot breath and lust. “We don’t need it for what I have in mind.”

Suddenly she’s facing him, looping her arms around his neck. “I’m doing this for you,” she purrs. “Do you think I like putting together IKEA furniture? No one likes it, Mulder. It’s like a multidimensional jigsaw puzzle.”

He pulls her onto his lap. “Oh, but I think you do,” he says, nibbling her ear. “You like being capable Doctor Scully, in charge of things… showing me what those hands can do.”

She leans in, licking his full lower lip. “Not everything is about you, Mulder,” she says, pressing a scorching kiss to his mouth. “I’m just doing my coworker a favor.”

“Is that what they call this nowadays?” he asks, hands clasping her hips as she grinds down on his lap.

She shuts him up with a kiss, the furniture and pizza forgotten.

#god this took me FOREVER #lol I’m busy freaking out over my second covid shot okay don’t @ me #my fic #fmcr #xfiles #txf fic #fox mulder closet romantic #msr #they go to ikea

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motherjoel · 4 years

Text

hot cocoa (spencer reid x reader)

summary: spencer accidentally spills some of penelopes famous hot cocoa onto a beautiful stranger in the airport (who just so happens to be sitting next to him on the plane)

a/n: this one takes place during the holidays but its not all about xmas! also i tried to make this gender neutral and i think it is but if i missed something let me know

wc: 2.2k

warnings/includes: reader curses a lot & has flight anxiety, spencer is awkward and sweet

Spencer was rarely late- even when he had food poisoning from some bad chinese food, he made it into work with time to spare. Sure, he might have turned green at the sight of the evidence board, but he even made it to the trash can in time. His punctuality had come into question today, however, as he booked it to the boarding area. I shouldn’t have let Garcia distract me, he thought back to the holiday party at the office. Well, surprise party- they had all returned from a case sore and exhausted, but of course Penelope had baked an entire array of cookies and decorated the office to the brim. He stayed for one cup of hot cocoa, which turned into three, and before he knew it, his flight was an hour away. With his travel mug filled with cocoa in hand, he awkwardly ran through the airport to catch his flight home to Vegas.

Spencer never considered himself a coordinated person- sure, he had to have a certain level of finesse to be an FBI agent, but if he wasn’t a genius he never would have passed the physical. So when he found himself tripping over his own feet in the middle of an airport, he wasn’t as much surprised as he was perturbed. That annoyance soon shifted into pure embarrassment when he looked up to see you- the ethereal being he had just spilled Penelope’s famous hot cocoa onto. The beautiful person whose “I <3 DC” sweatshirt was now stained an unattractive shade of brown. His mind went completely blank in that moment, the apology he had wished to conjure up lying dead on his tongue. As he began to stammer in shock he stopped in his tracks- you were laughing. A noise Spencer swears could find world peace and end world hunger. A voice that finally encouraged Spencer to find his own.

“I am so sorry,” he apologized, hands frantically flying to his personal pack of tissues he kept in his bag. You continued to laugh, doubled over as you accepted the wad of tissues.

“Oh, it's okay,” you said, taking a deep breath. “God, I definitely seem insane. Sorry, I’ve just been having one hell of a shitty day,” you began to explain, confusing Spencer even more. “So my boyfriend breaks up with me the morning of my flight across the country, which I’m running a bit late for,” you continued, glancing at your watch. “But I have to go home for the holidays of course so I pack my shit and head out anyway, but I forget a sweatshirt! I’m freezing cold so I buy this overpriced ugly thing,” you gestured to your now-stained sweatshirt. “Only for you to spill your…” you sniffed the mess, “hot cocoa?” you questioned, Spencer nodded frantically, “all over it. I guess that's one way of warming up,” you huffed.

“Wow, I- um, I don’t really know what to say. I’m really sorry about your day being bad. And for spilling my drink on you, of course, um,” he reached into his suitcase and pulled out his backup cardigan. “Here, take this,” he said, almost shoving the knitwear into your hands. “Please, it’s the least I can do,” he said, unintentionally flashing what Prentiss called his “puppy dog eyes.” He exhaled in relief as you grabbed the sweater from him, sliding off your stained hoodie and replacing it with his soft and coffee-scented cardigan.

“Thanks. And I’m sorry for dumping my days' trauma on you, but I really do have a flight to catch, so,” you gestured towards the boarding area (which just so happened to be his designated boarding area). You rushed off to board the plane after giving him a tight-lipped smile and a soft wave, leaving him in a dazed state. Breaking out of his trance, he grabbed his suitcase and continued his beeline towards the plane.

There was something about you that stuck with Spencer- although it may not have been your proudest moment, he was incredibly intrigued by you and the way you reacted to disaster. Spencer had seen his fair share of terrible coping mechanisms, but the way you laughed in the face of tragedy was something he admired- envied, almost. Envy wasn’t the right word for it, there were no negative connotations he associated with the way he felt about you. Perhaps it was too soon to tell.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped onto the plane, the anxiety of missing his flight finally lifted. Said anxiety was soon replaced by a new feeling that was ruled by a flutter in his chest, one that he had only experienced a few times in his life. This fluttery feeling was the result of seeing you planted in the seat directly next to the one written on his plane ticket. His breath caught in his throat as you looked up from the book in your hand, giving him a small wave. His eyes widened as he looked around, wondering if you were actually waving at him. You laughed and looked back down at your book, a soft smile rested on your lips. As Spencer got closer to his seat he could feel his heart rate picking up. You looked up from your book as he struggled slightly to lift his carryon into the overhead compartment. His cheeks heated up in embarrassment over the struggle, but he eventually managed to secure his carryon, taking a seat in 32 B.

“So we meet again,” you smiled at the disheveled man next to you.

“So we do,” Spencer smiled and grabbed his copy of Les Miserables from his backpack- he lost track of how many times he had read it, but it was an easy plane read for him.

“I’m Y/N, by the way. Sorry, I probably should’ve introduced myself earlier after telling you my life story. I just didn’t expect to be sitting next to you,” you said with amusement.

“I’m Spencer, and no problem. Hows, um, the sweater?” he asked, trying to continue the conversation. Normally he’d be a quarter through his book by now, but you were a rare something that was more interesting to him than Victor Hugo.

“It’s great! Cozier than my ‘I heart DC’ hoodie for sure,” you laughed and Spencer swore he heard angels singing.

“I’m glad, I felt really bad. Hot chocolate is actually a really difficult stain to remove because it has fat, sugar, tannins, and protein. It would take a lot of work to remove that stain, especially with the chocolate to milk ratio Penelope uses,” Spencer rambled, the embarrassment setting in the second he closed his mouth.

“Penelope?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Oh, she's my coworker. She’s known for her hot chocolate and her cookies. Oh!” Spencer remembered the plastic bag of cookies Garcia had sent him home with. “Want one? They’re chocolate chip,” he said, grabbing the bag of cookies and holding it out to you.

“Sure,” you laughed, taking a bite of the surprisingly delicious cookie. “Oh. My. God. That is incredible! This Penelope person has a gift,” you laughed, finishing the cookie surprisingly fast.

“I’ll be sure to let her know,” Spencer smiled, taking a cookie for himself. A comfortable silence ensued as the two of you munched on your cookies, the plane almost done boarding.

“So, what brings you to Vegas?” you asked. Spencer was a little confused as to why you wanted to talk to him, but he decided not to question the anomaly.

“Oh, I’m visiting my mother for the holidays. I work at Quantico in Virginia so I don’t get to see her too often,” he shared, surprised at his willingness to be open.

“That’s nice! I’m kinda doing the same, except I am not returning to DC,” you sighed. Spencer felt his heart drop as he internally begged for you to elaborate, and as if reading his mind, you continued. “That boyfriend I mentioned earlier was kinda my only reason for moving here, and now that he's a cheating jackass- sorry, oversharing again, um, now that we broke up, I’ll probably just stay in Vegas,” you explained, opening the book in front of you and mindlessly flipping through the pages. He focused on the chipped nail polish painted on your bitten nails as you turned the pages, eyes moving to the title of the book.

“Le Petit Prince?” he asked, pointing at your book.

“Oh, yeah. I’m trying to teach myself some french so I’m reading this to get a little better,” you smiled before your eyes drifted down to the thick book in his lap. “You’re reading Les Mis?” you asked, slightly shocked at the french writing on the cover.

“Yeah, well it's my.... fourth, I think, time reading it. Well, in the original french,” he said, oblivious to his accidental brag.

“Damn, are you a genius or something?” you laughed, noticing the blank stare on Spencer’s face. “Wait. You are,” you pointed at him, your shock turning into joy.

“Well, technically, I am I guess,” he smiled awkwardly, trying not to flaunt his intelligence.

“That’s so cool! God, maybe if I was a genius I could get past the first chapter of this book,” you huffed, looking defeatedly at your book once again.

“May I ask, why are you learning French? It’s the fourth most important language behind Mandarin Chinese, Spanish and German. That’s just my opinion, of course,” he said, slightly flustered by the look on your face.

“Yeah, I guess it's not the most practical. But there's something so romantic about France, you know?” you asked and he nodded, blushing lightly. “I’ve always wanted to visit Paris, hell, maybe even live there. It’s stupid,” you laughed, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear.

“No, it’s not. It’s called the city of love for a reason,” he said with a tight-lipped smile. You were both silent for a moment before the flight attendants began their safety announcements and prepared for takeoff. Spencer noticed you stiffen as the engine started to rumble and the plane got faster. “Are you okay?” he asked as you shut your eyes tightly together.

“Yeah, yes, um. I just have really bad flight anxiety,” you confessed, eyes remaining closed. The plane lifted off the ground and you sucked in a deep breath, instinctively reaching over to grab Spencer's hand. All thoughts of germs and disease had completely left his mind at your touch- facts and logic meant nothing at this point if it meant you wouldn’t let go. “Could you just um, distract me?” you asked, peeking at him from the corner of your eye, hand still clutching his.

“Oh, yeah of course,” he said, thinking quickly for a distraction before grabbing the book from your lap and opening it to the first page. In perfect french, he began to read. “Lorsque j’avais six ans j’ai vu, une fois, une magnifique image…” he read for almost an hour before he felt your head relax on his shoulder, eyes closed. He continued to read for a bit longer before the lull of sleep pulled him under as well, your touch comforting him and providing safety.

Spencer woke a few hours later with a start to the seatbelt light beeping on. Gathering his bearings he looked to his left to see you already awake, looking at him with a smile.

“You’re cute when you sleep. Snore a bit, though,” you laughed and yawned, looking out the window. Spencer's heart rate picked up at your mussed hair and dazed expression. “Thank you for reading to me. I’m completely chill now,” you reassured him.

“Oh, no problem. Also, I’m not the only one who snores,” he quipped, a soft smirk on his lips.

“Hey, gimme a break! That was the most I’ve slept in days,” you defended.

“Believe it or not, me too,” Spencer realized, surprised that he slept more on an airplane than in his own bed. Maybe that difference was you.

“Looks like we’re almost landing,” you noticed, causing a pang in Spencer’s chest.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so,” he acknowledged with a slight tone of disappointment.

“Hey. So this might sound crazy, but what if I gave you my number? And while you’re still in Vegas, maybe we can hang out? Sorry if this is too forward,” you cringed in embarrassment.

“No!” he started, eyes wide.

“Oh, okay. I shouldn’t have asked,” you immediately took back your statement.

“No! I mean, it's not too forward. I, uh would love to… hang out with you,” Spencer said, the words seeming unfamiliar on his tongue. The smile you gave him seemed to stop the earth for a few seconds (although Spencer knew this was scientifically impossible, something about you defied laws of science).

The plane soon landed and numbers were exchanged, and one unexpected (but lovely) goodbye hug was given, and Spencer was floating. He couldn’t wait to tell his mom.

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#spencer reid #Criminal Minds Spencer Reid #spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer Reid/OC #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid/you #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #Criminal Minds Reid

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

Amoreena | Chapter fourteen

Chapter fourteen

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: talks of spencers major anxiety, parental death tw (not Diana or bob and Linda), trauma talks, computer hacking and new members joining the family...

word count: 4k

from the beginning <3

Taylors biggest surprise that weekend was what she had planned for Amoreena that night.

She set up a fort in the theatre room, they had every snack imaginable and any movie of her choice to watch. Karaoke in the corner, popcorn being popped in a theatre-style machine, and 3 different, matching child and adult, princess dresses for them to choose from.

It was all an elaborate plan to keep her preoccupied until bedtime, which Taylor offered to handle so that her parents could have a little wedding night date alone.

They’re all ready for a wonderful night when Spencer’s phone started ringing.

“Hello?” Spencer answers, sneaking away from the girls so he could hear better.

“Spencer, I am so sorry to interrupt you this late, but we have a situation… it’s not something that should be discussed over the phone. Do you have someone to watch Amoreena while you and Y/N come into the bureau? As soon as you can?”

His stomach drops, he feels instantly sick. “Not until you tell me who’s dead, who’s dying or who’s trying to kill us.”

“No one is, Spencer, it’s not a case or criminal related, it’s… personal, someone is here to see you,” she sounds serious and Spencer is still just as worried.

“I’ll tell the girls,” he responds before hanging up.

Y/N is standing right behind him, listening with wide eyes as she waits to soothe his panic. They worked like a well-oiled machine, she could physically feel his anxiety and in return, something about her just being there made him physically feel better.

“What’s wrong?” Taylor asks as she appears behind Y/N, Amoreena now off changing into one of the dresses she picked.

“They won't tell me on the phone but they need me and Y/N back at Quantico as soon as possible,” Spencer explained with a pale face, “we can go in the morning.”

“I’m fine watching Amoreena for the night, there’s a hanger down the road with a few of my dad’s planes, I can have someone take you to Virginia within the next hour? It's only 7 pm, I’m sure you can be back before bedtime?” Taylor offered her services for the 100th time that day, “It’s not a problem, really, and they wouldn’t call if it wasn’t serious, they’re the FBI after all.”

With that, they said goodbye to Amoreena and told her they’d be back before she woke up in the morning. If not, she had Y/N’s cellphone for the night to call them before she goes to sleep and when she wakes up, so she won't bother Taylor that early. (Even though Taylor said she wouldn’t mind early morning Amoreena cuddles.)

He was anxious on the drive to the small airport, the old man named Norman, chartering them that night was incredibly kind, they were granted lading access in Quantico and before he could prepare, they were up in the air. He chatted up a storm with Y/N on the headset radio as Spencer overthought the upcoming chat with JJ and stared out at the world below them.

On queue, he jumped from anxious to scared when they land, before getting in the shuttle from the airstrip to the front entrance, but he’s so incredibly terrified when it comes time to actually start the walk to the bullpen.

“Will you come in with me?” His small voice asks as she is pinning a visitors tag on her shirt.

“Of course,” she smiled, taking his hand as they walked into the elevator together.

He grips her hand tighter as the elevator stops, dipping and returning to the right height and making his stomach drop the same way a rollercoaster would. He hated that feeling more than anything, having it alongside the anxiety wasn’t helpful.

He can see JJ and another girl sitting together at his old desk. She’s smiling at whatever JJ says, she looks exactly like Amoreena just with box-dyed black hair that shines purple under the lighting. She’s in all black, she pushes her glasses up her nose with her sweater hiding her hands, Spencer knows she’s a foster kid from just her posture.

“JJ,” Spencer makes their presence clear and the little girl turns to him with a huge smile, running to him and wrapping her arms around his waist. “Hi?”

She’s sobbing ten and he doesn’t know why or even who she is, he lightly holds her with complete shock on his face. He stares at JJ with wide eyes and a gaping mouth as he communicates the confusion and terror with his eyes.

“This is Josephine Elliot, or Jo as she likes to be called, her parents passed away a few months ago and she recently found out her biological father was actually a sperm donor and not her moms husband,” JJ explains a little before sighing and sitting on the edge of the desk.

“She hacked into the sperm bank and found your name, and google led her to the FBI and they stopped her at the second gate, the first only let her in thinking she was your other daughter, Amoreena.”

“I’m so sorry,” the poor girl wipes her tears with her sweater sleeves, “I don’t know why I hugged you when you don’t even know me, ew sorry.”

