Secret Meetings (P.2)
Uktar x GN!Tav
4.4k Words
(Explicit, AFAB descriptions used for Tav)
(P.1, P.3)
"Turn around," he leaned in close, "That's an order."
A shiver ran up Tav's spine as they obeyed, facing away from him. Their heart racing as they looked down at the luxurious king bed a few feet before them. They waited patiently, seconds crawling like hours before they felt Uktar step closer, his body hovering behind theirs.
His hands came around their body, still holding the fabric belt he had removed. He ran his scarred fingers through Tav's hair, tucking loose strands behind their ears as he pulled the belt taught against their eyes. Tav inhaled sharply as they ran their fingertips against the fabric. He tied the belt in a firm knot against the back of their head.
"Too tight?" He questioned softly.
"Mm," Tav shook their head, sucking in their bottom lip, their heart running wild in anticipation.
Uktar began pacing around the room, snuffing out the various candles and lanterns save for a handful of small, flickering glows left in the corners near the bed. His pace was leisurely, confident, as he approached Tav once more, removing his robe and draping it across the armchair they were sat moments prior. He lazily untied the fabric belt around his waist, used to keep his undershirt tucked in his trousers. As his shirt fell open, Tav's eyes lazed over his figure.
The veins and discoloration visible on his neck traveled about most of his body. Hues of red and green rippled across his chest with the risen nerves under his skin. He was tall and lean but appeared quite muscular, the blighted veins on his arms making him look stronger than he was. Every movement, every shift and flex of his body was heightened by the way his curse danced across his skin. Why was he so ashamed of this, they wondered.
He's breathtaking. He's beautiful.
They brought their hands up to his chest, tracing the tracks of his vessels, peppering him with kisses, before his gruff voiced whispered to them.
"Turn around," he leaned in close, "That's an order."
A shiver ran up Tav's spine as they obeyed, facing away from him. Their heart racing as they looked down at the luxurious king bed a few feet before them. They waited patiently, seconds crawling like hours before they felt Uktar step closer, his body hovering behind theirs.
His hands came around their body, still holding the fabric belt he had removed. He ran his scarred fingers through Tav's hair, tucking loose strands behind their ears as he pulled the belt taught against their eyes. Tav inhaled sharply as they ran their fingertips against the fabric. He tied the belt in a firm knot against the back of their head.
"Too tight?" He questioned softly.
"Mm," Tav shook their head, sucking in their bottom lip, their heart running wild in anticipation. They heard Uktar shift around behind them, goosebumps rising on their skin. A moment passed before they felt his lithe arms wrap around their waist. They could feel his bare chest pressed against them, seems he had taken off his undershirt completely while they stood blind and waiting.
They felt him hesitate, his warm breath hitting the back of their neck.
"Oh," Tav gasped once they felt his lips caress their skin. Warm and slightly wet, he moaned into their neck as he traced his kisses down their shoulder. His tongue occasionally cresting between his lips to suck on their skin as he tasted them - a bitter tang of ivory soap and rose oil perfume, mixed with fresh sweat. They felt his arms shifting around their waist, letting one hand slide under their shirt to toy with a puckering nipple. He rolled it between his fingers, eliciting a long moan of approval from his partner.
Uktar began lifting their shirt up and over their head. Careful to avoid the makeshift blindfold, he exposed their shivering skin. His hands brushing down Tav's back as he returned to either side of their waist, turning them to face him.
The fabric over their eyes didn't blind them completely, but mixed with the low light Uktar had created in the room they could barely even see his silhouette before them. Hesitantly, they reached their hands forwards, touching his chest. Their breath quickened as he let their hands glide up his sternum to his neck, soon feeling his jaw - uncovered and exposed.
The faintest smile crept into the corners of Tav's mouth as Uktar bowed his head slightly, letting their hands explore the raw skin of his face. They traced the shape of his jaw, running their thumb against his lips once more.
"I never knew you were pierced," Tav joked, quietly. They heard Uktar laugh softly, clearing his throat, feeling his anxious smile under their touch. As their fingers moved upward, the risen veins grew tightly clustered under his eyes and along his cheekbones. They ran their thumb cautiously over his closed eyes, feeling them squeeze shut as he sucked in a breath.
"Its okay," Tav whispered, and they heard Uktar release another shaky breath. They could feel the skin of his face contorting as he let out a nervous laugh. He reached his hands up to meet Tav's own. Placing his palms over the back of their hands and holding them against his face. He choked on his words as he muttered - to Tav or to himself even he wasn't sure.
"Its been… so long."
Tav pulled their hands out from Uktar's gentle grasp, running them around the back of his head and pulling his lips down to meet their own, sighing into him as they pressed his mouth theirs.
Uktar didn't move at first, just letting Tav kiss him with his mouth slightly parted. Truly, how long had it been? This felt good. This felt right, with them. Why was he nervous? Why was he scared?
He ran his hands down their arms, over their shoulders and down their back. Tav pulled back slowly, giving their partner a moment to process. They breathed him in as he held them close. He watched as Tav bit their lip, and felt them trace idle circles on his nape with their fingers.
"Can we… Can I kiss you again?"
Uktar released a held breath, nodding quickly as he leaned in to return thier kiss, eager and impassioned. Tav could feel the way his blight littered his mouth in those same veins, though here they were so much smaller. Something one wouldn't even notice even if they could see his face. Not unless caught in an embrace like this.
Tav felt butterflies building inside of them, feeling so very lucky to be the one Uktar chose to share this experience with. To be allowed to feel him. Allowed to finally taste him.
Uktar felt the smile that spread across their face as they kissed him, and he smiled back in kind. His hands reaching underneath them, cupping the curve where their rear met their thighs, lifting them up into his arms. Tav wrapped their arms and legs around him as their kiss deepened, Uktar peaking his tongue through his lips and seeking entry between Tav's own - which they readily accepted.
Uktar carefully began walking forward, closing the gap between themselves and the bed. He leaned his knee against the mattress as he laid Tav's body down beneath him, sliding off his trousers before crawling back on top of his waiting partner.
Their kisses stayed desperate and hungry before gradually becoming more slow and languid, savoring the taste of each other until Uktar was left panting and holding his own body above them, their foreheads touching softly as Tav's fingers danced delicately across his skin - patient and methodical. Trying to commit the shape of him to memory through touch alone. Their finger tips ran over his cheek, thumb brushing against his lips, touching the metal ring they were already beginning to grow quite fond of. They traced the outline of his nose, noticing two more small studs through his right nostril. Uktar watched them gasp and smile.
"Just how many of these do you have?" They laughed.
"One more..." he took their right hand and brought it back up to his left eye, letting their fingers follow the line of his eyebrow. At the end was another small hoop.
"I never realized you were so…" Tav trailed off, not even sure what to say. Cool? Fascinating? All these months meeting each other and there was still so much about him they didn't know. Uktar held his breath, letting out an awkward laugh to break the tension.
"They're from my younger days, before the blight, when I had reason to… y'know, show myself. Thought they uh… made me look tough," the end of his sentence grew a bit quieter than the rest, thankful for Tav's blindfold so they couldn't see his cheeks go flush. His partner laughed gently beneath him.
"I bet they do," they smiled, tracing their fingers across his face again, "I bet you look so tough," their hand stilled as they held his cheek, their pinky curling under his ear, "I bet you're really quite handsome."
There it was again, that pain in his chest. That fear, that hesitation. They have no idea what they're saying. No idea of their naivety surrounding the monster he is.
He shook his head to clear himself and allowed his partners touch to ground him, nodding his head into their hands with every new sensation, sighing breaths building between them.
Tav felt Uktar kiss their palm, his lips moving from their hand down their wrist, lowering his head to their forehead, kissing their nose. Peppering kisses further down their jaw and neck. They whined as he moved away from their face, little whispers leaving their tired, swollen lips, "Come baaack, I want to kiss you more…"
Uktar raised his head slightly from the spot he had just kissed between their clavicle, eyeing them playfully - even if they couldn't see him.
"Lovely as you are to kiss," he said with a dark lilt to his voice. Lowering his lips, he kissed them directly between their peaking breasts, rolling one in each hand, "There are other things I can do with my mouth," he ran his tongue around the shape of Tav's breast, eliciting a shivering breath from them as their skin prickled, "Better things."
He lapped one of their nipples into his mouth, pulling a hungry moan from his partner as they rolled their body against him. His sturdy hands massaging into their soft and sensitive skin, rocking his growing arousal into them as he worked his tongue across their body - anything to pull more of those debauched noises from their wanting mouth.
He moved across their chest, latching his lips around their other nipple and rolling it under his tongue. He kissed and sucked at it, thinking of the similar sensitive bud resting between Tav's thighs. He rocked his twitching cock against them at the thought, rolling the nipple not currently occupied under his mouth with his fingers while he tasted at them.
