#brywrites

The first thing she asks for is to have dinner together. After a week on the road a home-cooked meal sounds divine, so he sits on the counter chopping vegetables for the curry she’s making and regales her with tales of Rossi’s expensive taste in dining and hotels during their trip. They eat warm naan fresh out of the oven and she pours them both chai lattes and they’re grinning all the way through dinner as they sketch out their plans for the remarkable weekend before them. It’s blissful and silly and right - until they’re doing the dishes together and she’s flicking water at him as he tries to dodge the aim of the soapy suds and suddenly his phone rings.

Her hands freeze and his heart sinks because they both know that ringtone. Sure enough, Garcia is on the other end of the line to explain that a case has escalated while he and Rossi were away. The Bureau wants them out there as soon as possible.

“I’m sorry,” he says the moment he hangs up the phone.

She shrugs, drying her hands on the dishtowel. “I know. But there are lives to save. Where are they sending you?”

“Denver. Serial arson. We fly out at 8 AM tomorrow.” It’s unbearable already, the thought of another few days spent in unfamiliar, empty hotel rooms. Takeout dinners and police station coffee and people that aren’t her. Aren’t the one he loves, the only one he wants to see right now.

“I guess you gotta go home and pack then, huh?” It’s less of a question than a resignation, an understanding admission of defeat. Deferring her own desires to his duties so easily.

That surrender something stirs in his chest and he shakes his head. There’s only one thing he needs right now. “No.” She looks up at him, eyes wide. “No, I have a go-bag ready at the office. I might not be able to give you everything you wanted this weekend. But I can give you one thing.” Reid cups her face, pulling her to him. Those wide eyes of hers search his as he leans in to kiss her, his teeth grazing over her bottom lip. “And you can give me something to remember you by.”

Her breath catches and her hand traces up his chest. “When did you get so smooth, Doctor Reid?”

“Around the time I realized how much I liked the sound of you calling me doctor.”

They meander their way into her bedroom, giggling like teenagers as they undo buttons and remove layers, fingertips wandering every which way. When he finally gets his shirt off, she places the softest of kisses to his collarbone, her touch warm against his chest. “Are you sure you’re okay spending the night here?” she asks.

“Very. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.” He sinks down onto the bed and wraps his arms around her waist. From there it’s easy to press his face to her chest. He can hear her heartbeat as he presses his mouth to the valley between her breasts. “All I want is to be with you. All I ever want is you.”

That confirmation is all she needs to join him on the mattress, straddling his hips as she tangles her hands in his hair. Pulls just a little bit, just enough to elicit a groan she catches in a kiss. The taste of tea still lingers on her lips and he wants to savor it, drink in the way she feels and the warmth of her tongue.

When she leans back to catch her breath her eyes find his, so full of longing. The way she looks at him makes him melt on the spot. It’s the way she sees him, the way she knows him, a gaze that leaves no room for misunderstanding. He can feel it, feel her, and he needs more of her. His greedy hands roam over her body, down the plane of her back before finding the curve of her ass. A soft squeeze before his touch travels across her hips and he pushes her panties down her legs. She whimpers at the brush of his fingers over her heat and god, he’s so hard already.

Being with her is like nothing he’s ever felt before. Every touch is so loud, every sensation amplified, but it’s never too much, not when it’s her. With her, every second of passion is laced with something stronger. He realized it early in their relationship - the way he felt more connected to her than he ever had with anyone else before. It’s that love that makes it all feel so much more. How she trusts him so completely, how he finds himself telling her all his secrets without any fear, how she makes him feel so safe. So loved. So enough.

“You’re sure taking your time,” she murmurs, hands clutching bedsheets.

He looks up from between her legs, tongue swiping over the wetness on his lips. “It’s a luxury I don’t have enough of,” he tells her.

He bows his head once more and she cries his name. “I miss you already. Miss you so much.” A tear slips down her cheek and he crawls up close to her to wipe it away.

“You have me now.” He kisses the corner of her eye, tasting saltwater. “I’m right here.”

It’s intimacy in every sense of the word, he thinks, that turns the heat of arousal into a forest fire. Sets all of him ablaze beneath her lips, makes every single motion feel so magnificent.

He loves her. He loves her so much he cannot fully tell her in words. Only in closeness, in contact, in the fine, tender frenzy of the flesh.

The summer night unfolds outside her window as she lays back on the bed and opens herself to him like a gift. A perfect, pretty offering. He treats her with the proper reverence such a sacred thing deserves. Devotes himself to every inch of her in an attempt to make up for lost time. While he has been blessed with an eidetic memory, Reid has come to find that no memory quite does her justice. Nevertheless he commits himself to finding and kissing every spot, every scar, every square inch of her skin. Tries to hold on to every sound she makes, each moan or mewl, each time her breath hitches and she begs for him by name. He will memorize every side of her to stave off the loneliness the road demands.

In a hotel room alone he will close his eyes and replace every monster of the criminal abyss with replays of these moments. Her eyes shining like stars as she looks up at him through her lashes, the way her lips part in a gasp, the softness of her hand on his cheek and her kisses sprinkled across his jaw. These memories will be his solace in the days to come, but he tries not to get too lost in holding on when he can simply hold her; and so he tries to be present in the now without worrying about tomorrow.

Tonight, he is all hers, and she holds him so tight as he buries himself between her thighs again and again and again.

