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smurphyse · 2 years

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Zoom Sex is not Allowed | S.R.

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Chapter 12 of Operation: Sand Leopard

Warnings: canon typical stories, scars, homesickness, mentions of sex toys

Summary: A month in Iraq, Spencer starts to settle in. Later, you set up a surprise for him.

Two weeks after the explosion Spencer was fully entrenched in base life. After a month in Mortaritaville he was sleeping through the gunfire and bombings, staying up with you to chat after hours, and spending more time with the unit outside the wire.

He spent hours with Alijah, avoiding asking her about Sayeed and instead focusing on earning her trust. She looked forward to his visits, and her English was improving almost as quickly as his Kurdish. He poured over the notebooks you’d given him, slowly working out Teddy’s code so he could read the words inside.

A month in, and he was playing soccer with the unit, finally figuring out how to use his feet in a way JJ's gentle coaching never got through to him. Morello was teaching him how to play the banjo, and he wasn't very good but he was learning to like the sound.

Peanut taught him how to fix the radios that always seemed to malfunction, explaining how the software worked and the circuitry played into it. Barretti was teaching him how to use a sniper rifle, which was something he never thought he'd do. He and Garrett talked mostly about books, and exchanged every new one they picked up from the post exchange library to read one another's notes.

Spencer even started going on runs with you in the mornings, racing through the base and laughing at your jeers and teasing. His days were spent going over data, with Alijah or with the unit when you did your daily debriefings. He spent his nights with you, sitting in the moonlight and talking about nothing much at all.

He was starting to feel… at home here.

The thought was jarring. Who would have thought? Spencer Reid: Homeland Agent Enjoying Constant Danger and Sand in his Underwear.

Garcia would like that. It would've made her laugh.

He was currently sitting on a mountainside outside of Al Dhuluiya. About forty seven miles outside of Balad, they were on their third day of watching and waiting for some terrorist to poke his head out of a shack.

They'd been watching him, Abd Karimi. He was a pudgy man waddling around his hideout. Spencer wouldn't have suspected him of being one of the drug traffickers they were looking for aside from Sayeed Al-Mohhamed, but you'd informed him the man was on the run from Sayeed and may have information.

"This guy is so fucking boring," Barretti grumbled as he stared through the scope. He'd been in that position for a few hours now, lying on his belly and watching.

Spencer had been horrifically informed that if needed, snipers would do anything to remain hidden on the hilltops. That meant everything from not eating or drinking to literally crapping their pants to maintain their position of stealth.

On day one, Barretti had pulled a couple rolls of toilet paper out of his gunny sack and handed one to an uncomfortable Spencer and said, "Always bring toilet paper out here, Doc. You gotta bury what you use, but you gotta bury your shit anyways. Never use a leaf, because you always think, 'I'm gonna use this leaf to wipe my ass and it'll be fine…' it's never fine, man. You'll regret it."

Spencer had simply nodded and tried to put that conversation immediately out of his mind, but soon enough he'd needed to go and was grateful every moment of it for Barretti and his squirreled away teepee.

Spencer hadn't said much, as you'd told him to talk as little as possible, so he only really spoke when spoken to. It had been three days without a shower and pissing and more in bushes, all mostly in silence.

"People generally are pretty boring," he said, not bothering to look up from his book as he laid hunkered down behind some rocks. "That's what makes them fascinating. Take this guy for instance."

Spencer got up just enough to peek his binoculars toward the shack, using the bushes and sun direction to hide the glare off the lenses like Barretti had taught him.

"See the patio table?" Spencer said quietly, and Barretti grunted in agreement. "He has a coffee mug, different from yesterday, but the milk glass he's drinking from is the same as it was when we got here."

"How in the ever loving fuck is that fascinating?" your voice cracked through the comm in his ear. Spencer smiled, he hadn't heard you since you announced the spotting shift change this morning.

"I'd rather drink out of the same coffee cup for three days than reuse a milk glass," he said simply, and a round of chuckles went over the comms.

"Dude must be a psychopath, then. Right Doc?" Morello asked.

Spencer made a face, "From his file I'd say sociopath. Doesn't seem to be able to differentiate right from wrong, trafficks drugs and kids without caring about the damage done.

"Violent and hot headed, unable to maintain personal relationships due to the near constant threat of flying off the handle. Criminal psychopaths use quote-unquote normal life to mask their activity. This guy couldn't do that if he had a step-by-step manual."

"Sounds like the boss. Can't get anyone to give her a good lay because she'll punch them in the nose if they look at her wrong," Garrett laughed through the comms, but it was all in good fun.

"I'll have you know I make do, jackass," you grumbled, "The rabbit in my nightstand ain't covered in dust."

Spencer dropped his head as his shoulders shook from laughter, and a chorus of disgusted groans echoed through his earpiece. He was growing used to the crass jokes and unprofessional comments the unit and others made, and it was sort of a relief from the high and tight emotional constriction of the FBI.

"Waaaay too much information, boss," Peanut said, shuddering through the little speaker.

"We can't all be asexuals, Peanut," was all you said back, earning another laugh from the unit.

