vick

Spencer knew that you would change his life the moment you stepped foot in the BAU conference room.

You were a new agent with a fiery passion for the job. You were a Psychology Professor before quitting and took up Criminology and after that you ended up in the BAU. You were eager to learn, always on the go and was always energetic to do any job Hotch gives you. You had a heart of gold and would do absolutely anything for anyone in the team and Spencer was in no doubt completely in love with you.

It took Spencer a year and a month to finally ask you out. By this time, you were already close. It wasn’t hard to be friends with you, you radiate warmth and brightness and you were always so kind to everyone. He honestly felt embarrassed and weak. You were this amazing, strong person but Spencer... he was only Spencer.

“W-would you like to get dinner? Or... L-like coffee?” Spencer fidgets with his fingers, staring at his stained converse as it lines up to your black ankle boots. The contrast was jarring, it shows the two opposite spectrums of your personalities. When he looks up, your face was hard to read and it makes his heart beat harder against his chest.

“Like... a date?” Spencer watches as you chew on your inner cheek, something you do when you’re nervous or anxious.

“Yes... But if you don’t want to it’s okay! You can forget what I sai—“ Spencer raises his hand as a sign of goodbye, as the other grips his satchel. He turns halfway before you hold his catch his arms, stopping him from leaving.

“No! I want dinner! I mean, coffee! Whatever it is!” He looks back at you, a smile now forming in your face, and no matter how many times Spencer have seen it, it still catches he’s breathe.

“Really?” A grin starts forming in his face as he watches a shade of pink color your cheeks, “Yes. Tell me when and where. I’ll be there.”

The date was perfect. Spencer picks you up with a bouquet of daisies in his hands. You pick one of the daisies, clipping it in your hair for the rest of the night making it hard for Spencer to look away from you for the rest of the night. He reserved a table for two in a small, quaint cafe. Even with the nerves Spencer had, the date went smoothly. You talked, he talked and it was just like any other day but this time it was a date.

That date leads to another one, and another one, and another one, until you both finally made it clear that you two were dating.

It leads to numerous adventures.

To museums where Spencer becomes your own tour guide, where he teaches you everything he can teach you, where he watches you become one of the beautiful art pieces and where he realizes that he can take something so beautiful and surreal home.

To libraries where Spencer opens a book, any genre, and reads it you as you both take a journey to another world together, where you watch him read books that he probably already have memorized in the back of his head and where you realized that the world is so much bigger than you thought. More than anything it makes you itch for that world.

To movie nights which more often than so ends up with you on his lap, making out like you were both craving for something only the other can give. If it does, you both end up in bed, tangled in each other as both of you catch your breathe as you make love to one another. If it doesn’t, you both watch a movie chosen by the other and just sit in comfortable silence, cuddled into each others warm body.

To coffee shops where you both try as many different kinds of pastries, making a list of which one has the best pastries. The little corner shop down the street near the library is where Spencer learns that you liked croissants but only if they had chocolate in them. In the cafe down on 5th near the pet store, you learned that Spencer liked his blueberry muffin with cream cheese. The expensive, posh coffee shop in the high end street is where you were both kicked out for laughing way too much when you both realize that a muffin costs ten dollars each.

It leads to numerous sleepovers on Spencer’s double bed. Waking up to a new day with you was the best thing in the morning. Waking up tangled with your limbs all around him, waking up to you making him his favorite coffee and pancakes in bed, waking up to your naked body pressed unto him as you dream of him some place else.

It leads to home cooked dinners with silly dance numbers in the middle, warm hugs after hard cases and silent whispers of It’s okay’s, picnics in the park with packed sandwiches and it leads to five hundred, eighty one, forever treasured I love you’s.

One date leads you to numerous adventures and dates with Spencer.

But it was also a year and a month into the relationship when Emily video calls you both for a job offer in Interpol. She says, it would be a breathe of fresh air for the both of you. A new adventure. Together.

Spencer was set in his ways. Virginia was the closest thing he’ll ever have to a home and that’s because of the BAU. They were family. Penelope and JJ are the sisters he never had. Will, Henry and Michael was his extended family. Derek is his best friend and he loved being near him and Hank. Hotch and Rossi was the closest thing he’ll get to some kind of a father figure and he didn’t want to lose that in his life. He has long set his roots in this place, his home and he immediately shakes his head and declines.

He looks over you when the silence was to deafening to ignore and it doesn’t take a profiler to see the hesitation in your face. There was a spark in your eyes, the same one he saw when you first came to the BAU, the spark of excitement. You look at him and you see the way his eyes shines with sadness as he realizes that this was what you wanted. You shake your head at Emily and declines.

Emily smiles as she says her goodbye before reassuring both of you that there will always be a position open for the both of you in her team if ever anyone changes their mind.

That one video call leads to exactly six fights about the job opportunity. Spencer knew that you wanted to go and the selfish part of him wanted to hold unto you. So he did, he held, and he held, and he held until he couldn’t anymore.

Spencer stays late at the BAU one night. The two of you haven’t been the same since the job offer. You have left earlier to go home as he stares at the place he has called his home. Can he leave this? Was his love for you enough to leave everything he has known half his life?

“What’s keeping you here?” Spencer snaps out of the thought, looking up from his paper work to Rossi leaning over the railing right across his office.

“Nothing.” He looks back down, but he can see Rossi giving him a soft smile, “News flies fast around here.”

Spencer snaps back his head, “What?” Rossi nods, “We all know.” He continues to chew on his lip.

“I don’t know what to do.” Rossi walks down the stairs, walking closer to Spencer, “You remember Y/N’s first few weeks?” Spencer nods, the memory of your first week still vivid in his mind.