Tavs hands gripped at the pillow beneath them as Uktar pulled their pebbled nipple with his teeth, hissing under his breath as he let it slip through his grasp. He lifted himself up, kneeling between their legs as he watched the way Tav's chest heaved in response. Running his hands over their breasts, he began pinching a nipple in one hand while slapping their tit with the other. He felt his blood pump harder through his aching member as he watched his partner's skin flush red, their breast bouncing after slapping them again with the back of his hand. Tav bit their lip back to stifle their scream, their legs spreading wider across Uktar's thighs.
He palmed himself through his tightening underclothes before running his hands along the inside of Tav's thighs. They keened loudly, bucking their hips into his touch. He ran his thumb over the barely visible print of their clit hidden beneath the thin, dampening fabric.
"Yes," Tav breathed out their desire, "Please…" His own breath was heavy, jaw slack watching his partner come undone beneath him. He let his thumb brush idle circles over the concealed bundle of nerves, watching their underclothes grow darker with a pool of arousal as he moved. He ghosted his fingers along the hem of their panties, leaning down to kiss the soft skin below their belly. Pulling the thin cloth down their shivering thighs, and sliding his legs out from beneath their own, he bent down before them in fleeting reverence. He lifted their thighs under his forearms, sliding one of their knees over his shoulder.
There they laid, exposed and wanting, inches away from his own exposed face. He licked his lips again, thoughts ringing through his head once more at just how fucking long its been, glancing up at his partner who by now had completely unraveled. Their own hand touching their breast in desperation, twisting their nipple as they rolled their hips in an attempt to coax Uktar closer. They could feel his hot breath against their slick entrance. Uktar had half a thought to tease them, make them beg for him to taste them. But even he could hardly wait.
He kissed the inside of their thigh, licking at their flesh close enough but not quite where they wanted him most, before sliding his left hand up between their glistening folds. His right arm hooked around their other thigh, sliding across their lower stomach and using his fingers on either side of their clit to spread them open. Dragging the fingers of his free hand up and down the quivering pink flesh before him, he teased and prodded at their entrance.
The way their pussy pulsed for him was sinful, begging for a finger to slide inside every time he passed them over. His eyes flickering between their desperate cunt and panting face, the way they bit their lip, pinching and rolling their nipple. The sound of their breathy moans bordering on sobs.
He ran his tongue over the sensitive bud of their apex as he slid two fingers inside of them with ease. The way Tav called out his name as he sunk inside down to his knuckles made his cock pulse with need.
He fucked Tav with his fingers, working his tongue and thumb in tandem against their clit. Curling his fingers inside them and pressing against their fluttering walls, sucking and kissing their swollen clit as they moaned with want beneath him.
"Fuck, Uktar - Fuuuck," One hand ran down to grab the back of his head as he dragged his fingers out and pressed a third into them. He felt the way their pussy clenched around him, his tongue laving against their sex as he felt them cresting towards their peak.
"Uktar, please - I'm so close, I'm already - " Tav's back arched as he began fucking them with his fingers faster, harder, as deep as his hand could reach. He pulled his mouth away from them to watch as they fucked themselves against him.
"Come for me, baby," Uktar's face was pressed against the inside of their thigh, kissing their skin and watching with wide, dilated eyes as their pussy fluttered with need, "I want to see you lose yourself to me."
"Oh, Gods -" Tav's fist in his hair pulled harshly as their body began to convulse, shockwaves of pleasure running down their spine, "Uktar!"
He let his fingers rut into them just to feel the way their walls embraced him as they came, before pulling them out harshly. Dragging the palm of his fingers along their inner walls in a way that caused their arousal to spill out of them with his exit. He ran his fingers back up against their clit, putting pressure on the bundle of nerves and coaxing out more of their liquid pleasure. Their inner walls pulsed and fluids spilled from their cunt as they came, a string of incoherent curses falling from Tav's lips between their cries of ecstasy. Mesmerized as their fluttering slowed, he hesitantly pushed two fingers back into them down to the knuckles, remnants of their orgasm spilling around him as they clenched their thighs together. Tav whined, stilling his hands as the over stimulation of his teasing was causing them to shake.
He softly ran his thumb over their clit once more as he pulled his hand away from their sensitive sex. He slid his fingers across his tongue, soaked with Tav's desire. He looked across their body as he traced his fingers up their stomach, kissing their ribs sweetly. Their skin was hot, their whole body flushed, their throat dry from their heavy, aching moans as they came. Tav let their hands trace down Uktar's back lazily as he crept his way back up to face them. He cupped their breast in his hand and touched them gently, pressing kisses into their neck and under their ear.
"You did so well," he whispered, his voice low and warm, his own want readily apparent in the way he spoke. Tav laughed, weak and dizzy, turning their head to kiss him. The taste of themselves still sticky on his lips, a mix of musky floral, salty sweet. His own malty taste lingering beneath.
"I think I need your mouth on me more often," Tav said with a croak, smiling as they ran their hand over his cheek. Uktar let out a low and breathy laugh, kissing Tav again as he shifted himself on top of them.
He leaned his body forward, pushing his legs between Tav's thighs. They reached up to touch his face again, and instead felt his hands grab both of their wrists, pinning them above their head as he leaned in closer. His lips were brushing against their own.
"Are you good to keep going?" Uktar's tone was still commanding, but quiet, his own body was shaking. His breath was uneasy against Tav's lips. He was so hungry for them, but didn't want to push them too hard.
Tav squirmed desperately - pushing their body against him and nodding, straining to meet their face with his, but Uktar remained out of reach. He smiled, cocking his head slightly, "Use your words, Tav."
They felt him push his aching want against them, his free hand trailing down to their stomach to hold them steady as he rolled his hips. Tav gasped, throwing their head back.
"Ohh, fuck," they moaned, feeling his throbbing member ache against their still sensitive skin, "Please, yes, please Uktar, I need you..."
They rolled themselves into him in response, their thighs gripping against his waist. Uktar leaned into them, latching onto their neck. Biting and sucking, he left his mark, lapping his tongue hungrily as his hand on their stomach left to quickly remove his own underclothes, throwing them to the floor and running his fingers against Tav's sex.
Their slick folds were wet with the aftermath of their own release moments prior. Every touch causing their body to twitch and writhe. He pulled from their neck to look at their face as he slipped one finger back inside. They bucked into him, catching their lip between their teeth.
He wished he could see the way their eyes rolled for him. The way they watched him as he pleased them, lidded and heavy with lust. The way they squeezed shut and tears built at the edges as they came, for him.
He moaned, rubbing his palm against their apex before removing his hand, now slick with a coat of their previous release. He grabbed his throbbing member and stroked himself with his now soaked hand, mixing his own leaking pre-cum into the slickness covering his cock, and letting the tip of his dick rest against Tav's entrance as he pulled against himself. He held himself steady, prodding at his partner.
"You want me, baby?" His voice was drenched in his desire, low and lustful as he teased them.
"Please," Tav cried, rocking their hips into him, desperate to feel him inside of them, "Please fuck me, Uktar."
He slid the head of his cock between their delicate folds, sliding his hand against Tav's stomach and rolling their clit under his thumb as he entered them. Tav sighed, turning their hips up slightly to allow him easier entry. His head dropped against theirs, releasing their wrists as he sheathed himself fully. Their hands gripped his shoulders, lips crashing into each other as he held himself steady as best as he could, letting Tav's body adjust to the size of him.
Then he hooked his elbow under their knee, and began pushing himself deeper.
"Oh, Gods -" Tav always loved how he could fill them so completely. The tip of him was so thick, pressing into their deepest parts. The veins of his curse thicker and more noticeable along his shaft. Even inside of them, they swear they felt the ridges of those risen arteries as he pumped into them.
Tav's tongue ran over his lips before pushing between them, Uktar's hand cupping under their ear and pulling them closer still. Gradually, he pulled himself out, letting every curve and vein of his throbbing member glide against Tav's clenching walls. He slid back into them, bottoming out and feeling his partner tremble beneath him.
He began gaining speed, finding a rhythm where his cockhead pressed against Tav's cervix as he scooped his other hand under their thigh, lifting them slightly as he folded them beneath him, pressing them firmly against the bed.
Between their kisses, there were huffs, and moans, and keens. Tav begging for him - don't stop, oh Gods, please, yes, fuck me, fuck me - their hand clutching desperately against his nape once more and holding onto him. They felt the sweat of his brow drip and mix with their own as he fucked into them, losing themselves to another incoming wave of pleasure.
"Uktar…"
He groaned as his thrusts turned erratic, gripping their thigh tight enough to leave small bruises as he slammed his cock into them. He felt the way Tav's pussy shuddered each time he hit against their cervix, the way their breath hitched as he bottomed out.
"Uktar!"
Tav could feel him stiffen inside of them as his own release was incoming. They felt his balls slap against their ass - the sound of their wet, rough indulgence echoing throughout the room. They reached one hand between them to tease their clit as they felt themselves hitting another peak.