Spencer pulls her back into a hug, “it’s okay, you don’t have to worry about wanting a hug ever again. You can have whatever you need from me.”

She cries more, holding on to his shirt as he holds her, shushing her softly and rubbing his hand over her back. It’s weird how safe she seems this early in their acquaintance with one another, but he understands it. She’s so desperate for someone related to her to love her again, to replace what she was missing from her parents, that she’s already accepted him as a father without thinking it through. Without even know what he would be like to her.

When she finally calmed down enough, Spencer led her towards the briefing room so they could have a moment alone to talk. He wanted to know her, and she needed to know him before she made another big decision. He let her know who he was, what he used to do and the rundown on his relationship with Y/N and Amoreena.

“So you met her at the park and got married a week later because you both have dead exes and somehow through fate, you made a kid together?” She summed it up in a way that made it sound ridiculous.

“Mutual trauma is a great bonding tool, I’m sure you probably listen to rock music or anything sad and angry because you know someone feels the exact same way you do? I was like that when I was a teenager. We've both lost someone we loved and then made Amoreena out of pure luck,” he combated her snarky summary with his own profile of her.

“I actually like Taylor Swift, Paramore, Evanescence and Olivia Rodrigo when I need to scream about being sad, thank you very much,” she teased him, finding a very easy rhythm as they got to know one another.

“You’re going to lose your mind when you find out who’s with Amoreena right now,” Spencer smiles, somehow everything just fits together.

“What?” She looks so confused, scrunching her face the same way he did to push her glasses up without her hands.

“It’s a long story, but essentially we were at Taylor Swift’s house when JJ called, she’s watching Amoreena still,” Spencer explained, watching her jaw drop.

“Who the fuck are you, dude?” She whispered, and it took Spencer by surprise. “Sorry, I’m so used to swearing in front of adults lately to get my point across. But seriously, you’re so interesting…”

“Understandable,” Spencer laughs lightly at her strange compliment. “I have a lot of connections, and I’ll do anything to see the people I love, smile, that includes you now.”

“You barely know me and you’re just ready to accept that I’m your kid? Didn’t this just happen to you last week?” She laughs at the insanity of it all, “you’re going to have a million kids at this rate, dude.”

Again, she calls him dude and he knows she’s just trying to distance her emotions as they grow fonder and fonder. A coping mechanism so that she doesn’t get hurt anymore, she’s lost too much and she’s not going to love him just to lose him too.

“My dad ran out on me when I was a kid, I basically raised myself when my mom’s schizophrenia got bad, I know what it’s like to feel alone even when you’re with people who are supposed to love you,” he makes sure she knows who he is inside.

“I’m sorry,” she reaches a hand out for him, holding it softly. “I never really liked my dad growing up, he always felt off… I can’t explain it, but he was never the same guy twice he was either angry, miserable or scarily happy," she explains him and all Spencer can think is how he sounds like an unsub.

"I do miss my mom a lot, I didn’t know what else to do when I found out they couldn’t have babies together and she went to a Sperm bank without telling him. I know the names of your other kids too, besides Amoreena, I’m really surprised you found her mom without hacking the system too but, yeah, Dylan is 6 and Alice is 10, they’re both in DC with the same 2 mom’s, so if you didn’t want me, I was going to see if they would cause I’m technically their stepdaughter in a weird way and if I spent one more day in that foster home I would have ended it all,” it's a Reid rant, she's his for sure.

It takes him a minute to absorb it all, “wait, Amoreena is mine for sure?”

She nods like it’s a stupid question, “could you not tell my just looking at her? The 3 of us have the same face.”

“No, they wouldn’t tell us at the clinic,” Spencer is still in shock but more so that she got into the database so easily, “how did you do it?”

“It was easy, I had all the information about the sample my mom used so I just encrypted an email to the secretary of the sperm bank so as soon as she clicked the link to read more I’d have access to her computer, they didn’t even know I was in the system, they probably still don’t know I was there,” she explains it exactly how Penelope would.

“I don’t want you to think I’d ever not want you,” Spencer holds her hand a little tighter, “I’m not sure what the process will be like trying to get the foster agency to agree to me taking you home with us, but I’ll see what I can do. We have a big house and enough room for you in our hearts if this is where you’d like to be. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, you might hate the farm life and the isolation and all the cousins you now have, but you’re a piece of me and I’m not letting you go.”

She uses her free hand to wipe her tears on her sleeve again, “please, I know it’s not going to be the same but I miss having a family so much.”

He wraps her up in his arms, he knows the feeling all too well. One day his mom was there, the next day she was gone and no one prepared him for that. She never had to do this alone, Spencer wasn’t going to let that happen to her.

“Y/N is wonderful, you’ll love her and Amoreena. We live on a huge farm and there’s a lot to do during the day and people to spend time with, believe me, you’re going to feel so surrounded by the love you won’t know what to do with it all,” he shares from personal experience.

“Okay,” she hugged him tighter, pressing her face into his neck as he talked more, feeling the vibrations of his voice on her forehead to know that he was real. That his words were true and she was going to be taken care of.

“Is there anything about yourself that you’d like me to know? Or any questions you have? I’m sure this is going to be an interesting adjustment,” Spencer asked as he pulled away, looking down into her sweet eyes and seeing the hope she was still hanging on to.

“Is Y/N even okay with all of this? It’s her house isn’t it?”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine with it, she knew I had you and the other 2 out there somewhere, we just never expected to meet you so soon,” he’s as honest as possible, talking to her the same way he would with Henry, she seemed even more mature than him.

“Can she come in here too? I’d like to get to know her as well, see if she’s really as lovely as you say she is,” she smiled, coping with her trauma the same way he and Y/N did, with humour.

Almost like Y/N could feel him thinking about her, she knocked on the door before opening it a crack, “sorry, I have some updates,” she smiled.

Josephine smiled at her, “come in.”

Y/N sat down close to her and placed her hand on her shoulder, “my sister is a foster parent, she called her caseworker and they were able to rush the emergency next of kin paperwork, you can stay with us for as long as you would like to.”

“You’re serious? You barely know me?” She kept repeating that as if she convinced herself earlier in the day that they wouldn’t want to know her.

Y/N wrapped her up in a soft hug and Spencer saw all the tension leave Josephines body as she settled against her. It had been a long time since a mother held her, she didn’t realize how much she needed it until she was in her arms.

“You’re half Spencer, so by default you have a portion of my heart now too. I’m not going to love you as an obligation or because I feel like I have to, I love you because you’re part of him and our family,” she whispers into her hair, “I know what it’s like to be alone, you never have to be... unless we’re smothering you then I get it, but you know what I mean.”

She laughed in Y/N’s arms before pulling back. Y/N held her face in her hands and looked at her gently. She ran her fingers through her dyed hair, “you’re going to fit right in with the 4 of us.”

“Four?” She repeats, wondering who else they lived with.

“I’m pregnant,” Y/N smiles as Josephine lights up.

“I’ve always wanted to be a big sister,” she cried a little, “my mom named me after Jo from Little Women, she said she always planned to give me lots of sisters.”

“If this one is a girl she’ll be Eleonora like—“

“Like the poem, Edgar Allan Poe is one of my favourites,” Jo smiled again.

Somehow, without even being there, Amoreena’s mess of glitter glue was able to patch her older sister's broken heart right then and there too.

“I read really fast, my mom said she was going to go bankrupt buying books for me,” she opened up more and more, the hurt of the memories fading as she remembered them with happiness instead of mourning.

Her mom was gone, but the love of a mother filled her space once more. Y/N took her under her wing, keeping her warm and making sure he grew to be as happy healthy and wonderful as all her other babies.

—

They arrive at Taylor's door once again at 11:30. Amoreena is sound asleep in the spare room, not even able to change out of her princess costume or phone them to say goodnight. Taylor said she had a sugar crash and just asked to go to sleep, reminding Taylor that she had the best day ever before closing her tired little eyes.

Jo was very anxious to meet Taylor too, telling her a similar story to Y/N’s from just a few hours prior. Taylor made sure she was comfortable for the night in another spare room, making her a hot chocolate and some snacks from earlier that day at lunch. She was the best host, a wonderful friend and an even better honorary godparent to these girls of Spencer’s.

“Can I have a hug?” She sheepishly asks before she has to turn down the hall to her bedroom for the night.

Spencer answers by wrapping his arms around her and holding her close to his chest once more, he wasn’t sure how his heart could hold so much love for these girls, and still have room left to make more one day. It was a dream come true to have a family this big, no one was going to believe that he gained 3 kids and a wife in under a month.

He kissed her on the forehead gently, seeing her smile at the contact let him know it was fine. “Goodnight dad,” she whispers, pressing her lips together awkwardly the same way he did before turning down the hall and disappearing into her room.

She had only a backpack of things currently, not expecting everything to go as smoothly as it did. She had enough clothes to sleep in, and Taylor happily provided some old tour perch to her just in case she needed something new to wear. Something to help her ease to sleep that didn’t feel like she was going back to her old life in the morning.

Amoreena was going to have a field day tomorrow when she met her big sister, the beautiful girl who was busy covering her scars with bandaids provided by Spencer, but it would take a lot of time, effort and care to make her feel truly healed again. It was going to be interesting seeing Amoreena adjust to sharing him so early, especially since he knew Jo would need so much more attention to ease her anxiety moving forward.

Spencer sat on the guest bed beside Y/N, noticing all the rose petals and candles on the dresser and night tables, “oh she really had a lot planned for us.”

“She’s the fairy godmother of our dreams,” Y/N agreed with a laugh. “I don’t mind staying up late tonight if you don’t mind leaving on Monday instead?”

“I was going on suggest the same thing,” he smiled at her, leaning in to press their lips together gently for the first time since the wedding that afternoon.

“let's get into our comfy’s and go for a walk on the beach, Taylor left me the keys to lock up when we come back,” she whispered the words against his lips before smiling.

“Can I call Derek before we go? I really need to talk to him,” he’s honest with her as he pulls away, feeling really anxious and shook up at the events of the day. He needed his best friend.

“Yeah, I’ll go check out the rest of the guest house, come find me when you’re done?” She says softly, getting off the bed with a smile and stepping out of the room with a small wave.

He takes his phone out and dials the number, waiting with the phone pressed against his ear as it rings. Again and again, every new hum in his ear making his heart beat faster, “hello?” He’s finally rescued.

“Have you talked to anyone on the team lately?”

“Who died?” It was everyone’s go-to question when they got a phone call like this one.

“No one, quite the opposite actually—“

“She’s pregnant!” Derek shouts, cutting him off and Spencer can hear Savannah asking who from the background.

“Well, yeah, but that’s not why I'm calling,” Spencer replies only to be met with Derek's laughter.

“Penny and I had a bet on how long it would take.”

“She cheated because she knew we were trying,” Spencer takes the fun from him, Penelope always won. “I have another kid.”

“I know man, birth is so cool— well I’m telling him anyway,” Derek is clearly talking to Savannah and him at the same time, “we’re pregnant again too.”

“No, Derek, I’m pregnant and sick as hell while you’re perfectly fine,” she snaps back at him as she takes the phone. “You better be so kind to her Doctor Spencer Reid; rub her feet, make her breakfast, thank every god on earth and the ground she walks on for being willing to make another version of you, do you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” Spencer hold back a laugh, wondering when Y/N would have a hormonal switch like that, “but I didn’t mean the one in her stomach, another fully formed human of my creation walked into the BAU looking for me today.”

There’s a rustling through the phone as Derek takes it back from her, “what the fuck did you just say?”

“Her name is Jo, she’s exactly a month younger than Henry and her parents died 7 months ago,” he continues without even repeating the last part, “Derek I have 3 kids now and I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Where are you right now?”

“In Taylor Swift's guest house.”

“Spencer, be serious with me, are you doing drugs again?"

“Ask Penelope, she contacted Portia, Rossi’s stepdaughter, who contacted Taylor so I could help Y/N and Amoreena meet her, then JJ called and made us fly all the way to Quantico and now I have 2 children living with me and one on the way. Not to mention, child 1 is extremely jealous about sharing me with people and hasn’t even gotten accustomed to being a big sister, and child 2 is so traumatized she hacked the fucking sperm bank and explained it to me like it was as easy as making a sandwich. I am in over my head here, Derek.”

“Okay, that sounded more like Spencer Reid,” Derek’s calm and happy voice calms him slightly and prompts him to take a deep breath. “If she’s able to hack she’s most likely like Penelope, we can introduce them. She’ll need someone who understands the loss of a parent. Amoreena, on the other hand, you need to spend a day with just her. Take her to the movies, or to see a play or something. Let her know she’s always going to be your little girl no matter how many siblings she gets.”

“Thank you, I needed someone who wasn’t my overly optimistic wife to tell me if I could do it,” he’s overly honest, Derek is his person and will always be his person.

“I get it, thanks for calling me, I’m really glad you’re okay,” he can hear Derek's smile and all he wants is a hug from him. “How was the wedding?”

“Good, we all cried a lot,” he laughs then, “we were supposed to have a big dinner on the beach before we got called into Quantico, so I’m going to go spend time with her now, I love you, Derek,” he rushes the words out so he doesn’t get overly emotional.

“I love you too, Spencer, have a good night,” Derek hands up before they both get too emotional. They always had a knack for making the other cry in times like this.

He lets out a deep sigh before tossing his phone on the bedside table. 3 of his 5 kids were here with him and Y/N now, safe and sound. If anyone else needed him, they could wait.

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

@k-k0129

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #amoreena

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toriwakes · 3 years

Text

Pretty Boy 187 [s.r x reader]

summary: reader finds out that her new found tumblr crush is none other than her coworker.

content warnings: she/her!reader, mentions of alcohol

a/n: hi!! i’m so happy to be posting again. i’m really proud of this, so i hope you all like it! as always, let me know if you have any requests!

convincing spencer to get tumblr was tough. not only did he hate technology, he didn’t like social media either.

“it’s gonna be fun! c’mon, please?” you’ve been bugging him about it for about a week. “spencer, please just download it. if i have to hear (y/n) whine again i’m gonna loose it.” said derek, plopping is papers on his desk. “you like it when i whine.” you teased, causing derek to flash you a toothy grin. “alright! jeez.” you clapped of joy and jumped to help spencer, but he stopped you. “no way, i’m not letting you follow me.” he kept his phone facing away from you, your arms dropping to your sides in defeat. “fine. i’ll find your account somehow.” “we’ll see about that.”

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

over the next few weeks you acquired a few new followers, only one catching your eye. ‘prettyboy187’ followed you on a quiet friday afternoon. the username caught your attention at first, but when you checked is profile? that’s when you were hooked. half of his pictures were just aesthetically pleasing: outside of his window, his extreme sugary coffee, some books. but others...

it was an excerpt of a poem and his hand was holding back the pages. you doubt he meant to capture it so beautifully. just his hand was godly. you wasted no time dming him.

hey :)

how desperate did you look right now? he followed you barley an hour ago. you cant stop staring at that picture.

hello

he didn’t sound happy. well, he didn’t “sound” anything, you guys were texting. but you could feel his tone through the screen. where you overthinking this too much? you shuffled into your bed, wrapping yourself in the covers as you pondered what to say next.

i just wanted to tell you i really like your account. are you a photographer or something?

no, i’m not. my friend convinced me to get this app and i noticed people post aesthetically pleasing photos on here, so i’m just doing the same haha.

ok, well you don’t post nice pictures. at least, not that type. maybe you’d post a picture of the snow or your bed, but every now and then you’d bless the feed with a picture of you in a swimsuit. it was more for opinions on the suit than anything else.

ohh. maybe i should start doing that.

how do you mean?

oh.

that sounded like a very judge-y ‘oh’. your eyes scanned your own profile to see what he could’ve hated. there was you in your favorite red swimsuit, a picture of your computer with netflix on the screen. the rest of the posts were of the same type, so you couldn’t pinpoint what the problem was.

what is it?

no, nothing. your recent picture. that’s a nice swim suit.

oh. that’s what he meant. you practically threw your phone across the room and squealed. thank the universe that he didn’t dislike you already. you shot him another text. just like that, you had your first ever tumblr crush.