“You remember how before she was in the BAU she was a psychology professor? When she came on her first day,” Rossi smiles, reminiscing as he continues, “Remember how eager she was to do everything? There was this spark in her eyes and she was just passionate about the job and to learn?” Spencer nods again.

“Kid, in my life, I have met two kinds of people. The Mover and The Homebody. The Mover is the one who moves, they never get enough of the high that life can give, they go around looking for more adventures to learn and to help them grow,” Rossi looks down at him, a sad smile on his face, “Then there is the Homebody. Its not a bad thing to stay in one place. They are the ones who set roots in one place and grows in that place, they get comfortable and make that place in their life their home.”

“Are you saying I am a homebody? And Y/N is a mover?” Rossi forces a smile, giving his shoulder a pat.

“If you’re so smart then tell me, why are you still so afraid.” Rossi sings before giving him one last smile as he turns his back, not giving Spencer the chance to ask what he meant.

Spencer later learns from Penelope that it was a song written by Billy Joel. He asks Penelope if he can hear it by himself in her bat cave and she immediately agrees, leaving him alone with a song someone wrote in 1977 that perfectly fits and embodies you. As the final beats hit his ears, Spencer lets go of you.

The next twenty one days comes in a swift. Spencer stands in the airport as the team says their teary goodbyes to you. The team leaves to give the two of you space and privacy to say your goodbye.

“Spencer... I am sorry.” Spencer gives a smile. It wasn’t fake, there was no bad blood. He wanted to let you go, to go find the best version of yourself.

“This is what you need in your life to grow. I am happy for you.” Your eyes sparkle in tears as your heart softens.

“I’ll be back, if you are still in the same place as we are today, can we pick up were we left?” Spencer nods, as he opens his satchel and reaches in for a box.

You open it and inside is the same daisy you pinned in your hair on your first date, but it was dried and framed. You look up at him with questions in your eyes, “I stole it from you after our first date. I kept it for future purposes but it’s more suiting to give it to you right now.”

“Last call for passengers of flight 582 bound for London. Again, last call for passengers of flight 582 bound for London.” You both look at each other as the announcement rings through your ears

“I love you.” You whisper. Spencer gathers up all the courage he has and pulls you into one last kiss. His hands stays on the curve of your neck as he pulls you closer to him and as you snake your arms around his arms.

Spencer kisses you with fervour and fear. This was the last he’ll kiss you and if he had to tattoo it in the back of his mind he will. He will remember the distinct taste of your peach lip balm, the way your lips moves against him and how your hand presses hard on his back to pull him closer. Spencer pulls away when a voice in his head screams at him to not let you go. He had to let you go now before he change his mind, screams and beg you to stay with him. His heart breaks a little more as he sees tears flowing down your cheeks.

You pull him into one last hug and it sinks in, his holding you for the last time. He tries to memorize how your hands wrap around his neck and how you perfectly fit between his arms. Your body vibrates as you sob against him.

You pull away from him with tear stained cheeks and barely catching your breathe, you smile through it as you wave at him, “Goodbye Spencer.” You sobbed as you start backing away from him. You see him clench his hand as tears start filling his eyes.

“I can’t wait to meet who you’re going to be. Good luck, Y/N.” Spencer raises his hand to wave at you as the inches between the two of you grow bigger.

“Thank you. I love you.” You bid him goodbye before turning your back on him and running to your gate number. Spencer smiles through his tears as you give your ticket to the airport staff. You look back at Spencer and give him one last smile before boarding the airplane.

“Vienna waits for you, my love.”

-

oh. perhaps Spencer had noticed your distance– and apparently wanted to talk about it right now.

“wow - boy wonder is at a loss of words for once. c’mon let’s go inside,” you replied, trying to smile, (you know…deflecting as usual).

as you went up the stairs leading to the entrance, several steps ahead of him, you could’ve sworn your ears were playing tricks on you because heard spencer whisper:

“only around you.”

you both entered the aquarium and Spencer went to the front desk to show your tickets and to get a map – despite coming here a thousand times you’d both gotten lost every time you visited (which you had to admit was strange because in reality the aquarium wasn’t that big, and Spencer literally had an eidetic memory – but somehow things never did go to plan with the two of you). you gazed at him as he was talking animatedly to the elderly man at reception, beaming so widely.

his hair was growing long again, covering his eyes – and you had the sudden urge to walk up to him, cup his chip and brush his hair out of his face.

no. that is not a platonic thought! he is just a friend and that is it. that is all you will ever be and if you dare think anything like this again you won’t be allowed to eat pizza for a week - you told yourself.

it was going to be a long three hours at the aquarium.

***

well, you were wrong.

the first hour and a half flew by so quickly, you’d barely even registered that you were halfway through your outing. and honestly, you’d forgotten about the promise you made yourself and the awkwardness that you had created earlier. like sure, there were moments where you literally stopped breathing because holy shit Spencer looked really really pretty when he talked about the water vascular system of a starfish (which apparently was ‘a hydraulic system made up of a network of fluid-filled canals and is concerned with locomotion, adhesion, food manipulation and gas exchange inside a starfish’… or something like that). but mostly everything just felt so easy when you talked to him. you’d never felt this way with anyone else - not even with the rest of the team, and you loved them more than anything - hell you trusted them with your life.

and yet with Spencer, it was different.

the heaviness that was constantly weighing on your chest when you talked to other people, was gone. you walked and talked around the aquarium as you discussed…. well everything – to Garcia’s mystery man to the latest Dr. Who episode (which you usually watched together, but last week you were “ill” so you couldn’t make it to his house) and it truly felt like you hadn’t spoken in years.

