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managedmischiefs · 4 years

Text

north//chapter nine

i apologize from the bottom of my heart for this chapter taking so long!! school sucks and takes up so much time. so please enjoy all these words that i wrote! big plots coming up real soon!! also i apologize in advance for the amount of pov changes in this chapter lol.

genre: angst, fluff, smut

pairing: season 10 spencer reid x female oc

warnings: talk of childhood abuse, smut, alcohol consumption, guns, me not knowing anything about art

words: 10.2k

AMELIA

I’m practically drenched in sweat when I wake up, cocooned in Spencer’s arms with my face pressed into his neck. Spencer becomes a furnace during the night, and combining his body heat with his tendency to cuddle me for hours upon hours, waking up sweaty is a common occurrence. My nose scrunches up and I start my gentle trek to unravel from Spencer’s arms. Thankfully, his grip isn’t too tight and he lets me go, snoring away and tucking his hands under my pillow.

I have every intention of getting up to go make breakfast before Spencer has to leave, but when I linger and let myself admire his face, I stop in my tracks. I revel in the beauty of his little button nose and his unruly eyebrows and his dimples, a different type of warmth spreading through my body. I resist the urge to reach forward and run my fingers over his face. He needs to get as much sleep as possible before he returns to work in a few hours.

Work. I guess he has to go back to work. Our six weeks together were absolutely amazing and only made me fall deeper in love with Spencer. We switched from apartment to apartment for the first two weeks or so, spending most of our time watching movies, laying in bed, or sitting on the balcony as we share a blanket. And once Spencer was mobile again, we opted to go out more than we had been. We went to the grocery store, bookshops, dinners, a drive-in movie, and Spencer even took me to a planetarium. We stayed there for hours as Spencer rambled on and on and on about the stars and planets and constellations. I don’t think I retained any of the information he relayed but I didn’t care and I still don’t. I got to spend time with my boyfriend with my head on his chest as he hugged me as tight as he could and that is all that matters.

But now he’s leaving and he will be returning to his insane job. He will be traveling for days at a time and at a moment’s notice, leaving me to stress over his well-being and safety. That’s a feeling that I don’t miss. I shake my head at my own intrusive thoughts, pulling away from my peaceful boyfriend. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and bury my face in my hands, squeezing my eyes shut as the horrible images of Spencer in the hospital resurface in my brain. I'm not even the one with the eidetic memory and I can still vividly remember how broken and weak he was after having three serious brushes with death in two days.

"Amelia?" I hear Spencer's voice behind me, the bed dipping as he rolls over. "What's wrong?"

I hastily wipe my cheeks and shake my head again, waving my hand. "Nothing, go back to bed."

I flinch when I feel Spencer's hand on my waist, his arms wrapping around my midsection, his chest pressing against my back so I'm sitting between his legs. "You're crying," his morning voice is undeniably sexy and raspy in my ear as he rests his chin against my shoulder. "Talk to me, please."

I place my hands on top of his where they rest on my stomach, intertwining our fingers and trying to remind myself that he's here and he's safe. But he won't be soon. He'll be off in the field and he'll be around the worst that society has to offer. People who kill without a second thought and don’t care if they take a federal agent and leave a sobbing, lovesick girlfriend behind. He faced three people like that and almost lost his life. It's a miracle he's even sitting here right now.

"Amelia?" He asks again, peering over my shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of my face. "Come on, talk to me. I don’t want you to cry."

"I just," I let my head fall back against his shoulder, wanting to be as close to him as possible, scooting my butt back until my body is completely flush against his, "I don't want you to go. I'm so scared you'll get hurt again and I can't- I don't wanna see you like that again, Spence, I can't-"

“Okay, okay, come here,” Spencer pats my thigh and scoots back against the headboard, opening his arms for me. I crack a smile, silently crawling into his arms and curling up against his chest. I can hear the steady rhythm of Spencer’s heartbeat in my ear, calming me down to the point where I almost fall back asleep. But maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. I’ll fall asleep on top of Spencer, he won’t have the heart to move my sleeping body, and then he has to stay home from work. It’s a win for everyone, except maybe Spencer’s boss.

"I'm gonna come home to you," Spencer whispers, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. "I always have. I mean, I got shot and I still came home, right?"

"Spencer, acknowledging your gunshot wound isn’t helping,” I lift my head and my eyes wander to his neck, seeing the mark that's there, no longer a wound or even a scab, just a scar that will likely take a long time to fade, if it does at all. "I’m always gonna worry. I still worry about what types of situations you'll get yourself into and how many people are dying and if you're in danger and if someone is targeting you. I’ll always be worrying about you, except for the moments when you’re right next to me.”

"I know," Spencer sighs, brushing my hair behind my ears. His soft touch sets my skin on fire, and every time his lips touch my skin, I shutter. "I know it's hard and I'm sorry that you have to deal with this alone. But you know that I'll call you as much as I can to check in while I'm away. I might not even get a case today and then we can be together tonight! You never know what could happen.”

"I just-" I pause again, resting my forehead against Spencer’s chin, breathing in the lingering scent of the body wash that I’ve caught sight of in his bathroom. I try to breathe it in as much as possible so I can remember it when he leaves, “I love you. I love you so much.”

Spencer grins. Every time I recite those beautiful three words to him, even after six weeks of telling him at least four times every day, he stills grins in the most adorable way. "And I love you too. Don't worry your pretty little head about me, though. Go to your studio and make some more of your beautiful art. You haven't exercised your creative side properly in almost six weeks and you need to get it all out."

"Text me," I completely ignore what he says, far too wrapped up in my anxiety. "Just text me if you get a case and text me all the time if you can't call me, just so I know-"

"I always do," Spencer cuts me off. "Don't stress out too much, Lia. I've got a gun and my team, that's all I need. I'll come home to you, don't worry."

My bottom lip quivers as more tears threaten to fall, and I grip Spencer's tee shirt in my fists. "Can I have a kiss?"

"Course," he lures me closer, pressing his lips to mine in a feather-light kiss. For whatever reason, the simple kiss calms me down. For a millisecond, it makes me forget that he's about to run into the belly of the beast yet again. The pain returns when we pull away, and I wish I could keep kissing him forever to keep him in my arms and protect him from the horrors he is about to go see. "Alright," Spencer sighs, his hands falling to my waistline, "I've gotta start getting ready or we won't have time to get coffee."

“And tea!”

“Yes, and tea for you.”

I pull away and climb out of his bed, running my fingers through my hair as I reach for my bag, stuffed full of clothes, setting it on the bed. Spencer silently climbs out and heads into the bathroom to shower, leaving me in the bedroom to change. My hands are still shaking but I try to calm myself. Spencer seems calm so why shouldn't I be? He’s the trained federal agent here, so I have nothing to worry about, right? He knows what he’s doing and he’s been doing this job for years. I don’t need to worry. Please stop worrying.

I'm tightening my belt just as Spencer is coming out of the bathroom fully dressed, running his fingers through his wet hair. He looks criminally attractive but I don't let myself get distracted for long, tying my shirt up and running my fingers through my curls to tame them just a bit. I sit on the bed and tie on my tennis shoes, seeing Spencer clipping on his watch, always over the cuff of his sleeve. When he cranes his neck to get his tie on, I see the scar again and I have to tear my eyes away before I start crying for the third time this morning.

"Are you gonna be here when I come back?" Spencer asks, moving to stand in front of me, my eyes raking up his body until our eyes lock. He’s smiling, almost like he’s excited to go back to the job that got him addicted to drugs and the job that got him shot twice, and the job that gives him constant nightmares.

"I can be," I stand, giving him a weak smile as I reach for my overnight backpack. I wordlessly toss open the bedroom door and pick up Spencer's messenger bag, handing it over to him as he follows me. I don't even wait for him before I leave the apartment, hearing him closing and locking the door behind us.

Spencer only catches up to me when we get onto the sidewalk outside, the welcomed warmth from the sun soaking into our skin. He captures my hand in his and doesn't let go, intertwining our fingers and squeezing. "Why do I get the feeling that you're mad at me? Did I say something?"

I tug on his hand and he comes closer, allowing me to rest my head on his arm as we walk, our pace slowing a bit. I don't have the proper words to express the utter fear I'm feeling. I've lost the people I love before and I can't let that happen again. If I lose Spencer then there's no reason for me to be on this earth anymore. I can’t keep dealing with the heartbreak. I've never loved anyone the way I love him and if that gets ripped away from me yet again, I don't know what I'd do. I can’t lose my family and the love of my life and expect to continue living my life. I wouldn’t be able to.

"No," I answer his question weakly. I feel Spencer's eyes on me but I don't dare to look up at him, despite the way I crave to be comforted by the beauty of his eyes. "I’m not- no.”

"I don't want to go to work with you like this. I don't wanna leave you upset," he brings our hands up, pressing his lips to my knuckles. "And," he sighs dramatically, loudly, dropping our hands back down to our sides, "love, if this is too much for you and my job is too much, you don't have to stick around.”

I instantly freeze, my feet melting into the concrete sidewalk. "Are you breaking up with me? B-Because you think I can't handle the baggage that comes with your job?"

"No, no," Spencer shakes his head, standing in front of me and grabbing my cheeks. His forwardness would surprise me any day, but I’m stunned that he is willing to act like this and show any level of PDA on a public sidewalk while everyone is rushing to work. "I don't wanna break up with you, god no. But I love you and if you're in pain because of what I'm doing then I don't want you to go through that.”

