#randomwriting_misc

“Do you know where you are?” He asks.  

I glance around and go to speak; my voice sounds hoarse and my throat is scratchy.  

“This is the room they keep me in when they are asking me questions, or… putting me to sleep.”  

Steve looks sad as he asks his next question,  

“Do you know who you are?”  

My eyes widen and I look up at him. How did he know?  

“It’s okay,” the man in red interrupts, “I downloaded all the files from here, we can figure it all out at the Tower.”  

Steve feels familiar, like I recognize him from somewhere in my memory, and that feels like the only thing I can trust right now, so I look to him. He meets my eyes and nods.  

“We can get you out of here, bring you to New York. Somewhere safe.”  

New York, I’ve heard that before.  

“Wait,” I pause, “tell me who you all are. If- if you wanted to kill me, you would have by now. Why do you want me?”  

The other man speaks up, I see he has what looks like a silver metal vest?  

“Hydra has destroyed a lot of lives. We’ve spent the last year tracking and destroying what’s left of them.’’ He walks up next to Steve and smiles gently.  

“I’m Sam, Sam Wilson. And I would love to get up on out of here. We can’t really leave you here on an island.” He takes a step closer to me, and once I don’t flinch away, he leans closer.  

“I know you must be confused, but I’m sure we can get it all figured out. And you can see that the people who brought you here are gone. It’s a lot to ask, but please, just trust us. If you want to survive, if you want Hydra destroyed, we gotta go.”  

I like Sam, I decide. He has an aura of calm to him. Looking around, I realize that I don’t really have much of a choice. The room is covered in dust and all disheveled, papers on the ground, chairs overturned. Whoever was here last looks to be long gone. My head is pounding, and my thoughts are jumbled. I can’t focus on a memory, it’s just all clouded.  

Resigned to the fact that my only choice is to go with them or starve here all alone, I stand straighter and nod.  

“I’m going to be so mad if anyone kills me,” I mumble. I don’t think I anyone could hear me, but I see Steve smile a bit.  

Tony now introduces himself, and they lead me through the base. When we pass the medical bay, I gasped and shut my eyes, remembering the time they cut into my skin to reset a bone that they had broken, and I was awake for it all. A phantom pain shoots through my arm.  

“Hey,” Steve whispers, “I got you.” I peak through squinted eyes and see that he has offered me his arm. I tentatively place my hand on his forearm, and he leads me the rest of the way while my eyes are closed tight.  

I only open my eyes again when I feel the sunshine on my face.  I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, and my shoulders drop, sighing into the feeling of warmth wash over me.  

I open my eyes and immediately see Steve looking at me, it takes him a second to look away when we lock eyes. Tony leads the way to what they call a “quinjet”, and while this all feels unfamiliar, the idea of an aircraft like that sticks out as especially out of place.  

The three men start to talk amongst themselves, leaving me to sit and take a moment. I try to find a corner, having my back against the wall and everyone in my line of sight is the only thing that doesn’t make my heart race. Even if it means being on the floor. I start to try to remember, but I only get flashes of pain and a feeling of dread, and I decide maybe it’s okay to not remember just yet. At least until I’m alone.  

Eventually, Sam walks over to me.  

“Mind if I sit?”  

I say yes, and he sits in front of me, criss crossed applesauce  

I wonder how I know that saying.  

“We’ll be in New York soon. Tony is going to set up some medical evaluations, just to make sure you’re okay. Oh, and he’s going to get a room ready for you.”  

“You want me to live at his house?”  

Sam chuckles.  

“It’s more like a skyscraper slash hotel. Don’t worry, you will have plenty of room to breathe and have your own space.”  

“I really don’t like this; I don’t know what’s going on. I feel lost.”  

“Well, let’s see if we can narrow some things down. Can I ask you some questions?  

I nod.  

“Feel free to ask me anything you want too, okay?” He says, “First one, what is the last year you remember?”  

My head aches a bit as he triggers an automatic answer.  