and the time you spent together catching up, was perfect.

you both finally made it to the exhibition you’d been waiting for – the jellyfish section. Spencer’s favourite thing about the aquarium was the fact that they worked with a local charity to help conserve animals that were injured or abandoned. they organised incredible programs with new initiatives each year, created to save the sea life in the nearby coastal regions. it was a commendable charity: for its selflessness, hard work, and brilliance. changing the lives of so many animals each year. however, at that moment, the only reason you felt thankful for the charity was not because of the work that they did or the number of lives they saved but because of the smile the charity brought on Spencer’s face, you watched his eyes widen in astonishment as you walked through the see-through tunnels, surrounded by the colourful glow of jellyfish pulsating through their light kissed surroundings. gliding through the water effortlessly.

it was magical.

slowly and steadily, you both made your way closer to the creatures. almost in apprehension. as if you couldn’t truly believe what you were seeing. pressing your foreheads against the glass, you stood in awe watching the jellyfish play with each other. they seemed to be unaware of the people on the other side of the wall, living blissfully in their own little bubble.

“they’re beautiful,” he whispered next to you.

at the sound of Spencer’s voice, you instinctively shifted your head, taking in the view of your best friend, fixated on the jellyfish. you noticed how the water refracted a shade of blue light onto his face, turning him into an abstract piece of art. the light exemplified the golden flecks sprinkled around his brown irises. but brown was a word too dismal to describe his eyes.

his eyes were a thousand hues - ranging from the shade of autumnal leaves to a darkened honeycomb in the summer. to reduce his eyes to something as dull as brown was a disservice to the spellbinding colour that they were.

the light hadn’t turned him into a piece of art. he already was one.

“yeah, you are.”

he met your gaze, and you found yourself involuntarily staring deep into his eyes. your eyelashes fluttered, as your blinks became longer and longer and it felt as if the world was slowing down around you both.

you hadn’t realised how close you both were standing. your shoulders touching, whilst your hands shakily skimmed over each other; brushing briefly for a few seconds. an almost whisper of a touch.

Spencer cleared his throat and looked back at the jellyfish.

fuck.

but he didn’t make an attempt to move, so neither did you.

“you know it’s funny,” he started, the silence had become unbearably uncomfortable, “what Rossi said to me yesterday when i told him about our plans.”

“what did he say?” you almost whispered, looking back at the jellyfish.

“he asked if we were going on a date today.” he replied looking back at you, wide-eyed and blushing.

Spencer was never one to blush. his nervous tells ranged from biting his lips (and licking them ever so slightly) to fumbling with his fingers to word vomiting any random piece of knowledge tucked inside his beautiful brain. but blushing? you swore you could see a pink tinge beginning to form on his cheeks.

“oh wow. he said that-“

“ahahaha. yeah, he’s funny right?”

“yeah. totally. i mean you know Rossi. always the joker.” you replied light-heartedly, raising your eyebrows. you could feel the weight of your heart crushing into a million pieces.

and so, you both went back to staring at the aquarium showcase.

it had almost turned into a game - one of you would begin to say something but think otherwise and go back to staring at the jellyfish whilst the other would then turn to look at you whilst you were busy looking at the display.

the tension was ever-thickening.

but still, you both didn’t try to move away from one another. in fact, at this point your hands had stopped grazing against each other. you were confused at first when you didn’t feel his hand, an absence of warmth against your skin. but then he intertwined his pinkie with yours and goddamit you almost flinched.

you couldn’t take this anymore. it was building up inside your chest and you felt that if you couldn’t say it now then then you would literally die. i mean if he didn’t feel the same way back – that was fine. it would be fine. you would be fine. love was overrated. and anyways you weren’t sure if you were in love with him. carbon monoxide poisoning was still a viable reason as to why you felt the way you felt. it would be fine – you’d just tell him calmly and rationally and-

“(y/n), do you love me?”

huh? what the fuck did he just say?

you couldn’t breathe.

this was it. he was going to hate you. this was your best friend. your favourite person… well ever.

and you were about to lose him forever.

and for a moment, neither of you spoke, only looking in each other’s eyes. your body was telling you to run, but your feet remained planted to the ground.

“i-“

i love you.

“i need to go.”

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before you can be late, you head out to the car and speed to work.

you pass by the park where you first hung out with Matthew-- the place you biked-- and resist the urge to take the turn up to the dirt path. that feels like so long ago now, seeing him and not knowing how to behave. the crackle of energy between two people who don't understand each other quite yet, but want to.

nostalgia floods your insides. part of you is glad to be past the awkwardness of just beginning, but the simplicity of it makes you cling. it wasn't even that long ago that you spilled all over him in a moment of idiocy, but things are so messy now.

you're in love with him and he can't give you what you want. maybe if he wasn't famous, or if you were older, maybe. so many uncertainties that there's no point in imagining.

after you left his house the other morning, things felt irrevocably different. the night previous, after he prepared some of his leftover Thai food for you, both of you slept in his bed. it was quiet, for the most part, facing each other with one of his arms draped around your waist. and you were just drifting off when you decided that you wanted one last good look at him.

you wanted to see how the moon fell over his cheekbones, through his mess of curls and over his scruff. you wanted to see the lines in his face that you've grown to love as well.

but he was already watching as you slowly squinted to open your eyes. you were about to crack a joke about him staring at you like a creep, until it lit something on fire inside of you. a warmth that spread through your bones.

so you let him stare, maybe trying to get his own last look, and you let him remember. when he moves on to someone else, you hope that he at least thinks of you sometimes. maybe this... thing between the two of you was brief, but it was good.