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

“what’s up with you pretty girl?” derek asked when you walked into work. you supposed you still had the blush on your face when pretty boy wished you a good morning and day at work. “nothing!” you said, obviously it being something. as if on cue, spencer walked in behind you also giddy. “what, you’re both sweet on someone now?” when neither of you responded, derek laughed. “what?” emily inquired, taking her seat. “spencer and (y/n) both have a crush.” emily’s jaw dropped. “spencer has a crush?” everyone broke into laughter, jj overhearing and almost dropping her files. “why is that so surprising?” spencer defended himself, derek giving him a ‘you know the answer to that’ look. “well?what’re their names?” he pushed. you bit your tongue. you didn’t even know his name. yikes. “let’s start.” aaron called. saved by hotch. thank goodness. “this ain’t over.” derek warned the two of you. yes it was. by the end of the day morgan would’ve forgotten all about this.

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

you were right like always. morgan didn’t ask anymore about it, instead offering to get drinks. you turned it down, desperate to get home and text your boy. and you did, only at 11pm.

hey, sorry it’s so late. had a long day at work.

no worries, so did i. listen, i have a question.

this boy only sent messages that would make your heart drop. with a pacing heart, you texted back.

yes?

his ‘online’ button flashes on. then he was typing. then he was deleting. it seemed like hours before he responded.

what’s your name?

godamnit. you didnt have a display name because you didn’t want anyone you knew finding your account. what’s a fake name you can use? maybe...

lila.

why did you pick spencer’s ex’s name? you don’t know. you remember being insanely jealous of her because she got to kiss spencer in the pool while you were posted outside. your crush on spencer was still very much alive, but not as much as it was with pretty boy.

that’s a pretty name.

thanks. now you have to tell me yours ;)

you’ve never been so nervous for a text conversation in your life. for some reason, the back of your head wondered what it would be like if you were texting spencer. it was just a thought, though. spencer would never say half of this stuff.

call me morgan.

oh NO. please no... you stalked his profile again, terrified that you’ve been flirting with your coworker this past month. alas, your eye caught another body picture- this time of his arm. no tattoos like derek. not to mention he was much smaller. not that that’s a bad thing. you don’t think you’d ever be able to handle derek...

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

you arrived at work yet again with a blushing face. “come on, you can’t keep hiding this from me! tell me something at least!” derek whined. “okay! his name is morgan. and i know what you’re thinking, and no, it’s not you, my boy is much more attractive.” derek’s mouth formed into an ‘O’ shape in fake offense. “that’s damn near impossible. ain’t nobody prettier than derek morgan.” spencer walked in now, again with a dorky smile on his face. “spencer. (y/n)’s got a crush on-“ you jumped to cover his mouth, the sound of your crush’s name muffled. “what- hey! no fair! derek gets to know but i cant?” spencer whined. derek held his hands up and sat back down, not wanting to get you mad. smart. “three can’t keep a secret.” was all you said before sitting down to clean your workspace.

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

the new highlight of your day was texting morgan. you learned several things about him; he has a job he can’t specify for personal reasons, he really wants a dog but he feels like animals hate him. you told him about your cat joel, and how they could absolutely love him. he appreciated that.

if i tell you something, do you promise not to freak out?

depends. are you about to tell me you’re a serial killer?

no!

you giggled to yourself at your humor.

i wanna meet you.

you promised not to freak out, but you were freaking out. it was just now setting in that you didn’t know this man at all. where he lived, how old he was, even what he looked like. you took a few deep breaths and asked a question.

where do you live?

quantico virginia.

no hesitation on that one. he lived in the same town as you? you didn’t know how you’d be able to turn this down...

shit, me too. let’s meet up then.

i’ll send you a good place to get drinks.

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

“every time you walk in here, you’re blushing. now so are your ears.” you beamed at derek, sitting at your desk before spilling. “i’m gonna meet him.” “wait what? are you sure that’s safe?” you rolled your eyes. “i’m an fbi agent. i’m not scared of a little danger.” you playfully winked and derek blew out a huff of air. “if anything happens, you know you can call me.” you pouted at your friend and nodded, appreciating his concern. spencer was spinning in his seat. “you happy too?” you asked. he only nodded and didn’t elaborate. you we’re going to press on, but hotch called you all in and you lost your chance.

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

on rare occasions, the bau got tough cases with very happy endings. this was one of those cases. the plane ride home was extremely joyous and derek offered to get drinks again. this time, everyone accepted (all except hotch). you texted morgan telling him you were going out tonight and you wouldn’t be back till late. you laughed to yourself. it was like he was your boyfriend.

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

the night was young and you were fairly tipsy. ok that’s generous, you were drunk. you were spending most of your time with penelope and it took you a minute to remember spencer. “ohmygosh! spence!” he was startled at your presence but he gave you that flat mouthed smile of his. “how are you! you’re my favorite scorpio.” you nodded as you said it, as if trying to convince him it was true. “thanks? i’m good. you’re drunk.” he pointed out. “no shit. hey!!! you never showed me your tumblr user! you gotta show me that girl you like, bet you she’s really sexy.” you didn’t even know what you were saying at this point, whipping out your phone and snapping a picture with spencer. “what are you doing?” he asked, watching you type. “posting this on tumblr! i want everyone to know you’re my favorite in the world.” he wanted to ask favorite what, but a ping on his phone distracted him. lila posted. he smiled and checked her page.

holy fuck.

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

“(y/n)?” he asked, not looking away from his phone. “yess?” you responded. “what’s your tumblr?” what is your tumblr? “uhhh..i don’t know, check.” you tossed him your open phone, and his eyes only grew wider. “you’re lila?” the words rang through your ears like a siren. “what?” the word was breathy, you couldn’t add stability to what you said. spencer showed you his phone, ‘prettyboy187’ on the screen. “you’re morgan?” still no confidence in your voice whatsoever. your feelings were supposed to change, you weren’t supposed to like that morgan was spencer. but they didn’t. you didn’t even think about the fact he saw your swimsuit photos. you loved that morgan was spencer, and you still wanted to see him on the weekend. “are you mad?” you asked, not being able to stop yourself from sipping from your glass. “no. should i be?” you smiled. “no. do you still wanna meet up this weekend?” “yes. but i don’t wanna get drinks.” he wasn’t even drinking, why is he complaining. “where should we go then?” “my house.”

#spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #ssa spencer reid #ssa reid #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #criminal minds

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bravo-four-seal-team · 3 years

Text

Email From the past brought to the present.

Co-Written Series with @disasterfandoms Tags:

@galaxysanduniversesinmymind @rebelwrites @chibsytelford @mrsmarvelous1995 @disasterfandoms @jasonbabymama @velvetcardiganbucky @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @pinkrockstar19 @softi92 @thelovelyleo23 @itsonautopilot @supervalcsi

@abby-splace @theysayitscrazy

Summary: 2019 and Ashley finally reads Trent’s response. Find the first one here: Email with a side of regret

"Ashley"

She didn't like that tone at all, removing her headphones and looking up she grinned "Hey baby what's up?" She asked, "why is there only one unread email from Trent in your inbox?" Metal asked, raising an eyebrow, the marine frowned.

That email was sent in response to her reaching out to the one she held off reading, not wanting to see the 'Stay out of my life' message. She knew her brother took pity on her when he saw the state she was in, sure they spoke and got along with each other.

But it wasn't being siblings, it was more like a friend you didn't want to get too close to.

"Oh that, it's nothing," she said with a shrug, turning back to folding up her things "Ashley," Metal said in a slightly harsher tone "Why haven't you read this? It's dated 2017"

"Uhm… because it was in response to an email I sent Trent, after being freed from Captivity"

Metal fell silent. Looking at her, trying to figure out if she was being serious? “Why haven’t you read it?”

“Dude, you are just back. Get off my back about it.” she snapped getting up from her spot on the floor “It’s not your business” she says, going to grab the tablet, but Metal held it up higher.

“Are you ever gonna trust me enough to let me in?” Metal states “Ash it’s 2019. This was what? Almost Two years ago.” he says, watching her, he would have made a comment about his ‘kids’ being his cats following her like ducklings but was more focused on the fact she was avoiding this “You should read it” he urges.

“Scott Enough” She states turning to glare at the taller man. “I have to prepare to leave for base, you and your SEAL buddies are meeting with that blondie, who got hurt in the Philippines.” she says, moving past him only to be stopped “damn it, Scott, that's playing unfair!”

“Baby calm down, you don’t gotta rush, you’ll get to base in plenty of time” he states, keeping his grip on her “Take a breath, calm down and talk to me about what's going in your head,” he says, feeling her stop trying to pull away “It’s nothing ok? That email is from 2017, I got a response to an email I sent after my captivity...I don’t want to open it to find out it just says F off” she whispered. “Don’t wanna see what it said. I already know he took pity on me, when he saw me in the street that day.”

“Your brother cares about you, it won't say that '' Metal says.

“Look I know you're just back from deployment and helping get the guy who hurt Spenser, and I'm preparing to leave, 6 months away from here, I just can’t read that email ok?” she says, glancing up to meet his gaze.

“Then what about I read it, and let you know if it's ok, then maybe you’ll work on your relationship with him more?” the SEAL suggests, Ashley sighed, nodding “ok but I need to go now, see you when I see you,” she says.

-------------------------------------------------

She's sitting on the plane, scrolling through her mail on her tablet when she sees the new message from Metal with: read it as the subject line, taking a breath she clicked on it, watching the words come up on the screen, slowly reading through it, she could feel the anxiety making itself known.

People are sleeping around her, unsure of how to react, she would need to talk to Trent about it, but she knew one thing, both Amelia and Scott were right - Trent Cared.

-----------------------------------------------------

The Response To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: RE: Surprise Bitch I lived. (plz open this)

Ashley.

First, the subject line? It is unprofessional...Somehow very you.

I don’t even know how to start, I am very happy that you are alive, which means I can let that worry go that I’ve been carrying for the past 5 years, I can stop checking obituaries, memorial plaques, and the Marine fallen sailor pages. My girlfriend Amelia (who you met! You followed her home, Ashley! Are you insane?!) telling me how you visited her, how you told her that you’ve worked with Bravo and been on the same base and avoided me. You should have just spoken to me, kid.

Thank you for apologizing, but I know the whole truth. When I divorced her, she told me everything that happened, but a year had passed, and you had changed your contact numbers. Because of her, I lost my baby sister.

Mom told me about your falling out, in 2013, god Ash, you’ve been alone all this time with no one to lean on or come home to, I can’t imagine how difficult that would have been. I’m sorry, I wish I had tried to find you sooner.

I’m glad you were rescued, that you are safe, I heard chatter around the base from Marines for the past few months, but no names were mentioned, and working the job I do, we weren’t given any indication of who was taken. When you are clear to return to Virginia, give me a call, my number is still the same, I’ll pick you up and you can spend the rest of your recovery with myself and Amelia.

I think you two will get along great, and yes, I am happy, I don’t feel like I need to pretend to be someone else, my teammates can crash here with no judgment from her, then again, she understands the lifestyle I live, her brother is also in the Navy.

Of course, I want to have our relationship back, you are my sister, nothing will ever change that, I want to know everything, where you have been, people you met, tragedies you encountered, things you learned, I want to know how you have been, relationships. No matter what Ashley. You are my sister, you are my family.

I know you joke about things with Mom and Dad, I know they disowned you, but you always have me. No matter how mad I am at you, or upset, I will always be there for you. I’ve missed having my little sister around, it would be nice to introduce you properly to some friends and Amelia, I told her about you, things you did as a kid, things I taught you.

I know you didn’t expect a reply, if roles were reversed, I’d be the same. I can’t lie, I thought about not responding, the thing is, we lost one of our teammates 4 days ago, I can’t go into detail. But your email was a surprise, and when I received this it was about 5 am.

Take care kid. I'll see you soon. Give me a call when you can, if you can.

Do not punch your Gunnery Sergeant.

Trent.

#Trent Sawyer #OC: Ashley Sawyer #scott full metal carter #OC: Amelia Carter Mention #Seal Team #ao3 series #No Beta we die like men. Lol.

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 4 years

Text

Getting away with it (10/?)

Summary: August Walker was dead. At least that’s what people believed for almost 2 years. When the CIA found reason to believe that he was alive they made it their top priority to find him. Including sending one of their best female agents to recruit his twin brother. Walter Marshall.

Pairing: August Walker x Reader (Walker) + Walter Marshall x Reader (Walker)

Warnings: angst, implied smut in the flashback, cursing

Wordcount: 2.139

A/N: And we’re back. Thank you for sticking around and waiting. I hope you have “fun” with this. Updates will be thursdays from now on. And because I don’t want to pressure myself I won’t promise weekly updates. Just know that I still have big plans for this. There’s a year of plot to get through until the last chapter and we’ve barely covered two months with these 10 chapters so buckle up lol

Masterlist

Previous chapter

two weeks later, CIA Bootcamp

“What’s up with you today, Walter?” He heard his trainer ask, while Marshall rubbed a hand over his jaw. He wasn’t fully there today. Not after talking to Walker for hours last night.

He shook his head.

“I’m okay. Let’s just get over with it.” Marshall sighed, before he brought his arms up in front of his face, widening his stance, promising to himself to pay attention to what his trainer said.

Sometimes he couldn’t believe it only had been three weeks since he left Walker and Evie on their own. Ever since Walker answered his daily phone call in tears, after August was there with her, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. Guilty for not being there to protect her. Guilty for leaving to get ready be able to catch his own twin brother, even if right now killing him was the thought that came to his mind, knowing fully well that wasn’t what he was supposed to do. He wanted to bring him to justice.

He never had been a violent person, but the more he learned about August, the angrier he got.

But it wasn’t just August who he was angry at. He was also angry at Walker. He was angry because she let him in. She let him touch her. She let him fuck her. And he knew he had no right to feel that way. Because he had no right whatsoever when it came to Walker. Strong and beautiful Walker who he dreamed of in his lonely nights. Wondering how her skin would feel on his, how she would taste when he kissed her. What would make her whimper against his lips.

Breathing in deep, he shook his head. It was another lonely night. Walker would call soon, and he had to get himself in control.

He knew that deep down she still had feelings for August. How couldn’t she? They were married. She thought they would spend their whole lives together, only to find out that she married a crazy person. Yet he couldn’t understand why she let him fuck her.

And he couldn’t understand why he was jealous it wasn’t him who got to fuck her.

“Get a grip, Marshall.” He groaned to himself.

He felt his phone buzz and smiled as he read his daughter’s name. Was it weird, that he seemed to talk to her more as he was far away?

“Hey Dad.” Faye smiled

“Hey you. How was your math test?” He asked, making himself comfortable in his hotel bed.

He saw her make a face.

“Don’t know. Not feeling good about it. And I studied so much. God I hate school.” She groaned, making Walter almost chuckle.

“We will see. And hey one day you gonna miss school.”

“I highly doubt it.” She rolled her eyes.“Oh I have news!” She said excitedly.

“Do tell.” Walter smiled.

“Mom agreed that I can spend one week of the holidays with you.”

“That’s great. I have to check in with Walker first though, you know that.”

“I know. But… I wanna see you Dad.” Faye sighed.

“I wanna see you too, Munchkin. I need someone to take over Frozen duty for me. It’s all Evie talks about.” He shook his head.

“So… You and Walker… Do you like her Dad?” Faye asked, catching him off guard.

“Uhm… She’s a friend.” He said.

“But is she a friend or… a friend friend.” Faye wiggled her eyebrows, making Walter laugh.

“Missy, aren’t you a little young for talks like that.”

“I’m not…. I….” She pressed her eyes closed. “I kissed a boy today, Dad.”

She opened only one eye to look into the camera, to see Walter’s reaction. Walter in the meantime was speechless. His first instinct was to freak out. Because his little innocent daughter got kissed by a boy and he wasn’t around. But the longer he thought about it, the prouder he was, Faye told him about it. So Walter sighed, seeing Faye open her eyes looking hesitantly at him.

“Do you like this boy?” Walter asked.

“I… really like him, Dad.”

He looked at his daughter. Who would turn 14 years old in only two months. He wanted to tell her that she knew nothing about liking someone, that she should go back to watching Frozen all day. But his little daughter was growing up. And much faster than he liked to admit.

“I wanna meet him when I’m back.” Walter said, watching as she breathed out in relief.