The air is sticky and sweet as they find new ways to say I love you without words. And when they are both thoroughly spent he goes to open her window, letting the late night breeze cool the bedroom. She falls asleep quickly, which takes him by surprise until he notices the clock on her nightstand signifies that tomorrow is today now. In just a few hours the sun will rise and he will be crossing time zones once more.

Despite the early start to his day, he stays awake a little longer just to look at her. He listens to the symphony of her breathing, watches her shoulders rise and fall. Sweat still paints her face, her hair is wild on the pillowcase, and even in her sleep she smiles. And he loves every side of her. The sighing lover who licks a stripe down his belly, the laughing girl who splashes him at the kitchen sink, the patient listener of his many rambles, the knowing smirker glancing at him from behind a book, the love of his life fast asleep under the moonlight looking as peaceful as he has ever seen. Every piece of her has a place in his heart and tonight he just wants to love all of her for a little bit longer.

“I love you,” he whispers as dreamland calls to him. Hoping that somehow she’ll hear him.

His sleep is brief. An alarm on his watch is muffled by the pillow he stuffed it under. Reid rises slowly and quietly in the dim morning light. He dresses haphazardly and writes her a quick love note. In the bathroom he finds the t-shirt she sleeps in next to a bottle of her perfume. He snags the shirt and spritzes it with the fragrance, knowing she won’t mind if he borrows it for just a few days.

Something else to remember her by, to keep her close to him.

The train to Quantico is mostly empty. He holds his messenger bag tight in his arms, daydreaming of her still. He’s not quite sure when he’ll be back, but what he’s sure of is this: when he comes home, he will ask her to move in with him. Because he can’t stand the thought of being away from her for a second more than he absolutely must. Without her, his world won’t quite be whole. In a matter of months, she’s become his whole world.

Sitting on the jet, his phone buzzes with a text from her. I love you too, it reads.

He smiles. Leaning back in the seat, he puts it back into his pocket as start their journey up into the sky. The sun is high in the early morning sky, painting the world orange and gold on every side and he closes his eyes, playing back in his mind every moment with her that he’ll miss until she is in his arms again.

.

When she laughs, she tips her head back, and he realizes that he’s never seen her this relaxed before. The careful composure she always maintained in the classroom has been let down. And she’s still the same person, the same kind and observant woman he met within those walls, but it’s like she has also found a new freedom. Her smiles are wider, her posture isn’t quite as constrained – the boundaries between them have broken down more.

“Thanks. It’s nice to be able to wear jeans and not have to worry about getting told I look inappropriate.” She wraps her hands around her coffee cup and leans back in her seat. “So, tell me about what Dr. Spencer Reid’s life is like outside of Millburn.”

It’s not an easy question to answer. Not when he had a life before Millburn and a life after Millburn. It is a place that has divided his memories in two, just like Tobias Hankel and Maeve and sending his mother away. So many befores. So many afters. He has rarely been able to exist in the present tense.

“Well,” he tries. “Um, mostly, a lot of therapy, I guess? I’ve been going twice a week, mostly because the Bureau says I have to. But I think that maybe it is helping. Talking about everything.” The talking is forcing him to unpack not just what happened inside the walls, but everything that led him there. His therapist forces him to confront his inability to relinquish control, his fear of abandonment, all the scars and parts of him that led him to the border that day.

“That’s good. Healing is important.” Healing still feels like a far-off idea, but it’s one he hopes to grasp someday. He’s trying his best to patch up the wounds Millburn left, to be a better man – one who can spend a day with his godsons without having a panic attack, who can walk past the laundromat without crying. Maybe even a man who can sit across from her and feel worthy of the honor.

“It is,” he agrees. “And I’m reading more. Visiting my mom. And playing the piano again.”

“You play piano?” She shakes her head in disbelief. “Geez, is there anything you can’t do?”

“Well, I still haven’t been able to go to a museum or a movie theatre. The crowds are still just too much for me.”

“Baby steps,” she tells him. “It’s okay for this whole reentry thing to take time.” And that smile she gives him is so reassuring. He’d give anything to keep her smiling at him like that.

“We talked about me last time,” he says. “What about you? What’s Y/N’s life outside of teaching?”

She rests her chin on her hand. “Honestly, that job is most of my life,” she laughs. “But there’s a lot of reading for me, too. Cooking. And being dragged out wherever my roommate Marina is going.”

“Marina – she’s the one who gave you your ring?”

“Mmhmm. She’s a defense attorney and my best friend. And as much as I’ll argue with her when she tries to give me life advice, she’s almost always right.”

Reid considers this, sipping his latte. “There is one thing she got wrong,” he says.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“The ring.” He reaches out for her hand just as he did months ago in the tiny classroom. There is no hesitation this time. Her fingers are soft in his. “You’re not the moon. You’re much more constant than that. You light up every room you’re in.” He rubs his thumb over her knuckles and he swears her breath hitches when he does so. “If you think about it, all moonlight is really sunshine. That’s what you are. Sunshine.”

There’s something in the way she tilts her head, in the way her body language shifts almost imperceptibly. But he’s a profiler, he’s been trained to notice that her pupils are a little wider, that her face is a little flushed, that she’s leaned in towards him just a bit. All signs that point towards an impossible conclusion – that she might be pining for him too. That she might feel the same way – that all his longing has not been unrequited.

Can it be true? Perhaps these stolen glances and gestures aren’t so selfish. Perhaps he isn’t so filthy for dreaming of her. Perhaps, she really has been missing him.

“Sunshine?” she repeats.