...

"hey." Yuna's hushed voice startles you from your glazed state at the computer.

"why are we whispering?" you glance up, then around the room to see if there's a person she doesn't want to hear. it's just the usual crowd, though.

"because I just found out some good news." her lips turn up in a pleased grin.

"are you going to share it?"

"a little birdie told me that someone," she raises her eyebrows. "is getting a promotion."

you heave an unnecessary sigh and lean back in your chair, giving up the whispering act. "the last time you heard that, you were wrong."

"I know, but this time it's real-- George heard it from Isla--"

"seriously, Yuna, I appreciate you looking out for me, but I really don't wanna bank on a bunch of he-said-she-said bullshit." you speak before she can finish her gossip. when she frowns with disappointment, you decide to divulge a little more. whatever she heard can't be true because you've already given notice to Julienne that you're leaving. "it doesn't matter anyway. I'm moving soon."

"moving?" she says the word so loudly, a couple employees glance over. she throws them a dirty look before focusing back on you. "where?"

"New York."

"you're gonna be an east coast girl?" she makes a disgusted face. even you can't resist a laugh at that.

"I guess."

"why?"

"because besides you, I hate working here."

"you're gonna abandon me with these losers?" she gestures to the rest of the office. you roll your eyes with a playful smile.

"shh, they're gonna hear you."

"and?" she pretends to be exasperated, but the two of you just end up smiling at each other. you're gonna miss her, honestly. despite the fact that you never really hang out after work, you consider her a good friend.

"you'll be fine. without me here to distract you, they'll make you editor before the end of the year."

"yeah, yeah." she waves it off and proceeds to tell you all about how horrible New Yorkers are and how pretentious they'll be and how she's also going to come visit every once in a while just to see how the other side lives.

you're just about to make her leave so you can do some work when your phone rings beside your laptop. Yuna's eyebrow raises inquisitively at the incriminating M glowing on the phone screen, but disappears as you wave her away.

your jaw clenches with nervousness as the memories come flooding back. you aren't ready to deal with the reality of the situation. but you can't bring yourself to hit decline.

"hello?" your voice sounds annoyingly timid. Matthew hesitates before responding; it's just long enough for you to notice.

"hi, Y/N. what are you up to?" it sounds like he's avoiding something, too.

"at work. you know that."

"yeah, of course. do you have plans tonight?"

stupidly, you inhale sharply, loudly. it's more difficult to read his words when he's not standing right in front of you. there's a lingering tone in his voice that you can't put your finger on. it distracts you momentarily from coming up with any kind of response.

"I, uh--" your eyes flicker chaotically around the room before landing back on Yuna, who is paying absolutely no attention to anything but her phone. "I have to finish editing an article for one of my coworkers."

"oh."

in order to keep from throwing out some alternative time to see him-- thus defeating the whole point of declining tonight's invitation-- you bite down on your tongue and swallow. "sorry."

"no, it's okay. how are you doing otherwise?" his voice is soft and warm, although you wish it wasn't. you wish he'd be an asshole like he was the other night, wish he'd be worse than that so you could leave without feeling a thing.

"I'm good." another lie.

"can I at least see you before you head off?" he asks this with a bit of a chuckle, like it's a given that you'll hang out again. your heart sinks because you can't bring yourself to tell him no. if you do, you're just going to collapse into his arms again.

so you do what you do best: weasel out. "Matthew, listen, I can't really talk right now."

a thick silence that probably only lasts around two seconds but feels like a thousand years falls over the telephone line. he clears his throat. "yeah, of course. sorry to bother you."

"not a bother, I just don't wanna get in trouble with my boss." your laugh is mirthless, trying to patch up whatever has just been torn to shreds within the span of a moment.

"I'll text you later."

"okay." you hang up immediately after, setting your phone face down on the desk and then sinking back into the cheap spinning chair. your gaze travels over the bright screen of your laptop, then over the cup of fancy highlighters you splurged on last fall. there's a tin of pink and red paper clips that Yuna got for you at some fancy office supply place; a framed picture of your family, the key to the secret file drawer that you've crammed with cheesy romance novels. you didn't want Cecilia to poke fun at you for them.

it sounds just like an office here, smells like a repurposed warehouse that's been filled with plastic plants to foster some semblance of nature. it feels like a wiggly baby tooth. itching in your gums and waiting to be yanked out.

as soon as the afternoon melts into evening, you're packing up your things. you've been taking things home from your desk a couple at a time to avoid hauling a huge cardboard box out on your last day, but your bag is still bulging with the things you've stuffed in there.

"Y/N." Julienne's voice jerks you from your thoughts. she's standing in the doorway of her office, a soft smile on her face. you try to reciprocate with your own.

"yes?"

"come in here a moment, would you?" she turns without waiting for a response. you nod and follow her into the room, gently closing the door when she tells you to. a diffuser is blowing a gentle stream of citrus mist into the air. you sit.

you wrack your mind for something to say right then, but you aren't sure why you're here. Julienne folds her hands on the surface of her desk, glances down at her various rings, then fixes her attention back on you.

"relax, Y/N, you're not in trouble or anything," she lets out that light, hollow laugh that's meant to ease your nerves. all you can do is smile in response before she speaks again. "I know you're getting ready to go to the next stop on your journey."

you nod, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. she's got a glint in her eye that makes you want to know what she's thinking.

"but I wanted to clear the air about something before you leave us," she holds eye contact. "about the promotion that you should have gotten a while back."