"Uktar!"
Their grip on his neck tightened as he moaned into their mouth, kissing them as his pounding thighs began to still and stutter.
"Fuck, Tav -" they could feel the heat of him as he unloaded his thick spend inside of them, stirring every few seconds to rock his hips and pump his load deeper. The weight of his hips against theirs, the heat of his seed pulsing inside and coating their inner walls - it was all so much. And the felt so full. They played with their clit, rocking their hips with his final few pumps to bring themselves to their release, causing their own cum to spill from them once more. An orgasmic stream pouring around Uktar's cock, still sheathed deep inside.
He felt the way they came around him and nearly lost himself, a few small aftershocks of spend leaving his half hard cock as he felt them, soaked and clenching. He heard the way they kept whispering his name as he kissed them, pushing himself as firmly against their cervix as he could while they road out their final waves of pleasure together.
Neither of them knew how long they stayed there, bodies linked at the core, slick and sweaty. Heaving breaths between each kiss, Uktar still rocking his hips against them as his erection softened. He wasn't even trying to fuck them anymore. He too was simply desperate to feel them, for as long as he could.
He released Tav's tangled legs from being hooked within his arms, allowing his now soft member to slide out of them with ease. He glanced down at the mess they had made together, sheets soaked in their combined spend. He looked back up at his partner, both exhausted beyond words.
He laid down next to them, scooping his arm behind their shoulders and cradling their head in his hand. He let his eyes trace over their face. Their lips were trembling with every breath. Their cheeks were flush. Their blindfold damp with sweat and tears.
Maybe he had been staring at them too long without moving, without speaking. Enraptured in a bliss of post ecstasy. But eventually, Tav swallowed harshly, clearing their throat and speaking in a gravely voice as their own hand weakly found the hand he used to hold their face.
"That... was incredible…" They tried to smile, but their voice shook. Uktar couldn't tell if it was from how spent they were, or if the hesitation came from something deeper. Something he couldn't see.
He could almost feel the way Tav's eyes searched him for a response from beneath the fabric cloaking them. They ran their hand up his arm, letting it drop against his chest.
Uktar didn't speak as he watched them. They were right. It was incredible. They were incredible. They were different. This was different. He couldn't say that. He was terrified of the comfort. The vulnerability. The honesty. All his words caught in his throat as he refused to will himself to speak.
Tav waited in vain for his words to finally find them, their heart pounding so hard they felt it well up in their throat. Their voiced cracked as they continued, their hand on his chest ghosting up his neck.
"Could you kiss me?" They were nearly whispering, and their voice quivered as if they needed to cry, "Please…"
Uktar leaned into them immediately, urgently, desperate to kiss them as deeply as his body was able. Hoping his lips and tongue and breath could convey the feelings he just couldn't fucking say, and Tav surely felt the way his body shook as he held them. They had to scramble to push him off after a minute just to catch their breath. They trembled and laughed to themselves, a slurry of emotions coursing through them.
Uktar's face flushed. What in the Hells was he doing? Acting like some love struck school boy. He was paying for this. This was business. This was embarrassing! This was-
He felt Tav's hands trace up his cheeks once more. He looked down to where their eyes would be, under the make-shift blindfold. He wished he could see them. He nearly felt like they could see him, which made him all the more nervous.
Almost sensing his very thoughts, Tav moved their thumb up to trace below his waterline, their fingertips running across his forehead before gliding through his hair. They opened their mouth as if to speak, quickly closing it again, biting their lip.
"What?" Uktar said in a shaky breath, not even registering the sound of his own voice. It nearly made Tav jump, finally hearing him, as if they somehow forgot he were even there.
But Tav just shook their head, suddenly flushing red. It made his heart race - Why? - as they buried their head into his chest. They kissed his skin, breathing him in - the musk and sweat and sex that coated him - unsure when exactly they fell asleep in his embrace.
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I'll wait for your love - 18+
See part 1 | See Part 2 | Part 3 of We can't be friends (wait for your love)
The only thing you’re sure of is that you don’t want things to go back to the way they were and Spencer agrees that change may be for the best.
Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader
DISCLAIMER
This story is NSFW and contains graphic depictions + detailed descriptions of adult content. It is intended for mature audiences only, minors do not interact!
You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.
WARNINGS:
Panic attack mentioned, slight PTSD depictions, case details (barely) mentioned, alcohol mentioned like once.
Smut (not the focus at all): making out, nipple play, clitoral stimulation, praise, use of pet names (angel, pretty girl, etc).
Proceed at your own risk.
Word count: 10.4K
See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.
Avoiding Spencer wasn’t overly difficult on the flight back to D.C. You weren’t entirely sure how to face him after he risked his life for you, so you just pretended to be asleep the whole time. You even took a separate jeep from the tarmac to avoid a car ride back with him, and almost made a clean getaway to your car in the parking lot when Hotch stopped you.
“I’m sorry to hold you back, but I do need the Anchorage report on my desk before tomorrow morning. It can’t be put off any longer.”
He looked extremely apologetic and you understood. You’re grateful he gave you as much time as he has. That’s how you ended up stuck at work til the later hours of the evening. Besides the few workaholics, security guards and janitors roaming around the corridors, the only other person there with you is Spencer, oddly. Even Hotch has gone home. You’ve spent more time stalking the doctor work through the pile of case files on his desk than you have writing in the one on yours. Only when you're caught do you look away.
“Everything okay?” The innocent curiosity in his big eyes further reddens the hot embarrassment in your cheeks.
“Fine.” You mutter, dipping your head back down to the open page.
You’re never going to get this damn file done if you can’t get him out of your head, and him being barely three feet away from you doesn’t help. It’s very difficult for you to get your words from pen to paper. Anchorage wasn’t haunting you like it did at first. It was a traumatic event, yes, but alone isn’t the cause of this…block. Obviously the reality that you’re leaving is starting to dawn on you. Somehow your mind has linked this case with your departure and finishing this report makes it more official than your actual resignation.
Plus, as much as you definitely hate Spencer, you do did care for him. The shock of him almost getting himself killed in front of you is another thing occupying your mind. It’s barely been twenty four hours since then, it’s still fresh. You can see him stand and grab his satchel in your peripheral vision, he’s preparing to leave. There are a lot of memories attached to that brown leather bag.
Things he would carry in there for you when you forgot your own bag.
You don’t make it obvious that you’re watching him gather his things in small glances.
He bought extra hair clips for you to keep in there because you would often forget those too.
It’s over now. No point in dwelling on it. You shake your head once he’s out of sight, trying to force him out of your thoughts. Now that he’s gone you’re hoping to actually be able to get some work done.
He taught you chess with the mini chess set he keeps in there. You discovered that you actually quite liked chess and would ask to play with him all the time. It was also his ‘secret’ weapon to help you calm down.
You roll your eyes to push back the tears from the memories that refuse to stop playing. This can wait until you get home, it’s not important.
It wasn’t the chess set that helped you feel calm. Spencer could win chess against you in just a few moves, but he would deliberately stretch out the game so you could have room to breathe. The longer the game, the more time you had to spend focused on the moves and slow down your thoughts. You could open up at your own pace. He would let you feel in control.
It doesn’t matter if he’s near you or not, Spencer has a way of invading your headspace wherever he is. Your train of thoughts is interrupted with a light thud on your right. You covertly roll the tears away again and turn to examine the source of the noise. A mug of coffee placed on your desk by
“Spencer?” You sputter breathlessly.
“Sorry. I know you told me to stop. This is the last time I promise.”
You don’t fully comprehend what he’s going on about, not expecting him to be here at all.
“I thought you left.”
“I did– was. I was leaving, but I thought I’d make you some coffee before I go. Since you’ve been here a while.” He awkwardly explains.
You steadily direct your attention back to the mug, reeling in what was happening.
“Before you get mad, this really is just a cup of coffee from a colleague who thought it might help keep you energised if you’re planning to stay late. There’s no ulterior motive…”
He continues rambling but you’re not mentally present to hear any of it.
He made you coffee.
Even though you’ve been nothing short of an absolute bitch. Granted he was a bitch first, but the point is that he’s still thinking of your well being regardless. You can’t hide your tears from him this time. It’s the soft buzz of your name that draws you back to him.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you! I’ll take the coffee–”
His panicked sentiment is cut short when you jump out of your seat and shove past him. The breakdown you’ve been avoiding hits you like a ton of bricks. You run into the nearest empty office and he runs after you, making it past the door before you can lock him out.
“Spencer p–please get out! I’m fine.” You’re pacing in the same spot, fanning away the stream falling down your cheeks, hyperventilating.
He doesn’t respond to you, instead cautiously taking your hand in his. You’re in too frenzied a state to care. He guides you to sit on the couch against the wall and you blindly go along with it, still trying to get yourself together.