“1972. No, wait, I remember someone saying the words 1995?” I look at him, “I assume that neither of those are correct.” He shakes his head.  

“It’s 2015.”  

I don’t respond. Mainly because that’s incredibly hard to process. Sam begins again.  

“Let’s do something easier. What’s your favorite color?” He offers.  

“Green.”  

“Favorite Band?”  

“The Rolling Stones wait.... Bowie maybe?” I respond.  

“Well, I can confirm that definitely sounds like 1972.”  

That makes me smile a bit. Learning this bit of information about myself as I say them is unsettling though. We go back and forth for a while longer. I learn my favorite fruit is green grapes, not purple, I don’t like bell peppers, and I remember turning 22.  

Then, Steve walks over to us, announcing we are going to be landing and should probably buckle up. It’s also just then when something clicks in my brain.  

Steve is Captain America?  

1972  

It’s dark, I think as I stir awake. I open my eyes, but I can’t tell a difference, I frantically look around, starting to hyperventilate.  There’s nothing to see but black.  

Suddenly there’s a square of light about five feet in front of me. White static on a television screen. The thunderous noise fills the whole room, like it’s swallowing me whole. I go to cover my ears, but I can’t move from whatever I am laying on, I can feel restraints on me, the pressure tight as it holds my body up from falling from the vertical angle.  

A flash. The noise is gone. I squint to see the TV more.  

“Honey?”  

I gasp, tears immediately welling up in my eyes. Mom.  

She appears on the video, she’s visibly shaking and crying, my father follows behind her.  

“They say you’re alive,” She stifles a sob, “God, I hope that’s true. I love you so much, we both do.” She looks at my dad to continue.  

“It's going to be okay. We will do what they want to keep you safe. Don’t you worry, okay?”  

He looks behind the camera, glaring before looking back.  

“My sweet girl… just hold out. Be strong. I know you can be. I promise one day we will see each other again.”  

Someone yells behind the camera, time’s up. My mom rushes to get in a last word.  

“They promised if we complied, they would keep you alive, please stay alive. You are my whole wor-”  

She’s cut off by the camera shutting off and I finally let myself cry, and I cry so hard it’s hard to breathe.  

“I hope now you will be more... cooperative with us. I wouldn’t want your parents to die before finding out their daughter alive.”  

The male voice isn’t in the room with me. It’s loud and booming over the speakers, replacing the sound of my parents.  

It’s only seconds before I black out again.   

2015 – Steve  

I see the recognition in her eyes. It’s the same familiar shock I see wherever I go, and I expect her to ask questions, but to my surprise, she doesn’t say anything. I try to do the math in my head, overhearing Sam talk to her about the 70’s. There’s no way we could have met. She looks young.  

We land on top of the Tower and rain pours down over New York. Shuffling out, I hold the shield over her head to block the rain and rush into the upper level.  

“You good?” Sam asks her, and she nods, but I see her shivering.  

“Tony, can you call Bruce? Set up the medical bay for the doctors. Sam, can you get JARVIS to find a room.”  

They both turn to attend to their respective tasks, and I lead her to the couch. She’s shivering, and I tell her I’ll be right back, getting her some clothes. A grey Stark Industries sweatshirt and sweatpants.  

When I had them to her, her brow furrows.  

“Stark…” she whispers, “I don’t think I like this name. I don’t know why.”  

I smile a bit, “You wouldn’t be the first with that sentiment.” I pause before taking a deep breath, about to ask her a dreaded question, but she starts up first.  

“How did you know I didn’t know who I was? I saw your face, you expected it.”  

I don’t know how to respond. It takes me a minute to gather my thoughts, and the whole time she doesn’t look away.

“I had a friend, my best friend, who I saw die. Right in front of me. And it killed me, I thought I had avenged him in some way, or at least done right by his memory. Then last year, a man I thought was dead for decades shows up in the middle of the street, trying to kill me. He didn’t remember who he was either.”  

