[Anthony] Coleridge had one disadvantage as an auctioneer: he was short-sighted. During the Cecil Beaton sale in 1980, he was selling lot twenty, a small table of low value. His main bidder was a lady seated in the second row. Against her, as Coleridge relates, was 'someone standing in the gloom at the very back of the tent who appeared to be raising her arm aloft… when the bidding reached 5,200 guineas and I was beginning to think it a bit strange, one of my colleagues came up behind me and whispered, "you are taking bids from a carved wooden statue at the back of the tent."'
James Stourton, Rogues and Scholars: Boom and Bust in the London Art Market, 1945-2000.
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We’re trying to move into a home (something I never thought I could say) and we just need to scrounge up a bit more for the down payment. So, I’ve decided to sell some of my prized possessions. If you’re also a weeb that likes collecting manga, give this one a look or please reblog this post. Thank you.
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Synopsis: The Federal Bureau of Investigation held charity galas quite often, except the Behavioral Analysis Unit almost always missed them because of a case or conflicting schedules but even an investigative team had to participate to show they are team players. The charity is for NCVC (National Center for Victims of Crime) and to entice the audience, members of the public have a chance to win an evening of dinner and conversation with federal agents. It was all in good fun, for the sake of charity, but there seems to be an extra shock of tension in the room when Dr. Spencer Reid is up on that stage. She isn't completely sure why, but Valentina can't stand the idea of him talking at length with some stranger all because of the amount of money they offer up.
The last time she attended a charity gala hosted by the Federal Bureau, she had been a rookie working for Counterintelligence. Another face in the crowd who kept her head down and stayed away from the blinding light of it all. At the time, nothing was out of the ordinary. A raffle in which donors and civilians put an obscene amount of money towards the weekend get away on the yacht. However, this time it was pretty different. Not only because of her department switch, but because of what was being advertised.
It had to be enticing, after all. Offering up a single night to pick the brains of federal agents across all divisions. Counterintelligence, Counterterrorism, Cyber, Criminal Investigative, and the Critical Incident Response Group. All in all, it was an all hands on deck type of situation. Actually, it was mostly similar to the previous charity gala and thankfully the Behavior Analysis Unit was unable to attend. According to her former coworker in Counterintelligence, the women of the Bureau were auctioned off to let rich pricks pick their minds or spend an hour at a fancy dinner with them. In a way, it saved Valentina from forcing smiles and trying to be polite to some idiot who would probably pay way too much just to talk to her.
The idea, however, was enticing.
This time around, it was the men being auctioned and there was a bigger turnout than before. Unsurprisingly, the room was filled with women of all ages sitting around round tables with white tablecloths. Stationed comfortably near the back but still close enough to see everything and observe, Valentina sat with JJ, Emily, and Garcia. Of course, they were joined by Hotchner and Rossi after they'd circled around backstage to discreetly take their seats.
“Our next item promises an evening of charisma, laughter, and great conversation. The winning bidder will enjoy cocktails and dinner with FBI Special Agent Derek Morgan of the Behavioral Analysis Unit." Beside her Penelope snickered into her martini, the numbered paddle sitting just barely out of her reach.
"Known for his expertise in criminal profiling—and for being one of the bureau’s most charismatic agents—Agent Morgan will host an unforgettable evening of stories, insight, and plenty of charm.”
The atmosphere was fun, laidback. Valentina wouldn't admit it out loud, but she felt truly relaxed. Probably because it wasn't her who was standing on the stage, even though Morgan seemed to be drinking in the attention with a grin. He leaned close to the podium and gently tilted the microphone toward him.
"Careful, I'm competitive."
"That man is a national treasure!" Garcia felt no shame from her exclamation, earning a wink and a wave from the man standing so casually.
But Valentina could see the twitch in his brow, the way his facade wasn't quite a concrete mask like how he wanted it to seem. She knew that this most likely made his skin crawl, or better yet, was surfacing some pretty dark thoughts he'd put to rest long ago.
The bidding started almost instantaneously, the poor announcer didn't even finish his last sentence before paddles shot into the air. Valentina couldn't even follow it all with her eyes. Garcia was leaning forward, deeply invested in who the lucky winner would end up being. The price kept climbing steadily as people shouted prices back and forth. Valentina leaned back, gingerly picking up her wine glass and swirling it gently as the aroma wafted over the rim of the glass. Honestly? She'd much rather be back at the apartment curled up with a good book, or better yet playing with Spencer's hair while he rambled about that new documentary he watched about building a real death star from that Star Wars movie he liked. She understood none of it, but he just looked so happy when he talked about the engineering behind it.