“I think you know him already. It’s Ethan….”

Smiling softly Walter ended the video chat with his daughter. He had to admit that it was kind of adorable seeing her have a crush on someone. Even if deep down he still wanted to check the boy out. She was right. He knew Ethan. Walter went to school with his parents, which was a plus, cause he knew they were good people. His phone buzzed again.

Still awake? A text from Walker.

Barely. He wrote back.

Can you talk to me until I fall asleep? She wrote back. Walter sighed, before he pressed the dial button.

Langley, Virginia, the same time

Hopeful, Walker stared at her phone screen. It was late, and she knew it, but somehow hearing Walter’s voice until she fell asleep was the only thing that kept her sane at the moment. She had gotten in bed with Evie until she was asleep and then busied herself with sorting out her office.

After the CIA basically took everything from her office after August was in her house, she now had nothing left other than her computer and some books. She knew right away what files had been missing when Miller sat her down in her living room.

Her dead husband was now on top of the most wanted list because the CIA suspected he was planning to release anthrax. They just didn’t know where.

As soon as they found out they had sent a team to secure the scientist August had been searching for, only to find him gone from the facility he had been in for the last years.

She felt so guilty. Guilty for not noticing earlier that he had been there. Guilty for not stopping him. Guilty for not killing him. Guilty for enjoying his hands on her body. Guilty that she let it get that far.But mostly she felt guilty towards Walter.

He had stayed on the phone with her until Miller knocked on her door. Somehow Walter had informed him of what happened. She still didn’t know how. He was close to just canceling the boot camp to rush to her side. In a weird way she felt like she had cheated on him. Which was insane because he wasn’t more than just a friend to her. Probably the closest friend she had made in the last 10 years. And she didn’t even notice it.

Her phone buzzed, showing Walter calling. A smile sneaked to her face.

“Hey.” She answered.

“Hey yourself.” She couldn’t help but smile as she snuggled herself into her bed.

“How’s Evie?”

“Oh she’s fine. She actually painted something for you. I can send you a pic tomorrow.”

“That would be great.” There was a pause on his end of the line.

“How are you today?” He asked softly.

“I haven’t cried the whole day.” She chuckled. “The bruises are fading. At least the ones on my body. But I don’t want to talk about that today. Did Josh kick your ass?” She asked, making Walter groan.

“I can’t feel my arms anymore.”

Her phone was still in her hand when she woke up the next morning. It was saturday and she only woke up because someone was tickling her feet. Opening one eye she could see Evie hiding at the end of the bed, giggling as quietly as possible. Walker groaned as she turned to lay on her back, pretending to be still asleep. Through hooded eyes she could see Evie sneaking closer. And just before she could tickle her again, Walker pulled herself up, catching Evie by surprise. The girl shrieked as Walker put her arms around her and pulled her on top of her.

“Moooommy.” She giggled, making Walker smile.

“Good morning sweetie.” Walker yawned.

“I’m hungry.” Evie grinned.

“You’re always hungry.” Walker chuckled.

“Can we have pancakes? Like Walter’s?” She asked.

“With bananas and strawberries?” Walker asked. Evie nodded.

“I can do that. Go brush your teeth and I’ll be right down.” She said. Evie kissed her cheek, making Walker smile before she climbed down the bed. Walker looked after her daughter for a while before she got out of bed too. Stretching her muscles on her way to the bathroom, she sighed when she saw herself in the bathroom mirror. The bruises August left on her body were all gone, except for the bite on her shoulder. She could still see it every time she looked into the mirror. Pulling her shirt further up she leaned down to wash her face.

Today she wouldn’t think of August. Today she would spend quality time with her daughter. And face time with her and Walter. Because Walker wasn’t the only one missing him. Evie was too.

unknown location, same day.

“We’re gonna touch down soon, better buckle up.” The man next to him said. A pilot August had paid to fly them to the other side of the country. He nodded at the man before he turned around and looked at the scientist who was sleeping peacefully as if nothing had happened in these last two weeks.

August looked out of the window into the dark sky. It was the middle of the night and he could see so many stars, he was reminded back to the night in Russia with Walker in the middle of nowhere. Walker.

He still couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong. That she wouldn’t welcome him back with open arms was a given, but using her safeword during sex? That had never happened. And they had done all kinds of kinky shit back in the day.

6 years ago, New York

“I won’t break August.” She smiled up at him.

“What makes you so sure of that?” August smirked, letting his hands wander up her thighs as she sat on top of him, already naked and so inviting.

“No one ever succeeded.”

“Well, you’ve never been dominated by me, haven’t you?” He smirked, his hands grabbing her perfect tits, squeezing them in his hands. They were the perfect size, her nipples poking against his hand.

“Mmmhh… yes.” She began to slowly roll her hips on top of him, and he could feel himself getting hard again. What was it about this woman that made him this aroused? Why did he care if he hurt her? Deep down August knew the answer, but he wasn’t ready to acknowledge it yet.

“What is your safe word?” He asked.

“I don’t have one.” She frowned, biting her lip as one of her hands sneaked in between her legs, playing with her clit. August was mesmerized by the sight in front of him.

“Then think of one. It could be anything. I will stop immediately once you say it. Promise.”

“Hmm….” She sighed. He slowly pulled himself up, catching her left nipple in between his lips, nibbling on it.

“Glitter.” She breathed, closing her eyes.

“Glitter?” He asked against her skin, before he bit over the soft skin of her breast, making her moan loudly.

“Yes. Glitter is my safeword.”

Present day

In all the years they had been together she had never used her safe word. Not when he fingerfucked her under the table during one of her CIA meetings, and not when he had spanked her so hard, she couldn’t sit properly for three days.

But this? This was enough for her to call it? He couldn’t forget the look in her eyes as she sank down on the kitchen wall, tears in her eyes as she screamed at him to leave her be.

The woman he loved seemed to have nothing but hate left for him. Had another man living with her and he still didn’t know who exactly he was.

The woman he loved had no sign of him left in her life except their daughter who had no idea who he even was.

His precious Evie.

The girl he gave up everything for.

For her future.

The ground came closer as the plane approached landing. Looking behind him he caught the eyes of the scientist who now was awake before he looked up front again.

If everything went right, in only a few weeks he would be reunited with his daughter. Even if it meant getting rid of the woman he loved.

-> Next chapter

#fanfiction #fanfic #august walker #walter marshall #henry cavill #august walker x reader #walter marshall x reader

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scullysexual · 4 years

Text

Time Can Heal (9/ )

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | AO3 |

Mulder realises his request for the truth costs too much.

Tagging: @today-in-fic @bevh78 @mypanicface @weseeusinthefall @impulsive-astrophile @enigmaticxbee

This is probably my favourite character I’ve written so far!

- - -

Mulder’s apartment in Minneapolis is a lot bigger than the one in Virginia. Bigger apartments costs less here, he tells her but Dana already guessed that.

“Want something to drink?” Mulder asks as he heads towards the kitchen.

Dana shakes her head, hanging her coat up on the rack.

“Suit yourself,” says Mulder disappearing through the doorway.

Dana surveys the room. In many ways it’s a similar layout to the one back in Hegel Place; couch against the wall, TV opposite it, coffee table in the middle. The only thing missing is the fish tank, the fish given to the Lone Gunmen maybe.

She feels a tug in her chest at the absence of the fish. If they were here, maybe she could believe nothing had changed.

She does manage a smile, however, upon seeing a blanket folded on the back of the couch and the pillow tucked between the wall and the armrest.

Not everything changes.

“Still haven’t got a bed?” she asks when Mulder re-enters the living room carrying a glass of orange juice in one hand and a bag of sunflower seeds in the other.

Mulder shrugs and takes his place on the far side of the couch. Dana stays standing, watching as he places his drink and snack down and pulls out the report.

She plays with the strap of her bag and watches. Mulder thumbs through bits of papers, past autopsy photos and eye-witness accounts. It dawns on her in this moment that apartment visits were rare. Work would be done alone in their respective homes or together in their office. He came to her apartment more times than she ever went to his and in this moment she feels like a stranger, her eyes casting across the TV unit to the VHS’s stacked in a pile, bits of clutter that cover his desk and coffee table, unwashed dishes in the sink. All evidence of a man who lives alone. All evidence of someone who is lonely.

“You can sit down,” Mulder’s voice cuts through her thoughts. Her attention is brought over to him by the sound of it, he’s looking at her smiling. “I don’t bite,” he jokes.

It eases her how comfortable he is around her, even after all these months. It’s like nothing has really changed for him. Time apart, a bumpy start, but she is still his Scully, his partner, ready to crack jokes with any time, ready to infuriate with his theories or look at her with concern when he knows something is bothering her.

She begins to see his leaving her in a different light. It was his quest after all, he must feel some guilt towards everything that happened to her.

The movement is spontaneous, an action before the thought. Mulder would often ease his way into her personal space, touch her arm, touch her hand to get her attention. Dana’s always tried to maintain a sense of professionalism, they were co-workers before they were friends, two agents before they were people. A hand through his hair to check for injury but nothing more.

Now her hand lands on his knee, the feel of it having Mulder’s attention diverted from folder to his knee, to her.

Dana wills herself to keep it there, tells herself that it is nothing more than him in her personal space or touching her arm.

“I don’t blame you,” she tells him. “For the abduction. It wasn’t your fault.”

For extra sincerity she squeezes his knee before bringing it away and reaching into her bag to pull out her laptop.

“I always…” Mulder begins and she turns her head towards him again, halting her action of switching on the computer.

He’s searching for the words.

“I blamed myself for it,” he admits not quite looking at her. “I thought I should’ve done more to protect you. I thought you were really gone.” He looks away completely now, putting the folder down to stare at his hands instead. “My mom always said she didn’t blame me for Samantha but I could see it…in her eyes. And when you were gone…I saw it again in your mother’s.” He chances a glance at her before adverting his eyes away again. “And I always thought I saw it in yours.”

Dana begins furiously shaking her head. She can’t speak on behalf of her mother, on behalf of his, but she can speak on behalf of herself.

She reaches for his forearm, bringing his eyes back to her.

“I’m sorry I made you think that,” she says willing her gaze to make him believe. “It was never true.”

“It was Duane Barry’s fault,” Mulder says, his tone having a hint of scepticism behind it.

“Yes, it was,” Dana confirms, her voice strong. “Nobody else’s.”

It has some affect on him and Mulder begins to nod. He reaches back for the folder and takes out the profile he wrote, handing it her way. She goes to take it but he doesn’t quite give it away.

“Are you sure you’re okay reading it?”

This case still shook her, for reason she didn’t quite want to think about, but she was here to do a purpose and that purpose was to bring justice to the victims- dead or alive.

“I have a job to do,” she answers, taking the report from him.

Mulder nods but he doesn’t quite believe her.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

“You amaze me,” Scully says after a while of just staring at him. Mulder takes a swig of his beer as he waits for her to continue.

A while has passed, the awkward murky beginnings long gone. They ordered food, he even convinced her to have a beer. Their reports and file lay on the coffee untouched. Scully sits in the gap between the couch and table, legs crossed and rolling the neck of the bottle back and forth between her fingers. He’s never known her to be so…relaxed.

Scully had been concerning him lately. He was worried for her, it’s not like her to run out of rooms after all.

Of course, the case was a difficult one, nobody should be expected to walk into something like this and not react, especially somebody as green as her but underneath all that Mulder was certain there was something else.

“It’s just…” she continues and shakes her head as if to discourage herself from saying anymore.

“No,” says Mulder with a chuckle. “Tell me. What were you gonna say?”

She moves onto her side, resting her arm on the seat of the couch and her head in her hand, looking at him.

“Okay,” she starts. “For arguments sake, why isn’t it aliens? Why is it not some…hair devouring slug that preys on dead people?”

He leans closer to her with false curiosity and a smirk.

“Do tell me more about this hair devouring slug theory of yours.”

She punches him in his leg and rolls her eyes. Her weak attempt has him falling into fits of laughter which just leads to frustrate her more, her eyes narrowing and a cute little pout forming on her face.

“I will shoot you.”

He doesn’t think she’s joking.

Mulder brings himself to stop laughing and goes back to his upright position. He plays with the label on the bottle as he talks.

“Certain cases have a distinct smell to them.” He shrugs. “This one doesn’t.”

“This one, out of 40 other cases, doesn’t have a distinct smell?”

Mulder chuckles again. “They’re rare but it’s been known to happen.” He glances her way. “What do you think? Do you think it’s a hair devouring slug?”

Scully grows sombre. She places her beer on the coaster on the table and hoists herself up onto the seat next to him.

Without looking at him, she mumbles, loud enough to for him to hear. “I’d like it to.”

“Why is that?” he asks as quietly as she spoke.

Mulder watches as she takes a deep breath before speaking.

“Because it’s easier to believe that monsters and aliens are the only ones capable of these things.” She looks down at her hands, fingers tangling together. “Not other human beings.”

She pulls her hands away to sit beside her, her head pointed towards the ceiling as she lets out a deep sigh.

“Scully, Duane Barry—”

“Duane Barry was insane!” Mulder feels himself physically jump back at the loud tone of her voice.

“You think it wasn’t aliens.” He realises.

“I know it wasn’t aliens.”

He looks at her with amazement.

“Scully, how? How do you know? Your memories…are they returning?”

He watches as her eyes shut almost immediately, her face crunching up as if she’s trying not to see what she’s seeing. When he looks down at her hands, the one closest to him is balled into a tight fist.

He reaches out to hold her hand, to comfort her through whatever it is she’s remembering but the moment he makes the slightest bit of contact, she’s jumping; eyes bursting open, vaulting her hand away.

“Scully—”

But she’s off the couch before he can finish his sentence.

“It wasn’t aliens.” She looks around the room, trying to remember where she is. Her eyes land on her laptop and folder and she rushes to pick them up.

“I need to go,” she says beginning to pack her stuff away.

But no, she can’t go, she’s remembering. Remembering her abduction or remembering something.

“Scully,” Mulder starts, getting up from the couch himself and walking towards her, trying to stop her from packing away her things.

“Stay,” he says. “It’s late, you don’t even have your car.”

She pauses at that, realising, before she shakes her head and resumes her task.

“I’ll book a cab.”

Mulder has nothing more he can say to her. Nothing more that wouldn’t make him sound like a selfish bastard for trying to get her to stay. Instead he nods and heads towards the telephone.

“Let’s get you back to your partner, eh,” he tries to joke but it lands flat. No response from Scully.

They fall to silence. Scully packed away and standing by the door in her coat. Mulder on the phone.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks when the call is over and her taxi is booked.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She turns to leave and Mulder busies himself with tidying up.

“Mulder,” she calls and he stops what he’s about to do. Maybe, just maybe…

“You’ll always be my partner,” she says instead.

It’s not what he wanted but it warms his chest up anyway. A slight smile crawling it’s way across his face.

“And you’ll always be mine,” he answers back.

It earns him a smile of his own before she turns and disappears through the front door.

.:.:.:.:.:.

She tosses her bag onto the bed as she enters, unconcerned for the contents inside it. She kicks off her heels, leaving them in a heap at the foot of her bed and heads towards the bedside drawer.

Just as her hand touches the pack of cigarettes and lighter, there’s a knock at her door. Dana rolls her eyes, slamming the rickety drawer shut and marches her way towards the door.

“What do you want?” she asks upon opening.

Davis leans against the doorframe.

“Not a nice way to greet your partner,” he says. He barges his way into the room and Dana is not in the mood to deal with this right now.

“We’re not partners,” she retorts, closing the door. There’s a thought to keep it open but no, her gun is at her side. She’ll use it if she has to. There’s no reason for the door to stay open.

Davis sits on the edge of the bed and studies her.

“Where have you been?”

“Excuse me?”

“First time I’ve heard the door go all night. Where have you been?”

“What’s it to you?” She crosses her arms in front of her.

“I’m your partner,” Davis answers. “Do I not get to know where you’ve been?”

She’s too exhausted and angry to deal with this. She wants him out.

“Please go.”

But Davis is up quicker than she thought he would be. He moves towards her and she flinches, moving herself, her lower back colliding with the edge of the desk and sending a brief bout of shooting pain rippling through her nerves.