You want to stop the tears, but you can’t do that until you get your breathing under control. He slowly wraps his arms around you and you slump into him, head buried in his chest. You should try to fight it, you should push him away, but you can’t. Right now, surrounded by his scent, held in his arms, you don’t want to move. It’s not something you can properly explain, but the feeling is so comforting that nothing else matters. All you know is that you’re safe and that’s enough for you to allow yourself to finally break down.
The first few sobs are loud, like there’s not enough air in the world to stabilise your lungs. They fizzle out into silent whimpers and you grasp onto the fabric of his sweater, balling it in your fist, just letting yourself feel. Spencer still hasn’t said a word. His right hand is rubbing circles on your back and his left hand is gently scratching just above the nape of your neck.
You stay like that for a while, even after you’ve stopped crying. It’s been so long since you’ve been in this little bubble with him and you don’t want it to end. You pull away when you feel the strap of his satchel across his stomach as your hand drops to his lap. He visually follows every move you make.
“You’re still wearing your bag.” You sniffle, leaning back.
“I am.” He whispers, understanding that you no longer want to be touched.
He stays in his original position; facing you, but now with one arm resting on top of the backrest and the other idly in his lap. You’ve moved so that now you're facing ahead with your back leaning against the cushions, pulling your knees into your chest. You had never found comfort in silence until the first time you experienced it with Spencer. Staying huddled, you divert your eyes towards him. There’s a distinct wet patch on his shirt. It’s less visible on his sweater-vest, but it’s there.
“Your shirt’s wet now.” It’s almost impossible to make out what you’re saying with your mouth muffled against your arm, but of course, Spencer manages anyway.
“It’ll dry.” He smiles, tone delicate.
“But– germs.” You choke a little due to your previous crying.
“It can be washed.” He’s using his comforting voice again.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
The silence resumes. Neither of you dares to move, trying to freeze this moment. It’s obvious that you didn’t grasp how badly you craved each other’s presence.
“D–do…” The initial sound grabs Spencer’s full attention again. You take a deep breath, hoping he wants to stay here as much as you do. “Do you still carry that little chess set with you?”
A small, airy chuckle comes out from him.
“Would you like to play?”
“Please.”
He creates some more space between you and begins to set up the board once he’s pulled it out of his satchel. You move to accommodate the set up, now facing him with your legs crossed on the couch and shoes abandoned on the floor. You wait for him to make the first move. After the opening moves the game doesn’t seem to get any harder and you know he’s throwing the game. You’re okay at chess, but he’s obviously a lot better.
“You’re going easy on me.” You mumble.
“Because you’re not even trying.” He replies blithely.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Like I said, you’re making it too easy.” He gently teases.
“Not that. Helping me. You hate me, remember?” You say it like it’s the most casual thing in the world.
“I don’t hate you.”
“You literally told me that you hate me.” You chuckle, numb to the hurt that sentence once brought you.
“So did you.” He counters in defence, trailing your hand as it carelessly moves your queen to her demise.
“I was angry.”
“So was I.” He spared your queen, in turn leaving his king vulnerable.
“It doesn’t matter now…” You don’t finish the rest of your sentence but Spencer still hears it.
You’re leaving soon anyway.
“It matters to me.” If he left something unsaid you choose to ignore it.
“You’re letting me win.” You whisper, feeling the urge to cry some more, but there’s no tears left.
He doesn’t make a move, bringing the game to a halt. He’s waiting for you to meet his eyes. You know what he’s going to say.
“Spencer, don't.” You beseech.
“Why?” If you looked at him instead of the board you’d see the way his eyes are pleading at you.
“There’s no point.” This time it’s your voice that cracks.
You're looking everywhere else and it makes you too aware of your surroundings. Like how the couch is lined up directly under a window that anyone could peek into.
“Leaving is not the only option.” He solicits.
He regards your discomfort and closes the blinds from where he’s sitting, pulling you back into the privacy of your bubble.
“There’s nothing that you can say to make things go back to how they were.” You bite the inside of your cheek, fiddling with a random pawn.
It’s not a proper two way conversation. You’re talking to yourself just as much as Spencer’s talking to you. You’re both trying to convince you of what you’re saying.
“Things don’t have to go back to how they were.” The squeaks in his soothing tone are starting to melt any resolve you have left.
“There’s no reason for me to stay.” You oppose, trying to make any argument stick.
“I can think of more reasons for you to stay than for you to go.”
There’s an underlying tension bubbling. Neither of you notice it over your desperate tug of war.
“I don’t think there’s anything that you can say to get me to stay.” Another baseless sentence meant more for you than for him.
“Give me one chance. One chance to convince you.” He can see your internal struggle at his request and he throws out one final plea to sway you. “For nothing more than closure.”
Closure.
You’ve spent months in turmoil over the hows and the what ifs, trying to conjure answers to questions that wouldn’t stop pestering you. You couldn’t turn him down even if you wanted to.
“Closure?” You repeat, eyes finally latching onto his.
“Closure.” He whispers back in reassurance.
“Even if you can’t convince me?” You caution, not wanting to give him false hope.
He doesn’t say anything, thinking over the scenario in his head. He simply nods and you mimic the action, blinking away the blur in your vision and dragging around chess pieces. It takes Spencer a second to figure out that you were moving them back to their default places.
“Okay new game.” You announce.
Spencer blinks in confusion, waiting for you to elaborate.
“I can ask you any question I want and you have to answer honestly. If by the end of the game I’m not convinced to stay, you back off for the remainder of my time here.” You pause for him to interject, but he doesn’t. “That means we stay away from each other, only talking when needed for work. Even then as cordially and professionally as possible. No more trying to make casual conversation or bringing me coffee or anything like that.”
“Till the end of the game?” He studies you.
“Yup.” You smack your lips together. “Til one of us checkmates the other.”
“This means you’ll actually give me a fair shot?”
“Between the two of us, I’m not the one known for cheating at games.” You jab, trying to ease the tension you could definitely feel now.
“I meant a fair shot at convincing you. As in you’ll seriously take what I have to say into account.” He discards your attempt.
“No, I know. The opportunity was just too good to pass up.”
He can tell you’re trying to hold back a laugh from the small smile on your lips. It’s as adorable to him now as it was the first time he saw it.
“Any rules before we start?” He asks, unable to hide his own smile.
“Only that we have to be honest.” You answer, immediately dropping your smile.
“Okay.” He agrees, smiling slightly wider.
“Okay.” You nod again.
When he finally makes the first move it hits you that you don’t actually know where to start. Theoretically, you know what you want to ask, but don’t know how to ask. You don’t know if you should jump straight into the questions or start with some ice breakers. Nothing is said for about four to five moves when Spencer pauses the game.
“Are you going to ask any questions or have you decided that you just want to play one last game for your closure?”
“Huh?” You snap your vision away from the board. “Oh, sorry. I was thinking.”
“Do you want to return to the game after thinking of a few questions to ask?” He raises his brow and relaxes his jaw.
“No, no, we don’t need to do that. Let’s keep playing, the questions will come to me.” You brush off his suggestion and motion for him to continue with his turn. He doesn’t.
“What?” Your voice raises and you scrunch your nose from perplexity.
“Sorry, it’s just that you’ve put us on a time limit and this is how you’re using our time?” He airs, failing to conceal his amusement.
“Well excuse me if I don’t exactly have a list of questions ready to go for you.” You narrow your eyes in annoyance.
“Why would you suggest this if you don’t have any questions?” He tries to hold back his laugh and ends up snorting as a result.
“I have questions!” You jabber, unable to maintain your annoyance. “I don’t know what– where do I even start?”
“Start with whichever one comes to you first.” He shrugs, finally making his move.
A lot of things come to mind when you think about it. The thing that screams the loudest twitches a nerve and you become instantly irate.
“Okay.” You nod, tone harsh and flat. “Let’s start with whatever the fuck possessed you on the last case. What was your thought process when you put your life in danger like that?”
He almost gets whiplash from the change in mood, his face literally reads ‘are you serious?’.
“He was going to shoot you.” He states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“I was wearing a vest, I would’ve been fine.” You contend.
“I wasn’t willing to take that risk.”
“Risk?! You literally put yourself in danger for no reason!”
“I think it was a pretty good reason actually!”
“Spencer that was–” You stop yourself with a grumble, inhaling deeply.
“It was instinctual, okay?” He softly explains. “I saw him aim the gun at you and I just reacted.”
“Well it was a stupid reaction!” You whine.
“I’m not going to apologise for it.”
The glare you give is piercing, you bite the inside of your cheek to hold your tongue before you say something you can’t take back. Spencer throws his head back and sighs.
“But I will promise not to do it again.” He adds, not fully intending to keep it.
This was slowly turning into another argument, both of you shooting back too fast with your responses. You aren’t in the mood for another argument. So you redirect your attention to the game.
“Check.” You mumble, buying yourself time to think of another question. “Why are you here so late anyway?”
“I wanted to finish some work before tomorrow morning.” He replies, moving his king to safety.