"oh." the word comes out before you can stop it. you figured she'd just pretend she'd never considered you for the job.

"I should have spoken to you earlier, but things at the magazine were so hectic that it somehow slipped my mind. I gave the job to Fatima for a reason."

you're trying your best not to yell at her to just say what she wants to say; all this waiting is driving you nuts. you nod along instead.

"I'm not sure what you heard the reasoning was for my passing you up, but the truth is that I needed a bit of time to get your reference right--"

"reference?" you frown with confusion. the only one you'd asked her for was this zine publication in New York, which she'd readily given just a few days ago.

"a friend of mine works at a literary magazine right here downtown, and she's been looking for a critic for a while now, but I heard that that was something you were interested in. so I talked to her and she's willing to interview you within the week, if you're willing."

the room starts spinning a bit from the overload of information. at first, you aren't sure what to say; downtown here? within the week... for a literary critic job. you're baffled and Julienne must see it on your face, because she continues.

"you'd have your own column in the magazine, Y/N."

of all the things to ask, the only thing that comes out of your mouth is "what?"

she smiles patiently. "I know this is a lot to take in-- and I'm sure you've already found a place to live in New York, along with that job you told me about-- but this kind of opportunity doesn't come around often."

"Julienne, I--" you're struggling for words, even as your throat begins to feel like sandpaper.

"you're talented. I know you don't like writing here, but you do an amazing job. I can't imagine what you'll do when you actually enjoy your assignments." her words are the most sincere you've ever heard her, and part of it sticks right in your heart.

you clench your jaw momentarily, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. what she's suggesting is incredible. you could have everything you've ever wanted in a job, only moving up from there.

"this is-- wow, I really don't know what to say," you frown, then focus on her angular features. "thank you."

"of course." she smiles.

"can I have time to think about it?" you bite your lip. for all of its promise, you've still got to take a step back and evaluate your options. it's going to be a huge pain cancelling everything you've set aside time for, and you'd lose money on deposits if you do.

she nods. "you can have until the end of the day tomorrow, but they need to hire someone soon."

"of course." you stand up. there's a surge of energy in your limbs. she watches you with her fox eyes, as if trying to calculate your next move. she's trying to figure you out; you're glad that you were wrong about your own assumptions.

as she sits there, rolling a smoothed stone between her fingers, you turn to her. "thank you again, Julienne."

"anytime."

...

there's practically no one there when you arrive, which makes your night better as you start to wander through the front doors of the aquarium. the woman at the front desk gets you your ticket and sends you through to the water tunnel. she says the place is closing in fifteen minutes, so you promise to be quick with your visit.

being alone somewhere in LA is a rare gem, which is why the silence fills you with a strange comfort. the cavernous entrance of the building shrinks down to a walkway, where the light slinks across the floor in aqueous blues, reflections of shifting waves and moving fish.

you step into the tunnel and immediately tilt your head up. there's a school of bright fish, yellow tangs, that move quickly along as if on their way to an appointment. a couple creatures move among the seaweed on the false ocean floor. they slip, unnoticed and sleek with their movements. you find yourself admiring a small sea anemone that's attached to a rock.

you love sea anemones. they're almost alien, so different from land organisms. you love that they look like anemone flowers. they're weird.

when you were six or seven, you'd sit in the aquarium and unintentionally try your hand at philosophy-- try to understand how the aquatic life around you had simply come to exist, and if there was some magical formula. you wondered how sea anemones knew how to be beautiful.

they just were.

some things are lovely because they're strange, because they have absolutely no awareness of the concept.

your fingertips are pressed to the glass as you watch a magenta one. an iridescent fish cuts across your line of sight, its scales catching the light and its eyes blankly staring. as it swims away, you start to wander toward a different part of the aquarium.

you only have until tomorrow night to make a decision. that isn't much time. and despite how easy it should be, it doesn't feel that way. it actually feels like you've had several different things thrown at you and no way to navigate them.

you could call your dad, maybe ask what he thinks about the whole situation. but you know in the end that you need to start making decisions for yourself.

the lights along the bottom of the aquarium tank are a bright blue-- which you wouldn't have really noticed if it weren't for the way it makes the spotted lagoon jellyfish glow. they look a little like neon mushrooms, with their small tendrils and curved caps.

there's a small smile on your face as you watch their azure bodies float around the water. all of it so elegant, you could stand here forever.

"you're predictable."

Matthew's voice isn't that loud, but it breaks through the silence and causes you to start. you gasp and turn to see him standing by the entrance to the exhibit, his hands in his corduroy pockets. he's smiling, although it doesn't reach his eyes.

you're taken aback by his being there, so your mouth guppies a few times before you grasp onto words. "how'd you know I was here?"

at this, he actually lets out a chuckle. "this was the closest one to your place that was still open."

"so you just assumed I'd be at an aquarium?" you fight the smile working its way onto your face. he shrugs.

"wasn't that far of a throw."

you stare at him for a moment, standing there in a sweater that is most definitely vintage, with his glasses perched adorably on his nose and his curls just as messy as usual. "how'd you get in, though? they're closing in like, ten minutes."

"the woman at the front desk is a fan," he says it as if it's no big deal, and you shake your head with a small laugh. his frown is curious. "what?"

"nothing." you roll your eyes. he's used to people loving him.

"can I ask why you're staring at jellyfish at--" he glances at his watch. "eight fifty-six on a Friday evening?"

you glance at the marine life to break eye contact. you aren't sure what to say, so you say the easiest part first. "Julienne talked to me today about a different job opportunity."

Matthew licks his lips. "what?"