"I don't wanna leave you. I'm not in pain, Spencer," I reach my trembling fingers forward and place them at his waistline, clutching the soft fabric of his cardigan. "I've lost people. And I love you so much. I don't wanna lose you like I've lost everyone else in my life but I don't wanna leave you. That's the last thing I wanna do. I just want you to be safe and I want you to come home to me, that's all I want."

"I will, I always will. But like I said, just go to your studio and focus on your work. I’ll text and call when I can, but I want you to worry about yourself. Do all the work you didn’t get to do when you were taking care of me. And thanks for that, by the way." Spencer brings his lips down to mine again, thumbs brushing against my cheekbones. I hold him there for longer than we probably should be kissing on a public sidewalk, but as people rush past us on their commute to work, I keep my focus on him. "Let's go, come on, I need my coffee and you need your tea."

Spencer grabs my hand again and pulls me along the sidewalk, dodging hurrying businessmen in tight suits. I'm glad Spencer doesn't wear suits to work, not like his unit chief. I'm sure he'd look incredibly attractive in them, but I like his style. Focus, Amelia. Your boyfriend is about to return to the job that got him shot. Stop thinking about his outfits and his sense of style. Get your head out of your ass.

Spencer orders both of our drinks and then brings me over to our normal booth, and I usually sit across from him, but today, I sit on the same side as him. He doesn't seem to mind, though, as he pulls his messenger bag off his shoulder and places his hand on my thigh. I lean my head onto his shoulder and let my eyes close, letting the warmth from the cup in my hand and Spencer’s hand on my leg spread to the rest of my body.

"Are you nervous to go back?" I finally ask the question that's been on the tip of my tongue all morning. Well, maybe it’s not the only question I’ve been dying to ask. There are a million other questions that I could ask and none of them would feel right. Not to say that this one is the right one, but this one seems natural.

Spencer hums. "I try not to let myself get nervous because then I make mistakes and I can't afford mistakes. I block out nerves. I'm not happy to be leaving you because I've loved spending six weeks with you, but I'm excited to be getting back to work and-"

"Helping people," I finish for him. Spencer nods and goes quiet again. My other questions are swirling around in my head and as much as I tell myself to shut them out, they don’t stop. "I have another question. It’s an, um, an odd question."

"And what would that be?”

"I know I'm not the profiler here," he chuckles as I shift around to face him, "but I've noticed that you never wear your gun around me. You wear your holster but not your gun. When I go to see Penelope at the BAU, everyone has their guns, even outside the buildings. Your team had their guns in the hospital, even Mike always had his gun on him at home. Why don't you?"

Spencer hums once more, taking a moment to think through his answer. The silence makes me regret asking the question. I’m dying to know, but I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. Is Spencer uncomfortable? Is that why he’s quiet? "I don't think I really need to. I don't feel the need to subject you to the constant presence of a gun.”

"It doesn't bother me," I tell him softly, tracing my finger around the rim of my cup. I avoid eye contact. "I've seen worse than a gun. I can shoot a gun, did I tell you that?"

Spencer's eyebrows shoot up. "Um, no. You didn't tell me that. I want to ask why you know how to shoot a gun but I don’t think I want to know the answer.”

"I'm not that good at it," I take a sip of my piping hot tea, shrugging my shoulders in a way that is far too nonchalant for this conversation. "Mike taught me a few years ago. Self-defense and all. He actually came to me about it. I was the oldest kid in the house so if anything were to happen when he wasn’t around, I’d know how to shoot one of his spare guns."

Spencer gingerly places his cup on the table, pulling his hand away from my thigh and placing them in his lap. "Just because you know how to shoot a gun doesn't mean I have to go around, parading mine on my hip whenever you're around."

"Have you ever noticed," I ignore his insistence of my innocent, angel personality, "that I don't cool down my tea?"

Spencer taps his fingers against the table, not even looking at me. "Yeah, actually, I have noticed that."

I glance around the emptying cafe and notice that the booths around us are empty and nobody is in earshot. "When I did ‘bad things’ like get a snack during the night or come home thirty seconds late from school or ask what was for dinner, my dad used to hold me down, force open my mouth, pull out my tongue and hold it out, and pour hot sauce on it. It basically fried my tongue to the point where the heat from a cup of tea or coup doesn’t bother me. It’s nothing compared to what I’m used to. I spent my childhood getting hot sauce on my tongue and getting cigarette burns all over my body. I’ve done things and seen some pretty fucked up things throughout my life and, frankly, seeing a gun on your hip won't affect me more than seeing a tattoo of my dead brother on my arm will."

Spencer grabs onto my arm, gentler than ever, tracing his fingers over a few tattoos- the ones I didn’t tell him about. With my spare hand, I grab my tea and take another sip. “Those five are for my foster homes.”

“Your foster homes? You hated them. Why would you get them tattooed?”

“Because they’re apart of me,” I shrug one more time and twist my arm around in Spencer’s grasp. “The cactus is from when I lived in Arizona. Pretty self-explanatory. The book is from one house I lived in right next to a library and I would sneak out at night and break into the book drop off bin and read the books that people were returning. The bumblebee is from a house with a wasps nest in the backyard, and it’s where I found out I’m allergic to bee stings. The turtle is from when the house had a pet turtle. And the heart is from a house I lived in where they had this weird metal replica of a heart, and my foster brother at the time broke it and we all got beat up for it. So there, now you know about all my tattoos and about most of my shitty childhood.” Just in time, the alarm on my phone goes off. "You've gotta go," I collect my cup and my phone, slipping out of the booth and stomping towards the door.

Spencer follows after me quickly, his long legs carrying him over to me at record speed. And despite the negative energy radiating off of me, Spencer laces his pinky with mine as I start to walk towards the train. Our laced pinkies are such a tiny gesture but it fills my body with so much love and warmth that my ears tear up. Spencer doesn’t say anything about my bad attitude or the new information I just blurted out. He just pulls me closer to his body and swings our arms between us. When we get to the metro station, Spencer doesn’t make any effort to go down the stairs. He wraps me in his arms and holds me as tight as he can.

"Be careful, okay?" I tuck my face into the crook of his neck and inhale his scent, an intoxicating combination of coffee, peppermint, and some musky cologne. Spencer kisses the top of my head and squeezes my waist. "I love you so, so much. I don't want another call from Penelope that you're in the hospital, okay? No more of that.”

Spencer nods against me. “No more of that,” he confirms.

“Do you promise?”

"Of course, I promise."

///

SPENCER

///

It's refreshing to finally be back in the BAU after six weeks off with the girl I love, but my mind is racing and part of me can't even enjoy being back. The elevator doors open and I easily spot Morgan and JJ chatting in the bullpen through the glass doors, but I take a sharp right. I knock quickly on Garcia's door, waiting to hear her shout before opening.

She gasps and grins when I enter, jumping out of her chair to come give me a hug. "It's so good to see you, Spencer! How are you feeling? How's Amelia? How was it spending six weeks together?"

"I'm fine, she's amazing, and six weeks off was great and I'm happy to be back. But I need you to do something for me." I speak quickly, far too scatterbrained to hold off on my train of thought.

"Oh," she looks a bit stunned as she nods and hurries back to her computer. "I'm at your service, Boy Wonder."

"Okay," I lean over her chair with a heavy sigh as the guilt starts to weigh on me. "I, um, I need you to look up the case that Amelia was involved in."

Garcia whips her head back to me, her eyes wide. "She told you about that?"

"Yeah, she did. And I need you to look it up."

"But why?" Garcia whines as she types in Amelia's name. "I feel icky when I look up my friends and family. I don't like poking into their lives. I already unsealed the court documents from when Rossi made me look them up and I felt absolutely horrible about that."

I lean in closer to read the screen when a whole load of documents and paperwork pop up. "Alright. Damien Kelsey was arrested by Gideon and Rossi, and Amelia was taken to a foster home. He was found guilty on thirty-seven counts of murder on women but he was-"

"Oh my god," Garcia's eyes widen, her hands stilling over her keyboard.

"Print all this information out for me," I demand without meaning to sound so rude, but I barely even give it a second thought as I go storming out of Garcia's lair. I throw open the doors to the bullpen, my eyes locked on one particular closed door. My blood boils hotter than ever before and my hands ball up into fists. Morgan and JJ both greet me from their desks but I ignore them, instead throwing open Rossi's door and then slamming it closed.

Rossi, understandably, looks alarmed as I enter. I can't help the anger that bubbles up in me, but I don't even think it's aimed at him. I think I'm just angry at the world. I just want to wrap Amelia up in my arms and protect her in my arms. From the moment I met her, I just wanted to protect her. I wanted to keep her out of my insane job and to put her in a bubble of innocence and happiness. But knowing that her innocence has already been tainted and her childhood was ruined makes my heart hurt more than it already does.

"Reid?" Rossi stands from his desk, brows furrowed. "What's going on?"

"Damien Kelsey.”

Rossi sighs, relaxing back into his chair and crossing his arms. "So Amelia told you about her father."

"Yeah, she did. But she didn’t tell me,” I slam a stack of papers on the desk in front of him, “this. And this seems pretty damn important.”