My sun, he wants to think. His personal light source, the person brightening all of his days. But it’s too much and it’s too soon so he just smiles and says, “Yeah. Sunshine.”

Her smile widens into a shy grin that crinkles the corners of her eyes. “Careful,” she says, squeezing his hand. “I might get used to that.”

And he wants her to. He wants this to become comfortable, familiar. Sitting with her and talking like this. Holding her hand. This strange happiness washing over him. Because the therapy, it’s helping – but this is a form of healing too.

.

It’s so easy, being with him. They meet weekly for coffee or a walk in the park and it feels like she’s known him her whole life. And she wonders sometimes what it would have been like if they had met some other time in some other place. If it would be easier to accept the way she feels around him.

They’re sitting at a coffee shop table when he finishes telling her about his last visit with his mother, then asks, “What’s your family like?”

She shifts in her seat. “You know I’m not sure. It’s been three years since we spoke.”

“Oh.” His face falls. “I’m sorry”

She shrugs, picking at the fraying edge of the paper ring around her coffee cup. “It’s fine, I’m used to it by now. They don’t agree with my job,” she says, since he’s shared so much with her already. “When I was very young, my aunt was killed by her boyfriend. It was brutal. He never showed any remorse for it. And while I don’t remember most of it, I know it devastated my family. I never planned on teaching in prisons, but I volunteered to help with a GED class for credit in grad school. And much to my surprise, I loved it.

“So many of the students I met never had a teacher who believed in them. They didn’t have the kind of resources I had access to growing up. And the vast majority were nothing like the man who killed my aunt. They weren’t sociopaths. They weren’t heartless. They were people who struggled with mental health or got caught up in a gang, or fought back against their abuser – don’t get me wrong, they hurt people. But they were hurt too.”

“We’re all more than the worst thing we’ve ever done,” Spencer offers.

Her heart lightens to hear him repeat that phrase back to her. “Exactly. But my family was furious about it. They felt like I was betraying them by choosing to work with people who were convicted of a crime. That I was forgetting what they lived through. It doesn’t matter to them that studies show that educational programs in prisons massively reduce recidivism. They just see it as me being naïve. And a traitor. They stopped speaking to me when I took the job at Millburn.” She sighs, shaking her head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make the conversation so heavy.”

Spencer chuckles. “Y/N, I was just telling you about visiting my schizophrenic mother who’s having trouble remembering me because I was in prison for the last few months. I think we passed light-hearted small talk ages ago.” And as familiar as he feels, it’s still such a new and exciting experience to be able to joke with him like this without a care in the world. “But for what it’s worth, I think they’re wrong. What you do is nothing short of incredible.”

He looks at her so tenderly she has to avert her gaze. “Thank you, Doc.”

If his expression has her feeling bashful, it’s nothing compared to the way heat rushes to her face when he smiles and says, “Anytime, Sunshine.”

It isn’t long after that he texts her a suggestion for a new café to visit for their weekly rendezvous. When she looks it up, the first thing on their website is an announcement for their “first date special” – where couples on their first date can get a buy-one-get-one-free deal on any drink. She screenshots the announcement and sends it back to him.

Are you asking me on a date, Doc? 😉

It’s just a joke, a little teasing between friends. After several long minutes he replies, I swear I had no idea they did that! But before she can reply assuring him all is well, another message from him pops up. But if I was… would that be okay?

The world spins. With just a few words, it’s all been turned upside-down. Is this new, this interest in her? Or is this months and months of back and forth suddenly falling into place? The candy he gave her, the quiet encouragement, the poem he read to her – has he been pining for her all this time? The same way she pined for him, longed in a way she knew she could never name.

She blinks at her phone screen several times to make sure she’s read it correctly. Then she quickly locks it and tosses it away from her like some cursed talisman.

“Whoa, what’s gotten into you?” Marina asks from the kitchen. “Unsolicited dick pic? Or did you see a cat with a funny name on Petfinder again that you’re afraid you’ll want to adopt if you look at it too long?”

“Burnt Lasagna was adorable and he would’ve made the perfect addition to our home,” she retorts. Then, quietly, “It’s not a cat.”

“Well then what is it?”

She drops her head into her hands. “Spencer,” she says.

“Oh?” Marina dashes over and grabs the phone, begging her to unlock it. Begrudgingly she does, and she can tell when her friend has seen the text by the triumphant laugh she lets out. “Oh my god, he’s asking you on a date? This is amazing!”

“How?” Y/N asks. “What am I supposed to do?”

Marina is completely deadpan. “Uh, say yes, obviously.”

“I don’t think I can.” The words come out mechanically, forced into the world as though this exact wish hasn’t lived in her heart for weeks. Hoping that he might somehow feel the same was one thing. She never planned to act on those feelings, and now that it’s suddenly a possibility, she doesn’t know what to do. He likes her. He wants to go on a date with her. But she shouldn’t. She can’t.

“Why not? Did you have a bad time hanging out with him? Did he say something weird? Was it a situation-specific attraction?”

She dismisses Marina’s concerns with a wave of her hand. “No, no it’s just – well, it’s an ethical thing. I mean, he was my student. Mars, that’s not a good look.”

“He was your student – and he was hardly even that. He was more like a hired tutor.”

“Still, there’s a power dynamic there.”

“I mean I guess,” Marina sighs, reaching for her wine glass. “But you were always strict about those boundaries when you had some kind of power over him. And now you don’t. You’re both out. Besides, it’s not like he’s powerless here. He works for the FBI and he’s like, five years older than you.”