“Does he remember now?” She sounds hopeful, and that breaks my heart.  

“I don’t know. He’s off grid. We were tracking him down before we were led to your location.”  

Her shoulders fall.  

“I think I remember some things before Hydra. Like learning about you in school. Captain America and the Howling Commandos. You were quite the story.”  

I shrug. There’s a comfortable silence before she asks if there’s a place for her to change, and I point her to a bathroom. As she walks away, she turns back for a moment.  

“Bucky Barnes was the only Commando who died, right? Is he…?”  

“Yeah. He is.”  

She nods.  

“I’m sorry, really.”  

“It’s okay. I’m sorry you’re going through this.”  I really am, who knows what she experienced. I only know the basics about Bucky, and it’s unimaginable.

She turns and walks through the door, and Tony rushes into the common area.  

“Where is she?” He says in a hushed tone.  

“In there, what’s wrong?”  

Tony stares at me.  

“You better come look at this before we talk to her more. Bruce and Nat will be here any second and will take her to the medbay. That little show we saw at the base? With the eyes? That was just a preview.”  

“What do you mean?”  

“I mean, she was a test subject of Hydra in the 1970’s. Where they already had an in at SHEILD, and access to all of the technology SHEILD had.”  

“What does that have to do with her? It looks like they tried to turn her into a super soldier, she hasn’t aged a day.”  

“Steve, they had the Tesseract. They used the Tesseract on her.”  

My eyes go wide.  

“What’s the tesseract?”  

Tony jumps as she appears behind him, we both turn as she stares us down; a flash of blue energy appears in her eyes.  

Well, fuck.

Now, Revival, that was a book that had been therapy to me. It followed a young girl in a small Southern town, who is trying to find the least painful and cheapest way to kill herself to get out of her terrible life. Pills were too expensive, hanging was too painful, and the possibility of surviving slitting her wrist was a chance she couldn’t take. It wasn’t until she meets Mason, a boy who is all smiles and sunshine, that she sees hope in the possibility of life. When she still tragically dies in an accident at the fault of her aunt and uncle, we see the world from her afterlife, helping Mason try to move on and cope.  

It wasn’t a best seller, but it was incredibly special to me, and the kick start to my career. A couple good reviews and a following on social media was enough to peak the interests of some companies, and when I started writing about young adult life and romance, everything took off from there.  

Hyper focused, I was analyzing my drafts, trying to find something believable on my latest book until there was a subtle thump next my laptop. The small noise made me jump a little and stopped me in my tracks.

“Chai Latte with an espresso shot, right?”

I knew that voice, and a glance up confirmed it. He came back. I tried so hard to hide the huge grin across my face, but after days of my over active imagination running through scenarios in my head about him, I couldn’t manage it. He was wearing a dark blue button down, with a patterned tie to match. His sleeves were rolled up just at his elbow, showing off his forearms and hands, which was ridiculously unfair of him. I was surprised I managed to choke out a few words.

“You are correct,” he smiled back at me as I confirmed, “but you did not have to do that. You’re very sweet.” Please stay though, I thought.  

“It’s the least I can do, I did make you wear half of yours the last time we ran into each other.”

“Well technically, you ran into me,” I said with an involuntary laugh, I glanced up to make sure he was still smiling, hoping not to scare him off with my lack of filter.

“But thank you, really. I hope I didn’t come off as rude the other day, I just had a lot on my mind. I didn’t even get your name,” I continued on.

“Spencer. Spencer Reid.”  

Fuck, I thought, that’s a cute name. I nodded, still trying to keep my cool, as much as I wrote about love and romance, I thought I personally had the flirting skills of a wet sock. Not only did I have nothing to clue me in on if he was interested, but if he had dropped a hint, I probably would have missed it. After all he could just be into modern fiction?  

“Did you want to sit?” I asked, hopeful. Now it was his turn to act nervous, he looked down at his fidgeting hands. I was worried I was making him uncomfortable.  