"Reid, take a seat, please," Rossi states, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. But when I don't, he knows it's not worth it to continue to harp on it. "I’m aware of this and it’s being dealt with.”

“It’s being dealt with? For over a decade?” I snap. “This is something that should be done already!”

A knock on the door interrupts us, and Garcia pops her head in. "Sorry to end this very loud conversation, but I have some questions about what dessert I should be bringing tomorrow. Chocolate chip cookies or apple fritters?”

I whip my head back to Rossi, pointing at the papers on his desk. “This conversation isn’t over.”

AMELIA

I took Spencer’s advice and went straight to my art studio after he disappeared into the train station. I desperately needed something to distract me and working usually does the trick. So I rush a few blocks over and throw on an apron, getting to work. I haven’t done much work, other than simple drawings, the last few weeks and it’s nice to get back to the thing I love. I guess that’s how Spencer feels about going back to work today. Maybe I should have been more accepting and supportive of his return to the BAU.

I lose myself in my work, tossing paint at a canvas and creating everything I possibly can in the shortest amount of time. I’m not sure when my time here could be interrupted so I try to get all of my thoughts onto canvas before I have to leave. I’m there for hours and hours before taking a break even crosses my mind. So I collapse into the bean bag chair in the corner of the room and take a break for the first time all day.

Now, Penelope Garcia is an absolute master at what she does. I’ve seen her in action a few times and I’ve heard plenty of stories from Spencer about how she solves a case and finds an unsub just in time to save a life. Penelope Garcia has never been to my studio before but I become momentarily convinced that she broke in and installed cameras to watch me because the second I sit down to take a break, she calls me.

“Hello, my love,” I greet her sweetly. “How is going at the BAU today?”

“Hello, Girl Wonder! It is going great at the BAU today. So far, it’s been a paperwork day and I’ve been bored so I wanted to call you to check up on my new best friend.”

Oh, thank god. It’s a paperwork day. Hopefully, it’ll stay that way and I’ll get to spend the night with Spencer.

“Oh, that’s sweet, Penny. I’m doing pretty well. I’m at my studio right now and working on some new pieces. I haven’t really been able to work lately so I’m cramming all my thoughts into a few hours,” I take a glance around my studio, or more specifically, at the paint splatters on the wall and the brushes on the floor, “or actually, just making a total mess.”

“I’m not the best painter so you should teach me how to paint. Oh! Oh! I know! You should teach a paint night for the BAU! That would be so much fun. And maybe you could do it at Rossi’s dinner party tomorrow!”

“Dinner party?”

“Oh, yeah,” Penelope’s voice drops slightly. “Spencer didn’t tell you about that?”

“No, he didn’t.” A pout creeps onto my face. Maybe I really, truly annoyed him this morning with my excessive worrying. I’m only trying to protect him, he has to know that. Or there’s a possibility that he doesn’t want me at the dinner. He could want to hang out with his coworkers without me. After all, we did spend six weeks straight together. Maybe he needs a little break, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But it still hurts a little that he didn’t tell me about it, whether he decides to invite me or not.

“Well, Rossi only invited us today and we all know Boy Wonder isn’t fond of technology, so maybe he’s planning on asking you in person. I wouldn’t worry about it too much. But, hey! That paint night. What do you think?”

SPENCER

I drag my feet up the steps of the metro, into the chilled air of the night, taking a quick glance of my surroundings with my tired eyes. The moonlight creates the path back to my apartment, and the closer I get, the more excited I become to getting into bed. Despite it being a paperwork day, I had a mountain of work to do that didn’t get done while I was on medical leave, and it needed to be finished asap. So it’s just passing eight o’clock when I drag myself up the stairs to my apartment, constantly pulling the falling strap of my satchel up my arm. The last time it falls, I let my bag fall completely onto the floor, fishing through the pocket to find my keys.

I enter my dark apartment and throw my satchel aside and hang up my jacket, locking up my gun in a safe and kicking off my shoes. I drag my feet into the kitchen, hopefully for some dinner, flicking the light switch as I walk in. I have every intention of heading to the fridge but first, I find a container of food from my favorite restaurant on the table. Beside it, a note from Amelia.

I ordered dinner for us before I knew you were going to be late, so this is yours. I’m going to try and stay up for when you return but I’m really tired so I might not make it. So if I’m knocked out by the time you get home, then I love you and I missed you a lot today!! Now come give me attention!!!!!!!

Love, Lia <3

My socked feet are silent against the hardwood as I tiptoe into the living room, finding my sleeping girlfriend on the couch, wrapped up in a plaid blanket with her feet sticking out of the bottom. Her laptop is on the coffee table in front of her, displaying the title screen for a show called Lucifer that she had been telling me about the other day. I watched a few episodes with Amelia during my medical leave but I couldn’t get over the unlikeliness that a biblical figure could have the powers to slow time on Earth or that a human could have a baby with a biblical figure that isn’t even a human. Amelia banned me from watching the show again.

I crouch down beside the couch and bring my hand to Amelia’s cheek, stroking my thumb along her cheekbone. "Amelia," I whisper, only seeing her eyes flutter in the slightest, "sweet girl, wake up."

She hums, scrunching up her nose, and before coming to, eyelids fluttering again before opening. She smiles softly, wiggling her hips to turn to me. "Hi, baby."

"Hi," I whisper back. "Come to bed. I’m tired and I wanna go to sleep too. Don't sleep on the couch."

"Did you eat?" Amelia murmurs, her hand trailing up to rest atop mine. She twists her head and presses a kiss to my palm, pulling my hand down so she can clutch it against her chest. "I left you-"

"Shh, shh," I hush her softly. "I'm really tired. So let's just go to bed, okay? C'mon, pretty girl."

Amelia smiles lazily, sitting up and letting me push the blanket away from her. "I like when you call me that."

I chuckle, standing and holding my hands out for her. I pull her off the couch and right into my arms, tucking her head under my chin and wrapping my arms around her shoulders. "Pet names are usually your thing."

I lead her off to my bedroom and she goes crawling into bed, leaving me to change into my pajamas. I do that as quickly as I can and then slip under the duvet with Amelia. She immediately scoots backward until her back is pressed to my front and until she’s almost completely on my pillow. I move her hair aside so it’s not in my face and press a kiss to the side of her neck, and she lets out a cute noise in response.

“I’m sorry if I annoyed you this morning,” Amelia whispers, reaching behind her to place her hand on my cheek. Just like she had done to me, I turn my head and press a kiss to Amelia’s palm. “I was just worried about you. And I’m sorry for being an asshole when I just blurted out all that stuff about my foster homes and my dad.”

“You weren’t annoying at all. I know you were worried. And you weren’t being an- well, you know what. You were worried and anxious for me and I understand that.” Amelia just hums in response, nodding softly against my chest. “But hey, are you busy tomorrow night?”

“Asking me on a date, Doctor?”

“Almost,” I chuckle. “Rossi is having the team over for dinner and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”

“Penelope told me about this today. She called me,” Amelia mumbles. She rolls over to face but tucks her head into the crook of my neck, leaving a few kisses right over my pulse point. “I’d love to go with you.”

“Great. You can meet our new team member. Her name is Kate, she’s pretty awesome.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Is there a dress code?” I laugh again, pressing a kiss to Amelia’s forehead that makes her join my giggles. “It’s important, Spence! I can’t show up in heels if everyone else is wearing sweats. That is my worst nightmare.”

“Of course it is,” I quip. “Text Penelope and ask her. I’ll probably just wear the same boring outfits I wear everyday.”

“Hey,” Amelia finally opens her eyes again and looks up at me, “I love the way you dress. It’s not boring. You’re fucking adorable with your button ups and cardigans and ties and fun socks.”

I ignore the sentiment behind her statement and instead furrow my eyebrows. “You call them button ups?”

I can barely see her face in the darkness of my bedroom but I can still make out her expressions, and she furrows her eyebrows right back at me. “Well, what do you call them?”

“Button downs.”

“You’re wrong. That’s so wrong, baby.”

“I can’t remember the last time someone told me I was wrong, and I remember everything.” And this time, I see the corners of Amelia’s lips tip upwards, and an adorable smile graces her face. “But yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Damn right I am, Doctor 187.”

///

"Come on, Amelia! We're already late!" I call up the stairs where my girlfriend is hastily getting ready for dinner.

"Coming!" She calls back, but her voice sounds distant. She has been telling me for an hour that she will be ready in five minutes but clearly, she hasn’t been telling me the truth.

While I'm still waiting for her to finish getting dressed, I wander into the living room to take the record out of the player and tuck it away safely. I make sure that it goes back in the correct place because I don’t want to face Amelia if I mess up her record organization. Amelia's apartment has become like a second home to me over the last few months of our relationship and I’m so grateful to have a safe place like this. Whenever I step foot through the door, I’m enveloped in a certain warmth that only Amelia can provide for me. The plants and the fuzzy blankets and the records that are constantly playing and the artwork on the walls and the balcony with yellow Adirondack chairs and, of course, the girl that the apartment comes with make for the perfect escape from my job. I always thought that my apartment was enough of an escape, and then I came to Amelia’s apartment for Christmas and suddenly, I never wanted to leave.

Amelia comes barreling down the stairs a moment later, her black heeled boots in her hand. She pauses at the door of the stairs and smiles nervously at me, holding her hands out as if to present herself to me. "Do I look okay?"