She let’s out a surprise breath.

“Alcohol,” Davis observes. He backs out of her personal space and Dana feels her heart beating loudly against her chest. “Drinking during a case is grounds for suspension,” he tells her as if he’s a follower of the book.

“I wasn’t drinking,” she argues. “It was one beer.”

“With Spooky?”

Her face gives her away.

Davis smirks. “So now you’ve come back all pissed off. What happened? Spooky got you all hot and horny then left you out to dry?”

The unexpected crudeness of his words shocks her, a small gasp falling out of her mouth before she regains herself. Her eyes turning to steel, she asks:

“Is there something you wanted, Davis?”

He does nothing to hide the leering look he gives it. A cold chill runs down Dana’s body, her stomach and throat tightening. She tries her hardest not to let these reactions show to Davis.

“Nothing you could give me,” he says. “I’ll show myself out,” he calls backs as he walks to the door and Dana feels the urge to throw the nearest thing to her at the back of his head.

Once he’s gone, she runs over to the door and locks it. With no adjoining door and Davis’ room one down from hers she feels safer knowing there’s no real way he could enter.

With her unwanted visitor gone, Dana resumes her task. She grabs the cigarettes and lighter and stalks over to the window, yanking it up and hurrying to light the cigarette.

Her anger slowly drifts away with the smoke. What wound her up, she’s unsure. Maybe Mulder’s pushing? Her outburst was sudden but she knew what he was going to say about Duane Barry.

Aliens didn’t take him, Mulder. I think, deep down, you know that.

Her memory had been just as sudden as her outburst. They��ve never came to her conscious before. There was a light and men were talking. It was briefer than her dreams- or felt briefer- less paralysing.

Aliens didn’t take me, either.

She flicks the cig away, watching it falls down towards the street below and debates having another one.

Instead, she brings her head back inside, shuts the window, and decides sleep would be the better course of action, the time already approaching midnight.

She drops her bag onto the floor, strips herself of her clothes, leaving them in a heap at her feet. She takes the t-shirt she packed, her usual silk pyjamas at home needing to be washed (a task Dana hadn’t had much energy for anymore) and climbs into the bed, foregoing anything else, telling herself she’ll deal with it tomorrow.

.:.:.:.:.:.

She knows it’s happening before it’s happening.

A weight on her chest. Her body frozen.

It’s dark, at first, much like it is when she wakes up in the night and her eyes have yet to adjust.

Then there’s a burst of bright, white light coming to life. Her eyes shut tight in response to it before they slowly open again.

She tries to move, to sit up, but when moves her eyes, wire is binding her wrists, pinning her down. Panic begins to grip her, her heart beating wildly against her chest. Instinct tells her to clench her fist but the best her finger can do is tap frantically against her palm.

There’s the sudden sound of movement near her feet and Dana chances a look down with her eyes.

She’s spread-eagled on the table, the way they had her during the experiments.

She tries to fight against her restraints but she can’t move, the binds too tight it begins to cut into her skin of her wrist. The gasps at the deep red blood against the pale white of her skin as it begins its descent downwards, pooling below.

There’s heavy breathing, not coming from herself, and when she moves her eyes to the other side a yelp is released from her mouth, her body growing cold as a devil stands over her, his skin as red as her blood.

He leers at her body, eyes moving south before he begins to follow. Dana follows him, her eyes trained on him as she fights to control her breath, fights to even breath. She swallows and gulps when his red arm slowly begins reaching towards her ankle. His finger is cold when it touches her skin, sending shiver up and down her body and gooseflesh forming.

She tries to fight it off but just as like her wrists, are ankles are restrained, too. Unable to run, unable to fight, she shuts her eyes as the devil man’s finger begins tracing up her leg, a hand joining when he reaches her knee.

He moves to the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh and fear grips her, her eyes shooting open, darting towards him.

“Please…” she just about manages yet the devil’s hand still makes his way towards that place.

He looks at her, sadness or pity in his eyes and, with his other hands, reaches out to brush a tear away from her face with a finger. With the other, he strokes her outer lips.

Her body reacts, begins to respond and Dana wants to cry and scream and run. She begins fighting against the restrains again, not caring for the pain as they cut deeper into her wrists. Maybe it will snag a vein and she will die, ending all of this.

She stiffens and stops at the feeling of a finger entering her. The devil man is looking away from her now, focused on his task and there is nothing Dana can do to stop him.

She stills, facing her fate, facing the fact that this is about to happen, that they’re about to take something else from her, as well. Her eyes loll to the side, vision blurring as all sensations but the sensation of the weight upon her all fall away.

In her clouded vision, a figure approaches, the smell of cigarettes, and a voice.

“What are you doing?”

Mulder…

Dana blinks a few times, forcing her eyes to remain open but her vision is still blurry.

“She is mine,” Mulder says.

“Mul…Mul…der…”

Mulder’s face approaches hers, his hand in her hair stroking.

“Shh…” Mulder says. “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

#txf #txf fic #season 2 #canon divergence #abduction arc #irresistible fic #time can heal 9 #i write

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rosyluv · 4 years

Text

—Chapter one: Avenge club.

Summary: Nick Fury joins a group of misfits in S.H.I.E.L.D academy together, to help him stop chaos and injustice happening with-in students in school, thinking that the students he chose are the most adequate. However his choosing only backfires.

Warning: none. Just rlly bad attempts at comedy.

✩ Steven “Steve” G. Rogers.

‎✪ James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes.

‎⧗ Natalia “Nat/Natasha” Romanoff.

➸ Clinton “Clint” Barton.

𓅃 Samuel “Sam” Thomas Wilson.

‎⎊ Anthony “Tony” Edward Stark.

✲ James “Rhodey” Rhodes.

✧ Virginia “Pepper” Potts.

——

✰ There’s obviously a whole lot other characters in the story with boards too but ofc tumblr bitch won’t let me put more than ten so … ✰ enjoy!

——

“There was an idea, Stark knows this- called the avengers club. The idea is to bring together a group of remarkable people to see if they would become something more, when needed them to fight the battles that we never cou— ”

“Is he doing it again?’’ Sam leaned over Steve and whispered drowning out what Nick is saying. Steve ignored him to listen better to Fury.

“Is he quoting that comic book again?’’ Steve knew what Sam was talking about. In more than one occasion they would enter his office and he would hurriedly put a comic book away –something about earth’s mightiest heroes or something - clear his throat and adjust his shoulders. Nick in all dark clothes, a series almost terrifying face on and a series, unreadable attitude, was a first-class nerd. Who would’ve known? Only them probably.

“So, what you want us to do; is start an anti-bullying club and help people getting bullied in school?’’ Steve recapped what Nick said a minute ago.

Well when Nick Fury: Director and head of the Academy summoned Steve, Natasha, Bucky, Sam, Tony, Pepper, Rhodey, Wanda, Pietro, Clint, Thor, Val and Bruce. He didn’t exactly explain what’s the reason, And since they all frequented his office if not every week then every day, they thought it they had again done something bad. Like maybe it had to do with Clint getting beaten up at 6am behind the school today. So obviously they would be confused that this is why Nick summoned them. Nick was getting tired of their shenanigans, especially with the council putting pressure on the academy, it being the beginning of a new school year, this idea was made in favor of making them useful and at the same time putting a leash on them. Well. It has more depth than that but he’ll get into that eventually.

‘’Tony you didn’t tell us about this. Why?’’ Pepper frowned at Tony.

‘’I honestly didn’t know he was serious.’’ Tony drawled out, narrowing his eyes, studying Nick.

‘’So, no one is going to comment on that passionate speech?’’ Sam joked.

‘’Yes, that is the idea.’’ Nick nods, ignoring the others. “I have been discussing it with The council for a while.’’

“Nick,’’ Nat begins, earning a light frown from him at the usage of his first name, “what do you want us to do exactly? Put up signs that say: ‘Don’t bully, be friends.’ Because those things are embarrassing and a waste of time.’’ She says calmly, pressing an ice pack on Clint’s bruised eye.

‘’Yeah and the council doesn’t know shit,’’ Clint says, ushering Natasha’s hand aside. His bruise shading purple now. “We don’t need an anti-bullying club.’’ He stated confidently.

Nick tilted his head and narrowed his eye; Clint could almost hear him saying ‘bullshit’, almost.

—5 minutes ago

So, Clint wasn’t the smartest one in the group, or better; the safest. In translation: “reckless, thoughtless, and insanely, good at ruining your life.’’ As Nat and Steve would say.

And if ruining his life is getting his back thrashed over the wall outside the main school building in some weird ally, he -somehow- always ended up in every two weeks or so, in the same situation then he was doing pretty good at that.

‘’You know, bullying is so last year dude- ‘’ he began.

‘’Where the fuck is my jacket?’’

‘’What jacket?’’ That prompted a punch to Clint’s face. His eye throbbed.

‘’My jersey jacket, the one you stole from my party last Saturday.’’

‘’Dude, I didn’t steal your jacket.’’ Well to be fair Clint did go to the party last Saturday, and he did drink, a lot. So, he himself wasn’t sure of anything that happened that night, but what he is sure of, is that he would never steal anything, especially a jersey that belongs to the school’s top basketball athlet, Nat would kill him.

“Loki said you’d lie.’’

‘’Lok- what?’’ Clint blinked, then hissed when his eye ached. ‘’Loki Odinson? What does he have to do with this.’’ He recognizes the voice of the guy in front of him he just can’t exactly be sure, and the pain in his eyes are making it hard to concentrate, being sleep deprived and accused of stealing doesn’t help his fuzzy mind either.

“He saw you taking my jacket and leave,’’ He gritted, Looming over Clint.

“And you believed him? Loki? You believed Loki?” he asked amused, almost laughing.

“Why would he lie?’’ he threw his arms up.

“Why would he- ‘’ Clint half whispered like he was so shocked at this guy’s stupidity, he actually had to repeat what he said to understand that he really doesn’t know anything about Loki odinson.

“Have you meet Loki?!’’ he asked genuinely, voice getting higher.

‘’I don’t give a shit about who’s lying and who’s not, my jacket is still missing and if you don’t get it by tomorrows basketball practice, I’ll fucking report you.’’ He spat.

Present time.

‘’Aww, c’mon Nick, that guy’s wack, he wasn’t bullying me, he can’t even punch- owie.” Nat pressed at the bruise a little harder. Intentionally probably, Steve thought.

‘’You won’t just be an anti-bullying club.’’ Nick argued. “You’ll also arrange and be in charge of the dances, the festivals, the field trips.’’

‘’So, like a student council club.’’ Steve drawled, like he was explaining the words to himself and Nick.

“Almost, Not exactly,’’ Nick said, one corner of his lips quirked up and one eye narrowed, creasing under. He looked like he was arranging his words.

“You’ll be official representatives of the school, that’s why you’ll host and arrange the events. You’ll welcome the new kids and supervise on important things, like debate and take student suggestions and at times even football games. And, most importantly, show awareness to not only bullying but the things people normally turn a blind eye to. Students mental health and necessities, you’ll support all communities and stand by kids in school who are given a hard time and excluded, make this a place for no discrimination on all grounds such as sexuality, race, disability, creed, color and wealth. In a way you’ll be the center of everything; the face of the academy.’’

Silence.

Then a little more silence.

Then Tony scoffs. “You make it sound as if it’s a nation not a school.”

Rhodey lets out a breath agreeing with Tony. “Yeah, and Do you really think we can live up to your expectations?’’ he scowls.

Nick shows a buzzled face, Rhodey elaborates: “I mean, this sounds like a big responsibility, and we’re not exactly that responsible, we’re still learning things and Clint practically gets bullied every day,’’ he frowns at Clint who has one eye closed, and the other half open, holding up peace signs.

“What Rhodey wants to say is: Why did you choose us out of a whole other lot better options?’’ Sam explains.

“Yeah and it’s 2020, bullying is irrelevant, instead people just hate on themselves, we all do it!’’ Clint explains, and immediately gets hit in the head by Nat who keeps a monotone expression on. Sam puts another ice pack on Clint’s head.

Ignoring Clint, they go back to the conversation. “Nick, you said it yourself a hundred times; you don’t really trust us.’’ Steve says. “So why are you handling us this?’’

“Yeah it’s making me anxious.’’ Bruce fidgets.

“Bruce everything makes you anxious.’’ Valkyrie corrects.

Fury groans lowly and mumbles something under his breath about difficult kids. “As much as it pains me to say it. You’re the best choices I have.’’

All of their eyes widened, for two reasons. 1st Nicks Fury is never nice, especially to: “What’ll be the death of him.’’ And 2nd, they didn’t exactly believe in themselves being the best at this? Nick must provide some reasonable points or they would just consider this a last-minute decision or that they’re his last option or something.

Nick must’ve noticed the second reason (and ignored the first reason) because with a long sigh, he began. “Steve, remember last year, Will Hanks, that kid who didn’t get accepted in the golf team, because the leader was a homophobe?’’ Steve nodded. “You reported him to me and I kicked him out of the team, and Will is now 1st class champion of the school team with two silver medals.’’

Steve looks like he’s going to say something. “Val,’’ Nick begins. “Remember Last year? Maya Perez that girl that was excluded of the student lock-in night, because she didn’t know how to speak English well. And you locked those girls out of school and welcomed her in?’’ Val made a face.

“Pepper, Tony and Thor, you three have become sort of role models- ‘’

“Icons.’’ Tony corrected.

Nick ignores him. “The three of you have great influence on the kids who go here. They would do anything that you do in a heartbeat. Say the things you say, believe the things you believe in- ‘’

“Your point?’’

“My point is:” he adds the same amount of sarcasm Tony added. “They’re affected by your status, imagine you three beginning to fix the bad things happening in school, putting a stop to them. Using this reputation you have on making good things in school. They would eventually start doing the same too.’’ They didn’t argue, except Tony, who looks like he has a ton of things to say.

“Rhodey and Bruce, you two are smart and fair and you know what to do in inconvenient and hard situations, you have a sense of … adultery, you would be considered the most responsible and reasonable.’’

“And I’ve also noticed some blunt physical bullying.’’ Nick continues, slowly turning to face Clint. Clint blinked pressing his lips together.

“So, I also have a plan for that.’’

‘’Which is?’’ Nat asks.

“Val, Nat, Bucky, Steve and Thor. You guys have the ability to stand up for these bullies that beat up and take advantage of weaker kids, the things that go unnoticed to teachers I’m sure you see them. You have guts and are -weirdly- super strong.’’

“Clint, Pietro, you two are excelled sports champions, Pietro, I have never seen anyone run a track as fast as you, you’re the school’s top athletes.’’ Nick says. “Clint, I know you can be responsible and i know you can quit being a dumbass and start going back to practice.’’

“Sam, Wanda, the two of you are brilliant at consoling. Remember, that girl Anna, who had a serious leg injury and couldn’t heal because of emotional distress, she felt that she failed her gymnastic team because she couldn’t win. You two talked to her and reassured and eased her into healing mentally before physically.’’ Wanda scratched her head. Sam bit the inside of his cheek.

“And finally,” he began, tiredly. “Steve, you have a strong moral code, you know what’s right and what’s wrong, being the football team captain and on top of all school activities, people look up to you. You make good decisions and can guide and lead people.’’ The room was dead silent by the time he finished; you could hear a pin drop.

“Okay that’s a great motivational speech I’ll give you that,’’ Tony began. “But, that’s sadly 20 percent of what’s good, the other 80 percent are bad things. This is easily a stupid idea. We can’t force people to change, schools will always have bad kids.’’ Tony argues.

“And why exactly are you here, you only care about yourself and your own appearance.’’ Steve points out. “Take that leather jacker off what are?’’

“Sorry I don’t wear my church pants to school.” Tony shoots back looking at Steve’s khaki pants, flannel shirt, the academy symbol imprinted on the left side, (because god forbid they didn’t have the logo on their clothes) then a red and blue football jersey jacket. And Tony is looking at his outfit with so much disbelief, Pepper rolls her eyes at him.

Val shakes her head, frowning. “What the fuck are they talking about? That was so random.”

“You people are so petty,’’ Thor chuckles, his accent deepening. “ … and tiny.’’ He frowns.

“What do you mean you people?” Clint exclaims.

