wasted times- s.r

TWENTY-NINE

disclaimer: this was not spell-checked AT ALL, excuse errors

When the plane touches down in Quantico after the case around two in the morning, you make an effort to avoid Spencer at all costs. It wasn't hard considering you spend most of the time avoiding him anyway, but after your brief encounter when you thought he got shot, you've been particularly avoiding him. Maybe it's because you're terrified to admit to yourself that you were genuinely terrified that he'd gotten hurt, mostly because you still care for him more than you'd like to admit. You hate yourself for still being attached to him even after he hurt you, it makes you feel weak.

Once you exit the jet and leave the bullpen after grabbing your stuff from your desk, you're painfully aware of the fact that it's pouring rain outside. You're also painfully aware of the fact that you took the metro to work this morning because your car was at the mechanics for a repair. This also means that you'll have to walk to the station in the pouring rain, just your lucky day.

You flip the hood of your jacket up, tucking your hair behind you and tucking your head down in an attempt to not get your face wet. There's basically no one on the streets this late, and only the streetlights illuminate the sidewalk as you walk down the deserted streets. You hear a car pull up to the sidewalk behind you, and your hand subconsciously goes to the gun on your hip as you hear the car pull up beside you.

"Do you want a ride?" You walk a little faster at the sound of Spencer's voice in the car now pulled over. He slowly moves his car forward to keep up with you as you basically speed-walk away from him. "Go home, Reid."

"Get in the car so I can give you a ride. It's raining."

"It's not that far to the metro, I'll be fine," you assure him, still not glancing over at him. The offer is tempting, but you won't take it, despite how cold and wet you are. You'd rather die of hypothermia than get in a car with him.

"You'll get sick."

"I don't care, I'm not going anywhere with you," you retort, Spencer's car still following you.

"It's not safe to be alone this late, Y/N. You could get murdered."

"Sounds like a real fun time."

"Don't say that," he scolds, raising his voice slightly over the loud sound of raindrops hitting the ground. A loud crack of thunder in the distance makes you flinch slightly, and you walk a little faster. You hear the car door slam and look over your shoulder to see Spencer getting out of the car and walking toward you. "Just get in the car, please," he pleads softly. You stop in your tracks and turn around to face him, giving him enough time to catch up to you, standing an arm's length away from you.

"I'm fine, I don't need you worrying about me."

"I'm always going to worry about you. I lo-"

"Don't finish that sentence," you warn firmly, Spencer's mouth snapping shut as he nods in understanding. "Go home, Spencer."

"Not unless you get in that car with me. I'm not leaving you alone out here, no matter how much you hate me." His eyes are silently pleading with you to just co-operate, and you're close to giving in by the way your body shivers slightly, but you won't go with him. You won't let yourself get close to him again, only for him to hurt you.

"I don't need you babying me. I'm an FBI agent with a gun, I'm perfectly capable of defending myself, or do you simply think I'm too incompetent?"

"N-No! Of course not!" You scoff, crossing your arms and turning around to continue down your route. You feel Spencer jog behind you, seizing your shoulder and turning you around to face him. You pull your shoulder away roughly, glancing up at him, his hair dripping, chest heaving slightly. "Don't fucking touch me, Spencer, or I swear to god-"