I don't even know why she asks because she always looks absolutely stunning, no matter what her outfit is. She's wearing a simple black dress that hugs her body in the most beautiful ways, showing off her array of colorful tattoos. She is, of course, wearing her butterfly necklace and her clusters of rings, nails painted yellow again. Her blonde hair is straightened and she has a scarf tied in her hair like a headband with a few pieces of hair pulled out to frame her face. I swear, whenever I see her, I'm speechless. I don't think I've ever seen a more beautiful human in my life.

"You look gorgeous, love, you always do," I compliment, holding my hand out for her to grab onto so she doesn’t tip over when putting her shoes on, "but aren't you gonna get cold when it gets dark?"

Amelia shrugs and swats her hand at me nonchalantly, grabbing her backpack and camera from the staircase banister. "I'll be fine. Let's get going. I can't believe you're driving! This is so rare!" She throws a smile over her shoulder when she walks past me, leaning over to press a kiss to my cheek. "If Penelope lied to me and there's no wine here tonight-"

"There's gonna be wine," I insist, grabbing her hand and pulling her out of the building. "Rossi always has wine."

///

"You made it!" Rossi grins as he pulls open his front door. "And you've brought Amelia. Good choice," he pulls the two of us in for a hug, prompting Amelia to compliment him on his house. "Alright, you two, into the backyard. Everyone else is already there."

I give Amelia a look as if to shame her for taking so long to get dressed, and she just shoves my shoulder. She murmurs something under her breath that I don’t quite hear, but I wouldn’t have had time to ask anyway because we’ve joined everyone in the backyard a moment.

"Yes!" Garcia immediately cheers, running over as fast as she can on her ridiculously high heels and pulling Amelia into a hug. "I knew it! I knew you'd make it and Reid would tell you about this and you'd get to drink lovely wine with us. I knew it!"

Amelia laughs as she hugs Penelope back, pulling away only to be pulled back in. "It's nice to see you too, P."

"You've gotta meet everyone!" Penelope exclaims and almost spills liquid from the glass I'm realizing is in her hand. I find myself wondering how much she's already had to drink. Amelia glances over her shoulder at me desperately as Garcia drags her away and over to the long table that's set up. She's introduced formally to the team, yet again, along with Savannah, Beth, Sam, Will, and Chris. And of course, she takes the time to introduce herself to Kate. She's always been good at talking to people, unlike me, so a glass of wine is thrust in her hand and she's enveloped in conversation. But I linger on the porch, just admiring how easily she bonds with everyone and how her face lights up when Savannah cracks a joke.

"How's it going, Pretty Boy?" Morgan is at my side, patting my shoulder with a teasing smirk that I saw all day today. He spent the last two days asking me how my medical leave was and if I finally sealed the deal with Amelia. His prying would have considered invasive if I wasn’t so used to it already. "You brought your girl."

"And she's already been taken away from me," I cross my arm, watching her take a long sip of her wine before turning her head to Hotch and Beth. "At least she's getting along with everyone."

"Yeah," Morgan sighs and the mood instantly drops. "Listen, I don't know what happened with the whole situation where Rossi recognized her and-"

"Morgan-" I try to interject, but he shakes his head.

"Kid, I don't wanna know, that's what I'm saying. You two seem to be over it, and if you're happy, then I'm happy for you. You seem to trust her so that’s all that matters. She seems like a good girl for you. She makes you happy."

I turn my gaze back to her and my heart flutters as she twirls a strand of her hair around her finger, holding her wine glass in her hand delicately. She looks too beautiful for anyone’s good in her stupid, tight black dress and heels that make her legs look as long as mine. "She does."

"I gotta be honest," he chuckles lightly. "I didn't expect you to shoot for a girl with a nose piercing and two arms of tattoos but I'm not complaining."

"Uncle Spencer!" Our conversation is fully stopped by a little voice, and Henry comes barreling over, having broken away from JJ's hold. My face lights up as he comes jumping into my arms, crouching down to catch him. Morgan pats my shoulder again, heading to the table to leave us alone.

"Hi, Henry!" I exclaim, hugging him tightly. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."

Henry giggles, his head falling onto my shoulder in the most adorable way. "I missed you, Uncle Spencer."

"I missed you too, Henry." I smile, ruffling his hair. He pushes my hands away with a giggle and pushes his own long hair behind his ears. "Did you meet my girlfriend?"

Henry's eyes widen as he lifts his head. "You have a girlfriend?"

I hold in my laugh at his astonishment as I nod, bringing his attention to where Amelia is now standing with Penelope and Sam, chatting away. "That's her, right there. With the blonde hair and the black dress. Her name is Amelia."

Henry lifts his head even more to get a good look at her, and just as he does, Amelia turns her head to look back at us. As she does, Henry gasps and whips his head back to face me. "She saw me!" His eyes widen and he puts his tiny hands on my cheeks. I mimic his surprised expression and I see Amelia excusing herself from her conversation to walk back over to us. Henry turns his head slowly to peer back at her, and when he sees that she's walking to us, he gasps again. "She's coming!"

Amelia gets to us with a huge smile towards Henry, setting her glass of wine on the table. "Hi!"

"Say hi, bud," I prompt as he drops his hands back to my shoulders again. Henry gives me a nervous glance and only turns his head slightly towards Amelia.

"Hi, Amelia," he says, waving just a tiny bit.

"Hi, Henry," Amelia grins. "I've heard a lot about you from Spencer. He tells me that you're the coolest kid he knows."

Henry's eyes light up and a small smile plays at his lips. "He did?"

"Oh yeah, he totally did," she nods confidently. I have to admit, I've never seen her interact with children before, but I could watch this all day. Where did her love of children even come from? Did it come from Cody? Or did it come from protecting her foster siblings from abusive parents?

Henry is silent for a moment and I can tell he's noticing Amelia's tattoos. He points at her arm. "You've got drawings all over your arms!"

Amelia looks down at her arms as if she's forgotten she has tattoos, nodding "I do. Super cool, right?" Henry nods. "I'm an artist, I drew some of these. So that means I draw and paint pictures as a job.”

"That's awesome!" Henry exclaims, his face lighting up even brighter than before. "Could you draw me some pictures?"

"Of course I could!" Amelia immediately exclaims. "I always have pencils and a sketchbook with me. Let's go, bud," she gives me a cute smile and I place him on the floor, letting the two go off on their own. I watch them for just a moment as Amelia grabs her backpack to pull out her pencils and sketchbook before finding a good place to sit with Henry.

"Wow," JJ is the next person to materialize at my side, "I've never seen him gravitate towards someone so quickly. And I've never seen him leave your side so quick," The two of us watch as Jack runs up and joins the two of them, sitting on Amelia's unoccupied side and peering over her arm at her sketchbook. She greets Jack and then gets back to work, listening to every demand the boys have over what she should draw. "C'mon, Spence, come join everyone."

JJ grabs my arm and drags me over to the table with everyone else, sitting me down beside her. It's nice to see everyone outside of work every once in a while, especially after such a stressful stretch of a few months. I'm not one to admit that I need relaxation but I definitely needed a night like this with everyone. I especially needed a night with my friends and my girlfriend getting along. My biggest fear is that everyone on the team would reject her after her moment with Rossi. But they seem to love her, even the kids love her, and I’m just so relieved.

After a little while, the boys come sprinting over, waving their drawings in their hands as they rave to their parents. Amelia returns to me with a proud smile, claiming the seat next to me and scooting as close as she can. She leans into my chest and I leave a kiss on her temple, and the purr-like sound that she makes brings a smile to my face.

"Dinner," Rossi announces, "is served."

///

"Have you ever played rummy?" I drag my eyes up and down Amelia's body as she comes to sit next to me after helping Rossi with the cleanup of plates. She's got her second glass of wine in her hand and my jacket wrapped around her shoulders, hair cascading down her back in gentle curls. She starting scooting closer to me during dinner, and it took me all of a millisecond to realize that she was cold and when she told me that she was wrong about not needing a jacket, I happily gave her mine.

"No, actually. I haven't. Will you teach me?" She presses her face into my arm, one of her hands clutching her glass of wine and the other finding home on my thigh. I have to resist the urge to squirm around when her thumb strokes my leg atop my pants. I’ve noticed that she has been nursing her second glass of wine for quite a while so it’s unlikely she is too drunk to realize the effect her touch is having on me. But she doesn’t really pay any attention to it when I shift my position in my chair.

"Yeah, of course," I clear my throat and grab our little stack of cards, spreading them out in my hands. I look down at Amelia to find she’s already looking at me. Her eyes are half shut and her lips are pouted just slightly, enough to make it necessary for me to lean down and kiss her. "And you've got the best teacher, too."

"Pretty boy's banned from casinos in, as I remember it, Las Vegas, Laughlin, and Parump," Morgan interjects, earning a slap on the arm from Savannah for interrupting.

"So we need to be collecting cards based on the rounds," I tell her and she nods. "For the first round, we need to sets of threes, get it? We need two sets of three cards with the same number, any suit, red or black."

"Not too hard," she takes a sip of her drink and starts silently arranging the cards in my hands as I've instructed. I go on to explain the concept of taking cards out of turn and then how to lay down cards and then how to win a round. She's nodding but I'm not sure if she's retaining any of this information, but I could win this game blindfolded with my hands tied behind my back so it's not a big deal. All I’m worried about is Amelia keeping her hands on me and getting her home soon.