“Sorry to stay this is very stupid, like Stark said.’’ Thor says, leaving the office.

He opens the door and stops dead in his tracks. Nick must’ve added some intense sound proof doors because they were immune to the commotion happening outside. Every kid in school was fighting, the hallways were a mess, the old posters they had up made a new place on the floor and torn, pepper gasped when she saw (she worked two days on those) and in the middle of it all was-

“Loki!’’ Thor shouts, already angry at his brother, literally standing in the middle of the chaos. “What. Did. You. Do?’’

“Nothing.’’ He says, offended.

Nat runs after Thor and stops a girl– Beth who’s standing away looking nervous and anxious (obviously), Nat begins to ask her what is happening. She explains shakily: ‘‘All the exam report cards got mixed up and some are torn in the garbage, people who passed now have Fs, and it’s all a mess! they’re fighting because they think one of the them did it.’’ The girl said, nervously.

Nat and Tony and all the others hurriedly look in their bags for their own report cards, which they just received this morning, only forgot to look at when Nick had summoned them.

‘’I got a D- on history?! No way that’s true. I studied so hard for that test.’’ Steve says, then he checks the rest of the subjects. “Well at least I got an A+ in math.’’

Tony scrunches his card. “Yeah there’s definitely something wrong with these report cards.’’ He hurries to say.

“I got an F in biology?!’’ Bruce gasps.

“Okay … ” Tony drawls out. “This is just so stupid. All of the information in the report cards are saved in the student school data base so it’s not that big of a deal.’’ He says, confused.

“I don’t think they know that; some misunderstanding must’ve happened.’’ Beth tells them.

“Did you do this?’’ Thor asks Loki, or more of yells.

“Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t.” He coons.

“So you did. Why?!”

“‘Cause, I was bored.’’ He says, like it’s the most reasonable argument.

“This is why mom is always disappointed in you!” Sam burst out laughing in the back. Thor didn’t understand, well Thor never liked vine anyway, so Sam wouldn’t expect him to get it.

“You hurt my feelings.’’ He puts a hand on his heart, dramatically, like the theatre nerd he is.

“I don’t care.” Thor says. “Stop this madness right now.’’ He demands.

Loki makes a face like he’s thinking it over.

“No.’’ He simply says and leaves.

“Tony you said the report cards are saved in the … Uh- data base, right?’’ Steve asks.

“I did, yeah, does your frozen brain not get it, should I explain- ‘’

“No!’’ Steve stops him. “Look, they obviously don’t know that for some reason; someone should tell them so they stop fighting.’’ Steve says.

“Yeah probably.’’ Tony nods sighing and Steve realizes he isn’t going to volunteer to do it, so he huffs and heads to Nicks office and grabs a horn mic from his office desk. He hesitates for a second, when he finds Nick not moving in his chair. Normally he’s supposed to be out there, putting a stop to the chaos. Yet he’s not bothering. Nick gestures for him to go ahead with his hand. Was this some sort of test? Because Nick was weirdly calm for an academy director in a situation like this.

Steve saw Mr. Coulson enter Nicks office while he was stepping out, he heard him say: “What should we do?! I can’t find any of the teachers they’re gone!’’ in a panic. To which Fury answeres with: “Nothing, just stand by. They can handle this on their own.’’ And Steve thinks he could differ on that.

He stood in front of the others who were outside now, the mic in his sweaty, big, nervous palm, straightening his back to seem capable like he always does, “Okay I don’t think Fury is going to help stop this,’’

“Why?’’

Nat made a face, “Because he wants us to take care of it.’’ She states.

“And we’ll calmly ignore that,’’ Tony draggs the words out.

“No. We need to fix this, not because we have anything to prove; but because we should.’’ Steve protests.

Tony makes a disgusted face. “Okay, captain righteous.’’ He jokes.

Rhodey sighs with a nod, “What should we do?’’ He questions Steve.

Steve blinks, and he’s making the same face that he made when he and Bucky were eight, that time they ate all the cake Sarah — his mom— bought from the bakery for their arriving guests, and there was no way they could make it to the bakery five blocks away in time, before his mom comes back and yells at them, then he clenched his little hands unintentionally, his eyes widening comically and told Bucky that if they take a shortcut they could go to the bakery and get another freshly baked one before his mom comes back from work and she wouldn’t notice. She didn’t.

“Okay … there’re two storage rooms, Tony, Bruce, Pepper and Rhodey, separate and go to each, make sure the data isn’t erased and that it’s all there. Sam, Wanda, take Beth away and try to calm her down. Val, Thor, Pietro and Buck.’’ he looked at the stairs and saw a kid almost fall. “Make sure no one gets hurt. And if someone is, take them to the infirmary, please.’’ He looks at Nat and Clint, “Look for the teachers, see where you can find them, and bring them back so they can help sort this out.’’ They all groan at the thought of getting the teachers back, but all of them headed to do the things he ordered nonetheless.

Finally after they’re all gone he looks at the long main hall stairs and decides it’s the best place for everyone to see and hear him well

He climbs the stairs and when he reach the top, He holds the horn mic to his lips and shouts for them to listen; it doesn’t work, they don’t stop. Then the second time also doesn’t work. Then he goes to shout again but the Bucky is next to him on the stairs and snatching the mic from his hand.

‘’Hey! Everybody SHUT UP, Listen!’’ And this time it works somehow and Steve looks at him confusedly because everyone stopped shouting and fighting and looked expectedly at Steve. Bucky gave him the mic back and Steve breathed out a thanks.

He takes a breath in. “You can’t fight about unreasonable things that you didn’t think through. This is just a misunderstanding.’’ Steve reasoned slowly.

“But the report cards- ‘’

‘’The report cards are filed in the school’s data base so our real gradings aren’t lost,’’ Steve explains. “How did you guys not think of this?!’’

A guy Speaks up. “Loki said the teachers didn’t save them in the data base, he told us he saw someone in the teachers’ office switch them up too!’’ he explains.

Steve puts the mic down. “And you believed him??’’ he asks amused, making a very confused face.

“Anyway, the point is, we all can have our real report cards back, it’ll take a few days but I’m sure Nic- ” Nick, who was standing outside his office now, glares at Steve. “Mr. fury, will arrange them in their right order in no time.’’ Steve says. “So, you have nothing to worry about, everything will be alri …’’ He trails.

He sees Pepper, Bruce, Tony and Rhodey return to the main hallway, they look at Steve at the top of the stairs. Bruce waves his hand over his throat in a ‘stop’ motion and Rhodey keeps making hand gestures for Steve to stop talking, Steve and Bucky’s eyes narrow trying to understand what they’re trying to say. Tony rolls his eyes and uncrosses his arms, “For fucks sake,’’ he sighs. “There’s nothing in the storage rooms, it’s all a mess.’’ He shouts.

“Tony!’’ Pepper snaps at him, Rhodey scoffs like he was expecting that, and Steve’s eyes widened in panic.

“What?! They’re going to be madder when they know he’s lying anyway.’’ Tony defends and Pepper shakes her head.

“So that was a fucking lie!’’ Someone shouts from the back. “Loki was right!’’ and then they’re fighting again, and it’s more of a mess than it was before if that’s even possible. Val, Thor, Rhodey, Pepper, Tony, Bruce, Sam, Nat and Clint had come back and stood at the top of the stairs with Steve and Bucky, away from the chaos.

“What do we do now?’’ Sam asks, Steve shakes his head, like he can’t give an answer.

Bruce fidgets. “All in for not being up to this.’’ They all raise their hands.

Clint leans his head to Steve’s, still looking at the mess in front of them, “We couldn’t find the teach-’’ Steve makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat, his head falling down. Like he was expecting that but he didn’t want to hear it.

“Does anybody know where Loki is?’’ Thor asks, they all turn slowly and glare at him.

“Okay fine, no one cares.’’ Thor huffs and looks at the trashed hallway. “Understandable.’’ He nods.

Pepper sighs. “This is a mess.’’

“Yeah, such a mess.’’ Someone next to her says, someone she can’t recognize the voice of. She frowns and looks beside her. A girl, 5’5ft or maybe taller, shoulder length almost golden hair, fair clear skin, blue eyes and long lashes and a charming dimple smile, broad lean shoulders, wearing their school uniform, the original one, well they all designed their uniforms the way they wanted them to look, “as long as the logo is there.’’ Nick would sigh out. So, they recognized it was different than their own and other kids designed ones.

“Who are you?’’ Rhodey asks, pointing a finger at her.

“I’m Carol,’’ she smiles. “The new girl.’’

——

I promise next chapter will be better i prOMISE—

56 notes · View notes

duckymcdoorknob · 4 years

Text

Words Really Do Hurt

Warnings: TW!!!!!: harm (not self but still ouchies) A n g s t

You bitches are going to cry. I’ll make sure I drag this out and not leave out a single detail.

Ships: Jamilton

Prompt: Thomas Jefferson always assumed he would have the upper hand in arguments, from his quick wit and snapbacks. He always made Hamilton cry. But when Hamilton rolls up his sleeves, he realized what he was truly crying about.

He never knew where it came from. It was always just there...

“Bastard!”

Pain

“Whoreson!”

Pain

“Dirty thief!”

Pain.

Young Alexander ran away from the insults of his “neighbors.” Tears blurred his eyes as he ignored the searing feeling in his arm.

He opened the door of his home, seeing his sickly mother setting down “dinner” for them.

A bowl of bland oatmeal and a small apple.

“Mama... the..they di..d it again.” Alexander said wincing.

His mother rushed to his aid, putting their food aside. She drew a bath for him and helped him inside.

“What happened this time my darling?” His mother spoke softly, petting his hair.

“They called me a th..thief and a bastard whoreson.” Alexander mumbled, letting his arm down under the water.

The bathtub tinged red, a sight Alexander’s mother loathes seeing. Her boy had three fresh cuts on his arm.

She never knew how he got it.

The doctor told her that whenever something truly hurts him inside, it somehow hurts him outside too. Something to do with the signals in his brain, eating away a line on his skin. Nameless, yet so distressing to the Hamilton family. No matter how deep or long the cut is, it won’t affect his life. Something that would kill any normal human would only hurt him.

She let him rest in the bathtub as long as he wished, then dressed him in his favorite jammies.

They went downstairs and his mother put the oatmeal back on the fire.

——

Alexander went on through his life covered in scars. A large scar on his chest appeared when his mother died. No one has ever seen it, except him.

“I’m sorry but I don’t think a whoreson deserves any money. His mother should’ve thought about it before she got knocked up.”

Scar

——

“She doesn’t have much time left, Mr. Hamilton. She’s too weak and sick.”

“I love you, Alexander...”

A large scar across his chest formed again.

——

“My son was shot and killed in a gunfight.”

Alexander now has three straight lines across his chest. Signifying the loss of the three most important people in his lives.

Rubesis. That’s what the medics called it. Ovelate Rubesis, (oh-vel-eht Roo-bay-sis) the anatomical consumption of skin caused by emotional distress.

——

The wind howled outside as a chilling rain fell from the sky.

“The things you say might be completely delusional, Hamilton. But this takes the cake. The North and the South are completely different. Why should we have to pay for your debts?” Thomas began in a ramble.

Alexander felt a tiny prick on his arm, “not again.” He thought to himself. He stood tall and angry, ready to take whatever Thomas yelled at him.

“If you make the South pay your debts, It’ll be Yorktown ALL OVER again. And don’t expect to win with your current state. Your son stressing you out that much? I mean God, we could turn you into a candle with all that extra fat.”

A sudden swipe of pain shot up Alexander’s arm. He felt A thin cut develop by his wrist. These were schoolboy level insults. Why did he let it get to him?

“That’s enough, Thomas.” Washington stood between him and Jefferson, “that was below the belt and you know it.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. He wasn’t done yet. “Hamilton I can’t believe they even let your naive, foolish self into the government. I mean honest to God a brain dead toddler could run treasury better.”

A large, deep, gash began to form on his forearm.

“S..stop...” Alexander managed through his searing pain.

“Oh boohoo! What are you going to do? Cry?” Thomas teased. He scoffs and crosses his arms “So weak and pathetic.”

Tears pricked the corners of Alexander’s eyes. “P..please... i-it hurts. S..so bad.” The gash got longer.

“Christ what’s wrong with you? Can’t you just be normal?” Thomas asked, taken aback by Alexander’s behavior.

Alexander winced as blood stained his white undershirt. “J..Je..Jefferson s-stop. Please.” Alexander was breathing hard, tears falling down his face. The gash traveled from his forearm to his elbow by now.

“Jefferson, enough” Washington spoke through gritted teeth. He glared daggers at Thomas, who simply rolled his eyes.

“All I’m saying is this plan is outrageous.”

At that point in time, Washington’s assistant entered carrying a heavy crate of writing supplies. They walked over to where Washington was hovering over Thomas. The wind blew with gusto. Then shortly after, the electricity in their building was out.

The sudden flash caused Washington’s assistant to jump and drop the crate on Thomas’ leg.

“Ah! Son of a bitch!” Thomas exclaimed.

Alexander gasped and rushed to help Thomas. He may hate the man, but his paternal instincts kicked in. He rolled up his sleeves and lifted the heavy crate off of Thomas’ leg.

“Thank you, Washington. Now can we work on those lights please?” Thomas inquired.

Almost on cue, the lights flashed back on.

Thomas saw Alexander carrying the heavy crate, multiple cuts and scars on his arm, and a deep gash bleeding profusely.

“I must’ve been incorrect. Thank you for the help, Hamilton.” Thomas said softly, avoiding to talk about what he’s seen. He figured the last thing Alexander needed was to be upset more.

Alexander put the crate down, realized what he’d done and quickly rolled his sleeves back down.

“Can we get back to non verbally abusing politics please?” Washington spoke up.

“I agree. Let’s continue.” Alexander said, crossing his arms.

“Now Secretary Jefferson. You’ve given a fair view on your opinion. But why do you feel this way?” Washington began

“Lovely” Alexander thought to himself

“Mister President I believe that Hamilton’s plan to assume the debts is unfair to the South.”

“The only reason I asked is because Virginia’s debts are already paid. I just wanted to see if-“

“Shut. your. fucking mouth, Hamilton.” Thomas groaned. So much for not further upsetting him. “I know you can’t keep yourself quiet for more than a minute at a time, but for the sake of all of us in here, shut the hell up.”

“Mr. Jefferson I don’t think you’re being fair to-“ Washington was cut off by a hasty Thomas.

“You’re right. Hamilton, you’re not completely useless.”

A gash on Alexander’s left arm formed, just as his right arm.

“Thomas! That’s enough!” Washington finally raised his voice

“Ugh. Sorry dad didn’t realize we were all offended by everything here.”

“Please just leave me alone...” Alexander thought with sorrow.

“I’ve stated my case. I don’t support this buffoon’s plan. I’ve nothing else to say to his sorry ass.”

The cut deepened and grew longer. Traveling from his wrist to his mid forearm.

“E..end it.” Alexander stuttered as he grabbed his arm. “E...end the.. m..meeting.”

“You don’t get to speak to me, scum. You best run back to your island.”

The gash grew until his elbow, in an agonizingly slow manner, causing Alexander to cry out in agony. “PLEASE!” He cried, falling to the floor. Blood oozed out of the large gashes, the right one having reopened. Alexander sobbed as Washington sprinted towards him. It hasn’t been this bad since John’s death.

“It’s alright. I’ve got you. Don’t let go of me.” Washington said softly, trying to keep Alexander from hyperventilating. He sat down next to Alexander and gently held the hurting man.

“Oh what now?” Thomas’ angry, annoyed face, dropped when he saw the blood seeping from Alexander’s shirt. “Oh Christ- CAN WE GET SOME HELP IN HERE?”

Thomas attempted to rush to Alexander’s aid, but stopped when he noticed Alexander cowering away.

“Get him away from me. Don’t let him say anything to me. Please!” Alexander tried to cover his ears as tears streamed down his cheeks.

Washington moved his arms down, “you know better.”

Thomas searched fantically for anything to pack the wounds with. He was freaking out. When did Hamilton have time to pull a blade on himself?

“How did you-“ Alexander pondered on Washington’s previous remark.

Thomas’ frantic pacing was stopped by Washington.