“How do y–”

“His birthday was on his BOP record when I looked him up.”

Of course Marina would remember that. Here she is violating the cardinal rule of not arguing with a defense attorney, but she can’t help it. There are rules, there are boundaries, and they exist for a reason. She doesn’t want to take advantage of him, or make him think he owes her anything.

“It wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“Hey, he asked you. It was his idea. And the guy’s a certified genius who has more PhDs than most people have children. He think he’s smart enough to know what he wants, sweetie.”

“It’s just – it’s not right!” she cries.

Marina is silent for a long moment. There is nothing but the sound of traffic outside and the sound of fluid motion as she swishes the wine in her glass, pondering, preparing her next rebuttal. “I don’t see what’s wrong with two, free, consenting adults going on a date together. Maybe you’re just afraid to let yourself have something you want.”

Y/N freezes. Marina’s eyes bore into her, and for a second she feels sympathy for witnesses her roommate cross-examines on the stand. There is a certainty to her, an honesty that pulls no punches. And as soon as she says it, Y/N knows she’s right. For so long her role has been to sacrifice. To give away all that she can and ask for nothing in return. She’s gotten so used to being told no, that her wishes are too much, that she is trying too hard. It’s easier to deny herself the possibility of pleasure than to face rejection.

Marina hands her the phone. Under those watchful, intense eyes, Y/N carefully types back a response.

If you’re okay with it… then yes. That would be very okay.

…

[Next]

…

So he rattles off a handful, hoping at least one of them will keep that light in her eyes. They do. “Bradbury is one of my favorites, too. I just love Dandelion Wine. Sorry, I probably should focus on the fire. I try to distract myself when I feel stressed, and well, remembering what happened that night doesn’t exactly help with my anxiety.”

“It’s okay,” he tells her. “I tend to ramble when I’m nervous. Or excited. Really, I think I just talk a lot.” Another smile, one that crinkles the corners of her eyes. Over the course of the investigation, the BAU has to ask her to come to the station twice. By chance, Reid finds himself interviewing her both times, and both times he finds himself rambling a little more than he means to – because he finds himself inexplicably a little nervous and a little excited in her presence. It’s that smile, the one that lingers long in his mind after she leaves each time.

There’s something about her, about the light she seems to carry, that draws him in. That compels him to say yes when he shows up at the library to inform her they’ve caught the unsub and she asks, “Could I buy you a cup of coffee to show my appreciation? If that’s not too much, of course.”

“I think that would be perfect,” he says. And as they sit at the café across the street with lattes in oversized mugs, he’s never been so grateful for his vast knowledge of literature. Each title is a start into a new conversation with her, and they swap stories about stories – the ones they have lived and the ones they have loved. When she disappointedly announces her break is over, she adds, “But maybe we could do this again sometime?”

“Yes,” he says. “Please.”

“How should I get in touch with you if you’re not showing up at the library to interrogate me, Dr. Reid?” she teases.

He hastily withdraws his cell phone from his pocket and offers it to her. She begins to type in her number. “You, um, you can call me Spencer,” he tells her.

She grins at him and something in his chest shifts at the sight. “I’ll definitely call you soon, Spencer.” He’s never liked the sound of his own name more. And he thanks that eidetic memory of his for allowing him to replay it again and again in his mind until he can see her next.

.

They get coffee again the first chance he gets. And then again. When she asks how he has time to read so much and he tells her about how his mind works – about his memory and speed-reading and quantified intelligence, all the things that have been called gifts – she thinks for a moment before saying, “That must be lonely.”

The relief he feels at her understanding is immense. “It is sometimes,” he admits. “But it’s felt less so lately.” They go to a park together. Then out to dinner. By the time he realizes he’s falling, he’s forgotten what it feels like to be on solid ground. Fortunately, he isn’t the only one at the mercy of gravity. She feels it too. And when she laughs at his joke as he walks her home from dinner, he just can’t help himself. He leans in and cups her cheek to pull her to him, pressing his lips to her still-smiling lips. The taste of wine still on her tongue. And though he doesn’t drink anymore, the sensation of her is enough to make him feel utterly intoxicated.

Slowly, his life fills up with her. His sabbatical arrives with the perfect timing to allow him evenings and weekends with her. He picks her up after work. She meets him for breakfast. He takes her to the planetarium. She falls asleep on his couch. He tells her it won’t always be this way and she assures him that’s okay. But it gives him the chance to build the foundation their relationship needs. It’s in that time that he begins to catalogue her smiles in his memory. The dazzling ones she sends his way when she spots him at a coffee shop. The soft, shaky ones she wears after a long kiss. The coy ones that twist the corner of her mouth when she’s teasing him. The nervous one that slowly grows when she meets his team for the first time – not as a witness, but as his girlfriend. A title she declares like a badge of honor. He holds each smile in his mind, picture perfect thanks to that eidetic memory. When a case has been particularly tough or he’s away for longer than he’d like, he flips through them in his mind, trying to remember the cause of each one, trying to hold on to that light until he can hold her in his arms again.

.

He surprises her with flowers on her birthday. “You remembered?” she gasps, her eyes wide. “And these – these are my favorite. How did you know?”

“I could never forget,” he laughs, but she stares down at the bouquet and clutches them to her chest.

“I don’t make a big deal about my birthday, so people don’t usually remember,” she says quietly. “And nobody’s ever gotten me flowers before. Thank you, Spencer.” A pause, and then, “I love you.”