The game starts and we take the lead immediately, but it’s not like anyone is surprised. And it takes about an hour but, sure enough, Amelia and I win rummy. The win is followed by rolled eyes and groans, and a few stolen kisses between us when everyone starts cleaning up. It's odd, I think, to have someone to be affectionate with during a team dinner. I've spent years being alone at team dinners and I've watched everyone with their significant others and wished I could have that. But now I've got the most amazing girl at my side who I'm head over heels in love with who I'm certain I'm gonna have for the rest of my life.

"Spence?" Amelia's soft voice breaks me out of my lovestruck daze. She places her empty wine glass in the sink beside me, pulling my jacket tighter around her shoulders. "Are we leaving?"

I smile, nodding as I run my hands up and down her arms. "Yeah," I dig into my pocket and hand her my keys, "get in the car. I've gotta ask Rossi a work question and I'll be right out. Don't drive away.”

“I won’t,” she giggles, going up on her toes to kiss me. Her lips taste like wine and her tongue tastes like chocolate and it’s such an intoxicating taste that I kiss her like we’re not in the middle of Rossi’s kitchen. Amelia’s hands come up to my stomach, grasping my shirt for a split second before she pulls away. Her hands come up to my face and her thumb swipes away a little bit of lip gloss from the corner of my mouth before she abruptly turns on her heel and struts away. I watch her hips sway when she walks, all the way until she gets to JJ and Henry, saying goodbye and exchanging phone numbers with the ladies of my team.

Once Amelia is out of my sight, I make my way down the hallway and into Rossi’s office, closing the door behind me.

AMELIA

I collapse into the passenger seat of Spencer’s car, putting the keys in the ignition and turning the heat up. I tug my shoes off and toss them onto the floor, spreading out my toes and stretching them out for the first time in hours. The driver side door opens a second later and Spencer slips in, watching me massage my feet for a second. “I don’t know why you insist on wearing those everywhere if they just make your feet hurt.”

“Because they complete the whole outfit, bubs,” I sass right back at him as we both put on our seatbelts. “Are we going back to my apartment or yours?”

“Yours, if that’s okay. I have my go-bag so I can change before work tomorrow,” Spencer puts the car into drives and speeds off. I can’t take my eyes off of him when he drives. The way his biceps flex as he grips the wheel or the way he elongates his neck when he looks over his shoulder to check for oncoming cars.

When he stops at a red light, he reaches over and puts his hand on my thigh, the same way I had done to him during cards. Spencer smiles over at me with the most innocent look, and it almost takes my breath away. I open my mouth to speak but he starts driving before I can say anything. His hand tightens and releases its grip every few seconds, and by the time we arrive at my apartment, I’m barely able to sit straight. I practically trip out of the car and hurry upstairs, Spencer hot on my heels.

The tension that we’ve been building the last few hours is looming over us, and as we stroll up the stairs to my bedroom, I can feel Spencer staring me down. I do what I can to ignore his burning gaze but the attention is addicting and it feels involuntary when I sway my hips in the same way that got him a little too excited before.

Once we reach the top step, Spencer’s hand grasp onto my waistline and he pulls me into his chest. He ducks his head to place a kiss on the side of my neck, already reaching to pull his jacket off of my body. “Is this okay?” He murmurs, lips brushing against my skin.

“Yes,” I roll my shoulders back to let the jacket fall to the floor, then I twist around in Spencer’s arms to start pulling at his shirt. I tug him towards the bed and fall backwards, bringing him down with me. He catches himself before he bares all of his weight on me, sitting up on his knees and staing down at me with an intensity I’ve never seen before.

“Are you sure this is okay? I know you were drinking tonight and I don’t want to take advantage.”

“I’m not drunk and you’re not taking advantage,” I grab the back of his neck and pull him into a kiss, feeling him shuffle around to undo the buttons of his shirt and toss it onto the ground. His shoes, socks, and belt follow, and when he is almost completely undressed, he pulls away from my lips.

His fingers trail up my thgihs and to the hem of my dress, slowly pushing it upwards. My breath hitches as the dress gets to my hips, and Spencer immediately stops. “Do you not want me to take your dress off? I can leave it on.”

“No, well, I-”

“No?”

“Yes!” I place my hands on Spencer’s shoulders and take a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment. Spencer’s hands move from the hem of my dress to my waistline. “I just, well, I usually keep a shirt or a sweater on when I have sex. It’s just-”

“You don’t have to take your clothes off if you don’t want to. We don’t even need to continue if you’re uncomfortable,” Spencer leans down to press a kiss to my nose, and that tiny act brings a smile to my face. “I love you.”

“I love you,” I parrot his sweet words, leaning up on my elbows to peck his lips. “I trust you.” It’s more of a statement for me then for Spencer. I just needed to reassure myself that this is my Spencer. My Spencer who stumbled over his words when we first met and my Spencer who still sometimes asks just to kiss me. He’s not like the other assholes I’ve dealt with. He’s special.

So I wiggle from under Spencer and stand at the foot of the bed. I’m flustered for a second as Spencer lays on his back and tucks his hands behind his head, his chest completely on display for me. But I drag myself away from my thoughts and unzips my dress, letting it fall to the floor with trembling hands. And while I have the tiniest bit of confidence in myself, I unclip my bra and let it join my dress.

Spencer’s face grows into a grin, sitting up and grasping my waist again. His touch calms all my nerves and momentarily makes me forget that he’s the first man to ever see me like this. He’s the first man I’ve ever let myself be completely vulnerable around. He is the first person I let see my scars and my piercings and as terrifying as it is, his soft gaze makes my anxiety drift away.

He traces his fingers over one of the scars on my stomach, then drags it down to the silver jewel in my bellybutton. “I didn’t know you had piercings.” I reclaim my spot on Spencer’s lap and wrap my arms around his neck, bringing my lips down to his in an attempt to silence the conversation. It works because Spencer is shimmying out of his pants and tossing them haphazardly away.

Spencer flips us over so I’m pinned under him, his lips traveling down to the metal bars in my nipples. “You’re so beautiful, Lia.” He presses his lips to each and every scar on my stomach before grazing his teeth on the hem of my panties. “You can tell me if you ever want to stop, okay?”

I really and truly never thought I’d ever fall in love with someone like Spencer. I never thought that I’d fall in love at all. I thought that all men would be like the asshole I lost my virginity to, who laughed at my crooked bellybutton ring and asked countless questions about the scars that I didn’t want to talk about.

I didn’t think I’d find anyone as amazing as the man above me right now. I didn’t think I’d find anyone as amazing as the man who kisses me with every thrust of his hips and brushes my hair behind my ears and listens to the way my body speaks. He double and triple checks that the condom is on correctly and asks if I need to use lube. He touches me in every spot that craves attention and switches our position when my legs cramp up. He intertwines our fingers and circles my clit when I ask him to. Spencer is the sweetest lover and, even when we’ve both worked our bodies to exhaustion, he rolls over and presses kisses over the hickeys he left on my neck. I try to lift myself on my elbows to clean myself up, but Spencer pushes my shoulders back down. He tells me to stay there, then returns from the bathroom with a towel to clean me up.

“Are you okay?” Spencer wonders, pulling the duvet over the both of us after tossing the towel back into the bathroom. “Do you need anything?”

I roll onto my side and bury my face in Spencer’s neck, still struggling to catch my breath. “Spencer, no man has ever made me cum. Ever. Much less three times.”

Spencer furrows his eyebrows, pushing my hair out of my face and tracing his fingers over the bruises on my neck. “Was it too much?”

“No! Oh my god, no, dove. That was absolutely amazing,” I pull his hand away from my neck and kiss his palm, scooting as close as I possibly can to his body and soak up the warmth that radiates off of him. “I love you so, so much.”

“I love you too.” Spencer presses a kiss to my swollen lips and even though his body language does the opposite, he pulls away from me. “I hate to ruin the moment but you should go to the bathroom. You’re more likely to get a UTI and if a UTI goes untreated it can cause a kidney infection. It’s a common myth to think that a UTI can turn into an STI like chlamydia, but that’s completely not true.”

I hold back my giggle, running my fingers through Spencer’s sweaty hair, pushing it away from his eyes the same way he does to me. “Dirty talk is your strong suit.”

“Is that sarcasm?” Spencer raises his eyebrows at me as I start to climb out of bed and wander towards the bathroom. “Was it not good?”

“I’m only joking, sweet face. You were amazing. The best I’ve ever had.”

Spencer grins the proudest grin I’ve ever seen. “Really?”

“I just told you that no man has ever made me cum but that you made me cum three times. Yes, you’re the best.”

“Hmm,” he hums, falling onto his back again and tucking his hands behind his head, “yeah. I’m the best.”

I lean over the bed one more time and kiss Spencer’s cheek. “You’re adorable, dove.”

TAGLIST

@bxnnywriting @babybloodstonebones @blameitonthenight21 @feralreid @anepiphany @goldenalvez @reidscardigan @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @stxrryspencer @m0rcia @whollytaciturn @thegingerfairchild @yasminwashere @shrimpyblog @blakes-dictionxry @anamelessfacelessnerd @wonderlandhatter @whxt-to-write @jasongideonapologist

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #nikos north fic #nikos writing #spencer reid fanfiction #dr reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x oc

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justanotherwannabeclassic · 6 years

Text

Finding Neverland (13/?)

