spencer + emily lovebot

you’re not proud of it, spencer definitely isn’t either. but you’re both people who are afraid and extremely unsure of the next step you’re both meant to take.

your friends say break up, you don’t even know if his friends know you exist.

but you decide to make it tomorrow’s problem, because tonight, you’re going to dinner with your best friend.

and you’re going to enjoy it.

that was the mindset you had coming into the restaurant, obviously not knowing that spencer and his team were planning to enjoy their evening there too.

“do i look at him?” you whisper, panicking to your best friend, “am i even allowed to look at him?”

“that fact you’re asking that question is, yet again, another reason to leave him.” she says matter-of-factly. “but that girl sitting beside him is the hottest eye candy i’ve seen. ever—don’t worry, i think she’s into girls.”

“i wasn’t—”

“yes, you were jealous. don’t even.”

you can’t even argue back because the host announces your table is ready, and you both trail behind them. you manage a glance at spencer, meeting his gaze.

you manage a smile, a little wobbly and unsure, and he reciprocates with an awkward little grin with raised eyebrows.

the host seats you a few tables away from him. close enough to the point where it’s kind of awkward, but far enough that he can’t hear any conversation.

you decide to sit with your back facing him.

the next morning, you wake up to a text.

spencer<3: I have a case in New York. I’ll see you in a few days.

a mixture of relief and uneasiness pool in your stomach, but you’re glad the apartment will be empty for a while—tension won’t be so high and you’d probably be able to sleep a well-missed eight hours.

but a part of you knows you’re growing farther and farther apart, simply watching as the love of your life slips through your fingers—

you: okay. take care

you: i love you

it’s bittersweet and you swear your chest has never hurt this much, but it’s oddly freeing and you can’t find the energy to be disappointed anymore.

you spend the day alone—questionable because it’s officially been four years since you’ve been with spencer, but he’s in another state and your overtime paycheque is all too tempting.

bypassing shopping guilt has never felt so easy.

the day passes by in a blur, the usual emptiness of the passenger seat now was filled with “useless” knickknacks and things that were well overdue.

new work pants and little trinkets, a cute lamp and your favourite candle.

aimlessly, you drive around the city. going home doesn’t feel right anymore, but sleeping in a motel or at a friend’s feels even worse.

your fingers tap against the wheel, waiting for the lights to turn green. pedestrians pass by and the downtown signs flicker obnoxiously.

you miss spencer.

you always miss him.

days used to feel too short when he’s around and you wished nights would last forever.

popcorn and late night tv reruns of shitty shows you both love to criticize, strolls around the neighbourhood that always ended in a kiss under the lamppost in front of your apartment—once or twice, you’ve even had him in checkmate (he says it was foul-play, you’d say a win is a win).

you wonder what life would be like without him.

you wonder what it would be like—falling in love with somebody else.

as you open the door to your apartment, a chilling breeze gnaws at your cheeks, your eyes spotting the familiar pair of beat up converse throw askew on the floor.

chest constricting, a sigh strains from your lips as you step in, quietly closing the door.

“eventful day?” you hear. in response you nod, forcing a smile.

“you’re back way early. to what do i owe the pleasure?” you turn, bracing yourself for the image of no one other than your boyfriend of officially four years.

he grins, tense, and his eyes stay on the floor. he plays with his hands and he sighs, “i-i didn’t get on the plane.”

“you..” eyebrows raised, you set your stuff down, “what do you mean? you—you didn’t get on the plane? you were here? this whole time?”

“i’m really sorry.” he begins, hands flying in sync with his ramblings, “i-i know that doesn’t make up for anything, but i saw how that waiter from the other night was looking at you and i remembered that we haven’t had a proper conversation in at least a month, and i got worried about the state our relationship has come to and—”

“spencer, my love,” you breathe, “slow down.”

“i realized that keeping you a secret, which started from wanting to keep you safe due to my line of work, has caused more harm than good.” he summarizes, “i realized that the waiter from the restaurant has a very normal job and from his body language, i could tell he was interested in—”

“spence, you profiled a waiter?”

“i observed.” he looks down at his hands that are now situated in his lap. “i did get jealous. he’d be able to show you off without putting you on some psychopath’s hit list, although—”

he stops when he makes eye contact with you.

you’re amused, clearly. and spencer’s lips press into a thin line.

“you’re laughing at me.”

you deny his accusation with a shake of your head, despite the curl of your lips telling a different story.

“i think it’s funny that we went so long without talking to each other, only to brought together by a waiter—”

“not a waiter,” he interrupts and you quirk a brow.

“so jealously then?”

he’s silent. “jealously is powerful motivator, you know.” he stands up just to hold your hand, pulling you to sit with him, “but truly, i didn’t want to miss our anniversary. i know we haven’t talked properly—”

you shake your head, “we can talk about it all later,” you whisper, hands holding his as if he’ll disappear. “i’m so happy you’re here right now.”

spencer leans in, brushing his nose against yours before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “not as happy as i am.”

you kiss him, a little deeper this time to make sure that he’s really here. “and for the record,” you say, watching his lips twitch into a smile, “i’d never want to be with a waiter. i kind of have a thing for fbi agents.”

he laughs, a little bashful and his ears turn pink. “i’ll keep that in mind.”