Eventually, however, some people couldn't keep up with others. The price exceeding a decent amount of money in less time than it took for people to bid over Hotchner or other unit chiefs. Something about their intimidating look made people hesitant, but Derek? He was smooth and easy on the eyes, everyone around Quantico knew the playful banter between him and Garcia, but they also knew he was a bit of a play boy. And that mattered a hell of a lot.
What didn't matter? Who won, because in the end, it wasn't like they'd get very far with him. He wasn't a committed relationships kind of guy, nor would he pimp himself out. If anything, he'd keep it professional and perhaps disappoint many. He exited the stage after blowing a kiss to whoever won, putting on a show for the fun of it. Garcia sucked in a breath beside her and Valentina watched something flicker behind her glasses.
Something shifted almost immediately. The room grew too quiet too fast and Valentina adjusted her posture. Her shoulders were tense, she crossed one leg over the other. Pulling on the collar of her black turtleneck she swallowed thickly. He walked out onto the stage awkwardly, wearing all black. Lanky and thin, awkwardly tapping his fingers to perhaps soothe the anxiety welling just under his skin. His curls were partially untamed, and his brown eyes were even bigger than they usually were under the spotlight. He looked like a fawn, the way he stood there rubbing his palms against the thighs of his trousers.
She didn't bat an eye when Morgan sat down in the unoccupied chair next to her.
“Our next auction item is a unique experience generously donated by the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. The winning bidder will enjoy a private dinner and evening of conversation with Dr. Spencer Reid, one of the bureau’s leading behavioral profilers." The grip on her wine glass was too tight, she set it down a bit too forcefully but nothing broke thankfully. Without looking, she could feel Morgan's expression shift. She could already hear his teasing remark.
"Sounds like a date," Morgan leaned forward slightly. Grinning like he knew too much.
Valentina's shoulders rose to her ears, and a muscle in her jaw twitched.
"Dr. Reid will share insights into the psychology of criminal behavior, the science behind profiling, and the fascinating work of the BAU. A truly unforgettable evening for anyone interested in the mysteries of the human mind.” Oh no. No, no, no. There was no way in hell he would ever be comfortable sharing dinner with a stranger, even less, talking to a stranger who spent money on him like he was some object.
Her fingers found the handle of the paddle she'd been given, moving without thinking.
Then someone in the first row put their paddle up and Valentina leaned forward, sitting like she had a metal rod installed in her back. The price didn't even register in her head as her arm held up the numbered paddle without as much as a second thought, and Spencer's eyes were on her now. The woman from the front row turned around, her eyes narrowed and her blonde bob looked absolutely horrible. Valentina didn't react, she just simply stared back with a blank look.
Spencer adjusted his glasses albeit nervously, he couldn't really look at the crowd. His hands were fidgeting, but he was trying to stay so still. The nervousness just seemed to increase the reaction from the crowd however, as someone else shouted out a price.
"Five hundred." The woman from the front row shot a glare to the third person joining this bidding war.
"Five-fifty." Valentina responded, shifting in her chair.
"Six hundred." The random woman shot her a distasteful look.
And the price just kept climbing, the others that joined quickly butted out once they realized they couldn't keep up with the sheer determination of Valentina or that random blonde woman who looked like she could be Spencer's mother.
"You know, she's a lawyer." Morgan muttered with an amused lilt in his voice. "They make a pretty penny."
"We get paid ten thousand a month for this job, I don't care how much she makes. I have enough." Valentina shot back before her brain could catch up, the simmering anger in her veins making her skin feel hot.
"I never said you did," he chuckled and shook his head. "Just trying to make this more fun."
"Three thousand!" Valentina didn't meant to stand up, but the chair screamed in agony when she did, all eyes were on her now. Spencer was staring in disbelief, but a pretty pink color dusted his cheeks. Actually, his face was bright red.
The woman scoffed and muttered something with a scowl but it wasn't audible over the heartbeat hammering away in her eardrums. Awkwardly, she sat down and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She was looking at the paddle now as though it had personally offended her.
"Sold to the lovely lady in the back! Congratulations!" The gavel made a dull sound against the podium that peaked the microphone in a way that not only made Spencer flinch, but Valentina winced and almost covered her ears.
She muttered something under her breath, glaring at the back of the woman's head. Her colleagues- and friends- were laughing behind their hands around her. Penelope quickly turned with a wild look in her eyes, the kind of look she had after an impromptu trip to Michael's craft store.
"You need to let me plan your dinner date."
"Date? This is money for charity, no? I do not need a date if I see him everyday." Valentina furrowed her brows.
"Are you not aware, you just bid three thousand dollars on Reid? For dinner?" Emily asked from across the table.