“Thomas Stop. You’re going to do more damage if you wrap them.” He said softly

“Are you INSANE?” Thomas yelled.

“Go to the shelf, Medical book, Index, Under “O”, near the end. Starts with “ov”

Thomas races to the bookshelf and did as he was instructed. There he discovered... “Ovelate Rubesis?”

Washington nodded. Alexander was too determined to stop his suffering; he couldn’t hear what was unfolding.

“Wounds will widen if bloodflow is stopped by outside force. Expose to air to end bleeding.”

Two and two didn’t click for Thomas. He knew that he needed to leave the wounds alone, but he didn’t realize that Alexander had the condition.

“Don’t cover it. They need air.” Washington replied to Thomas’ out-loud reading.

“How did you know about?-“ Alexander pondered softly.

Washington said nothing and lifted his sleeve to show multiple scars and one healing cut.

——

“Ugh. Sorry dad didn’t realize we were all offended by everything here.”

Washington barely flinched as he felt the cut on his arm develop.

“First in a few years” he thought to himself

——

The two men sat on the dusty wooden floor of the cabinet meeting room. The other members had recessed to help reduce panic.

Alexander looked down to see his wounds closed, but still red and puffy. “Thank you sir.” He said as he reached out a hand to help Washington to his feet.

“Mr. Hamilton.” Thomas said calmly, “will you please meet me outside in the hallway for a moment?”

“I...” Alexander didn’t want Thomas to be suspicious, “I suppose.”

Alexander followed Thomas into his office and closed the door behind him.

The velvet clad man sat on his desk, crossed armed, and glared at Alexander. “I’ve two questions for you, Hamilton.”

Alexander gulped. He didn’t know how much more jolts of searing pain he could take. He mentally prepared himself for the unbearable feeling.

“Why did you help me? After all I’ve done and said to you?” Thomas asked quietly.

“I-it just happened. I guess s..since I have Phillip to care for, it’s j..just instinct.” Alexander managed to stutter out.

“Ah I understand.” Thomas said with a small chuckle.

“I..is that all, Mr. Secretary?” Alexander inquired quietly.

“Don’t get too formal on me now.” Thomas said with a half smile.

“Sorry.” Alexander said rubbing the back of his neck.

“Second.” Thomas began, walking to Alexander’s tense figure.

Alexander met his gaze. It was... sympathetic?

“Would you like to explain these for me?” Thomas said in a low voice.

He grabbed Alexander’s wrist swiftly and rolled up his sleeves.

Alexander’s arms looked ugly. The large gashes were stained bright red, swollen to the high heavens, and tinging the surrounding skin a warm pink. The small cuts puffed up in irritation. It was a sight of horror for both men.

“I-I...” Alexander didn’t know what to say. Did he tell his enemy the truth? Or lie? “It was from the... the c-crate! Yeah the crate.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Hamilton.” Thomas said with a sigh. “I just didn’t expect this from someone like you.”

“I..I’m not cutting myself. I swear.” Alexander whimpered.

“Well clearly it’s from something!” Thomas said defensively, causing Alexander to flinch and put his hands up in defense.

“I..is someone. Is someone hurting you, Hamilton?” Thomas asked as tears pricked his eyes.

“Why... why would y-you want to know?” Alexander said with his own tears falling.

“God damnit, Alexander! I don’t know? Maybe that I care about you, you braindead sheep!” Thomas yelled.

Alexander’s heart panged. Then he winced as a sharp pain slowly sliced across his bare arm.

“Oh- oh my god.” Thomas said as he put a hand to his mouth.

“Just leave me alone.” Alexander mumbled, turning his back to holding his sore arm.

“Alexander...” Thomas said quietly. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how I didn’t-“

“You don’t even know.“ Alexander responded, not attempting to meet Thomas’ anguished face.

“I read about it, remember?” Thomas said.

Alexander shook his head, “I was more focused on not passing out in front of anyone.”

“Ovelate Rubesis.” Thomas stated matter-of-factly, “Your skin cuts itself when something... hurts your heart.” Thomas slowed his speech in realization. “I feel like such a dick! How could I have not known this?!” Thomas’ eyes widened. “This... this is why you-“

“Begged you to end the cabinet meeting?... yeah.” Alexander said coolly.

“Oh my god that’s why you always cry during... oh my god that’s what happened. And the blood, and Washington saying it’ll heal itself, and you covering your ears and-“

Alexander’s eyes grew large from a sudden shock. Thomas had engulfed Alexander in a hug from above.

“Im so sorry.” Thomas repeated as tears streamed down his face.

Alexander buried his face into Thomas’ neck, letting sobs rack his body.

“I’m so sorry, Alexander.” Thomas whispered, resting his chin on top of Alex’s head.

The two sat in a silent embrace for a good while.

“Alexander...” Thomas whispered.

“Mm?”

“Wha...what happened when...” Thomas sighed, “when Eliza passed?”

Alexander sighed and slowly took off his green vest. “Are you sure you want to see?”

“Only if you’re comfortable.”

Alexander lifted his white undershirt up to reveal his chest.

Thomas covered his mouth as a tear fell from his eye.

Alexander’s chest had puffy lines across.

3 scars, 3 deaths.

Thomas brought Alexander close to him again and rubbed the man’s back.

“I hate to do this but.” Alexander began, lifting his head from its resting position. “Washington probably thinks that you killed me.”

Thomas chuckled “Im so sorry. For everything” he whispered, planting a soft, chaste kiss on Alexander’s forehead.

Alexander laughed through his tears.

“Im sorry I... I don’t know where that came from.” Thomas said sheepishly.

Alexander let out a soft giggle and gazed into Thomas’ soft brown eyes. “It’s okay, Thomas.”

Alexander sucked in a breath, and stood on his tippy toes to connect his lips to Thomas’.

George Washington silently opened the door to the office, careful to not alert anyone of his presence. His shoulders were in a tense position, his teeth gritted. When he saw the two men, he smiled and relaxed his shoulders. He shut the door and walked away from the room.

Thomas and Alexander broke apart, smiling at each other.

“I promise you. I’ll try to see things from your point of view from now on. And I’ll be careful with how I react, going forward.” Thomas spoke softly.

Alexander smiled and a tear rolled down his cheek.

A swift noise caught their attention.

“Meet me back in the room when you’re done. Wink wink.- GWash.”

Alexander couldn’t help but break into a fit of giggles.

Thomas put a hand on his shoulder and led him back out the door.

They both walked into the room, acting as if none of it ever happened.

#daveed diggs #hamilton #hamilsquad #hamiltrash #thomas jefferson #jamilton #lin manuel miranda #angst #au #washington #george washington #medical

39 notes · View notes

managedmischiefs · 4 years

Text

north//chapter five

new chapter time!! let me know if you want to be added onto the taglist. enjoy and don’t forget to leave your feedback!

also this chapter is dedicated to @babybobbybones because Ruby is always so supportive of my writing and they are always willing to give me honest opinions on my writing and my moodboards so thank u sm!!!!! love u fishy!! dis is for u!

genre: fluff

pairing: season nine spencer x female oc

warnings: none

word count: 5.6k

AMELIA

I fall onto the floor of my studio, leaning my head against the wall and staring up at the easel, a half-painted canvas propped up on it. I scrunch up my nose, tilting my head back and forth to try and find the beauty in the ugly flowers I’ve just painted. I sit up on my knees and reach my brush forward, adding just a few more strokes to the canvas, but my brush happens to be too saturated with water and the paint just drips down to the bottom of the canvas, ruining the entire painting. Whatever, I didn’t like it anyway.

I throw my brush into the water and sit back down against the wall, letting my eyes wander out the window to my left. My eyes dart between the window and the canvas and I wonder whether I should start over on a new canvas or throw in the towel for the day. Before I can either stand to get my keys and leave or stand to retrieve a new canvas, my phone starts ringing beside me. The name Mike flashes across my screen, so I lunge to answer.

"Hi, there!” I quip, and before Mike can even speak, I hear squeaks and screams of children in the background. The sound makes me grin.

"Hey, Lia. How's it going over in Virginia?" He nearly has to shout over the kids around him.

"It's-" my eyes wander back out the window and to the Starbucks across the street. A couple walks out the door just at that moment, clutching cups of steaming liquid and giggling with each other. My smile only grows and my mind wanders off to Spencer and what he might be doing right now while I’m trying to work, "it's pretty amazing, actually. I'm, um, yeah, it's great, Mike,"

"That's,” he pauses, “great, but there’s something else in your voice. What's happening in Virginia? Anything I need to know about?" Mike's voice is teasing, as he always is.

"Maybe," I respond in the same mischievous tone he gives me, my cheeks turning pink. I don’t give Mike another chance to question what is going so well in Virginia, and I just keep talking about the guy that has been on my mind every second since I first laid my eyes on him. "I've, um, I met a guy and I really like him and-"

"Whoa, whoa, you've got a boyfriend? Have we entered a parallel universe? Is this even you on the phone? Whoever is talking to me on the phone- who are you and what have you done with Amelia Stark?”

"I know, I know," I giggle, and I start to kick my feet like an excited child. "I met him at this cafe, and I swear, Mike, you'd love him. He's insanely smart and he's so sweet and he's such a gentleman. And get this, if you're not convinced then this will convince you- he’s an FBI agent."

"Amelia Stark. You're dating an FBI agent?"

"More specifically, he works for the BAU," Again, I let out a dramatic sigh and fall onto my back on the floor, letting myself be pulled into another lovesick daydream. I let my mind wander off to Spencer’s smile and his laugh and his warm touch and how utterly beautiful he makes me feel whenever we are together. "I just- I know I don't really date but-"

"Telling me you don't date is the understatement of the century. You’re not a commitment girl, and you’re a one night stand girl. You've never answered my calls and told me that things in Virginia are amazing and great and you've definitely never told me that you have a boyfriend, much less a boyfriend that works for the BAU,"

"There's just something about him! He's so different from any guy I've ever met before. I never wanted him to just be a one night stand or some guy that I hang out with for a few weeks and then forget about. Spencer is just amazing- he's so gentle with me, and he indulges in the things I like instead of always forcing the things he likes on me, and he always makes an effort to see me even though he's insanely busy,"

"Wow," Mike scoffs out a laugh. "I don't even know what to say. I'm glad you found someone who you like this much. I'm not even gonna bring up the capital L word because I know you're scared of it, but I have a nasty feeling that you might be bringing up the scary L word soon. And I'm even more glad that you've found an FBI agent with a gun who can protect you,"

"Oh my gosh," I shake my head at him, rolling my eyes into the back of my head. "I've never seen his gun, actually,"

"Good. You tell him to keep his gun away from you for quite a while, especially since you’re telling me he won’t be one of your one night stands. Both of his guns, if you know what I mean,"

My jaw nearly hits the floor at Mike’s remark, and before I can even respond, he bursts into a fit of laughter. "I- oh my god, you did not just say that,”

He chokes on his laughs as he keeps talking. "I'm only messing with you, but not really. Form emotional connections before you jump into bed. That’s what I did with Wendy and look at how long we’ve been together,”

I wrack my brain for any kind of number, but I come up empty. “How long have you guys been together?”

“Too long,” he deadpans.

“Hey! I hope Wendy isn’t home right now because she would have your head on a stake if she heard you say that,”

“She’s at work right now but she left me alone with all the little monsters. Listen, just make sure you use-"

"A condom! I got it, Mikey. I’m a responsible adult, contrary to popular belief. Can we stop talking about this? Let me talk to the kids! I’ll tell them to stop screaming,” I sit up again and my grimace from the slightly NSFW conversation turns into a wide smile, the giddiness bubbling in my stomach.

"Hey, kiddos! Gather around! Your favorite grown-up person is on the phone!" Mike shouts over the hoard of children in his house, and their shouts get closer and closer to his phone until their voices are blaring through the speaker of my phone.

"Amelia! Amelia! Amelia!"

"Hi, my loves!" I exclaim, "how's everything with Mike and Wendy?"

"Come home, Lia! We miss you!" Reese cries out, stumbling over her words in a way that makes my heart swell.

"You didn't come home for Christmas and we missed you so much!" Tyler squeaky voice adds.

"I know, I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to come home for Christmas, and I missed you guys so much too. But I’m sure Mike and Wendy made Christmas really special for everyone, didn’t they? I'm gonna try to come home soon but I can't promise anything. I have lots of pictures of you all and I think about you every day. I'll draw and I'll paint lots of new things and I'll send them home to you. Does that sound good?" They all shout confirmations back at me, and I manage to pick out a few requests for things like dogs and cats and flowers, and that request makes me remember the failed painting right in front of me. "Great. I'm sitting in my studio right now so I'll get working on those. If y’all have any more requests then tell Mike and he’ll tell me. I love you all, okay? I miss you guys so much,"

The kids all shout goodbyes at me before there's rustling on the other line. "Alright, it's just me now," Mike says.

"I actually plan on sending you guys art, partly because I want to and partly as an apology for not coming home for the holidays. Let me know if you need anything new for the walls, whether it’s at home or at the police station. Need a new piece for your office, Sheriff?" I tease, pushing myself off the floor for the first time in almost two hours, grabbing a stack of new canvases.

"We could always use more of your artwork, sweetheart, you know that. Call more, okay? I know it's hard, but we clearly all love hearing from you. And I wanna hear more about this profiling boyfriend of yours. Maybe I'll look up his file in the FBI database,"

"You don't have access to that database, you’re not a federal agent. Just google his name. I gotta get started on these paintings. I’ll call soon.”

“Wait! I only know his first name! What’s his-”

“Oops, that sucks. Tough luck. Gotta go,” I finally get the chance to throw his teasing right back in his face, a grin coming to my face as he groans dramatically. “Love you, Mikey!”

"Love you, kid. Stay safe,"

"You too. Don't get shot,"

"I won't."

///

SPENCER

///

My fingers drum against the book on my lap as I listen to dial tones over and over, waiting anxiously for an answer. Maybe today is a bad day and we don’t get to talk today, and that’s okay. There’s always tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. But I was just hoping for a nice conversation today, and every time another dial tone rings in my ear, it’s like another stab to the chest.

“Spencer?”

I perk up at the answer, grinning and setting my book onto the coffee table in front of me."Hi, Mom,"

"Spencer, I've been waiting for you to call me for weeks! You can’t ignore me for that long! You can’t leave your poor, old mother in the wind like that!”

I chuckle at her, happy that today seems to be a good day and she’s even capable of joking around. "Sorry, Mom. I've been really busy with work lately, but I wasn’t ignoring you. How was Christmas? I'm sorry I couldn't make it out,"

"It was good, Spencer. I would've preferred to spend it with you, but I enjoyed it," Mom tells me. "We watched movies and made gingerbread houses and some of the nurses got us gifts,"

"That sounds wonderful,"

"So tell me how you've been, honey. You know I hate talking about me and this dreadful place. I'd much rather hear about you,"

My eyes wander over to the coffee table in front of me, or more specifically the scarf that Amelia had left here when stayed over. It must have slipped off of her head when we were sleeping and fell under the couch, and when she rushed out so I could get going, she didn’t realize she wasn’t wearing it anymore. I hadn't gotten a chance to return it because I got whisked away on a case and I haven't been able to see Amelia yet. I reach for it, feeling the soft silk between my fingers. "Um, it's- huh, it's actually pretty great over here,"

"That's wonderful to hear! What's so great about it?" Mom doesn't get much entertainment in her facility and her main contact comes through me. I'm always open to telling her everything and I try to write her at least one letter every day so she can have something to read if I can’t call her, but I was so hell-bent on keeping Amelia a secret. I thought that maybe if I kept her a secret from everyone, then I'd be taking one more precaution at shielding her from my world, but I know that's useless. It's not worth it to keep Amelia a secret and to lie about the source of my happiness, at least not from my mother.