They were waiting on a relief team to take over for them. A team of snipers and boots on the ground guys would come in and take Karimi down, then bring him back to base to be interrogated. All they were doing was making sure he didn't have contact with anyone while he was here.

Peanut was manning the satellites in a safe location with Morello, while you and Garrett were on the opposite ridge from Spencer and Barretti, just watching, watching, and watching.

Spencer had reread the Redwall book you'd given him at least thirty times since he'd been here. Even with his aging mind he could recite it backwards and forwards at this point.

After another ten hours of watching the relief team showed up, and Spencer shook his replacement's hand without any thought. He'd grown used to that here, touching and being touched by people he didn't know. Even though after prison he'd gotten better with germs, this place was so dirty and his clothes were stained with blood and God only knew what else that he’d pretty much left that behind in DC.

They made their way back to base, and Morello decided it was time for a pickup game. Spencer jogged through their makeshift field with his shirt stuffed in his pocket and kicked a ball around while you debriefed General Dobbs on the status of Karimi.

His dog tags bounced against his chest as he ran around with the unit, and he had a big dopey smile on his face while he grappled with Peanut for the ball. She was almost as tall as him, and far faster and more muscular, so she stole it without much effort.

Spencer had long since gotten used to being sunburnt, as the sun was mercilessly attracted to exposed skin. His shoulders and his nose were nearly constantly peeling, and his aching skin rubbing against his scratchy clothes was the natural state he lived in now.

It was October, and DC would be cool and windy and transitioning into autumn, but here in Iraq the air was just plain hot and dryer than the dirt he ran across now. Stores would begin putting out Halloween decorations and costumes, vendors on the street corners would start selling the spiced lattes he enjoyed.

Spencer would give anything for a pumpkin spice latte at that moment.

Everyone around base was gearing up for Halloween. People made decorations out of recycled paper and hung up pictures their kids and family members had made for everyone to see. Morello's son had sent him a picture of his upcoming costume, and it was proudly pinned to the wall in the office to bring others joy in such a childfree place.

As much as he was enjoying himself and the freedom he had here to be Spencer, he really missed his family. Their weekly letters were a constant reminder of what he'd left behind… but days with the unit only showed him the possibilities of what could happen next.

He was coming into his own in a way being at the BAU never quite let him. Spencer was confident and strong here, a source of knowledge but not a fact and paper diving errand boy. You trusted him to know the same information you knew, but you didn't expect him to be the expert without any help.

This place allowed him to learn constantly, to grow and change and just exist with other wounded people in the desert. As much as he missed Russian movie nights and milling about at the Capitol Library, he found himself loving the opportunity to learn things outside of his comfort zone and succeed at them.

Spencer dove in to steal the ball away from Morello, but he biffed it and skidded his way across the dirt. A laugh escaped him even though the sand scratched his back, and Barretti hustled over with a booming laugh and a hand to help him up.

"Nice try, Doc," he chuckled as he basically lifted Spencer's much smaller frame with little effort. "Morello played for NIU, you'll never beat him."

Spencer shook it off and brushed his dirty hands down his pants, the sand combining with the sweat on his palms and streaking down the cargo material. As Morello jogged over, nearly doubling over with laughter, Spencer pointed at him.

"One of these days, I'll get that ball from you."

"Ehh, you wish!" Morello scoffed with a grin, and he clapped Spencer on the back with a sweaty hand.

"Doc's already gotten better in a few weeks, Morello. Could be a genius with his feet as well as his head," Garrett said, cocking a brow.

Morello looked put out as they all laughed, and Spencer didn't think twice as he said, "I'm a genius with other parts of my body, don't worry."

They all exchanged an amused look before bursting into laughter, and Peanut shook her head embarrassedly at his insinuation.

"Reid!" your voice called, and they all turned to see you standing on the edge of their field. You beckoned him with a hand before walking off without seeing if he was following.

When he looked to Garrett, the captain just shrugged and waved a hand for him to go after you. Spencer jogged through the sand to catch up, and as he reached you he pulled his shirt from his pocket to wipe the sweat off his face.

"What's going on? Is Alijah okay?" he asked breathlessly, moving the shirt up to dry out some of his long locks.

"She's fine," you said, guiding him through the base. You didn't offer anything else, though, so he bumped you with his shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

You laughed bitterly, coming to a stop and squinting up at him in the harsh sun, "I'm fine, Doc. You need a haircut."

His hands subconsciously brushed through his hair, an embarrassed heat pooling in his face. You just laughed again and said, "I can do it. Don't go to the barber shop on base unless you want Garrett's flat top."

Spencer made a face. He did not want a flat top, "Good to know. Where are we going?"

"There's something I need you for," you said, and as usual you turned on your heel and walked off without a backward glance.

Probably because you knew he'd always follow you.

His crush on you was only growing, and if Spencer let himself believe it, you might even like him back. He knew nothing would ever come of it, as you were as dedicated to your job as you were to your independence and privacy as he'd been to catching serial killers for eighteen years.

A guy could dream.

You led him to the office and instead of walking in front of him, you waited for him to go first. It set his teeth on edge, as you never did that. You always made sure you were the first in the door, on base and on tactical missions, you made sure to take the first hit.