He grins from ear to ear. Forget the sound of his name, those three words are the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. “I love you, too.” It’s a first for both of them. And one week later comes another first – witnessing her panic attacks for the first time. She’s shaking too hard to tell him what she needs, so he tries to do what would help him. He sits down next to her on his living room rug and wraps her in his arms. He rests his head on her shoulder and murmurs the words to her favorite poem. She seems to breathe a little easier and so he recites another one she loves, and another until her breathing finally steadies and she unclenches her fists to wrap her arms around his neck, burying her face in his sweater.

Suddenly it doesn’t feel like such a curse to remember everything he reads when it means he can give her the words she loves when she needs them most.

The first time they sleep together is only the second time he’s been intimate with someone and he feels more awkward than he wishes he was. But he commits himself to studying, to remembering what she likes and what she doesn’t, and the next time he proves to be the quickest of learners when he succeeds at making her come within a matter of minutes. He discovers a new smile of hers, one of dreamy bliss and kiss-swollen lips. He loves it. He loves her, adores every single part of her she’s shared with him and every piece yet to be found. And to his continued surprise and delight, she loves him just as much.

He tries every day to be worthy of that love. He makes time for her. He goes to meet her friends and he shakes their hands even though he hates touching people, even though she insists, “You don’t have to. They won’t mind.” He does it because she’s the only person in the world whose touch he actually craves.

When she swoons over a dress Penelope has shown her on Instagram, he makes a note of it. She’s utterly enamored by it by her smile falls upon checking the price tag. It’s far out of her budget. So the next week when he’s out on a case in Atlantic City, he swings by one of the few casinos that doesn’t have his picture framed on the wall of their security office. He wins more than the cost of the dress in an hour and leaves before anyone can get suspicious. The dress arrives at his apartment the same day he gets home, and he invites her over to surprise her with it. When she opens the box, her eyes go wide.

“Spencer, this is… this can’t be. It’s… do you know how expensive this is?” Y/N asks.

Bashfully, he replies, “Now might be a good time to mention I’m banned from casinos in almost every state for my card counting abilities.” It’s well worth the little effort he expended to see the way her face lights up at the sight of it. And though he’s never been a gambling man, when he sees her wearing it for the first time he considers trying his luck a little more often.

At times he worries he’s doing too much, but how could it ever be when the way she loves him has been so much more than enough? For the first time in his life, he feels like maybe he’s enough. When she says, “I love you,” he believes it. When she says, “I’ll be back,” he trusts her. He’s given another person more of his heart than he ever has before, and for once he’s not afraid of it breaking. She doesn’t mind the strange hours he works or heaviness he sometimes carries with him. When he wakes up from a nightmare, she holds him close and keeps him grounded. He sends postcards from each city he visits and she makes his favorite food when he comes home and home is suddenly a place they share. She moves into his apartment and it feels like it was never complete without her there.

.

Not long after, there is a case in Boston. Their terrifyingly intelligent unsub taunts Reid as he leaves the interrogation room. “Judge me all you want, Dr. Reid. But I’ve used my mind to change the world. You’ve done nothing with yours.” The words haunt him on the flight home. He sits on the back of the plane lost in thought. What has he done? Sure he’s saved lives, but could he have done more? Could someone else have used those gifts he’s been burdened with in a way that was better? Why does he have any of these talents? Why has he acquired any of these skills?

His phone chimes. A text from her. Brought home a new book from the library I think you’ll love! Can’t wait to see you, dearest. And it hits him.

It’s her. All along it’s been her.

The answer echoes in his head as he races home to her. Everything in his life has led him to her, has let him be the person she needs. He can memorize all her favorite songs and poems to recite for her when her anxiety gets the best of her. He can remember every date that matters to her and everything she adores. He can read her favorite books overnight to talk about them with her in the morning. He can profile from her body language and her microexpressions when she’s having a bad day and needs him to be there for her, even when she’s too afraid to ask for what she needs. When she asks absurd questions out of the blue, he can give her actual answers with the useless encyclopedia of knowledge he’s obtained over the years. When she needs a distraction his rambling finally proves useful. It’s all for her.

She’s the reason his mind doesn’t feel like a curse anymore. How could he ever think of it with disdain when it’s the reason he can picture every smile she’s ever let him see? When he can catalogue every wonderful word from her lips, every inch of her skin, every action that drives her wild.

Reid can’t seem to open the door to their apartment fast enough. When he finally steps inside, she’s sitting on the couch. She turns away from the book in her lap to smile at him. “Welcome back,” she says. Then, tilting her head, “Is everything okay?”

An unshakeable grin spreads across his face and he knows he must look like a madman right now as he crosses the living to sit beside her. “Everything’s perfect. I just… I had this epiphany. All the things I hate about myself, you love. And all the things I can do let me love you better. It just feels like everything – everything has led me to you. Even the bad things, I mean, being in prison forced me to take sabbaticals and if I hadn’t we wouldn’t have had that time together early on and maybe we wouldn’t have worked and I don’t believe in fate,” he says, taking a breath. “But I can’t help but feel like for the first time, I’m right where I’m supposed to be. With you. Like that’s where I was meant to be all along. And I… I just thought you should know.”

His long-winded rambling is rewarded with one of his favorite smiles from her – one that makes her eyes soft and puts sunsets to shame. The kind she wears when she is incandescently happy. Her fingers lace through his and they are a perfect fit in his big hands. “There is nowhere else I’d rather be,” she says, leaning in to kiss him.