“Yeah actually, I’d love too.” He moved to the seat sitting across from me and I rushed to move all of my papers out of the way. I heard him chuckle at my frantic movements.  

“It’s okay,” he said, “I am not one to judge about a messy workspace.” The words calmed you down a bit.  

“I’m sorry, I just have been having a hard time getting a good solid foundation going, all of this is research.” His hands moved across the small table to gather some papers, to help me with the mess.  

“Sternberg’s Triangular Theory of Love,” he read aloud, “the working theory that love can be understood in three components. Passion. Intimacy. Commitment.” His eyes flickered up to me while stacking everything to the side. I had been reading so much research on love, having only getting glimpses of it here and there in my own life, I wanted to try to break it open and explore all its dimensions in order to portray it accurately.

“Have you read it?” I asked. He laughed, as if that was a silly question. It should have come across as odd, but all it made me think about was how I could listen to that laugh nonstop.  

“You could say that, I kind of know the research by heart. Are you writing a new book?”  

I nodded.  

“Why the studies? It seems odd to write a scientifically accurate romance book. I can’t imagine “your pheromones light up the temporal lobe of my brain, flooding receptors with serotonin” to be inherently sexy. I always assumed people who wrote about love just, felt it.” This time I was the one who laughed. He sounded like he was genuinely interested in my answer, as his face searched mine like he was searching for a light in the dark.  

“Brave of you to assume my temporal lobe has been affected by anyone’s pheromones Spencer. I do at times just “feel it”, and a lot of it is wishes and hopes and dreams. But sometimes I want it to be more real for people, and with my limited experience in that area, I try to dissect the psychology of it as much as I can. It’s sometimes very unromantic to write a romance.” I was expecting his face to fall, disappointed with my answer, but instead he perked up and smile even wider.  

God, he has a beautiful smile.

“I actually like that, to analyze it from that perspective. I have a degree in psychology in fact. That knowledge is a lot more powerful than you think. I can see why your books have become so popular, and how it ties in to a few of them.”  

“Oh, so you’re a psychologist?” It made sense, it fit him and his aesthetic.

“No, not really, I just have a degree in it. Technically, I have a few degrees.” His demeanor changed as he seemed to become a little self-conscious.  

“You don’t have to tell me them; I know I over share a bit and that can put pressure on others to overshare, I’m sorry.” I sat back in my chair to give him a little distance. This is why I suck at talking to people, I get weird.

“It’s not that, it’s just a little odd to some. I have bachelor’s degrees in Psychology, Sociology, and Philosophy. As well as PHD’s in Chemistry, Mathematics, and Engineering.”

I perked back up in my seat.

“Ah, so it's actually, Dr. Spencer Reid,” I smiled, “I don’t think it’s odd. I think it’s really cool. Obviously very impressive.” When I had called him doctor, his eyes shot up at me with a look in his eye I could only describe as yearning, and I had to hold back a mischievous look. That told me a lot more about him than he could have said. I felt a vibration from the table and saw his phone light up. I could tell from his face it meant our time might be ending soon. It was now or never. I couldn’t wait another week to talk to him again. It felt so natural to sit across from him, like I could sit there for hours without noticing the time. I took a deep breath and gathered my courage.

“I don’t mean to be too forward here Spencer, but would you maybe want to, uhm,” I stammered, “maybe we could do this again?” I hid my face in my hands as the words left my mouth, peaking with one eye between my fingers to see him perk up. He chuckled at my actions.  

“I would love that.”

My hands fell, effectively bringing down my hiding place. I wrote down my phone number on a piece of notebook paper and tore it out, I added my name as well, to make sure he got the proper spelling, because things like that mattered to me. I wondered if it mattered to him? Or was I just showing my oddities. I wrote something else, shielding his eyes from it, before folded the note in half, then for good measure, once more.  I slid the paper over and finally met his eyes. For a second, there was just a silence between us, just looking at the other. My breathing got deeper as his stare got to me. It was just for a moment though, as his phone started ringing to break the silence. He groaned and I nodded at him, gesturing him to take the call.  

