wasted times- s.r

THREE

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

Even with your earbuds in, you could still vaguely recognize the familiar voice coming from behind you. You set the book down on the shelf once more and glance behind your shoulder to see a bothered Spencer Reid with his arms crossed against his chest, and his face sporting the usual scowl that rests upon it whenever he sees you. 

It's been a week since you've started at the BAU, and things with Reid have not gotten any better, if anything, you were sure they've gotten worse. You collectively try to avoid him at work unless necessary, but it proves to be difficult whenever Hotch decides to pair the two of you up together on cases. It's not that the two of you work horribly together because it's quite the opposite really-- the both of you work extremely well together when Spencer isn't down your throat for whatever reason he has for being so hostile toward you. You weren't sure what his issue was, and you weren't too keen on finding out. It wasn't like you'd done anything to him either to make him so upset, you were actually the epitome of nice, even if it was to a man like Spencer Reid.

You've decided to be the bigger person in this situation, after all, you're coworkers. You didn't want him to hate you any more than he already did, or risk egging him on by retaliating against his childish efforts to annoy you. So instead, when he mumbles an insult or has you running around like a chicken without its head, you respond with a smile and stay silent, clenching your fists at your side to avoid decking him in the face. 

Thank god you have excellent self-control; otherwise, you knew you'd probably have gotten a stern talking-to from Hotch by now, and you knew that no matter what you say, Spencer wouldn't get in trouble. After all, he's the resident genius of the BAU and has been there much longer than you have. This also means that if you were to turn the tables on him, it would most likely be you getting punished, and that wasn't something you were willing to risk after working so hard to get where you are now.

Today is no different, even with the resting glare on his face, you offer him a tight-lipped smile and an awkward wave. "Reid," you greet him. "Nice to see you."

Not.

"Can't say the same for you, Agent Y/L/N."

 He insists on calling you by your formal name all the time, and you have a sneaking suspicion he does it solely to patronize you based on the tone he takes when he says it. Like he's mocking you, or ridiculing you. Nonetheless, you give him a small smile, trying your best not to look fed-up with his tone. Though it seems your constant cordiality toward him only seems to annoy him more, it's as though he wants you to fight back, but you refuse to give him yet another reason to hate you. Taking the high road has never been so painstakingly difficult.

"So, what brings you here?" He looks at you in displeasure at the question. "Let's just skip the niceties and try not to pretend like we're friends." You're taken aback by his tone, mostly because up until now, he's only been passive-aggressive toward you, never actually admitting to your face he dislikes you, but rather through his actions. You're stunned into silence at his blunt tone, and he takes the opportunity to hum in contentment and return to the shelf behind him. you continue to browse, hoping Reid would get what he needs and then leave you be, but he continues to look, and the feeling of his presence behind you is suffocating. It feels as though the shelves are closing in, and the troublesome tension in the air is rapidly increasing.

The loud shrill of your phone ringing in your pocket causes you to flinch slightly, fumbling to answer it so the loud ringing will stop, and the quiet atmosphere of the shop can be restored. You curse under your breath as you look hurriedly through your purse and fumble with the buttons, seeing Hotch's name flashing across the small screen. Hotch bothering you on your day off could only mean one thing: there was a case.