“Yeah, what’s up with that? You could’ve done those tomorrow as well.” Your voice softens out of curiosity.
“I wanted to get them finished in case there were more tomorrow.” It’s not his best excuse. You don’t know what he means by that. He doesn’t know what he means by that. He’s lying to you.
You scoff, poking your tongue against your cheek. “Wow. You really can’t not cheat during a game, can you?”
“Right, sorry.” Spencer clears his throat after the initial confusion clears. Complete honesty, it was your only rule. “I wanted to be here.”
“For…” You egg on, purposely rolling your ‘r’s to prompt him.
“I wanted to make sure that you were okay.” He admits, looking away from you.
“Why?” You’re genuinely puzzled at the admission. “You’re the one who almost died. I mean, it was stupid and your fault, but still. If anything I should be checking up on you.”
“Check.” That’s the only response he gives you. He hopes that you don’t push further, but he knows that you will.
His lack of response only forces you to think about the possible reasons by yourself, using context clues to figure it out. You are a profiler, after all.
“Is this because of the panic attack?” You note how his jaw twitches when he swallows at the mention. “It is! You seriously chose to spend your night stuck at the office because of that?”
“What else was I supposed to do? It’s not like you would talk to me, you literally refused to even look at me!” He gripes.
“Spencer I think anyone would panic if they got tackled to the ground by a six foot man without warning. I’m fine.” You giggle.
“What happened to complete honesty?” It’s his turn to glare at you.
“I am being honest!” You protest.
“Lying by omission is not being honest.” He rolls his eyes.
“Okay Mr. know-it-all, what am I lying about?” You challenge.
“Seriously? You don’t remember?” His approach is doubtful and he just stares at your dazed expression.
“Fucking spit it out already, Spence!”
Any sarcasm he had geared up for a response dissipates at your use of his nickname. He’s heard it plenty in the last few months, but not from you. For a moment things feel like they never changed. It stings in a bittersweet kind of way.
“You sc–screamed– uh–” He clears his throat and rapidly blinks, his nose twitches in the process. “During that panic attack, you repeatedly asked me to stay with you. Y–you, uh– you said you didn’t think you could li–”
“Stop. Stop. Stop talking.” Your voice quavers and you hold your hand up, ears burning up. “I don’t wanna know.”
You don’t know why it makes your heart race the way it does, you don’t even remember it. He waits a while before speaking up again, wanting to be careful about how he goes about the topic without you shutting down.
“May I ask you a question?” He voices professionally, trying to make the conversation less personal so you don’t feel cornered.
You nod, moving your king out of check.
“Is there anybody you will talk to about Anchorage? Without pushing them away?” He keeps the game going as he speaks to provide you with a distraction.
“Woah– Anchorage? Where is that coming from?” You titter.
“I want you to remember that we promised to be honest and I won’t push if you ask me to stop, but I know for a fact that you aren’t okay.” He waits for you to stop him but you don’t, even though you know roughly what he’s going to say. “Panic attacks aside, your avoidant behaviour around the topic, inability to focus, being easily startled, you’re showing signs of PTSD.”
“Spence, c’mon. I don’t need to talk to anyone. I already passed the psych evals.” You attempt to make light of the situation with carefully chosen words so you’re not lying. It was a futile attempt, you know he’s not willing to budge when he doesn’t give you anything more than a blank stare.
“Why does this matter so much to you?” You sigh in defeat. “Whatever happened…that’s a part of the job, you know that.”
“I also know, first hand, that it takes over your life. You can’t run from it, no matter how much you try to.” His tone is soft as he speaks, yet you feel like he’s accusing you.
“I am not running! Why would you say I’m running?” You object with a high voice, shrugging your shoulders. “And it’s not taking over my life. Also, check.”
“Because that’s what you do when you don’t want to deal with something.” He states point blank.
“Woah– so– that was entirely unnecessary.” You stammer, unable to deny it.
“I’m not criticising you. I just happen to know you and I know that you have a tendency to run from your problems. And it is taking over your life.”
“You’re profiling!” You gasp.
“You know that it’s not something we can just turn off! No matter how much we pretend like we can.” He waves his hands defensively.
You can’t argue with that, your lips twisting to the side.
“You want me to be honest?” You murmur sheepishly.
“Always. Please.” He responds gently, wanting you to be as comfortable as possible.
“I don’t want to talk about it. I spend a good chunk of my day actively avoiding thinking about it, but somehow I always end up thinking about it anyway. At times it’s like I can almost feel…” You breathe in instinctively. “This is the first time in months I’ve been able to do anything without it lingering in the back of my mind. Can we please talk about it another time? I would rather talk about other things…”
Another time.
“...right now.”
You’ve implied that there will be another time to talk and he definitely caught it, even if he pretends that he hasn’t. You don’t even know if what you said is true, you got too comfortable with the familiarity of his friendship. It was something you said out of habit from back when you two actually were friends. Not even a full hour's worth of conversation with him and he’s already worming his way back in.
“Um–” You drag yourself further back on the couch, creating more physical distance.
“That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it at all.” Spencer senses your urgency to leave the situation and jumps into damage control. “It’s your turn.”
“No, um, I should– I should go. Thanks for doing thi– helping me.” You turn away from him, aiming for your shoes and ready to bolt.
“The game’s not over.” He points out.
“Yes it is.” You declare, still in the process of putting on your shoes.
“You said til checkmate.” He huffs, shifting out of his seated position.
“I forfeit!” You throw your arms out in a shrugging manner, standing up after him.
“I can’t believe this. You’re going back on your word!” He doesn’t even raise his voice. He’s just hurt.
“What’s the point, Spencer? Closure doesn’t mean anything, I’m still leaving! You can’t magically change my mind!” You yell, getting louder with each sentence.
“I disagree. I think that you’re running again!” He blocks your way and yells back, maintaining his volume throughout.
“Maybe you should think less!” You suggest, still yelling. Sarcasm is your defence mechanism when you have no actual defence.
“You know what else I think?” He continues, emphasising the word ‘think’ every time he says it out of spite. “I think that you agreed to this thinking I won’t be able to convince you, but I am!”
“I don’t care what you–”
“I think you don’t want to finish the game that you started, because you’re afraid to ask the harder questions!”
“Stop.” You command, but it doesn’t deter him.
“I think that you’re scared to hear my answers because then it all becomes too real for you–”
“Stop!” The words almost get stuck in your throat, but you choke them out. “You’re wrong.”
“If I’m wrong then prove it. To both of us.” He sits back down and motions to the board. “Ask the real questions.”
“I don’t need to prove anything, you’re wrong.” You uphold.
“So leave.” He challenges, knowing that you won’t be able to.
If you truly believed that he’s wrong you wouldn’t feel the need to prove it, but you do and he knows that. You walk back over to the couch, head nodding from irritation, tongue poking your cheek. You kick your shoes off with a bit of force and return to your earlier position across from him.
“Your move.” He reminds you as you settle in.
You don’t reply yet, but move your rook to set him up for the next move.
“Check.” He smugly states.
“Who was she?”
You don’t move, examining him close for any change in his behaviour. He obviously didn't anticipate that question first, snapping his sights back on you.
“Sorry?”
“The woman who greeted me at your door. That night at your apartment.”
“Charlotte.” He replies, holding your gaze to show you he’s got nothing to hide. “We met at the library a week before.”
“Are you guys together?” You break away first, diverting your eyes to the chess board and trying to seem unfazed when moving your knight.
“No, God, no.” He denies immediately.
“I don’t know, she seemed pretty cosy for someone you met a week prior.” You don’t mean to sound as snide as you come across.
“No, it wasn’t like that at all.” He shakes his head.
“You sure? Because I’m pretty sure I saw her mark you up with a kiss on your cheek before disappearing.” You don’t look at him, examining a captured pawn as you wait for him to make his move.
“Mark me up?” He cognizes it instantly. “Are you…jealous?”
“What? No!” You vehemently deny, your voice rising in several pitches.
“You are!” His eyes widen.
“I am not jealous.”
His jaw slacks and he lets out an amused scoff. He doesn’t say anything, making you feel the need to fill the silence.
“I only bring it up because…I know you have a thing with…germs.” Your words falter because of your own uncertainty and you want to dissolve into the fucking floor.
Spencer tries to suppress a smile by poking his tongue out slightly. If the atmosphere was lighter he’d tease you about it, but he doesn’t want to make you take off again. Still, he feels the need to clarify the events of the night.
“I don’t know why she kissed my cheek, it was completely random.” He takes his time saying it, still fighting a smile.
You swallow nervously and purse your lips to the side in response. One question answered and you only have new ones in its place. Did she stay the night? Did she sleep on the couch or on his bed? Did he see her again?
“I drove her home right after you left.” He can almost hear your thoughts.
“Was it a date?” You softly gulp again, unsure if you even have a right to know.
“Yes.” He hesitates.
“Oh.”