TIMELINE

“Alpha Male” / Part I

“Assistance is Futile”/ Part II

Part III

“In the Dark”

Part IV

“Hell’s Kitchen”

Part V

“True North”

“Unforgettable”

Part VI

“Green Light” / Part VII

“Red Light”

Part VIII

Part IX

Part X

CHARACTER REFERENCE

Y/N: The Reader, who teaches GED and college level courses at Millburn Correctional Facility. Spencer is the TA for one of her GED courses.

Marina: Y/N’s roommate, a confident defense attorney with a heart of gold.

Warden Everton: The warden of Millburn Correctional Facility.

Luis “Slim Jim” Delgado: Spencer’s closest friend at Millburn, takes Y/N’s GED class.

Xavier “Hammerhead”: One of Spencer’s classmates, he has two young kids and picks out stories to read to them when they come to visit Millburn.

Richie “Spiders”: One of Spencer’s classmates.

Carl “Porkchop”: One of Spencer’s classmates, known for his jokes and lack of filter.

Malcolm: One of Spencer’s classmates, he wants to go to culinary school after his release.

Her stomach drops. Did she really completely misread the situation? Misread him? All along was this some tenuous thing she projected her own feelings onto when this wasn’t what he wanted at all?

“Oh,” is all she can manage.

“I’m sorry. I just – I’m usually better at restraining my impulses. But I’ve wanted you for so long that I haven’t stopped to consider whether or not I’m doing the right thing. I mean, just because you make me happy doesn’t mean I’m going to make you happy.”

“What exactly do you mean?” she asks. She almost doesn’t want to know, but if this is his way of saying he regrets what happened, it’s better to find out now. To hear him say that she’s too much or too little before she can fall any further.

“I mean,” he sighs, running a hand through his messy hair, “I think a might be a bad person. And I don’t want to mislead you – not when you deserve someone much better than that.”

She bites her lip. That’s a line she’s heard before. It’s not you, it’s me. “Look, if you don’t like me you can just say that.” He never struck her as the type to make excuses, to use her as a one-night stand. It’s a complete shift from the shy man in the library, the sweet and attentive lover who held her so close last night.

“What? No, no – of course I like you! That’s why I’m telling you this!” The words are punctuated with frantic waving of hands that nearly knocks his mug over. “I might have been exonerated, but that doesn’t mean I’m not guilty of other things. I have killed people. And people have been killed because of me – including my girlfriend.”

He swallows hard, crosses his arms tight around himself. “I was an addict, too. Dilaudid. I was almost ten years sober before Cat Adams had me drugged and framed in Mexico. I’m not good, Y/N. And you are.”

It’s a lot to take in at once, a rush of confessions delivered in a panic. With each word, more pieces fall into place – his hesitancy, his distraught after Luis’ death, his sadness. More parts of him begin to make sense.

“Making mistakes doesn’t make you a bad person Spencer. I mean, you think I’m good, but by your definition I’m far from it. I have terrible anxiety. I let my roommate pay most of our rent because I can’t afford it. My whole family hates me because of my job, and still chose my work over them. I’m afraid I’ll never be loveable. I take really long hot showers even though I know it’s bad for the environment. And despite priding myself on being professional, I just had sex with one of my former students.”

She can feel the heat run to her cheeks as she says that last sentence. “And it was really good sex, too. Look, I don’t know any perfect people. But I know so many flawed people who are trying their best to do good. And I think that’s good enough. It doesn’t make them any less worthy of belonging or being happy.”

When she finally meets his gaze, he’s staring at her with those wide eyes. Face unreadable, mouth slightly agape. She says, “Sorry to go into lecture mode. I just… I really like you. And I don’t regret last night.”

“I don’t regret it either,” he says, pleading for her to understand. “But I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” She reaches across the table and he meets her halfway to take her hand. His thumb strokes over her knuckles, a silent reassurance. The doubt in her chest melts away. “There’s still a lot we have to learn about each other. But I know you won’t hurt me. Just don’t push me away, okay?”

“Okay.” That sweet smile of his returns. “I really like you, too. So, um. It was really good?”

She rolls her eyes. “Help me make breakfast and maybe I’ll tell you.” They stand in the kitchen together where she learns something new about Spencer – he’s horrible at cooking. But between careful instructions and cooking they swap questions. His girlfriend, Maeve, died four years ago. He used Dilaudid for seven months and hasn’t touched it since he got back from Mexico, but it’s still hard. Marina has been the closest thing to family she’s had since taking her job. She sees a therapist every other week for her anxiety. He’s had to kill eight people in his job. They both have nightmares about work.

“Do you really think,” he asks her, as she scoops French toast onto two plates, “that you’re not loveable?”

She sets the pan in the sink. “I think that my work and my commitment to it makes people uncomfortable. I think that I overthink and I have a hard time letting people in or saying what I need. Because somehow keeping my own heart quiet means I’m being helpful somehow. And I’m stubborn when it comes to my morals.”

There is a pause in which he says nothing and she hastily opens a drawer to busy her hands searching for forks. Her fingers find the silverware at the moment he speaks. “Did I upset you when I said I made a mistake?” She nods. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“I just think that maybe all of that makes me hard to love.” It’s a sentiment that has been repeated in the actions of so many people in her life. Her relatives, Marina’s colleagues, the COs, the countless dates she has been set up on. Who she is and what she does is too much. Too hard. Too strange. Her unruly heart doesn’t fit into their boxes.