"I would have stopped sooner." Valentina shrugged. "If that woman lowered her paddle."
"Oh my god..." Penelope gasped.
Back at the table with everyone, Spencer's glasses had fogged up. His face was an impossible shade of red, and he was tense. It was like his entire body was made of stone. For a moment, Valentina felt bad. Perhaps this was entirely too embarrassing, but it at least saved him the trouble of talking to some random woman who didn't even care what he had to say.
"Three thousand dollars is a lot," JJ added.
"Like I said, we make ten thousand a month. That is nothing." Valentina shrugged again. "I do not see the problem."
"Oh. This dinner is going to be absolutely perfect!" Suddenly the blonde swiveled around in her chair to face her dark haired friend, the image of utter glee written all over her face. "I know the perfect place, and there has to be a dress code. No way you're showing up in slacks!"
Something caught in her throat and her eyes widened.
"I'm sorry? I don't actually need to fulfill my dinner with Reid." She looked like she'd been caught in headlights.
"You spent three thousand dollars!" Penelope reiterated, gesturing wildly with her hands. "Of course you're going on the best date ever!"
It was safe to say Valentina severely underestimated the sheer will power of Penelope Garcia. Not even Lindsey Palmer had this much enthusiasm, or excitement in her. She'd been practically cornered after work, unable to so much as talk to Spencer throughout the day without Morgan or Garcia talking about the dinner date they were planning.
And yes, they were planning it, because Spencer and Valentina would have opted to going to a fast food restaurant and set in a corner booth and had a normal conversation about literally anything. But that wasn't good enough for three thousand dollars according to their coworkers. So now, Valentina was reaping the consequences of her actions. And those consequences were Penelope Garcia sized.
"Can I just say- " Spencer started, but Morgan interrupted him.
"And it's not like you can turn it down either." He grinned like a man who knew too much of others secrets. "That's some serious dedication, dropping that much money on someone you work with."
Valentina crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, slouching a little. But most of all, her face gave her away. The red shade that prickled up the sides of her neck and rested in her cheeks wasn't like any blush applied with a makeup brush, no, it was easily identifiable as real especially with the way the tips of her ears turned red so quickly.
"Dr. Reid wouldn't have been comfortable with a stranger who would be so bold as to flirt with him during a private dinner, I'm simply making the equation easier."
Spencer's eyes widened behind his glasses, and his train of thought came to a screeching halt.
"Jealousy!" Penelope gasped and pointed at her. "It's all over your face!"
"Jealous?" Valentina narrowed her eyes. "Like Morgan said, we work together. I see him all the time. There is no reason for me to be- "
"You." Emily pointed to her. "Want to be alone with him." Then she pointed to Spencer. "Outside of work hours. Without all the pressure of asking someone to a social outing." Her knowing grin matched Morgan's perfectly.
"I was not jealous." Valentina repeated, shrinking into herself subconsciously. "But I understand the societal pressure to- " The words died in her throat. The truth that she wanted- no, needed to ignore was right in front of her and everyone already knew. And it wasn't a bad thing.
The team knew. The team knew very well. Morgan and Garcia had the most fun teasing Spencer and Valentina about it, but that was much more different than this. This meant it was real, and that it couldn't be hidden from.
Three thousand dollars.
She put her head in her hands, and Spencer was was sitting next to her shifted slightly. While the others busied themselves by brainstorming ideas, it was easier for their own little private conversation to get lost. Still, he kept his voice low out of caution.
"You know, it's okay. I just- I don't fully understand why you would spend that much money on me." His brain was still reeling from the very real number that was bouncing around in his head.
"I'm not- " then Valentina paused. There was no accusation in his tone. She reached forward and picked up her wine glass, sipping it to most likely hide the next part of her statement. But that soft look from the brunette adjusting his glasses was enough to make her brain stop working.
"But you're right. I don't think I would have been comfortable if anyone else... won." The word felt weird in his mouth. The whole concept was really weird in all honesty. "I like spending time with you, and I would have done so for free... If you wanted."
"Investment."
"I'm sorry?"
"I- " Valentina paused and the tension in her shoulders dropped. "I would very much like to have dinner. With you. Alone. Just the two of us."
For a moment, they shared a careful look. The anxiety and nervousness that welled up in him when he was on that stage had blossomed into something much softer, but he'd be lying if he denied he wasn't the least bit flustered by the notion. Hesitantly his hand dropped and brushed hers, the one that was resting at her side, draped over her leg. And for a quick second, she wanted to pull away, but instead she took his hand. It was warm, and grounding, and very real. But it was her hand he was holding, not some lawyer. Hers.