“right here,” you hear, prompting you to turn around as a smile stretches on your lips at the familiar voice, “i was in the other room. hotch called.”

your smile falters, knowing what was next. “you’re leaving?”

reluctantly, she nods. “i’m meeting them at the plane though, so i have some time.” she tries to alleviate your disappointment, stepping closer to you.

you let sergio roam free, watching him walk around emily’s calves, meowing softly.

she steps even closer. casually, her lips brush against yours, a smile that mirrors yours lighting up her face. “i’m on vacation next week.”

you breathe a laugh, “last time you said that we had to cancel our trip to hawaii.”

arms circle around your neck, lips so close you’re tempted to lean in for another kiss.

emily knows she doesn’t have any more excuses.

she also knows you’ll see through every one of her bullshit lies.

“if i say it’s a non-refundable trip, i might have some leeway.” she grins, not able to resist the upturn of your lips, leaning in to capture your grin with hers.

you pull away, rolling your eyes. “you wouldn’t do that to your team.”

“i’d do it for you.” she replies, not missing a beat.

and you’re stunned. because this is emily.

emily as in ‘i-can’t-commit-to-relationships’ emily.

and from what you’re hearing, she’s beginning to tiptoe over the clear boundaries you both had made.

but you only smile bashfully, seeming to not mind as you succumb to her flirting. “you’re too much, emily.”

she grins in reply, “you love it.”

sergio meows, stepping between you guys. he lays down and you both look at each other.

“someone was feeling left out.” you say.

emily chuckles, bending down to pick him up. “so spoiled,” she kisses his head, “i wonder who made him like this.”

you kiss her cheek, soft and quick, but it speaks volumes. “like mother like son.”

“emily?” you call, hearing keys jingle and familiar footsteps sounding within your apartment.

she rounds the corner and you smile, eyes crinkling solely at the sight of her. “emily!”

she chuckles, situating herself in your living room.

emily nods toward your laptop. “what are you working on?”

you sigh, “don’t even get me started,” you push the device away from you, letting your head fall onto your table, “work has me doing the job of two people.”

“what?” she says, coming toward you. “what’s up with that?”

“i’m supposed to be working on this with one of my colleagues. it’s a presentation we’re going to give to the HR managers at the end of the month.” you meet her gaze, then her lips, before continuing, “and my partner is deadweight.”

“that’s horrible, baby.” she replies, “can you ask to be with someone else?”

you shrug, “probably. but it’s not a big deal—i already finished ninety percent of it… and it’s not even like it’s world-impacting work. i don’t mind doing it on my own.”

“that doesn’t matter,” emily says, “if you’re paired up with someone, they’re expected to do their share of the work, babe. but i get it,” she presses a kiss to your forehead, and it’s so casual it feels like she’s your girlfriend. “just say something next time?”

you nod, a little dazed. “i will.”

she manages to pull you away from work, luring you into the comfort of your bed. you had your head resting on her arm, cuddled into her side.

you feel yourself drifting off.

it feels right to be sleeping next to her.

“would you hate me if i asked this question?” you mumbled, hiding your face.

emily hums, holding you a little bit tighter. “i’d never hate you.”

“but what if i said i wanted us to be official?”

she doesn’t reply and your chest sinks. you sigh, shutting your eyes. “forget it.”

“no!” she exclaims, soft and almost unsure. “i want us to be official too.”

your eyes are still closed. “so what’s stopping us?”

emily rubs your shoulder, contemplating her answer. she exhales softly, kissing your head.

“you know what i do for a living... i didn’t want to put you in danger.” she whispers, “i’m worried that i can’t keep you safe.”

“you don’t need to worry about that, em.” you reply quietly. “just worry about waking up next to me for the rest of your life.”

she laughs, quiet and little bashful. “i’d definitely be worried with the breakfast you make—if you can even call it that.”

“hey!” you chide playfully, “that was a one time thing.”

“yeah,” she retorts, “because i took over breakfast after that.”

you tilt your head up to see her beaming. you lean up and cup her face in your hands, capturing her lips with yours. “stay with me?”

she chases your lips. “i’m not going anywhere.”

you’re sitting in the passenger side, hand intertwined with emily’s. the radio is quietly humming through your car, filling the silence.

“i’m nervous.” you admit, although she already knew.

emily only smiles. “you look beautiful, don’t worry.”

“aren’t you worried your mom’s gonna kill us?” you whisper, thumb gently running over her hand.

“she’ll get over it.” emily says, shrugging, “she’s had to get over worse.”

you’re not proud of it, spencer definitely isn’t either. but you’re both people who are afraid and extremely unsure of the next step you’re both meant to take.

your friends say break up, you don’t even know if his friends know you exist.

but you decide to make it tomorrow’s problem, because tonight, you’re going to dinner with your best friend.

and you’re going to enjoy it.

that was the mindset you had coming into the restaurant, obviously not knowing that spencer and his team were planning to enjoy their evening there too.