When she looks at Spencer, he’s just smiling at her, his eyes so soft. “Well,” he says. “I’ll be working very hard to prove you’re wrong.” He leans in and kisses her forehead and all is forgiven. His lips on her skin are a salve and for a moment there is no darkness, no fear, no abandonment. Her heart is finally open. Like he’s had the key all along. She melts into his touch, wraps her arms around his waist and listens to his own heart thudding through his ribcage. Just as wild and imperfect as her own. And though it’s too soon to say it yet, she knows it. She has never been surer of anything else than that the way he holds her already feels like home.

The sunlight filters in through the windows, warms her skin as she melts into him. Everything is painted golden and her sigh is muffled against his shirt when she says, “I guess this means I need to set up a meeting with Warden Everton.”

.

He checks his watch for the third time worrying that maybe something has come up or that something went wrong or that she’s changed her mind. But then the door of her building opens and she comes bounding down the steps in a fluttery polka-dot dress. It’s green like the summer leaves around them. She wears the same Converse sneakers she had on the day they met and that smile he simply adores. She’s gorgeous. And somehow, she’s his.

She greets him with a hug and he can’t help but think it’s so strange there was ever a time he didn’t want to be held. “I take it everything went well at the hearing?” he asks with a laugh.

“It went perfectly. I mean, one of the Captains tried to give me a hard time about it, but Everton said it wasn’t a conflict of interest or an ethical violation. I didn’t contact you after your release and we didn’t enter into any sort of relationship until months after. It was entirely coincidental and thus, entirely above board. I get to keep my job and I get to keep dating you.”

“So this means we don’t have to worry about being seen in public anymore?”

“Nope.” She grins and leans in to kiss him. “I can tell whomever I please that you’re my boyfriend. Which reminds me – the COs are apparently very loose-lipped and Malcolm says to tell you, and I quote, congratulations Einstein.”

He can’t help but laugh. “Of course he would.” It’s so strange, the fondness for the men who became his friends inside, who gave him something to look forward to in the worst time in his life. Strange how he misses them though he knows he’ll never see them again.

“What about you?” she asks. “How was the meeting with the section chief?”

Reid shifts on his heels, trying to look casual. “It, um, it went well. They offered me full reinstatement into the Bureau.”

Y/N reaches for hand. “Spencer, that’s great. I’m so happy for you.”

“I... I turned them down.”

She drops his hand. “Wait. What?” He inhales slowly, remembering what he practiced for this moment, this second of panic when she looks at him with wide eyes and wonders what on earth he’s doing.

“Don’t worry. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. After Millburn, the job just hasn’t felt the same. I did the reinstatement requirements but it just felt like I was going through the motions. I talked to my friend, Alex about it. And I realized that I can’t do it the way I used to. I can’t go through a case without thinking about where people are going after I arrest them. And don’t get me wrong, I still think most of the unsubs we interact with should be locked up somewhere.”

It’s a point they still don’t quite agree on – he’s seen what monsters are capable of. She thinks there’s far too few monsters to justify the prison system. They both think that incarceration is awful. “But there’s too many who need help. Or were victims themselves. I don’t want to spend my life putting people in cages. I want to do something to try and keep things from getting to that point. Alex knows someone at Georgetown and there’s an open position in their psychology department. Full-time, tenure track. And they’ve offered me the job.”

Her mouth falls open. “What?”

He can’t help but laugh at the look on her face. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t want to scare you until I finalized things. But I’m going to take the Georgetown position. I’ll be teaching forensic psychology classes and if all goes well, I’ll get funding to do research on early interventions for those at risk for criminal behavior.”

With a wary look she asks, “You’re not just doing this for me, right?”

He shakes his head, shaking away all the flashbacks and fears that have haunted him since he went back to the BAU. The doubts and the growing cognitive dissonance as he listens to remedial instructors talk about crime and criminals. He just can’t reconcile that Malcolm and Carl and Luis could ever be equivocated to Karl Arnold. He just can’t find that passion he used to have.

“No. I’m doing it for me. It’s time. The team will be just fine without me. And for the first time, I think I’ll be okay without the FBI.” For the first time, he has a life outside of that job. A life of lazy mornings in his kitchen with her, of bar nights and dinners alongside Steven and Marina – who is loud but never questions that he doesn’t order alcohol – and babysitting Hank so Savannah and Morgan can have time to themselves.

It’s not the life he planned. But it’s a damn good one.

She laces her fingers through his. “Well, I’m really proud of you. I know that’s a big step.” Then she gasps. “If you’re leaving the BAU, is tonight still happening?”

“Of course. They’re still my family – and Rossi thinks it’s the perfect excuse to throw a retirement party.” While he’s never enjoyed being the center of attention, he’ll happily tolerate if it means seeing her in that dress.

He drives them out to Rossi’s mansion, decked out in lights, several cars already parked along the street out front. Her grip on his tightens as they approach the front steps and he can almost hear the unspoken questions in her mind. “Don’t worry,” he tells her. “They’re going to love you.” How could anyone not?

Sure enough, when Rossi opens the door, it’s with a huge grin. “The man of the hour! Buona sera!” And that grin takes on a mischievous twist as his eyes fall on Y/N. “And who is this lovely lady?”

They step inside and he can tell she’s trying her best not to look surprised at the intimidating interior of the grandiose mansion. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend.” His chest swells with pride to finally say those words out loud to his friend, to introduce her as his partner. “Y/N, this is David Rossi.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she offers, sticking out her arm for a handshake. In true Rossi fashion, Dave opts to kiss her hand instead.