Summary: When Juliet Jones and Gideon Gold fall through a time portal and find themselves in Neverland, finding a way back home is the least of their worries. One wrong step can irreversibly change the course of history, placing both of their existences in jeopardy. As Juliet attempts to ensure her parents are on course to falling in love, Gideon struggles with the realization that he’s about to meet his deceased brother for the very first time. Will they succeed in preserving the timeline, and what happens when these star-crossed lovers realize their respective families’ goals are at odds? Relationships: Gideon Gold x OC Swan-Jones kiddo, Captain Swan, references to Rumbelle and slight Swanfire

Read now on AO3.

Previous Chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12]

Chapter 13

Her plan needs an operation name.

Plans with operation names tend to be more successful -- at least, that’s what the storybooks have told her. Operation: Cobra. Operation: Mongoose. Operation: Light Swan. Operation: Whatever Random Animal Comes to Mind. Operation names had always been Henry’s forte, but since Juliet had long ago made it her own form of rebellion to be the opposite of Henry in a number of ways, she finds herself lacking in the whole “naming operations” department.

Most pressing, however, is that Juliet’s plan needs to actually exist outside of the vague conceptualization of “let’s hook -- pun only kinda intended -- my parents up.” That’s the end goal, right alongside “don’t die” and “get back to the correct point in time.” Though, Juliet reasons, if she fails at part one -- the aforementioned hooking up of her parents -- then she’ll just fade from existence, technically not dying.

After all, she can’t really die if she never existed in the first place.

How comforting.

All of this weighs heavily on her mind, but instead she focuses on naming the whole damn sort-of plan because that feels the least daunting. She needs a win right now, and naming her operation will be it. Only what will it be? She doesn’t know. Henry is the poetic one in the family, stronger with metaphors and fun naming conventions. Juliet’s creativity comes in the form of art and photos. She’s visual, and unfortunately, operation names are not that.

“Operation: Anything having to do with a Swan” feels a little too on the nose.

“Operation: Kittens” sounds a bit too cute for a life or non-existence scenario, no matter how much she likes kittens.

She’s still mulling over a name when she notices her father approaching her, coconut in hand. Operation: Coconut, it is. The operation name might not be an animal, but she doesn’t totally have to follow in Henry’s footsteps, pleasing her inner rebellious teen. And despite hating coconut water -- a fact this version of her father apparently doesn’t know -- seeing him with something in hand clearly for her makes her smile, and that’s enough.

“Hi there.”

“Morning.” He holds out the coconut, which she takes gratefully. She can power through pretending to drink coconut water if it means spending more time with him. She misses him -- the version of him she knows and loves -- terribly. “I know that Emma mentioned you weren’t fond of coconuts, but you need sustenance for what’s coming.”

She stares up at him, blinking in confusion, until she realizes that he’s referencing their plan to steal Pan’s shadow. Everything from the previous night is somewhat fuzzy. Try as she might to stay awake, Juliet had found herself dozing when the others had begun discussing the next steps toward successfully saving Henry. She thinks the plan they concocted involved something to do with using her and Emma’s magic, and she resolves to better inquire about the plan some more. At the moment, however, she’s more interesting in the first half of her father’s statement. Emma mentioned that Juliet didn’t like coconuts. That means that they had talked about her, a fact that ignites a small bit of hope. “You guys talk about me?”

“When it’s relevant, yes.”

“What makes it relevant?”

“When you get kidnapped by Pan.”

“Oh, that.” It makes sense. Dimly, she wonders what it was like when she disappeared. She knows that Gideon hadn’t reacted well -- that much she could tell from the way he had refused to let go of hand as they trekked back to camp. But the others? She isn’t sure. Up until now, her father’s past self had acted indifferent since he had found her and Neal outside of Echo Cave. Did he care when she had gone missing? Juliet isn’t sure she wants to know the answer.

“Aye, that.” He glances over the part of camp where Gideon is speaking in a low voice to Neal. She wonders what they’re saying. Her father turns back to her, and scratches behind his ear. It’s an action she’s seen plenty over the course of her life, one that indicates that he’s particularly nervous about whatever he plans to say next. “Listen, love, Pan is a monster. He enjoys both sowing discord and hurting people.”

“I kind of figured that part out when he had his crew kidnap me. And when he attempted to proposition my boyfriend into killing everyone -- which he wasn’t going to do, by the way.” Juliet makes a point of stressing that Gideon wasn’t going to hurt them. Recalling his hesitance outside of Echo Cave, she isn’t positive that her father truly believes her, but it’s worth a shot. She knows that Hook doesn’t actually have a reason to trust Gideon at this juncture, but she still finds her father’s attitude unfair and feels the desire to defend the man she loves. “Pan probably knew you were lurking in the bushes, anyway. He wanted you to think that...that Romeo was was the bad guy, making you not trust him. Sort of like how everyone here doesn’t trust you, even though you’re one of the good guys.

“I’m no hero,” he says with a false sort of laugh. He rights himself quickly enough, and once again runs his fingers through his hair. “At any rate, his stunt at Echo Cave was one such example of that.”

“Neal and I got ourselves out of it.” By revealing way too much information, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Aye, but not without a few bruises, it seems.” He casts another significant glance over his shoulder toward Gideon. For a moment, Juliet struggles to recall just what he’s referencing. Then she remembers Neal’s cover.

As grateful as she is for Neal’s quick thinking, she’s not fond with his particular choice of lie. It had been clever and believable, especially since she’s pretending to be someone that ran away from her family for a man, but she doesn’t like that Gideon is now forced to feign anger and hurt in regards to their relationship.

Her father looks like he’s about to say something else, but he’s cut off by Neal announcing, “Hey, Romeo and I are going to get some water. When we get back, we can leave to get the shadow.”

Juliet doesn’t pay attention to Regina’s argument in response, but instead focuses on Gideon and his resolute expression. He takes a deep breath before following behind Neal and disappearing into the jungle. She’s curious about how the conversation will play out, halfway worried about the effect that it might have on Gideon, but mostly glad he gets the chance to spend time with Neal.

“He loves you.”

Hook’s voice pulls her attention. She wonders now what he would say to her if she actually did come to him with her non-existent worries about whether she and Gideon were moving too fast. Romantic relationship advice had always been more of her mother’s forte. It wasn’t that her father was bad at it, but Juliet had always felt more comfortable turning to her mother -- probably the gender thing. Regardless of who she went to first for advice, her father had always provided a shoulder to cry on when needed. Of course, now that she actually needs his shoulder to cry on, he’s not the same man.

“Did you really come over here to discuss my love life?”

“No, I didn’t. I came over to ensure your safety.” He continues to stand over her, a large, looming figure covered in black. “However, I did spend an extended period around him. He was driven mad with worry after he realized you disappeared.”

“He’s that kind of guy.” She sits the coconut down and pokes at the ground. She doesn’t want dwell on the effects that her kidnapping had on her boyfriend. She might have been the primary victim in the situation, but her loved one had also been unfairly hurt in the process. As angry as she already had been with Pan, she feels it double in her chest. She’s come to realize exactly why her father had always referred to Peter Pan as a demon.

“Aye, he is.” Her father fixes her with an intense stare. “He seems like the sort of man who would understand if you had reservations regarding your relationship.”

Had this conversation taken place thirty years in his future, Juliet might find his concern to be sweet. Instead, she feels a bubble of guilt forming in her gut at the slight worry in his eyes. She loathes the protracted lies she and Gideon have needed to weave to maintain their covers. She’s uncomfortable lying to her parents in this manner. Though she’s told her fair share of lies to them in the past -- what kid hasn’t lied to their parents every now and then? -- her actions now feel more insidious...and there’s nothing she can do about it except lie some more.

She looks away from her father, the loss of eye contact making her deceptions easier. “We’ll figure it out. We always have.” She picks up the coconut. “Thanks for this, and checking on me, and discussing my love life even if that wasn’t your full intention.”

“Right.” Juliet thinks he might turn to leave, but he continues to stare at her carefully. “What? Is there something on my face?”

“I should have asked Swan to do this,” he murmured, casting his eyes skyward. He sighs deeply. “Love, did Pan or any of his crew touch you in any way…?”

“Touch me…?” It takes a moment for her to process. “Oh my God.”

Suddenly, she’s fifteen again, drunk off wine coolers and rum stolen from her parents’ liquor cabinet. Juliet remembers the night -- the “unofficial” cast party celebrating the closing of the school’s production of Legally Blonde: The Musical. (She had been Elle, thank you very much.) Juliet had been reckless then, believing herself unbreakable and immortal in only the way teenagers can. Instead of crashing for the night in Susan Sparrow’s basement, she’d decided to walk home -- she only lived a mile away -- and sneak in through her bedroom window.

“My dad’s the best pirate, so that means I’ve inherited the best sneaking skills. It’s a fact!”

How she would sneak through her second-story bedroom window that night, Juliet didn’t have the opportunity to find out. Her father, by chance thanks to a night patrol, had found her emptying the contents of her stomach into Grumpy’s azaleas.

Juliet remembers how he had ushered her into the back of the patrol car and driven her home. She remembers his tight, but loving embrace when he carried back into their house, and tucked her into bed. And, she remembers the lecture she’d received the next day, just the two of them on the back porch swing.