"I'm moving to New York in a week, and she told me tonight that she got me a job at a literary magazine here in LA."

his face changes expressions a multitude of times, so many that you aren't able to keep track of all of them. one moment he seems sympathetic, the next excited, the next confused. "that's-- that's great. isn't it? I thought you wanted to work at a place like that."

"I do, it's just... I don't know. it seems great on the surface, but I was starting to get excited for this New York thing. having the option to start over would be really nice."

"why can't you just do the interview in New York first and weigh your options then?"

"I have to say yes or no by tomorrow evening." you almost cringe at the reminder. you hate being on a deadline for things, especially such a life-changing choice like this.

"oh," he thinks this over. "I can see how that would be hard."

"yeah." you turn back to the jellyfish, fall into silence. he walks over to join, but doesn't try to say anything. you start speaking instead. "you know, jellyfish don't have a central nervous system."

"really?" he sounds genuinely intrigued. you nod.

"yeah, they have separate nerve bundles that cooperate with each other, but they don't have, like, a brain."

"how does that even work?"

"I don't know," you shrug. "they kinda just exist on their own without much awareness. the ideal way to live."

he laughs, then begins to read the plaque on the side of the exhibit. "oh, yeah, it says right here."

"mhmm." you stare at the creatures as though they'll transfer their watery elegance to you through sheer willpower.

"do you know which way you're leaning?" Matthew changes the subject and you bite your lip.

"hm?"

"do you know if you'd rather stay here or move?"

"I--" you wish you had an answer locked and loaded, mature and well thought-out. all you have is a gut tugging towards one and a whole lot of hesitation to pull you back. "nope."

"you're gonna do great in either place." he offers.

"you think?" your eyes follow the movements of the jellyfish in the blue light.

"easily. I'm sorry I was rude the other night about it."

"thanks for saying that."

he nods, staring in silence at the jellyfish as well, until you feel him turn to look at you for a moment. "I think you know what you want to do."

you bite the inside of your cheek to keep the embarrassing amount of emotions from pouring out of you all at once. "yeah?"

"I haven't known you your whole life, but you've been talking about being a literary critic since we first met. and now it's being offered to you on a silver platter, you're questioning it?" despite the slightly harsh sentiment, he doesn't sound angry or frustrated when he says it. just like he's trying to understand.

"yeah, but--" you cut yourself off.

"but what? you lose your deposit on an apartment and a one-way plane ticket?"

there’s a beat before you reply softly. "it sounds stupid when you put it like that."

"I don't think it's stupid," he shakes his head and this time turns fully. he touches your wrists and gently faces you. "I think you're scared."

you purse your lips to avoid the tears pricking the back of your eyes. you hate that word; it makes you feel like a child cowering in a corner. and maybe that's what you've been reduced to, for all the fear you've been feeling lately.

a little kid, afraid of what the world will do to you.

"it's just--" you inhale to steady your voice. anything more and the dam will break. "it's really easy to say I wanna be a literary critic when I'm stuck in a shitty job."

he nods, doesn't say anything. you have more to say.

"Julienne did this really nice thing for me, and I'm really fucking worried that I'm gonna fall flat on my face."

"Y/N--"

"seriously, Matthew. what if I suck? they're giving me a whole column and it could turn out I'm the worst critic and people hate me and then they're gonna fire me and I'll be right back where I started."

it comes out of you before you can even try to stop it, torrid and honest and pathetic. it’s been so easy to look at the future and paint the exact picture you wanted to see because you thought things would just… improve. it’s much more simple to imagine.

and with the weight of expectation on your shoulders, you aren’t sure if you’ll be able to fulfill all of your dreams. trying your best and coming up short is so much scarier when it’s in your face.

"hey," he fixes his gaze on yours, and it's only then that you notice you've begun to cry. silent, pathetic tears that trail down your face. your sign of weakness. he brushes his thumb over your cheekbone. "you're not gonna fall flat on your face."

"there's no way you could know that." you start to feel frustrated at your own vulnerability.

"listen, I'll level with you," he sighs. "is it possible that something bad will happen and you'll have to start again? maybe,” he chuckles, and the sound eases you a little before he speaks again. “but what if you're amazing?"

you frown and shake your head.

he rolls his eyes. "don't be modest. the point is that you have a shot at this, and you're gonna regret it for a long time if you don't try."

you sniff and wipe your eyes as the words settle in your bloodstream, work their way to your heart. because he's right. and you knew all of that before he said it, but sometimes it feels good to have him there to remind you.

"you just want me to stay in LA." you joke to lighten the mood. he cracks a smile, the kind that brings out his dimples and reminds you of sunshine.

"of course I want you to stay. if I had it my way, we'd be together all the time." he admits.

"yeah?" you fight back the sparkly feeling it gives you.

"of course."

"that sounds an awful lot like dating." there's a slow grin spreading over your face.

"really? that's funny." he replies in a way that implies much more than he's letting on.

"what are you trying to say, Matthew?" it's a slow, delightful sensation in your stomach.

"maybe it would just be easier to date." he nods.

"I think so, too." you play along with his faux thoughtfulness, giggling until he suddenly grabs your waist and pulls you tightly against him.

"glad we're in agreement." his voice is deeper, breathier, while he looks down at you in his arms.

he's got the most beautiful expression on his face, like someone on the verge of something wonderful. you're in exactly the same position, just waiting to fall over the edge. he holds your gaze for a second.

"I love you." the words bloom in the aquarium exhibit, a flower between the two of you that's been furled up and aching to come alive. it's spring and summer and Christmas and Halloween rolled into one.

your response comes easily. "I love you too, Matthew."