You pointed at your desk chair, a thick Army-issued laptop on the surface of the desk, "Sit down."

Spencer cautiously rounded the desk, but instead of sitting he furrowed his brows at you, "Can't you just tell me what's going on?"

"Spencer," you huffed, and he nearly flinched. You'd never called him by his first name. You waved a hand at the chair and said, "Just trust me."

Now that he could do, easily and without thought, so he plopped down on the metal chair and eyed you nervously. You followed him behind the desk and squatted down as you logged into the computer.

Your perfume and sweat washed over him, and even with those pit stains and the dirt smeared across your cheeks, he found himself smiling as you leaned in front of him to set up the laptop. You caught him staring and stuck your tongue out before continuing.

"There's a few rules I have to go over," you started, and his smile gave way to a curious frown. You counted on your fingers as you said, "No disclosing your location, no discussing your mission, and because for some reason I always have to say this…"

You cocked a brow and flashed him a devilish smile, "Zoom sex is not allowed."

"W-what?" Spencer gulped, and you giggled before clicking a button on the computer.

The camera opened up to reveal yours and his face, and for the first time in over a month Spencer got a good look at the wrinkles near his eyes.

He was caked in dirt and sweat, the scars on his cheek and shoulder from the explosion bright pink and sticking out on his red, tanned and peeling skin. His hair was a mess, unbrushed and unwashed from the three days spent in the desert. You looked much the same, except you had a shirt on.

The computer beeped and the screen gave way to a familiar set of faces that made his eyes go wide and a grin crack across his tired face.

"Spencer!" a chorus of voices came through. It was the BAU, and they were on the jet with Garcia patching in from her office.

"Oh my God," he breathed, wanting to hug the computer in lieu of hugging them. "Hey, guys!"

"Damn, you two are filthy," Luke chuckled, and you grunted in annoyance.

"Can't all be living it up on a private jet, Alvez," you said, but it was playful.

"Wait, you're Agent Y/N?" Garcia gasped happily, and Spencer found himself searching her background to see what all had changed. She had a handful of knick knacks that were new, but he noticed a picture of him and her at ComicCon some years back on her desk.

"Wow, you're gorgeous!" Emily said, and your cheeks went beet red. "Luke didn't say you were a model."

"She's not anymore. The fuck happeend to your face?" he asked protectively.

Your hand went to your cheek, and you swallowed thickly. Quickly shaking it away you grinned, "Got blowed up, what else?"

"Was Spencer with you?" JJ asked sharply. Spencer groaned internally. He didn't want you to see them treat him like a little kid even though he was forty one years old.

"Who do you think pulled me from the rubble?" you chuckled. You tapped the table and said, "I'll leave you to it, nice to meet you guys. Good to see you Alvez."

Spencer's hand flashed out and grabbed your wrist, "You need me to come with you?"

You smiled sweetly down at him, "I'm gonna finish the pickup game. You've got thirty minutes, Doc, make the most of it."

With that you walked out of the office, making sure to softly close the door behind you on your way out so he had privacy.

"Ooh, Doc," Tara chuckled through the screen. "She's real pretty, Spence, even with the scars. She looks like she could bench press you."

"Everyone here calls me that," Spencer said awkwardly, and he rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. "And she probably could, honestly. Everyone here is ripped."

"Looks like you're getting there," Matt pointed through the screen at his naked chest. "What have you been doing out there, Reid?"

Spencer flushed hotly, quickly pulling his sweaty shirt from his pocket and tugging it over his shoulders.

"Soccer, some running. I've been working out with the unit in the mornings."

"WHAT?" Luke and JJ said together. Luke grumbled, "You hate working out."

"It's…different here, is all." He scratched his neck, because he didn't know what to say. There wasn't much he could tell them so he just told them, "I miss you guys."

"We miss you, too kid," Rossi finally spoke up. He was sitting near the back, leaning in his chair with his fingers laced behind his head. "It's not the same without you."

They'd said the same thing to him when he first left the BAU, and it had made guilt and grief rip through his chest. Now, it just made him sad in a different way. Spencer wasn't sure at this point if he ever wanted to go back to the FBI.

"Yeah, you look different," Emily sighed, frowning at him. "You look good, but different."

Spencer shrugged, "It's the sunburn. I'm okay, I promise. I'm actually doing really well here."

"Even after getting blown up?" Rossi asked with a cocked brow and that usual sly smirk on his face.

"Actually, it was pretty eye opening," Spencer mumbled, thinking back to Hitchens' empty eyed stare. The kid haunted his dreams.

He cleared his throat and sat up straighter, "I didn't think I could hack it here, but after that day I realized I was going to be fine. It's only scary if I let it be, and the unit's got my back."

"Ooh tell us all about them!" Garcia beamed, so Spencer leaned on his elbows on the desk and did just that.

He left out Alijah. He neglected to tell them about the quilt and the book you'd given him, that you seemed to understand parts of him without him needing to talk about them.

Spencer didn't tell them about your nightly talks, either. Those he wanted to keep just for himself.

Notes: Please let me know how you enjoyed this! Feedback is incredibly meaningful and only helps me write more!<3

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