“I loathe that we live in a world that forces me to tell you these things, and I recognize what I’m saying places a burden on you that shouldn’t be yours, but sweetheart, you have to stay safe. I’m not saying don’t imbibe ever. I’d be a hypocrite if I tried. But the world -- and yes, even Storybrooke -- is not a kind place, and it is full of people who enjoy preying on the vulnerable, and inebriation makes us more vulnerable.”

“Dad--”

“When I was just a pirate, I saw terrible men do awful things, and overheard the most sordid of tales. While laying with a consenting woman was always policy on my ship, it was not like that for everyone. And last night, when I found you sick and alone, I was reminded of those men.”

“But nothing happened!”

“And I want nothing to ever happen. The prospect of it, even thinking that -- Juliet, promise me that if you are ever in a situation like that again, you will call someone. Your mother or I, Henry, your grandparents, or even Neal. It doesn’t even have to be family. It can be a trusted and sober friend. Don’t get behind the wheel yourself, or try to wonder home disoriented. We will find you.”

He’d been so concerned then. As much as it embarrasses her now, Juliet had written off his concern as parental paranoia. He’d always had an overprotective streak, the result of his own past trauma. It hadn’t been until she’d grown older and lived a life outside of the protective watch of her parents that she truly began to understand her father’s warnings.

But the man standing before her now isn’t her father -- not yet, anyway. His concern for her isn’t paternal, but it’s still there. As starved as she had been for his attention the previous night, she’s grateful for whatever care he can muster -- even if the delivery lacks his normal affection. At least this way she can pretend that the man before her is the Killian Jones she knows and loves.

She’s happy when she finally doesn’t have to lie. “Nothing happened. I promise.”

He smiles, the relief evident. “Good.”

-/-

“So...what do you think of Neverland?”

Small talk has always been an enigma for Gideon. While working with patients, it comes naturally to him. He thinks it’s because he can hide behind the mask of the white coat, and that small talk helps his patients -- especially the kids -- relax. In social situations, however, he finds himself at a loss for words, stumbling over the dumbest of questions.

Like asking his brother what he thinks of the hell hole that is Neverland.

But he has his reasons. Kind of. When Gideon had been younger, he’d asked his father about Neverland and Peter Pan. The concept of an island where no one ever ages had been appealing to him as a child. Truly, it sounded like an awfully big adventure. That had been the moment Gideon first learned that his grandfather was Peter Pan. His parents -- because his father, understandably, felt this was a story best told with his mother present -- had given him the sanitized version of the truth behind Neverland and Peter Pan. Henry and, later, Juliet’s father had given him the unsanitized version. Over the years, he had wondered what his brother’s adventures entailed, and now that Neal is here, Gideon has the opportunity to ask….even if it feels like a stupid question.

It probably is a stupid question, but it feels safe. The novelty of actually getting to know his brother hasn’t fully sunken in, not in the way that matters. Part of him feels as if he’s wasting the moment. Another part of him still wants to run away back to camp. The part of him that recognizes his running back empty-handed would be suspicious keeps him in place.

“I think I wasted way too much of my life here. So, it sucks.” Neal looks over his shoulder. “Please tell me you didn’t ask me to go get water with you so we could discuss Neverland.”

“Um, not really, no.” Gideon looks down at the ground, cheeks flushing red. He takes note of the vines and roots, making certain to not also trip. “J thought it would be good for us to have the chance to talk. You know, without others.”

“So your girlfriend made you drag me out here.”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Realizing how terrible that sounds, he continues, “It’s not that I didn’t want to without her pushing things along, it’s just a lot. It’s weird.”

“Because I’m dead in the future.” He can’t see Neal’s face. His brother is continuing to push forward toward some pond -- they do have to come back with water, after all. But, Gideon can see the tenseness in his shoulders and hear the heaviness in Neal’s voice. It reminds him of his patients, the ones who had been given the worst medical news. And, in a way, Juliet had handed Neal his own death sentence.

“Something like that.” Gideon takes a deep breath. “I mean, have you ever spent your whole life wondering about someone, having all of these questions, and knowing you might never get answers? And now, suddenly, you an get answers and it feels...daunting.”

There’s a long pause before Neal answers. “Yeah, I get that. Guess it’d be like that if I met my mom again.”

Gideon winces at Neal’s response. “So you meant what you said back at camp? About your secret at Echo Cave?”

“Something like that,” Neal parrots. He stops then, and turns to Gideon. Looking him in the eye, he says, “Just so you know, I was making that stuff up about what I said about your girlfriend. She never said anything about moving too fast.”

“Uh, yeah, I know.”

“You didn’t act like it.”

“I thought it would blow our cover if I was too blase about it.” He shrugs, even though Neal doesn’t appear entirely convinced. “But thanks for your quick thinking. That was helpful.”

“I couldn’t exactly say your girlfriend said you were both from the future,” Neal replies. His expression then turns curious. “Speaking of covers, please tell me your name isn’t actually Romeo. I know Belle loves books, but --”

“It’s not. Just the first thing that came to mind.” Gideon refrains from mentioning that he’s half-convinced that he and Juliet are some incarnation of Shakespeare’s star-crossed lovers. Henry had mentioned once that Shakespeare had been an Author. “My name is actually Gideon.”

“Gideon Gold, huh?”

“Not all of us can be named Baelfire.” Neal barks out a laugh, and for a moment, Gideon feels a surge of pride. He’s able to make his brother laugh. “Mom’s the one who named me -- after a character from a book -- so you got that part right.”

“And about Belle, apparently.” There’s a twinkle in Neal’s eyes, and Gideon’s stomach immediately drops. He’s struck by how easy Neal had been able to weasel information about the future out of him. Sensing his panic, Neal raises his hands in supplication. “Hey, that part I had figured out since your girlfriend said you were my brother. The way my -- our -- father is with Belle, it wasn’t hard to put two-and-two together. Besides, you look a bit like her.”

Gideon breathes a sigh of relief. “Father says that’s a good thing.”

“Better to inherit her looks than the crocodile skin,” Neal says with a small laugh. “Look, we still need to get water. How about on the way, we talk about normal sibling things -- things that aren’t full of spoilers about the immediate future, so you can stop having a panic attack every time something comes up.”

Gideon cracks a smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

As they make their way toward the pond, Gideon and Neal trade questions. They start with small questions -- favorite colors, foods, and books -- but quickly the questions grow a bit deeper. Neal listens intently as Gideon shares horror stories from his medical residency and explains his motivations for choosing the medical profession. Neal, in turns, opens about about starting over in the Land Without Magic. By the time they reach the pond, they’re trading stories about living in New York.

“I don’t know if it comforts me to know that the subway system is still a mess that far in the future,” Neal says, dismay evident from his tone to his face after Gideon recounts nearly missing his test in undergrad because he had been trapped in a stalled train.

“Look at it this way, the more things the change, the more they also stay the same. You can count on it like death and taxes.” Gideon immediately regrets his choice of words. I am an idiot.

“Some of us can count on death more easily than others.”

“I’m sorry you had to find out about that. I can’t imagine it’s easy knowing.” Gideon fills his skein with water. “Juliet wouldn’t have told you if she didn’t have to. I’m pretty sure she feels bad about that.”

Neal scoffs. “Pretty sure?”

“We didn’t exactly have much time to discuss her specific feelings on the matter.” There’s something in Neal’s tone that sets Gideon on edge, but he doesn’t let it show.

“From where I was sitting, she didn’t seem to like me too much.”

“She hardly knows you. Besides, she told me that she didn’t think you were the worst. She even called you charming,” Gideon answers. He feels the need to defend Juliet, even though Neal hasn’t said anything completely off-base.

“She completely blew her gasket when I kissed Emma,” Neal says, and this time Gideon recognizes that his older brother is now hedging for clues about the future.

“I think that’s an extreme read of the situation,” Gideon sighs deeply. He had known this area of conversation was unavoidable, insofar that Juliet had requested that he do whatever possible to discourage Neal from pursuing Emma. Gideon knows he needs to do this, but he hesitates. His conversation with his brother had been going so well, and now he’s going to ruin it all.

“You know, for a brief moment, I thought she was my kid. Once I found out she was from the future, I thought that might be the reason she seemed so mad at me in the cave. I died and left her, and there was some lingering resentment, and I hoped...” Neal rubs the back of his neck, and looks skyward. “Anyway, then she said you were my brother, and that killed that dream.”

“We’re not the Lannisters.” Their respective family trees might be convoluted, but they’re not blood related. Gideon shudders at the thought. Still...he can’t quite blame Neal from going down that mental path. Knowing his feelings for Emma, it only makes sense.

“Yeah, I hoped not,” Neal says with a broken sort of laugh. “But she’s related to Emma, right? She said her family was here, and she looks a lot like Emma.”

“I think we’re getting into spoiler territory.”

“You know that’s basically confirming my suspicions, right?” Neal kicks a rock into the water. He doesn’t look at Gideon, and for that Gideon is grateful. “So what is she, like her sister? It seems pretty obvious Snow and Charming might want another kid. They don’t strike me as a one-and-done kind of pair.”

They’re not, Gideon thinks. They have another son. They named him after you. He’s a police officer, and lives in Storybrooke with his husband, and they’re in the process of adopting twins. Of course, he can’t tell Neal any of that.

“Listen, Neal…” Gideon comes up short with what to say. He settles on, “You already know a lot about the future.”