"does that mean I can finally kiss you, then?" he smirks. you make a face.

"I've been waiting on you!"

he grins. "let me make it up to you."

you've got stars in your eyes, even as they flutter shut when he leans down to press his lips to yours. it's passionate, hands cupping your face and tilting it up to meet his kiss. you can feel his thumb on your cheek, his ring against your jaw.

that's all you can do for a moment: feel. it's like every sensation is heightened, to the point that the idea of thinking is absurd. all you know is the way his nose is fitting alongside yours and the gentle warmth of his mouth.

you tilt your head to the side and let him take total control, his tongue finding yours. he tastes like mint gum and something cinnamon-y that drives you wild. you wrap your arms around his neck and hold onto him as if he's the last stable thing on earth.

after so much time, you finally have him. the culmination of a million secret glances. You’re clutching just to feel each other again. and it’s somehow more intimate than sex, because you’re inhaling everything that he has ever been to you, tasting every last drop. your brain is on fire as you imagine a million more kisses with him.

"hey, we're closing." someone's voice shocks you so much, you almost jump away from the embrace.

the two of you turn to see an aquarium employee standing by the exhibit entrance with a cleaning supply cart and a somewhat impatient expression. he looks between the two of you expectantly before Matthew lets out an easygoing laugh.

"sorry about that; must have lost track of time. thanks." he reaches down to take your hand and you walk out of the place together-- but not before Matthew tells the employee to have a good night because of course he does.

you follow him quietly, still feeling warm inside from the way he kissed you. you're head over heels.

"I'll pay for the deposits and plane tickets, by the way." he says casually, holding the door to the building open. your heart skips a beat.

"what? Matthew, you don't need to do that."

"I want to." he looks at you sternly, as if daring you to challenge him. in this case, you definitely won’t; it’s pocket change for him.

"what would you like in return?" you smirk, looking up at him with a glint in your eye. you're mostly teasing, but when he fixes his attention to you with a somewhat serious expression, you feel fluttery all over again.

"well, I'd love it if you stayed with me."

"in your house?" you frown.

"sure. at least, until you find a new place. I know that's fast, but I wanted to put it out there."

you pause in the middle of the parking lot, knowing you both drove separately. it doesn’t take any hesitation to respond. "I'm cool with that."

his eager smile gives him away, hand squeezing yours affectionately. "perfect!"

"I'm tired right now, though. can we just go back to your place?" you swing your intertwined fingers. the city glitters nearby, but not enough to conceal all of the evening sky. life hums around you.

"I'll race you." he challenges, eyeing where his car is parked not too far away. yours is farther.

"let me think about it..." you say slowly, then quickly tug your hand away. "sure!" you yell out, already taking off to your car. the breeze blows across your skin. you turn back once to see him rushing to his own, both of you unlocking the doors as fast as you can.

you're smiling as you get inside and start the ignition, heart pounding.

you can't wait to get home.

i mean, at least you were pretty you were in love with him. when you first began to question these feelings you searched up your symptoms: slight dizziness (when he wore his favourite cologne), shortness of breath (whenever he platonically flirted with you), heart palpitations (whenever he came near you and brushed his hands against yours). unhelpfully, these were also symptoms of carbon monoxide poisoning - so the jury was still out on whether it truly was love.

you’d given up watching on the film halfway through that night – you could practically recite it anyway (you knew for a fact that he could too) - and instead focused on him. Spence’s eyes were still focused on the television screen.

your eyes were drawn back to his lips – in a definitely nonsexual, nonfuckingcreepy way. you just loved the way he smiled. the way he would slightly poke his tongue out whilst he beamed. you loved the way he laughed; the way he would throw his head back and his eyes would light up. you loved the way he cared about his mom, cared about the team, cared about everyone. he was the sweetest soul you’d ever met – the way he would look after JJ after a long day or how he would check up on Garcia when the team was working on a tough case. you loved the way he loved and protected and cherished the ones closest to him. and you hated that you couldn’t tell him.

“you’re staring again, (y/n).” he’d said smirking, that day on the couch, whilst the credits of stardust rolled.

and in that moment, in his arms, you wanted to tell him. tell him that you couldn’t sit in a room without staring at him because he was your world, your everything. but instead, you did what you did best – and forced down all those feelings that you’d tried to convince yourself were insignificant because spencer did not like you the same way you liked him. and you couldn’t risk that. you couldn’t risk losing him. he was too important – too significant in your life to lose him over something as stupid as your feelings.

you’d rolled your eyes at him and told him to “fuck off”, as you left the warmth of his arms and made your way to the kitchen in hope that he hadn’t seen how flushed your face was.

and it was there you told yourself that you couldn’t do this anymore. you couldn’t let yourself get too close to him because jesus fucking christ it hurt too much to know that he would never feel the same way as you did.

and you stuck to your words. for the next couple of weeks, you avoided him successfully (well as successfully as you could considering that you both saw each other every day at work, were paired together on your most recent case and literally spent every waking second together). but you’d avoided spending any substantial time alone together – you sat next to Morgan on the plane (opposed to your usual seat next to Spencer), thankfully you got to share a room with JJ, and as embarrassing as it was every time you saw Spencer around the local precinct, you quickly turned the other direction to avoid bumping into him.

you told yourself it would be fine. it was fine. you were fine. this tiny crush (more like this monumental mass of love that was crushing your whole existence) would soon disappear, and things would be back to normal in no time (i mean who were you kidding it had been nearly a whole year since you’d realised that you a felt a certain way about a certain doctor).

but things were genuinely fine for the next couple of days.

until they weren’t.

your luck had run out – because this weekend you and spencer had tickets to go to the local aquarium.

i mean had you known months ago that you’d end up making yourself promise that you’d avoid your best friend then obviously you wouldn’t have booked tickets. but it was the aquarium (one of his favourite places on earth) and there was a brand-new exhibition about the conservation of jellyfish (one of his favourite animals on earth) and you’d booked the tickets in the spur of the moment without even asking him because it just felt right (once you told him that you booked the tickets, he agreed to come immediately, enveloping you in his arms - thanking you over and over again for thinking about him so selflessly).

and now you couldn’t refund your ticket or cancel last minute (you were pretty sure he had no idea that you were avoiding him, if spencer hadn’t realised by now that you were hopelessly in love with him there was no way he would’ve realised you were doing everything in your power to stop feeling the way you felt).