“Reid.” He said, the person on the other end other call was talking, but I couldn’t really distinguish anything.  

“Yeah, I got it. I can meet you in 30.” He paused for the voice again before saying goodbye and looked up at me apologetically.

“Work?” I asked. He simply nodded.  

“Yeah, unfortunately I have to go. I might be gone for a few days,” he explained. He saw the curiosity almost jump out at him.

“It’s... complicated?” He answered my question before I even asked.  

“Mm, Spencer, you should know better than to make yourself a mystery to a writer. It’s just going to make me that much more eager to see you again,” I said teasingly, but my words made him blush and chuckle.  

“Text me?” I asked, my tone shifting to hopeful. He nodded furiously and stood up. Gathering his things, he leaned over and whispered in my ear.  

“You know, I’m just as eager to see you again.” I felt the air leaving my lungs, having not been prepared at all for the effect he had on me. He stood upright and smirked at me.  

“Have a good day Y/N, good luck with the research.”  

Before he left, I tried to recover from how he left me speechless. I shouted a goodbye to him as he rushed out the door, the café feeling empty as soon as he was gone. I shook my head and thought it all over. I didn’t know anything about him besides his name and that he’s incredibly smart. I never did this sort of thing either, give my number out to strangers, yearn over men I just met. I was turning into a cliché. But there was something about him that made me think it might be worth it. His smile maybe, or his eyes?  

Writing became a little easier after he left, jumping ahead in my book to write where my thoughts took me. From the romantic to the steamy, Spencer Reid would at least get me out of the hot pan with my publisher and editor.  

*Spencer’s POV*

Climbing onto the jet, I thought about how this was most I had ever disliked being on it. I wanted to talk to her for as long as possible. It was the first time I had felt like myself in a while. I loved my job, but suddenly I was faced with the fact that once again, it made making connections so hard, and I already had a hard time with them. I sat on the couch and looked at the note in my hand, I couldn’t bring myself to open it just yet. It made me so nervous.  

“Hey, kid, you good?”

“Yep.” That question was started to get quite repetitive. Even if I knew Derek Morgan just meant it genuinely.  

“What’s that?” he asked. I stopped before answering. Last time I never told anyone I had started seeing someone, and no one ever got to meet her. No one understood how I felt or how wonderful it all was. Maybe letting down a few rows of stone on the walls I had built up would be good? I could use the advice in the dating world, that’s for sure.  

“It’s a girl’s number.” Morgan looked a bit shocked, and from across the aisle saw JJ choke on her water, then try to recover. I guess it’s safe to assume they were all eavesdropping.  

“Is it that shocking?” I asked her, feeling defensive. She cleared her throat and moved closer.

“No, it's not shocking that someone likes you, not at all, it’s just interesting that you like them back.” Damn, she did have a point. It wasn’t often I noticed someone liked me, let alone reciprocated those feelings.  

“Oh.”

Morgan spoke up next.

“Yeah, I’m happy for you man, have you called her yet?” I shook my head no.

“You should call her,” he said. I sighed and stared on the paper in my hand, my head spinning.

“Well, she’s just not any girl, she’s different, and I’m just nervous around her. I’m nervous around most girls, and I don’t know how to act normal after having such a non-normal relationship with...” my voice fell flat, not being able to continue, but I didn’t have too. Everyone knew.

“Spence, what about her makes you so nervous?” JJ asked, I could her the concern in her voice.  

“It’s odd, it's just that, I’m afraid to get close to her. After... after Maeve I wasn’t okay, and that’s when I found her book, she’s an author. Not only am I going to be terrified of losing someone I like, someone I love again, but that she's perceptive, and that she could know the reason I love her writing so much is because I was just as broken as her character. So now I’m vulnerable and scared.”

Silence fell over the plane. All the agents who had been listening in did not even move. JJ was the first one to step into the silence once again.  