“do i look at him?” you whisper, panicking to your best friend, “am i even allowed to look at him?”

“that fact you’re asking that question is, yet again, another reason to leave him.” she says matter-of-factly. “but that girl sitting beside him is the hottest eye candy i’ve seen. ever—don’t worry, i think she’s into girls.”

“i wasn’t—”

“yes, you were jealous. don’t even.”

you can’t even argue back because the host announces your table is ready, and you both trail behind them. you manage a glance at spencer, meeting his gaze.

you manage a smile, a little wobbly and unsure, and he reciprocates with an awkward little grin with raised eyebrows.

the host seats you a few tables away from him. close enough to the point where it’s kind of awkward, but far enough that he can’t hear any conversation.

you decide to sit with your back facing him.

the next morning, you wake up to a text.

spencer<3: I have a case in New York. I’ll see you in a few days.

a mixture of relief and uneasiness pool in your stomach, but you’re glad the apartment will be empty for a while—tension won’t be so high and you’d probably be able to sleep a well-missed eight hours.

but a part of you knows you’re growing farther and farther apart, simply watching as the love of your life slips through your fingers—

you: okay. take care

you: i love you

it’s bittersweet and you swear your chest has never hurt this much, but it’s oddly freeing and you can’t find the energy to be disappointed anymore.

you spend the day alone—questionable because it’s officially been four years since you’ve been with spencer, but he’s in another state and your overtime paycheque is all too tempting.

bypassing shopping guilt has never felt so easy.

the day passes by in a blur, the usual emptiness of the passenger seat now was filled with “useless” knickknacks and things that were well overdue.

new work pants and little trinkets, a cute lamp and your favourite candle.

aimlessly, you drive around the city. going home doesn’t feel right anymore, but sleeping in a motel or at a friend’s feels even worse.

your fingers tap against the wheel, waiting for the lights to turn green. pedestrians pass by and the downtown signs flicker obnoxiously.

you miss spencer.

you always miss him.

days used to feel too short when he’s around and you wished nights would last forever.

popcorn and late night tv reruns of shitty shows you both love to criticize, strolls around the neighbourhood that always ended in a kiss under the lamppost in front of your apartment—once or twice, you’ve even had him in checkmate (he says it was foul-play, you’d say a win is a win).

you wonder what life would be like without him.

you wonder what it would be like—falling in love with somebody else.

as you open the door to your apartment, a chilling breeze gnaws at your cheeks, your eyes spotting the familiar pair of beat up converse throw askew on the floor.

chest constricting, a sigh strains from your lips as you step in, quietly closing the door.

“eventful day?” you hear. in response you nod, forcing a smile.

“you’re back way early. to what do i owe the pleasure?” you turn, bracing yourself for the image of no one other than your boyfriend of officially four years.

he grins, tense, and his eyes stay on the floor. he plays with his hands and he sighs, “i-i didn’t get on the plane.”

“you..” eyebrows raised, you set your stuff down, “what do you mean? you—you didn’t get on the plane? you were here? this whole time?”

“i’m really sorry.” he begins, hands flying in sync with his ramblings, “i-i know that doesn’t make up for anything, but i saw how that waiter from the other night was looking at you and i remembered that we haven’t had a proper conversation in at least a month, and i got worried about the state our relationship has come to and—”

“spencer, my love,” you breathe, “slow down.”

“i realized that keeping you a secret, which started from wanting to keep you safe due to my line of work, has caused more harm than good.” he summarizes, “i realized that the waiter from the restaurant has a very normal job and from his body language, i could tell he was interested in—”

“spence, you profiled a waiter?”

“i observed.” he looks down at his hands that are now situated in his lap. “i did get jealous. he’d be able to show you off without putting you on some psychopath’s hit list, although—”

he stops when he makes eye contact with you.

you’re amused, clearly. and spencer’s lips press into a thin line.

“you’re laughing at me.”

you deny his accusation with a shake of your head, despite the curl of your lips telling a different story.

“i think it’s funny that we went so long without talking to each other, only to brought together by a waiter—”

“not a waiter,” he interrupts and you quirk a brown.

“so jealously then?”

he’s silent. “jealously is powerful motivator, you know.” he stands up just to hold your hand, pulling you to sit with him, “but truly, i didn’t want to miss our anniversary. i know we haven’t talked properly—”

you shake your head, “we can talk about it all later,” you whisper, hands holding his as if he’ll disappear. “i’m so happy you’re here right now.”

spencer leans in, brushing his nose against your before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “not as happy as i am.”

you kiss him, a little deeper this time to make sure that he’s really here. “and for the record,” you say, watching his lips twitch into a smile, “i’d never want to be with a waiter. i kind of have a thing for fbi agents.”

he laughs, a little bashful and his ears turn pink. “i’ll keep that in mind.”