“I’m honestly a little surprised the others haven’t noticed the resemblance.”

“They’re not looking for one. People see what they want to see.” Like how you think she’s Emma’s sister. He’d been worried about it, at first, believing that someone might note the similarities in appearance. No one has, and if they’ve thought about it, they’ve held their tongues. They don’t see them as Gideon Gold and Juliet Jones, but rather Romeo and Juliet from far off Verona. Juliet is just another pretty blonde in a sea of pretty blondes, just like how he’s another guy. They’re not looking for family resemblances in the way that Neal is.

“Why’d she not want me kissing Emma anyway?”

“Because you and her didn’t happen back then, er, now. And we’ve changed enough already. We don’t want to wreck the timeline even more than we already have,” Gideon explains slowly. He wonders if this is what Neal had really be trying to get at when he started asking about Juliet. “So you can’t do that anymore. Kiss Emma, I mean.”

Goal: accomplished.

“How can you even know that?”

Or not.

“You know how Henry has his fairytale book with everyone’s stories? There’s another book in the future where that includes this whole adventure, and a ton of stories that happened since Emma first arrive in Storybrooke,” Gideon huffs out. His frustration is growing. Why can’t Neal understand? He feels like a villain, crushing the heart of his victim. “And you and Emma? You’re not in it, at least not as lovers, not since first left her way back when.”

“You love you girlfriend?”

“What?” This is not the direction Gideon had expected the conversation to go. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s a yes or no question. Do you love her?” Neal is once again facing him. Gideon takes in the hard set of his brother’s shoulders, the way his arms are crossed, and his knitted brows. Neal will not back down from this train of thought.

“Of course I love her.”

“How much?

“Really?”

“Humor me.”

Gideon casts his eyes skyward. This is not how he expected to be discussing his love life with his deceased brother. “I have a ring. Back home. I’m planning to propose soon. Going by that, I love her quite a bit.” He pauses, thinking of an earlier conversation. “She’s all my heart.”

Neal’s expression momentarily softens. “Wow, congrats. I hope she says yes.”

“Unsurprisingly, so do I.” He’s fairly certain that she will say ‘yes’. Their friends seem convinced of that fact. Her family, too. The aforementioned Neal Nolan, who acts more like Juliet’s closest friend and confidant than uncle, has even made Gideon promise to run by any proposal plans. “She’s going to agree to it no matter what, but you want the whole thing to be something she’ll remember, right?”

“Okay, so you have this girl--”

“--woman--”

“--woman, fine, you get the point. You have this woman that you love. Now imagine finding out you’re going to die, that you’re going to lose absolutely everything, and you don’t know when or how, but it’s definitely going to happen -- and soon, by the sound of things. You can’t tell me that you won’t do everything possible to hold onto the person you love,” Neal pleads with him. And, in a way, he’s right. If the world ended tomorrow, he’d want nothing more than to spend it with Juliet in his arms. But--

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Gideon doesn’t even try to hide the defeat in his voice. He doesn’t want to be having this conversation. What he wants is for Neal to not even pursue Emma, for them to just act like brothers-- whatever that means. What he wants for the weight of the future to be lifted from both their shoulders. What he wants it to not be the bad guy. He can’t always get what he wants. “Neal, I understand the future is terrifying, and I know you’re probably thinking about every single thing you regret--”

“You know? I don’t think you have any idea how I feel! I’m going to die, and you have a future with your girlfriend to run back to!”

“A future that might not even exist,” Gideon argues, his voice rising. He runs his fingers through his hair and takes a step back. “You’re the one who doesn’t get it. We didn’t even want to be here. We fell through a goddamn portal. J and I, we didn’t even try to, and we fucked things up. Things are bad right now, universe ending bad. So, while I might be sympathetic to your plight -- it fucking sucks -- it’s not high on my priority list.”

Neal blinks, clearly taken aback by Gideon’s outburst. “What are you even talking about?”

“Things that were supposed to happen didn’t end up happening, which set off a domino effect of preventing other things from happening, and we don’t know how to fix it.” His answer comes out in a half-sob, the weight of everything at stake finally taking over.

“Could what you did hurt Henry? Emma?”

“Definitely.”

“Then tell me how I can help.” Neal walks over and places his hand on Gideon’s shoulder. “If Emma and Henry’s future is really in danger, tell me what you two messed up, and I will help fix it.”

Gideon shakes his head. “We can’t. We already told you too much.”

“Look, I already know too much, and I’m a dead guy walking. And by the sound of things, you two are completely in over your head. You need help,” Neal insists. “You know I’m right.”

Gideon considers Neal’s offer. They need help. Desperately. But, “You’re not going to like what we have to do.”

“I kind of already figured that part out.”

Gideon suddenly wishes desperately for Hook’s flask of rum. Juliet is going to kill him. But, if they pull this off, she’ll still exist. That will be something worth celebrating, assuming Neal doesn’t kill him because of the words that come out of his mouth next.

“We need to get Emma and Hook to kiss.” Neal recoils as if Gideon had just burned him. “What.” It’s not a question.

“We need to find a way for Hook and Emma to kiss. They had their first kiss in Neverland, you see, and I know for a fact that the events that led to that kiss didn’t happen, which means that they likely didn’t kiss.” His explanation feels silly, because a kiss feel simple, not monumental. But it’s the first kiss in a series of many more kisses, that will ultimately lead to a fuller and happier life.

“I don’t get it. You’re worked up over them kissing? Wait--first kiss? How many times do they kiss?”

“It’s never crossed my mind to keep count.” Now, that’s a train of thought I don’t need to follow. Gideon shakes his head, he needs to focus. As expected, Neal isn’t handling the information well. “As for the ‘getting worked up over them kissing’ part, that kiss kind of sets up a chain of very important events. It’s a domino effect.”

“He ran away with my mom, and now he’s kissing the mother of my son. That’s a little messed up, don’t you think?”

“I told you that you wouldn’t like what we had to do.”

“I can’t...I don’t understand how that kiss helps keep Emma and Henry safe.” Neal looks utterly defeated. Gideon wonders how he would feel if someone said that Juliet absolutely needed to be kissing someone else. He decides not to dwell on the thought.

“Like I said, it’s a domino effect. I can’t fully quantify it, but trust me when I say that their futures as I know it depend on this kiss. My future own depends on this kiss.”

“Your future? How--” He stops, eyes widening in realization. He shakes his head. “No, no, no, no.”

Gideon doesn’t know what to say, so he keeps his mouth shut. He’s at a loss for what to do. His mother would know what to say -- she’s the most empathetic person he knows. He’d inherited Belle’s love of books, but not this. For as long as he’s known her, she’s always found a way to bond and sympathize with strangers. Blood relations or not, Neal is still a stranger to Gideon, making it all the harder.

“God, and I thought she was mine and Emma’s kid. Guess I was half right, huh?” Neal turns away from Gideon, and kicks angrily at a ground. “Seriously? Her and him?”

“If it makes you feel better, they’re very happy together.”

“It doesn’t.”

Gideon bites his lip. Unsure of what else to say on the topic of the Swan-Jones relationship, he attempts a different tactic. “He would talk about you to me. Hook, I mean, in the future. Even before Juliet and I were together, we’d talk about you and he’d tell me stories.”

“To ease his guilty conscience,” Neal snorts.

“Maybe, but not in the way you think,” Gideon tells him. It’s strange to defend Juliet’s father to his brother. He recognizes the reasons why Neal resents them, but the Killian Jones Gideon knows is so far removed from one Neal knows, knew. “He told me once that one of his biggest regrets in life was what happened between you and him and Pan. I’m pretty sure he and our father have talked about you, but I’m pretty sure they’d both deny it if anyone asked.”

“Gideon, I’m glad you like your girlfriend’s father,” Neal begins, and Gideon realizes this is the first time he has said his realization aloud, “but Killian Jones is the last person I want in this scenario. He destroyed my family, and you’re asking me to help make sure he raises my son with the woman I love while I...while I’m dead.”

“Then don’t do it for him. Do it for me, your brother. Do it for Juliet, who has no control over who her parents are.” Gideon grabs Neal’s arm, forcing Neal to finally look him in the eyes. “You’re hurt and you’re angry, and that’s a perfectly understandable way to feel. But don’t let your feelings result in either me or Juliet getting harmed. I spent my entire life wondering who you were, don’t let it be this.That’s not fair. Hook, Henry, Emma -- they all told me that you were a hero. So prove it. Be a hero.”

“Just--can you give me a moment, please?” Neal asks, his anger giving way to something that sounds a lot like defeat. “Let me think. You owe me that.”

Gideon opens his mouth to argue that he doesn’t owe Neal anything right now, but he finds himself saying, “Yeah, we can wait.”

Neal moves away, sitting at the edge of the pond. Gideon hesitates before joining him. Silently, they sit and stare at the water. Moonlight cuts through the dense foliage of the jungle, creating slivers of light on the water. It’s beautiful, Gideon thinks. Years earlier, he and Juliet had rented a cabin upstate. The cabin was by the lake, and he remembers the two of them sitting laying on the bank, looking up the stars. They’d discussed their hopes and dreams, and began to tentatively make plans for the future they might have together. Sitting beside his brother, Gideon wonders if that future might ever come to pass.

#cs ff #captain swan ff #cs au #cs canon divergence #s writes finding neverland

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