“Well, I’m sure that she wouldn’t have given you her number if she didn’t think you were worth getting to know. I never thought you were broken, Spencer. No one did. But, if that’s what you’re afraid of, maybe you should consider the opposite. If she was the one writing about a broken character, maybe she herself knows what it feels like to be broken.”

I guess a part of me knew that. That maybe she could understand more than most could. It was clouded by the fact I didn’t want my emotional baggage to cast a shadow on how she made me feel, as selfish as it was.

“Don’t be nervous,” Derek said, “take the leap.”

I nodded at him and pulled out my phone. I finally opened to read what she had written alongside her number.

I’m excited to get to know you Spencer Reid. You intrigue me as much as one can. As you can imagine, words mean a lot to me. Here are some of my favorites.  

“We would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed with the windows open and the stars bright.” A Moveable Feast, Ernest Hemingway.

*Y/N’s POV*

The sound of my phone ringing woke me up from a light sleep. Groaning I looked over to see it was a little past 2 am. With a rolling of my eyes I answered.

“Hello?” I mumbled,

“Y/N?” His voice made me sit straight up in bed, my tone a lot more chipper now

“Spencer?”

“Yeah, hi, I wanted to call you and give you my number. I didn’t really take into account how late it was.”  He stammered.

“Ah so you’re a “I’ll call you” and then actually calls kind of guy huh.” I laughed lightly. Turning on my speaker, I added his number to a new contact.  

“Kind of, are you a text only kind of gal?”  

“Yes. Very much so, I like to be able to obsess over what I’m saying in order to make sure it’s perfect before sending it and second guessing it all. “

He busted out a laugh.

“Sounds stressful.”

“You have no idea.” I said sighing, but still there was a smile in my voice.

There was a pause between us, and it was heavy, but not awkward. It was almost as if we were both testing the waters of this new flirtation. Spencer was the one to speak first.

“You know, that quote is now one of my favorites.”  

I blushed; thankful he couldn’t see.

“Really? I’m glad, I was worried it was too cheesy.”

“Not at all, it made me smile. I like smiling. It’s nice to be happy like this.” While the sentiment was sweet, there was a sadness behind his words. I wanted to know why that sadness resided there.

“I like your smile.” I didn’t push too much, not just yet, and decided to change the subject, “Where are you in the world tonight Dr. Reid?”

“Washington State. Once again, I’m sorry about how late it is on the East Coast.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t have much to do in the morning.”

“What about this Saturday?”

Oh my god is this happening?

“Free as a bird.” Extremely proud I didn’t sound crazy.

“Would I be able to steal some of your time away on a date?”

Stop. Time stopped for a second and my heart pounded.

“I truly would like nothing more. Did you have something in mind?”  

“I do, but I think I would like to keep it a surprise, is that okay?” He said with hope in his voice.  

I nodded, but then realized I had to use my voice, which I could not find at the moment.  

“As long as you tell me the vibe so I can dress appropriately, we are golden Spencer Reid.” The way his name sounded would never get old. He laughed a little.

“The vibe, got it, I definitely will.”  I could hear the laugh in his words.

We talked for a bit more, before I remembered once again something I had yet to learn about him.

“You know, you never really told me what you do. Just your degrees.”

This time the pause that came seemed cold.

“Oh, yeah. I’m an FBI agent. Specifically, for a behavioral analysis unit.”

He didn’t seem to inept to tell me, but I tried to play off his change in tone.

“That literally is the coolest thing I have ever heard. I’m almost positive you have walked off the pages of a book. Are you sure you are real?”  

It worked; I could hear him give a slight chuckle.

“Why yes, I do believe I am a real boy, Y/N.”

You might love to say his name, but my name on his lips didn’t sound too bad either.

“Hm, you’re lucky I can’t see your nose to verify.” I said followed by a yawn. I cursed slightly as my body showed how tired I had grown. I wasn’t ready to sleep, but he definitely noticed.