“Piacere, principessa. Reid didn’t tell me he’d be bringing a plus-one. Let alone, someone so beautiful.”

“Reid brought a date?” Garcia’s voice echoes through the halls, followed by the tell-tale sound of her heels clicking against Rossi’s hardwood floors. By the time he can see her, dressed in bright orange, the curious delight on her face has turned to complete shock. “Oh my God? Y/N? Y/N is your date?”

“His girlfriend too,” Rossi corrects.

Garcia’s voice manages to jump up an impossible octave. “Your girlfriend? Since when? And why was I not informed of this?” It’s like an alarm, drawing the rest of the team to the foyer to see what all the fuss is about.

“Do you two know each other?” Luke asks.

“Well, not that it’s any of your business, newbie, but sort of. I mean, we met at Millburn a few times.”

Emily frowns. “The prison?”

An awkward quiet falls over them and Reid clears his throat. “Well, yes. Y/N teaches there.”

“And Spencer was volunteering as the TA for my GED class,” she chimes in. “But nothing happened, obviously! I take my job very seriously.”

“Then after I got out, I ran into her at a bookstore.”

“I can confirm that!” Penelope adds, beaming with pride.

“And well, one thing led to another. We became good friends and he asked me out.”

“And she said yes.”

“And now, here we are.”

He swallows hard and glances between the discerning eyes of his team and instinctively reaches for Y/N’s hand once more, wanting to reassure her, wanting to reassure himself, with that simple touch.

Then Morgan laughs. “Well damn, talk about Love After Lockup! I always knew you had game, Pretty Boy. And now I finally know why you’ve been all hush-hush when I try to set you up with Savannah’s friends.” That seems to break the spell, and soon enough they’re being led out into the backyard, buoyed by a flood of questions about each other. Tara takes an immediate liking to her and he reluctantly allows her to pull Y/N away for a lengthy conversation about the psychological benefits of educational programing in prisons.

Garcia sits down next to him at the table where he’s nursing a sparkling cider. “I still can’t believe you held out on us for so long.”

“It wasn’t personal. It’s just – you know how profilers are. Everyone knows everything. Especially after I got arrested. I kind of wanted just one thing to keep for myself.” It was nice, to not have to answer any questions about her for months. To keep her tucked away in his heart away from prying eyes, especially after months locked up in a place with no privacy whatsoever.

“You picked a good one,” she says, following his gaze to where Y/N and Tara stand.

She is radiant, laughing with his friend. Her moonstone ring catching the porch lights. Even now he is in awe of her, of the woman who sees the good in everyone and everything, and brings it out in them. Who believed him when he couldn’t trust his own mind and made him feel like somebody special when he felt like a nobody. He’s not sure who he would be if he hadn’t met her. Millburn may have taken its toll on him without the friends he made in class or the reminders to be gentle with himself.

It’s true, Reid has changed. It would be impossible not to, after an experience like that. But she helped him hold on to the most important parts of himself. She kept him soft and kept him safe, gave him a chance to teach and to trust. She was the light in the darkest of places.

“I keep wondering how I got so lucky,” he tells Penelope.

But the tech analyst just shakes her head. “Because you’re good, too. You’re good for each other. I may not be a profiler, but I can see it. Just remember to credit me for reuniting you two when you get married someday.”

“What? No, I mean – we just started dating!” But Garcia just winks and hurries off as Rossi calls them to a corner of the yard.

As he follows her over, there is a hand on his arm and he turns around with a smile. “There you are, Sunshine.”

“Miss me?” she teases.

He winds one arm around her waist. “Always.”

“Hurry up lovebirds, I have a speech to make!” Rossi chides, but he’s smiling too. The whole team is, and he’s overwhelmed by how happy they look to see him happy. As the twilight fades to dusk, the BAU take turns delivering toasts to their resident genius, to the youngest member of the team and the future ahead of him. He can’t stop himself from tearing up at the kind words from the people he loves most, especially when JJ and Garcia began to cry as well.

Eventually, the emotional sincerities give way to laughter over stories from the field and office shenanigans and there’s just so much joy he thinks it might overflow. He’s happy. And as bittersweet as it is to say goodbye, tonight has reassured him that it won’t be the end of their time together even if they no longer share long jet rides and cramped motel rooms. They’re his family. And he’ll always have a place here.

When it’s time to part ways and head home, there is a long exchanging of hugs and promises to meet up soon. He walks with Y/N down the street to his car and she leans against him. “Thank you for bringing me here tonight.”

“Thank you for coming with me,” he says. “I told you that you had nothing to worry about you. They liked you right away.”

They finally reach his car and she steps forward to grab both his hands, gazing up at him. Her eyes shine in the moonlight and he could keep looking at her forever. “Well, it was easier than I thought it would be once I realized we all had something in common.”

Reid tilts his head to the side. “What would that be?”

The smile twisting at the corner of her mouth is just a whisper. “They love you. And I love you.” And then it blooms, spreading wide over her face as though she can’t control it. “I love you, Spencer.”

He can’t control it either, the grin that overtakes him, the happiness bubbling up in his throat. “I love you, too.” Those words have been on the tip of his tongue for so long, lingering in the back of his mind as he waited for the right time to say it and now they are finally free. He leans in to kiss her, again and again. “I love you. I love you.”

And they are finally free.

...

FIN.

…

[Epilogue]