“I wanted to try out casual dating for once.” He chagrins. “I honestly don’t know how you did it, it’s not even fun.”
“No it’s not.” You chuckle dryly. “So no second date, I presume?”
“Definitely not. I was just stressed the whole time.” He chuckles with you.
“Take a shot of tequila before you go next time, it helps settle the nerves.” You joke, jumping to give him advice you hope he doesn’t take. You can’t help it, it’s what you’ve always done. Even if it goes against what you desire.
“While moderate consumption of tequila can help relax the nervous system, I will not be turning to alcohol for stress relief.”
“Then blast classical music while you get ready and give yourself a pep talk out loud, it’s actually really efficient–”
“There won’t be a next time. For a really long time, if ever.” He interjects, miffed at your insistence.
“You willingly plan on committing to lifelong celibacy?” You exclaim with a puzzled look. “Why?!”
Spencer laughs at how raw your reaction is. He didn’t plan on giving out any more details but, with that prompt he decides that it’s now or never.
“I don’t think any future dates will appreciate me picturing someone else in their place the whole time.”
Oh.
Both of you lock eyes at the same time. This is not a road you’re prepared to go back down, even if that’s literally the whole point of this conversation. You’re too stunned to reply and Spencer uses this as an opportunity to be elaborate. He doesn’t want any misunderstandings this time.
“I couldn’t stop pictur–”
“Shut up.” You blurt out the sentence in almost one word.
Your heart’s racing like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff. You’re flustered, every part of your body is heated from how terrified you are.
“Y–you don’t have t–t…you don’t owe m–me an explanation.” You try to elaborate, contradicting yourself and stumbling on your words.
“I want to.” He reads that you’re apprehensive but pushes regardless.
“Please don’t.” The tears that you thought had dried out were building again.
“Why ask if you won’t let me answer?”
You don’t have anything to say to that. Did you want answers? Yes. Still, you didn’t expect how hard they’d be to hear. He whispers your name and you scramble to think of your next move, and not in chess. You’re unable to even think about the game right now. You want to bolt, but you can’t even get yourself to move. So you deflect.
“Because it doesn’t matter.”
“I disagree.” Although his tone is subdued, the pace of his wording is faster. “I think it does matter and that’s why you’re afraid to hear it.”
He’s right but you can’t bring yourself to agree. This is only going to over-complicate an already complicated situation.
“It’s not enough.” Your voice cracks.
“How can it be if you won’t even give it a fair shot?”
“Fair?”
It comes out louder than you intended. His words trigger resentment within you and you snap.
“Nothing about any of this is fair! I mean, fucking hell, Spencer, four years. That’s how long we’ve been friends. I mean I’ve shared shit that I thought I would be taking to the fucking grave with you! You were my best friend for four fucking years and all it took was like, five seconds?”
You sob, softer than when you were first crying, but the frustration is clear. He reaches out to touch your hand, but you push his hand away.
“No!” You choke, sobbing harder when you try to compile your thoughts. “Five seconds to destroy all of it! It makes me wonder if everything we shared, our friendship, was it ever even that strong?”
Your anger simmers to sadness, as evident with how your yelling fades into whispering in the last sentence.
“I can’t even tell you when exactly those five seconds were. I mean, I know…but…I don’t. Where did it go wrong, Spence?”
“I don’t know.” Is all he can say after a beat of silence.
He knows exactly where it went wrong.
“Yeah, me neither!” You sniffle, immediately wiping a single tear that manages to escape. “So again, it doesn’t matter.”
“When you took it back.”
“What?”
“That’s where everything changed for me. You showed up at my apartment drunk, after your date with Nathan. Your exact words were ‘I mean as an amazing friend’.” His voice strains like he’s forcing himself to speak.
Your gaze falls, eyes darting everywhere as you try to jog your memory beyond the one sentence you remember.
“I don’t understand.” You croak.
“You know, if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.” He chuckles bitterly, fighting back tears of his own. “That was– that was, uh, what you said before you took it back.”
“Spence, please…” You whine without sound, tilting your head back and chewing on your lip as a final attempt to stay composed.
“No, you wanted to know where it went wrong.” He laughs falsely to downplay his tears. “You can say it doesn’t matter all you want, but the fact is, it does matter. It matters to me and I won’t let you run from it anymore.”
You can’t look at him. Not with tears free falling down your face. You cup your hands together in your lap, pressing your fingers and nails together.
“You told me that I couldn’t love you.” You struggle to sound your words.
“I’m an idiot.” Another chuckle, but he sounds defeated. “When you said that, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to say that I do love you.”
You tearfully laugh at this admission.
“I only took it back because of what you said. I panicked. I thought I’d ruined things…which I guess, I still did.” Another laugh from you.
Spencer responds with the same regretful sound.
The irony spurs another fit of giggles amongst you, this one slightly longer and infinitely more rueful than the last. You look anywhere but at each other until it grows quieter.
“If you loved me, why the fuck would you tell me that I couldn’t love you?” You sound just as, if not more, defeated than him.
“Love.” Spencer corrects without missing a beat.
Your brows twitch up and your heart jumps.
“I was so hung up on every single part of your sentence that I didn’t know what to say first.” He proceeds to answer you without leaving much room to process what he said. “I wanted to tell you that I do love you. I love you as you are. Not as somebody else.”
“But you didn’t say any of that.” You ignore all his admissions, not fully comprehending.
“Like I said, I’m an idiot. I was in so much disbelief and that was the first thing that came out of my mouth.” He sullenly huffs.
You don’t reply, sniffling with your head down.
“For like a second, I had everything I wanted. Then you took it back and it was like my whole world had been ripped out from under me. In those five seconds, you’d given me a taste of what I’d spent four years convincing myself I couldn’t have and I just– I couldn’t go back after that.” He adds after a stillness.
After a short while, your focus shifts from your hands to the board in front of you. The game’s been long forgotten. You’re immersed in the conversation, in spite of how strenuous it is.
“I understand why you were distant, even mean, at first.” You snivel. “But after a while you just became downright cruel.”
Spencer doesn’t shy away from your gaze when you do look at him. His skin is as drenched from crying as yours is.
“I mean ‘I don’t want to see your face’? I know that I don’t really have a leg to stand on anymore, but, what the fuck Spencer?”
He doesn’t cringe any less with every reminder. He’s truly regretted the words since they left his mouth.
“I wanted to hurt you.” He reveals. “I thought you were being deliberately cruel and I wanted you to feel exactly how I was feeling.”
“Deliberately?”
He nods, hanging his head.
“I thought that you knew how I felt and were just trying to be funny or something.”
“Well I didn’t. I wasn’t.” You cut him off with a constricted voice.
“Even if you did, it’s not an excuse.” His eyes are glistening from the outpour of tears, but he still lifts his sights back to you. “I’m sorry.”
You don’t know how to acknowledge his apology at all. You’re not even angry anymore, all you feel is sorrow and regret for the way everything happened. An entire friendship down the drain due to an unfortunate set of circumstances.
“This is so fucked up.” You say with another mordant laugh. “All of this could have been avoided if we just talked about it.”
It stung less when you had somebody to blame for it. Your vision blurs and you make no effort to clear it, letting yourself cry openly.
“We’re talking about it now?” It’s almost a squeak, the way it’s spoken.
“Yeah, but,” your shoulders slump, defeatedly, and you have to pause to control your sob, “what good does it do now? I’ve already lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me in the most pathetic way possible.”
“I’m right here.” He counters in such a small voice that it gives your goosebumps.
“Spencer, too many things have been said…”
“When you first joined the team, I instantly knew I liked you.”
He chews on his lip and darts his eyes around while he contemplates if he wants to continue.
“I thought it was because of your kind nature. You were so sweet to everybody.” He decides he does, but his voice shakes throughout. “You have this gift…you make people feel so good about themselves. Whenever you spoke to me, I felt like the most important person in the world. It was impossible not to like you.”
You want to pretend like you don’t know where he’s going with this. You want to stop him, but your voice is stuck in your throat.
“It wasn’t until you bought me coffee for the first time that I realised just how much I liked you.” He chuckles again, as he reminisces in the memory. “You didn’t even get my order right until the fourth time, but it was still my favourite cup of the day.”
“You make me sound like a saint.” You finally choke out, attempting to play down the confession so it doesn’t crush your heart. “The only reason I even started bringing you coffee is because you learned how I like my coffee first.”
“Not a saint, an angel. I’ve fallen so deeply in love with you that there are times where it genuinely feels like I’m in the presence of an angel.”
It’s stated with such sincerity that it knocks the wind out of your pipes. Your eyes are widened and you’re biting your tongue with your mouth closed, staring at him with your chin tucked. He seems so confident, even with the glistening from previous tears in his eyes.
“I wanted to be in your life in any way you would have me. Even when it meant that I had to accept you with other people. And it was bearable, until…” His reminiscence only ends at the memory of the night that changed everything. “Like I said, I couldn’t go back.”