"Well," I look down at the scarf and picture the way Amelia uses the square of fabric to tie back her unruly curls and the way she always seems to look like an angel, "I've met a girl,"

"I’m sure you meet many girls, Spencer. You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”

"Her name is Amelia and she's an artist and I swear, Mom, she's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life. We met at the cafe where I get coffee before work and we got coffee together every day that I was home from a case for two months and we spent Christmas together. I just,” I fully expect my mom to cut me off and start rambling about Amelia and how I should pursue a relationship with her if she is making me this happy, but she doesn’t say anything and it forces me to have to finish a sentence I don’t want to say, “she's the first girl I've liked this much since, you know, since Maeve, and I knew I liked her right away and that’s just- it’s really scary,"

"Spencer, it sounds to me like you might even love her," Mom's voice softens. "I'm not going to try and tell you what you’re feeling, but like I always tell you, a mother knows. I'm happy for you, I really am. You deserve to be happy and have someone in your life to look after you and make sure you're healthy and take care of you. Did you ask her to be your girlfriend?"

"Yeah, last week. But we've known each other for almost three months and every time I look at her, I just feel so, I don’t really know. Whenever I get to see her, I never want to leave when I have to and-" I lay down on the couch and throw my head onto a pillow, the scarf resting right in front of my face. "Maybe I do love her. That's so scary though. I haven't known her for long at all. Can you fall in love with someone after three months?"

"When you first meet someone, you get a first impression, right? Sometimes you can be put off, or you can be instantly intimated by someone, or be intrigued, and so on. Love is a feeling, right? It’s a feeling in the same way that fear and intrigue are. Who’s to say you can’t feel love when you first meet someone? Who's to say you can't fall in love with someone in that same amount of time that someone can scare you? Love is complex and, yes, it’s scary and you've been scorned by it in the past, but don't let that get in the way of this good thing you've got with this Amelia girl,"

"I've never thought of love like that before."

Mom laughs gently. "Like I said. A mother knows," she pauses. "Oh, Spencer, I've gotta go. The nurses need me."

"That's fine," I breathe out a sigh, pushing myself up to a sitting position and pulling the scarf into my lap again. "Thanks for the talk. It was really helpful. I love you, Mom,"

"I love you too, Spencer," Mom says before hanging up, leaving me alone yet again in my apartment.

I push myself to my feet, leaving the scarf on the coffee table, making my way into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee for myself. I lean over the counter and check my watch, counting down the seconds until Amelia is set to show up at my door. And as if the universe is answering my silent prayer, there's a soft knock on the door just a millisecond later. I leave my coffee on the counter and rush to let her in, throwing the door open.

Amelia is standing there, looking as beautiful as ever, wearing a white dress and her black peacoat, camera hanging around her neck and one strap from her backpack draped over her shoulder. She’s beaming at me, almost emitting rays of sunshine from her body, shuffling her way through the door and throwing her arms around my neck in a tight hug. It nearly takes me by surprise, but if I’ve learned anything about Amelia by now, it’s that she’s affectionate and she loves to hug, and I can’t seem to find a single fault in that. I whisper a greeting in her ear, reaching around Amelia’s waist to shut the door, keeping out the cold air that blows inside from the hallway.

"Hi, dove," she chirps, sinking down on her heels when we pull away from the hug.

I cock my head to the side like a puppy, trying to hide my confusion but I’m positive it’s evident on my face. "Dove?"

"It’s just a pet name. Do you not like it? I could call you something else, or I could just stick to your name if that’s-”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Amelia unravels her arms from around my neck and shrugs off her backpack, hanging it right beside my jacket, then crouches down to take off her shoes. “I like it, actually.”

“Noted,” Amelia jumps back up to her feet, now noticeably shorter without her heels, and gives me a cheesy smile. She opens her mouth to say something else but her mouth snaps shut when her eyes travel downwards just a bit. “Spencer, you’re still in your work clothes.”

“Oh,” I follow her line of sight and look down at my trousers, button-up, cardigan, and tie, my gun holster on my hip (but my gun is locked away in a hidden place) and my credentials in my pocket, “yeah, sorry about that. After I got home, I was on the phone with my mom for a bit and I just didn’t get a chance to change yet.”

Amelia’s lips settle into a pout as she follows into the kitchen. “I hope I didn’t interrupt your phone call.”

“You didn’t, don’t worry. Do you want a cup of tea? Anything to drink or eat or-”

“I do but why don’t you go change? I can handle a cup of tea by myself. Put on something other than a dress shirt and a tie. Be comfortable,” she breezes right past me and reaches into the cupboard for a mug, already grabbing the kettle and filling it with water. I just watch her for a moment, slowly unclipping my watch from my wrist and watching the way her white dress slides across her legs with every tiny movement. But she doesn’t turn around again to check on my location and just looks between the box of Earl Grey tea and camomile tea, mulling over which to indulge in tonight. So I leave Amelia to her seemingly challenging decision and hurry off to my bedroom, ridding myself of the work clothes I’ve been wearing for almost thirty hours. I change into plaid pajama pants and a sweatshirt, only glancing in the mirror for a split second to check if my hair is an absolute mess before returning to Amelia.

She’s leaning against the counter with her mug in one hand and her camera in the other, and when I re-enter the room, she looks up at me and grins at the sight of my more relaxed state. “You look cozy. Guess I should have worn my pajamas today.”

I go and lean against the counter beside her, picking up my cup of coffee and looking over her shoulder at the pictures she is flipping through on her camera. At first, most of the pictures are of a redhead I’ve never seen before, posed in a park and modeling for the camera. Then the pictures turn to the sights I see every day and I conclude they must be pictures that Amelia took this morning or on her way here. “These are really good.”

“Oh, thanks,” Amelia’s cheeks turn pink at the compliment as she tosses the camera aside, clutching her cup of tea instead.

“I’d love to see more of your art sometime. I haven’t seen that much but the things that I have seen, I really loved.”

“Maybe one day, when you’re available, you can come to my studio. It’s just a couple of blocks away. I’d love for you to come and see some of what I do when you’re gone,” her head falls onto my shoulder and she scoots closer to me, her arm slowly moving around my waist, pulling me even closer to her. “It’s what I did all day. But speaking of all day, how was your day? How was the case?”

We move into the living room and get under a blanket as I give Amelia vague details about the case we solved this past week. She sits just as close to me as she was in the kitchen and tucks her feet under my legs to warm herself up, and once I’ve decided I’ve told her enough about the serial killer that we captured last night, she starts telling me about her last few days and how she went out to see a bad movie with her group of friends. She keeps moving closer and closer as the sun gets lower and lower and soon enough, Amelia is laying over my lap and my hands are in her hair, brushing the strands out of her face. I can confidently say that it’s the most relaxed and the most comfortable I’ve been this past week, and maybe even in the last few months. Every time Amelia is around and we get to just sit and talk, it’s a breath of fresh air. I don’t get to do this enough. I look up at the clock after being on the couch for a long time, seeing that it’s almost midnight. Thank god I don’t have to work tomorrow.

“Hey,” Amelia hums and looks up at me, her head in my lap and the blanket wrapped mostly around her, “it’s late. Do you want anything to eat?”

She hums once more, sitting up and keeping the blanket pulled up to her chest, her eyelids fluttering like a child fighting off sleep. “Yeah. I could really go for some ice cream. Do you have any?”

“I do, actually. But just chocolate, I think,” I stand from the couch and hold my hands out to Amelia, lugging her off the couch when she puts her hands in mine. She follows me one more time into the kitchen and pulls out bowls and spoons while I grab the gallon of ice cream from the freezer.

“So,” Amelia draws the word out, bumping her hip with mine when she reaches over me for a bowl, “will you tell me about your BAU team? I know their names, but they’re your best friends and basically your second family so I wanna know about them.”

“Oh, really? What do you wanna know?” She grins as I slide the chocolate syrup over to her and she quickly steals it to drizzle it all over her bowl of ice cream.

“Mm,” she hums, far too concentrated on her ice cream at first to give me a proper answer. But when she finishes with the syrup and hands it back to me, she hastily grabs spoons from the drawer and returns her full attention to the conversation, “just about your history with them. I’m not sure, whatever you wanna tell. Whatever’s important.”

We retake our seats on the couch, both of us now evenly draped in the blanket with our ice cream bowls in our hands. Amelia slings her legs over my lap and scoots as close to me as she can get, pressing her cheek to my shoulder. Despite wearing pajama pants, I can feel Amelia’s thighs, exposed by her dress, pressed against mine and it takes my breath away for a moment. I have to shift my position in the slightest so Amelia isn’t too on top of me, and once I’ve moved and I’m more comfortable, I start to let my mind race over what I could tell her.

“Well, Morgan is one of my best friends and he was one of the first people I met when I started working at the BAU. He’s loud sometimes and a little overwhelming but he’s always there for me. For example, during a case, I got anthrax poisoning and-”

Amelia nearly drops her bowl at this revelation and she reaches for my arm, squeezing tighter than ever before. “I’m sorry, what? Did I hear you correctly? Anthrax poisoning? And you’re still alive?” She practically throws her bowl onto the coffee table, quicking whipping around and grabbing my cheeks, pulling my face closer to hers until our noses are touching. “Am I speaking to a robot right now?”

My eyes practically roll into the back of my head. “A robot? Amelia, I can’t even use my DVD player. What makes you think I’m a robot, which is essentially a being made completely of technology?”

Amelia narrows her eyes at me, dragging her thumbs down to my jawline. She looks away for just a moment to eye the DVD player and then returns to me, just as close as she was two seconds ago. “Why do you have that thing if you don’t know how to use it?”

“It was a gift from JJ,” my lips brush against Amelia’s as I speak and even though we’ve kissed a million times by now, the feeling of our lips touching still makes the butterflies in my stomach act up. But her lips taste like chocolate and I can’t help it when I pull her closer and into a kiss. Now, it’s almost like it’s second nature to want to be constantly touching Amelia and kissing Amelia and just being around Amelia all the time.

Amelia abruptly pulls away from our kiss and lets out a loud yawn, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. “Sorry, sorry. It’s impossible to hold back a yawn while kissing.”

“It’s okay, it’s fine,” I wave my hand at her casually, and when she rubs her hands over her eyes and then pushes her hair back, my heart seems to pound just a little bit faster. She’s a little bit bleary as she inhales sharply, falling forward and pressing her temple against my shoulder. “Hey, it’s really late. I can tell you about my coworkers another day. Do you wanna get to sleep?”

“No,” she shakes her head but her body language strongly contrasts her words as she lets herself melt further into my embrace, “I don’t wanna leave you. I missed you a lot today.”

Okay, Spencer. Being bold with Amelia has yet to fail me so why should it now? Just ask her if she wants to spend the night for the first time. It’s with innocent intentions, anyway. No funny business. Just a couple sleeping in the same bed- what’s wrong with that? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. So just ask. Ask! It’s one night and I’ve recently cleaned my bedroom and washed the sheets so everything should be fine for a girl to sleep over. Sleep over? You’re not a ten year old, Spencer. Don’t ask her if she wants to sleep over like you’re a group of girls planning on eating candy and watching movies until three in the morning on the living room floor. Is that what girls do at sleepovers? I don’t even know. Nope, don’t get sidetracked. Just ask.

“Lia?” She hums in response, not even lifting her head from its spot on my shoulder. I’m used to her being boisterous and loud and positive when I’m anxious so I guess I’ll have to muster up enough courage to ask without her encouragement. “It’s really late already and, well, I don’t know what you’re doing tomorrow but would you wanna stay the night? It’s just- it’s past midnight and, you know, 40% of all fatal car accidents happen at night. 60% of adults have driven while drowsy and 37% of adults have fallen asleep at the wheel. I-“ I let out a breath, my chest deflating at her overall silence. “You don’t have to stay over and I could drive you home so you don’t have to drive but, you know, I would just like to know you’re safe.”

I pause once more and wait for some confirmation or rejection from Amelia, but all I’m met with is quiet breaths across my chest. I duck my head down and find Amelia fast asleep on my shoulder and one of the straps of her dress falling down her arm from the odd angle she’s laying at. Of course, what else would happen? I go on a nervous rant and Amelia sleeps through it.

“Hey, hey, Amelia?” I card my fingers through her hair and luckily, it’s enough to rouse her from her quick nap, and she lifts her head from my shoulder, eyes half-lidded. “Did you hear what I said?”

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t. I’m really tired.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was talking about. Do you want to stay the night? I gave you a bunch of statistics on car accidents at night but I’m sure you’ll fall asleep again if I repeat them.”

Amelia lets out a small laugh, pushing herself to a sitting position and rubbing her eyes yet again. “Could you lend me some clothes? Sleeping in a dress is not really my vibe.”

“Sure, I can give you some clothes. But let’s go to bed before you fall asleep again,” I grab onto Amelia’s hands and pull her off the couch, leading my half-asleep girlfriend to my bedroom. She waits patiently as I open my closet and reach for a pair of sweats, handing her sweatpants and a hoodie from Caltech. “Here. I’m gonna go clean up the ice cream while you change.”

“Thank you,” Amelia lays a kiss on my cheek before I can leave, and the tingling on my skin persists even when I get into the living room and clean up our ice cream bowls, putting them into the dishwasher.

I suppose that after tonight, there will be plenty of nights spent together. I won’t lie and say that sleeping in the same bed as Amelia isn’t a bit scary. I don’t know what kind of sleeper I am. Will I steal all the blankets and leave her freezing all night? Will I kick her relentlessly and leave dark bruises all over her pale skin? Will she just plainly hate sleeping with me and thus would begin the end of our relationship?

“Spencer,” Amelia’s voice rips me out of my anxious spiral, and when I turn to look at her, my breath is knocked completely out of my chest. Amelia wearing my clothes is quite a gorgeous sight, even if they’re hanging off her body and pooling around her feet. Her hair is up and her face is washed of any makeup and she just looks wildly beautiful. She pops her head into the kitchen and gives me a tired smile, maybe the millionth of the night. “Do you need help with anything?”

I shove my bowl into the dishwasher and then slam it closed, shaking my head at her. “No, I’m good. Let’s just go to bed.” I shut off the kitchen light and swing my arm around Amelia’s waist, bringing her back towards my bedroom and shutting the door behind us.

I watch with wide eyes and a stupid smile as Amelia crawls onto the bed, but right when she gets onto her knees, she pauses and looks over her shoulder at me. “Is there a side of the bed that you prefer?”

My eyes dart between Amelia and the pillows on the bed. Is there a side I prefer? I wouldn’t know. “I don’t think so. I mean, honestly, I’ve never slept in the same bed as anyone before,”

“Me either,” Amelia pouts, her eyes locked on mine as she debates which side to choose. “Well, we’re technically already on different sides of the bed.” She gestures to her place on the right side and me on the left side. I just shrug in response to her suggestion. It’s not a big deal to me whatsoever, just as long as Amelia is comfortable and she doesn’t wind up hating me after tonight.

Amelia, completely exhausted, flops onto her stomach on top of the duvet, wiggling up just a little bit further until she can rest her head on the pillow. I shut off the lights and then crawl into the bed, on my predetermined side, tugging the duvet from under Amelia so she can join me under it. And as soon as she’s under the duvet, Amelia rolls over and curls up beside me, laying her head on my chest and slinging her arm over my stomach. “Thank you for letting me stay over,” she whispers, craning her head to kiss my cheek. “Goodnight.”

The feeling of laying in a bed with another person, especially a person who I feel so strongly about, is such a warm feeling. I’m sure I’ll literally be warm soon, what with Amelia on top of me and a duvet covering my legs. But my chest feels tight and I can’t wipe off the smile on my face, no matter how hard I try. I just beam, knowing that Amelia will be beside me all night.

So I sink further into the duvet and tug Amelia as close as I possibly can, receiving a small snicker from her. But she doesn’t seem to mind the closeness since she curls into me even more and then presses another kiss to the center of my chest. Maybe she can feel my pounding heart under her lips. Her affection comforts me enough to allow me to close my eyes and force out a goodnight, drifting off to sleep with Amelia in my arms.

TAGLIST

@babybobbybones @thematthewgraygube @anepiphany @goldenalvez @reidscardigan @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @stxrryspencer @rxseinbloom @penelopecult @nastyhar @whollytaciturn @thegingerfairchild @matthewreid @shrimpyblog @garcias-batcave @anamelessfacelessnerd @gublergirls @wonderlandhatter @matthewgublerswife

(I’m pretty sure I messed up this taglist so if you weren’t tagged and you should be OR you’re tagged and you don’t want to be, then lmk and I’ll make the appropriate change)

#nikos north fic #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic

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