“You should sleep, can I text you tomorrow?”

I sighed, but it was late where he was too, so I gave in.

“Of course. Goodnight Spencer. Please stay safe.”  

“You too Y/N. Sweet dreams.”

I smiled and said goodnight one last time before hanging up. I stared at my phone for a second before falling back into my pillows.  

Five days until our first date.

That night, I fell into dreams about Spencer, butterflies in my stomach and a smile on my face.

___________________________________

Taglist: @/eu-solidao @/andiebeaword

Part One: Meet Cute

The smell of coffee and background noise of the busy café was a welcome comfort, as the idea of being around other people made me feel productive, and I definitely needed that with the pile of background research glaring back at me. I sat back in the chair, sighing and staring at the blinking cursor on the laptop screen. It was like a taunt. Each blink brought me one second closer to my deadline.  

“Medium chai latte with a shot!” shouted a barista from the counter, bringing me back to reality for a second. I sighed in relief and went to get the order, hoping the caffeine would give me the will to throw some words up on the page. Grabbing the cup, I turned around and starting walking across the room when someone ran into straight into my shoulder, spilling hot liquid right on my chest.

“Mother fucker” I grumbled out, the burning liquid turning my collar bones red from the heat.

“I am so sorry,” said the stranger, “I wasn’t paying attention, I- I got distracted, I was reading and I read pretty fast so I had to turn the page and...” He rambled on, frantically handing me napkins, I looked up to see a tall man with shaggy brown hair standing in front of me. He had kind golden eyes, and lightly tanned skin with stubble dusted across his face. Dressed like an English TA, the concern on his face made him very charming. If I hadn’t been mildly upset about the latte and possible first-degree burns, I would have been taken a back with how cute he was.  

“It’s fine.” I waved it off, “I’m sure I will survive.” With an ironic chuckle, I finished wiping off my hand where some had also spilled. This pretty much described how my week was going. This time when I looked up at him, our eyes met, and his widened slightly when recognition came over him.

“You’re Y/N Y/L/N.”  

My head jerked back and my forehead scrunched up in surprise, “Oh, uh, yeah, I am. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name, have we met before?” He shook his head, a blush starting to creep up on his face, and lifted his hand to show me the book in his hand. I noticed it was a little worn and torn from more than a few reads, which made me smile a little.

“Um, no, but the book I was reading, the one that distracted me, it’s... it’s your book.” Smiling shyly, he showed me the cover, it was indeed mine, my first book to be specific. I was suddenly very aware of myself, from how I was standing, what I was wearing, how my hair looked. I immediately was regretting my choice of such casual wear, and stood a little straighter. My PR persona started to creep up on me.  

“Thank you,” I said getting flustered, “Not many people know notice authors by appearance, I’m surprised.” I knew he could see that I was blushing, and he went to speak again, right when my phone decided to start ringing. Lovely, I thought, disappointed for the break of eye contact with the man. I was even more embarrassed now as my ringtone was the main theme from The Hobbit. Pulling it out of my pocket, I groaned and rolled my eyes at the name popping up on the screen.

“My editor,” I paused, I was considering letting it go to voicemail, but with a sigh I looked back him, “I should probably take this, I’m sorry, it was nice to meet you though. Minus the hot tea burn. It makes me happy you like the book, it’s not my most popular.” I laughed, albeit a little sadly.  

“Yeah of course, I understand. Once again, I’m very sorry.” I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but I swear I heard something in his tone change. Maybe he didn’t want to walk away either?

Smiling, I gave him a little head nod, signaling that it was okay. I answered the phone with a hello, and waved goodbye to the man. I could feel his eyes on me when I sat down, then down at the book in his hand, then back at me. Hearing my editor anxiously ask about where my chapters were, I missed him leaving the coffee shop before I could hang up and talk to him again.  