The last part fades into another whisper, only then do you find the courage to speak up.
“Exactly.” You stick to your denial. “It can’t go back to how it was before.”
Your heart is so sure of what it wants, but your head is blinded by fear. You’re at a crossroads, except one path, the path that leads to everything you long for, is clouded with a fog of uncertainty. The other path is so painfully clear, you can practically see what’s on the other side. A fresh start, where the risk of fucking up further doesn’t exist. What you don’t see is Spencer.
“Good. I don’t want it to go back to how it was.”
Spencer’s waiting for you to enter the fog. He’s going to be there holding your hand every step of the way.
“I’ve already handed in my resignation.”
“That matters less than everything you’ve claimed doesn’t matter.” He leans in, intensifying his eye contact.
“I’m pretty sure Hotch is really close to confirming my replacement.” You comment half-heartedly.
You’re trying anything to dissuade both him and yourself from acknowledging the obvious, but he doesn’t plan on letting you avoid it.
“I love you.” He whispers softly.
“Spencer…” You begin when he takes hold of your hands and whatever you had to say disappears from your tongue.
“I love you. With every atom that makes up my body.” He repeats himself with further elaboration to instil it in your mind.
“I’m scared.” You whisper back with a sob, finally accepting it.
“Why?” His voice can’t be any softer, but it still cracks a little.
“Because, you can’t guarantee that it’s going to end well.” You allow your vulnerability to peek through. “And that’s going to hurt more. I’d rather leave now than fall deeper.”
Although you didn’t say it back, it’s an indirect admission that you love him too. And it’s enough for him to fight harder.
“I know that my credibility isn’t the greatest,” he coaxes a small, sad scoff out of you, “but I truly believe that this, us, we’ll work. Because I know that I’m going to do everything I can to make this work.”
He feels bolder when you don’t pull away from his touch, folding your fingers into your palms and cupping over them. You observe the sight as it unfolds in lieu of a verbal response.
“I’ve spent four years judging any man that comes into your life, wishing I was in their place, swearing I would treat you better than all of them.”
Spencer feels the need to fill in the silence and he lets honesty guide his confession. He leans in further as if he’s indulging his deepest secret.
“Four years wasted wondering what could be, cursing out those idiots, but taking no action to make it happen. And that makes me the biggest idiot out of all of them.”
When he speaks like this, with his big, imploring eyes and prayerful tone, it melts your heart to a point where it almost hurts. The more he talks, the more you begin to lean in, opening yourself up to him.
“It took losing you to realise how badly I fucked up and for that I will never forgive myself. I know that I have no right to ask you to waste any more time on me…”
There’s no more resistance against the pull you both physically feel to each other.
“...but I’m begging you for a chance to do today what I should have done way before yesterday.”
Your faces grow closer by the second, you can feel each other's breaths against skin.
“And I’m going to spend every tomorrow proving what I said today.”
The likelihood of him changing your mind with one conversation wasn’t very high, both you and Spencer knew this when you got into it. You’re not entirely surprised when he somehow manages to overcome those odds too. You take the step to close the gap and lightly press your lips to his.
It starts off soft, there’s no lust, no ulterior motive behind it. It’s a simple confirmation that you’re both present and this is real. Spencer doesn’t shy away from the kiss, not that you’d call this a kiss. It feels more intimate, more unguarded.
Spencer pulls you onto his lap as he shifts and leans back against the backrest to allow more room for you. You wrap your arms around him and the kiss deepens. In the midst of you straddling him, he slides the entire chess board off the couch and the pieces scatter on the floor. It’s only when you feel that the kiss can’t bring you any closer to him does the lust emerge. It fuels a desire to prove that you both whole-heartedly belong to each other.
There’s no pinpointing when the switch happens. All you know is that the feeling of his lips against yours is no longer enough. You cup his jaw in your hands, swiping your tongue on his lower lip and it causes his grip on your waist to tighten. He parts his lips for you and it starts what you can only call a dance with your tongues.
Your breathing grows hotter, your hips subconsciously grind against him. There’s a prominent bulge that brushes against your heat and you whine into his mouth. Spencer grunts your name in response and then abruptly pulls away.
“Wait, wait, wait, slow down.” He breathlessly whispers against your lips.
“What?” You whisper back with concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” He gazes into your eyes, afraid that you might regret this later.
“I’ve never been more sure, actually.” You’re confident at first but the look in his eyes makes you pull back further. “Unless…you’re not sure?”
“No, don’t misunderstand me. I want you.” His tone rises just above the previous whisper with his clarification. “It’s just that the last thing I want to do is take advantage of you when our emotions are running high.”
“Four years, Spencer.” You lean in again, just brushing your lips against his. “The only reason you should be making me wait is if you’re not sure.”
He shuts that idea down by crashing his lips on yours. The kiss is so hungry, so desperate, it’s everything both of you have longed for and denied yourselves everytime you’ve been in each other's presence. It doesn’t take long for hands to start to roam. He traces the curve from your waist to your hips, stopping just at the hem of your shirt, tugging it like he’s asking for permission.
You rush to undo your buttons and he meets you halfway, starting at the bottom. His fingers brush against yours as you two reach the final button and you pull the fabric off yourself. You do the same with his shirt, lips remaining locked, except for the small gasps of air you take in between. It requires a bit more manoeuvring with him, but you’re both soon shirtless.
His mouth travels to your jaw and you shut your eyes from pleasure as he continues down to your neck. The stubble on his chin tickles your skin. You cup it, gently pushing him away with a giggle.
“Forget to pack a razor in your bag, Dr. Reid?” Your voice is teasing, more playful than seductive.
He chuckles, airily, hiding his groan. He knows you’re being sarcastic, but the use of his title, with your voice in this context, catches him off guard. You moan as you feel his growing bulge against your heat when his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you into his kiss. You swiftly undo the clasp of your bra, but before you can take it off, Spencer grabs you from just below the hips and lifts you up off him, gently laying you down on the seat of the couch.
There’s no room for hesitation as his lips find your neck again and he nips at the skin. Every suckle earns him short gasps and the grip in his hair tightens as he travels lower. He stops just above your breast, pulling himself up to sit on his knees. You stare up at him with a heated gaze, the nail of your thumb resting between your teeth with your lips parted to make up for the loss of his lips.
He reaches for your bra strap and begins pulling slowly, searching your eyes for any signs of you withdrawing consent. All he sees is how beautifully they sparkle when you give him a light nod. It’s been too long since he’s seen the stars that you hold in your eyes, stars he accustomed himself to before he even got to properly know you.
Gazing into his eyes, you’ve never felt more sure, more safe. You trust him implicitly and you’ve never wanted anything more. His constant need to make sure you're comfortable sends shivers down to your core. He slides the garment off you and Spencer’s beyond grateful that he’s already on his knees, knowing that if he was standing he’d fall to them because of the sight below him.
His eyes don’t falter once, he’s trying to permanently etch this moment into his brain. He hovers his fingers above your body, thumb brushing against your hardened nipple and you softly whine. He looks awestruck, almost like he doesn’t believe what’s happening. You can’t help but wonder if he thinks your boobs look weird.
“Beautiful.” The words fall out of his mouth in a whisper, as if on cue. He’s really just thinking out loud.
Before you can respond he lowers down and plants a small peck to your sensitive nub before taking it into his mouth. You gasp again, head lolling back in pleasure. One of your hands goes for his hair, while the other clings to his hand that’s already holding yours. He switches between sucking, pulling and squeezing; rolling it between his tongue and uses his teeth to squeeze ever so slightly.
“S–spencer.” A strangled moan falls from your lips.
You tug his hair, whining and moaning as your hips roll against the strain in his pants. When your motions become continuous, he lets out his own strained groan and is forced to release your nipple with a small ‘pop’.
“Angel, I really need you to stop doing that.” He murmurs in your ear with a gentle, gravelly tone.
As soon as the nickname reaches your ears your hips involuntarily buck up again, making his hips automatically push down against yours. His cock presses against your core and you both moan, his head falling against your shoulder.
“Spence, more.” You quietly whine in against his ear. “I need more.”
“More?” He echoes back, turning his head so that your lips brush past each other when speaking.
“Mhm.” You nod weakly as he brushes a strand of hair out of your face and weakly connects his lips with yours.
Even when he’s got you vulnerable and at your most compromised, he’s still as gentle as ever. You don’t feel him undo your pants or sneak his hand in them, but you definitely feel him press the pads of his fingers against your clothed clit. Air escapes through your nose in a huff of surprise and you hum in his mouth, hips jolting at his touch. He can feel your slickness through your underwear.
“Oh, my pretty girl.” He sighs, breaking the kiss and directing his whispers in your ear again. “All wet for me?”
“Please..” Even with your broken whimper you beg him for more.
“Like this?” His deft fingers swipe your panties to the side, fingers landing directly on the clit this time.
They feel cold at first. The contrast against your heated body makes you squirm and you groan in a soft, high pitch.