When you came into his life, you were not only opening your heart to him but to Jack. They were a package deal. Aaron knew that was a lot to ask--especially from someone like you.

Someone so young, vibrant, and ambitious.

But none of it bothered you. You accepted Jack with open arms, and as far as Aaron was concerned, you have done nothing but treat Jack as if he were your own.

He could not ask for anything more. You had exceeded all expectations--and then some.

And Jack--Aaron was pretty sure Jack liked you more than him some days.

Jack was obsessed with you from the start--you were the only one who knew about the TV shows or games Jack talked about.You would get down on the floor with him and play legos or have the patience when you baked something, to let the kid get into the flour and make a mess. You didn’t get frustrated; you just laughed.

Aaron asked you one day how you knew so much about what Jack liked--A twenty-something-year-old doesn’t just know these things.

“Well, Jack was interested in it, and I wanted to have something I could talk with him about. Show him I was interested too--I looked it up.” You shrugged, as if it was just the normal thing to do. For you, it was. Because that was who you were--someone who went out of their way to make others feel heard—even an eight-year-old

“You looked up an eight-year-old’s favorite TV Show,” Aaron asked you, furrowing his brows.

“Yes,” You said as a question, “Why?”

Aaron was sure his heart grew five sizes that day.

Maybe it was the nights when you did not stay over, and Jack begged to call and wish you a goodnight’s sleep. You were so much a part of their family from the beginning. It was all so right.

“But she always says goodnight to me when she’s here, dad,” Jack whined, “Can we call her, dad, please.”

You would happily answer--no matter what you were up to.

So any night you were away on a case, Jack would call not only Aaron--but you.

“Can you put Y/N on the phone,” Jack asked, Aaron could almost hear the kid jumping up and down.

“Don’t you want to tell me about your day, Jack,” Aaron asked, laughing.

“I will, but I have to tell Y/N this funny story.”

Or when you were over and were planning on leaving, Jack would tug on your arm, “Please stay, Y/N!”

You would look at Jack’s puppy dog eyes--sometimes even filled with tears when you left, then up to Aaron. You would cave and just stay, despite no clothes or having to wake up earlier than usual.

So when it felt right to ask you to move in, Aaron could barely get the words out to Jack.

“You know how Y/N goes back to her house sometimes,” Aaron asked his son, “How would you feel if she stayed here all of the time?”

“Like move in,” Jack’s eyes lit up like Christmas tree lights as if he was just told he was going to Walt Disney World or something.

“Yes,” Aaron laughed at his son’s enthusiasm, “Like move in.”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!”

When Aaron thinks back, almost every occasion with you made him realize you were the one--but this one stuck out. Without Aaron’s knowledge, Jack was sick in the middle of the night. When the bed felt empty and cold, Aaron jumped up. He found you on the bathroom floor with Jack, both of you asleep, Jack holding onto you like you were his favorite blanket.

He bought the ring the next day.

Y/N was sitting on the couch with Jack one night; Aaron called him away from her, asking him to “come to clean up his bedroom”--which was just an excuse to get Jack away.

No words were spoken between Jack and Aaron--Aaron pulled out the small black box, and it was as if Jack knew right away what it was.

“Is she gonna stay forever,” Jack asked with glee; Aaron’s heart almost melted from his pure innocence.

“Yeah, bud, I think so.” He hoped so.

“I know so,” Jack insisted, “Does this mean--” Jack trailed off.

“That we will get married, yes.”

“No, not that,” Jack looked slightly nervous or embarrassed. Aaron frowned, concerned it was all too much for his son.

“What is it? Are you not okay with it?”

“I want her to marry you, dad. Will I be able to call her mom?”

Very few things in Aaron’s life stumped him--this was one of them. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“That will be something we can talk to Y/N about, but it is okay with me if that is what you want,” Aaron said, messing up the hair on his son’s head, “So, are you going to help me ask her?”

“When?!”

“When do you think?”

“Tonight, dad. Tonight.”

Aaron was hesitant. This was no grand gesture--but you were no grand gesture type of girl. You didn’t care about that type of stuff. You both barely had downtime--the relaxation was just as much of a grand gesture to the both of you as anything.

It was perfect.

So, that is where Aaron Hotchner asked you to spend the rest of his life with him and Jack--right there on the couch with you and Jack’s favorite cartoon playing in the background. It was your definition of perfect.

Following the teary, “Yes,” You exclaimed to Aaron; a passionate kiss went upon Aaron’s lips, followed by the tightest bear hug to Jack.

As if the emotional gestures couldn’t become any bigger, Jack asked you that night after dinner if it would be alright to call you mom since you would spend forever with his dad. Aaron watched as you visibly bit back tears, “Of course, buddy,” You kissed the top of his head, “I would love nothing more. I love you so, so much.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

Aaron Hotchner had everything he wanted and more.