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*Spencer’s POV*

My mind was reeling as I was making my way to my desk, setting down my bag, I held the book in my hands. I forgot all about my original plan, which was to get coffee, because all I could think about was talking to her and this book. Titled Revival, it was one of the first books that made me smile after last year. It had made me cry as well, almost everything made me cry, but the smile, I had been worried I forgot what was it was like to smile.

“Hey, Spencer!” Penelope called as she walked into the office, “Did you get the coffee?”  

A heavy sigh escaped me, “No, I’m sorry, I got um... distracted.” The way I spoke, my voice raising higher at the end of the sentence, made the tech analyst raise her eyebrows at me, alarmed.

“Distracted? What? Why? Is everything okay? Are you okay?” The questions continued to rattle off as I shook my head furiously, wide eyed.

“Hey, yes, yes. I am okay,” this was enough for her to calm her voice, and her face said she needed to know more, so I continued with an exhale, “I just met an author and I really enjoy and I was awkward. I was reading her book and ran into her, spilling her drink on her, because I’m an idiot. What are the statistics of that happening? Am I just more prone to these situations?” Saying out loud made me cringe, reliving how awkward it felt to try to talk to her. Penelope looked at the book in my hand.

“Wait, you met Y/N Y/L/N? I. Love. Her. Her books make me feel things all sappy like in my heart! You’ve read them?” she asked me, a little skeptical. I nodded, feeling a little bit more embarrassed.  

“I know I'm not the targeted demographic of most of her literature considering I’m not a woman in my mid-twenties to mid-thirties, but her first book is a little different than her newest work. I have read the others out of curiosity.”

“Well, I’m sure it’ll be okay. If anything, you’re made a pretty memorable impression, I wouldn’t let it bother you too much. It’s like meeting a celebrity.”  

At that moment, Agent Aaron Hotchner called for everyone to meet, probably for another case. I tried to shake this morning from my mind, but it wasn’t easy. I had so much I wanted to say to her, about the book and how much the story resonated. How it helped me through so much, she had probably heard it all before, but still. What I hadn’t expected was this, not just because the meeting was nothing short of comical, but because I was caught off guard by her.  

I always knew I admired her mind, the way she wrote gave away how intelligent she was, and her emotional intelligence spoke to me in ways I didn’t fully understand how. When I met her eyes, I felt like the same way I did when I first read her book, hopeful. She was stunning in every way. The way her hair fell from the bun on her head, the romper she was wearing had framed her so well I was a little shocked at the thoughts that raced into my mind. Not to mention the little half smile she gave me almost knocked me over completely. The little author portrait on the inside of her books did nothing to convey all she was.  

Hotch’s voice snapped me out of the thoughts, announcing that we would be leaving in thirty minutes. It looked like I would have a few days to let it all fade away, or a few days to obsess over it and spin down into a spiral of second guessing.

*Y/N’s POV*

I slammed my laptop shut with a large grin across my face. Whispering a “yes!” under my breath, I stretched out my hands and fingers, which had begun to cramp about thirty minutes ago. Four hours and two chapters down, I had finally been able to send something to my editor and manager. I had been so preoccupied with the stress of getting through writer’s block that my mind hadn’t let me think about anything else. Now that I had finally pressed send on that email, I started to think about this morning’s encounter.

I hope I wasn’t rude, I thought. Should I have asked him if he wanted me to sign his book? No that’s so weird. I shouldn’t have left so abruptly though. Not many people know who I am in real life, let alone know that first book. I should have gotten his name, maybe asked him to sit? I chewed on my lip thinking it all over. He was cute, I knew that. Cute and not completely out of my age range. What was a little spilled tea over a hot guy who liked to read? I stifled a smile, my team would eat that up, place a cover on it, and have it out by Christmas. Looking around, I noticed all the offices and buildings around the shop, maybe he worked around here? I groaned and put my head in my hands when I realized I hadn’t even asked him his name; he probably hates me now.

I didn’t know exactly when I made the decision to try to see him again, but once the thought entered my mind, all I could do from going home and sleeping to get to tomorrow, was to buy another latte, two shots this time.