“What are you feeling right now?” He pries a verbal response from you, circling your bud lightly. “Tell me.”
“Good.” You sigh, eyes shut as you try to savour the pleasure.
“Good?” His voice is still soft against your ear.
“Mhm.” You nod, one arm draping against his shoulder and the other hand running along his scruffy jaw. “So good.”
“And this?” He adds pressure to his movements. “Does this feel good?”
Your hips buck again and he feels rewarded when you moan. There’s no doubt that the sound of your voice is his favourite. He especially loves it when it’s directed at him. Whether that be in the form of a laugh or your sweet moans. It makes him somewhat dizzy. His lips attach to the skin just under your jaw in an attempt to coax more.
It’s very effective. Fingers working your bundle of nerves, circling and flicking while changing the pressure, and mouth kissing and sucking near your pulse. It makes your back arch, hand gripping his shoulder so you don’t float away. He’s careful not to leave any purple traces of him on your neck, mindful of you being bombarded with questions from your colleagues.
“I love how reactive you are, Angel. You sound divine– fuck.” He can’t help the grunt that escapes him. “You are divine.”
His touch alone is enough to make you feel electric, but the sweet nothings he’s whispering in your ear will be what send you over the edge. It’s a foreign feeling, being reminded that he values you for more than just your body. Just under an hour ago you had incredibly high walls built around you and none of them are left standing as you exposed under him.
Spencer’s not the first man to touch you, but he is the first that loves you. It’s something you’re not at all used to and it feels as overwhelming as it does good. It transcends the want, no, the need for the man on top of you beyond lust or love. You plan to show him just how strong that need is tonight.
The carpeted floor is littered with your clothes, carelessly thrown around and tiny chess pieces scattered around the abandoned chess board. Spencer’s comfortably lying on the couch, facing the ceiling and you’re lying directly on top of him with your face buried in his neck.
You run your fingers back and forth along his jaw, scratching his beard in slow streaks. He’s enveloped you in his arms, one around your lower back and the other playing with your hair. It doesn’t feel as peaceful as it seems, both of you are afraid of being the first to speak. You know you can’t stay like this forever and you decide to bite the bullet.
“Spencer?”
You only get silence from his end. You know he’s awake because his motions in your hair don’t stop. You push yourself up to face him, trying to study his face. The sudden movement brings him back from wherever he was zoned out to.
“Hm?” His features jump.
Does he regret it?
“What’s wrong?” Your voice shakes from worry. “You have this look on your face.”
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just thinking.”
“About…?”
“How bad we are at communicating.” He chuckles. “It’s concerning when you think about how all we ever do is talk.”
Hearing this makes you snort and you fall into him again. It sends both of you into a short fit of laughter.
“Oh that’s promising for the success of this relationship.” You giggle, sarcasm evident.
Hearing relationship makes Spencer inhale sharply.
“So you’re staying?”
“Well obviously, Dingbat.” You scoff playfully at the question and shift upright, straddling him. “But we really do need to get better at the communication thing for this to work.”
Spencer mounts his weight on his hands by either side of him and pushes himself up to you, stealing a deep kiss.
“Yes, we absolutely do.” He whispers, breaking away for only a second.
The kisses fizzle in you a plethora of smaller kisses.
“Spencer, I’m– serious.” You voice in between, loosely draping your arms on his shoulders.
“I am too.” He says in a hushed tone as he pulls away.
“I want to take it– this,” you motion between the two of you with your finger, “us, slow. Not four years slow, but, like, by a couple of months at the very least.”
“Okay.” He agrees, his eyes scouring your face with complete adoration. It’s not ideal, but he understands where you’re coming from.
“That means that we start again. Romantically. We have to talk about a lot of things first.”
He shifts his body out from under you, resting his back properly against the couch and pulls you back into his lap in one swift motion. Both of his hands graze from your shoulder to your wrist.
“How about…you come over this weekend,” He suggests, wrapping his arms around your waist for a hug, “we’ll do snacks, a movie, maybe an actual game of chess.”
“That sounds like a date.” You wrap your arms around his neck to return the gesture and lean your forehead against his.
“It’s not a date. Not yet, anyways.” He whispers. “I’m asking you to come over this weekend so we can talk about things properly, because frankly, I don’t think either of us is in the right headspace for it right now.”
“Should I be offended at that?” You giggle, not entirely sure what he’s alluding to.
“No!” He snorts with a high tone. “Dopamine aside, our Norepinephrine and Serotonin levels are too high right now for us to have a proper conversation about this.”
“I’m not saying that you’re wrong, because you’re not, but I also think you’re just using science to try and confuse me, so that I agree to wherever this speech is heading.”
“It’s times like this where your attentiveness puts me at a disadvantage, because this tactic has a hundred percent success rate on everybody else.” He grins and you chuckle, both leaning in for another kiss.
“Can we hold off on starting over? Just for tonight.” He reluctantly voices, not wanting to push any boundaries.
You draw back and raise your eyebrows with your eyes widened.
“Spence, I have waited for years for this. You’re insane if you think I’m giving that up without relishing in it for at least a night. We’re not starting over until we’re both officially back on the clock.”
“Okay.” He heaves from relief, leaning in for another kiss, but quickly withdraws with a new question. “Don’t you think the team’s going to be suspicious when we’re not fighting tomorrow?”
“Forget them, what am I gonna say to Hotch when I ask to withdraw my resignation?” You huff out a tiny groan. “He’s gonna hate me for all this paperwork.”
Paperwork reminds you why you’re here to begin with. You audibly gasp, jumping off Spencer and scrambling to put your clothes back on.
“Fuck! Spencer, get dressed!”
Spencer doesn’t share your panic, but adheres to your demand. You mutter a continuous line of obscenities as you throw on your clothes and when you don’t seem to be getting calmer, he intervenes.
“Hey, hey, hey!” He coos as he steps towards you, still undressed on the upper-half. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong is that we’ve been here for hours!” You shriek, now fully dressed.
You push past Spencer and grab his shirt, deciding that he was too slow on his own. He lets you dress him as he probes further.
“That’s okay. No one’s going to notice this late.”
“No– Spence–” You sigh, throwing your head back. “In less than four hours, Hotch is going to walk into his office expecting the Anchorage report on his desk. I’ve barely been able to get half of it done in weeks, how am I going to finish it in four hours?”
You shake your head and begin working on his buttons. He grabs your wrists, urging you to look at him.
“You’ll have it done in less than one. I’ll help you!” His voice is light, airy, soft and accompanied with a chuckle.
“Spencer, you’ve already been here later than you need to be. It’s okay–”
“Let me help you.” He resorts to pleading, releasing your wrists and cupping your face.
You don’t have it in you to argue, his eyes staring back at you with sincerity. He wants to help. There’s no point in pushing him away, because as scared as you are about being too vulnerable with your trauma from that case, you trust him wholeheartedly. You know he won’t push for more than what you choose to share right now.
“Okay.” You nod and smile into the kiss he leans in for after the confirmation.
“Okay. Now, you go and start some coffee.” he instructs softly with a wide grin, waving to the scattered chess ensemble. “ I’m going to clean up here and join you.”
“I love you!” You lean for another kiss and hushedly exclaim as you break away, receding towards the door.
It’s Spencer’s turn to lose his breath. He’s affirmed his love for you countless times tonight and this is the first time you’ve verbally reciprocated it. He knows that it won’t be the last time either. That, to him, makes him the luckiest man in the world. He stops you from going any further by your arm and gently yanks you in his direction, crashing his lips with yours.
“I love you too.” He whispers after the kiss, letting you go.
Heat rises in your face again and you struggle to hide a huge dopey smile, one that Spencer has too. You’re floating on cloud nine, finally out of the blurry hurricane you’ve endured for months. There’s still a lot of things that you need to work out, but the thought of them doesn’t make you feel dread like it once did.
"One word frees us of all the weight and pain in life. That word is Love." - Socrates
Spoilers:
Yapperoni (so much dialog in this chapter), BAU! Reader, enemies (kinda) to lovers, hurt, comfort, love confessions (they might be a little too sappy, idk, I was sleep deprived), the praise made me giddy at some point, smut but I edge you by not writing out everything, happy ending.
AN - I have a little tiny fear that people (me) will nawt (I don’t) fuck with this monstrosity, but out of all my drafts, this felt like the most natural course of action. I thought it would be really fun to go from friends to enemies to lovers. Now, literally nobody talk to me about writing fics after this. Uni’s started, so I’ll be very inconsistent for a bit.
Casual reminder: I am not Spencer Reid. I don’t have an IQ of 187. Any facts I make him spew could very well be bull-shit and he only spews them for the purpose of the story. I also have no knowledge of how the FBI works and lack a ton of common sense. A lot of things were made up for the purpose of this story.
A comment today keeps semicolon away (from showing up to your house and eating all your snacks).
Thank you for reading!
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