✓ | 𝗔𝗣𝗛𝗥𝗢𝗗𝗜𝗧𝗘 · ͟͟͞͞➳ spencer reid

CHAPTER 19 ━━━

# ! | CHAPTER NINETEEN
- time isn't on their side

━━━ SPENCER LOOKS HIMSELF
over in the mirror one final time. He thought he looked...well, better than he usually did. His hair fell across his forehead in fluffy swoops and he wore an all black rendition of his sweater vest and suit get up. He spritzes on some cologne Derek has told him was "the shit" and then grabs his bag.

During that same time, Meryl had been clasping a gold necklace around her throat and smoothing down her hair, which cascaded over her shoulders in a classy middle part. She wears a plum colored body con dress, decided to put her curves on display just for night. Meryl slides into her leather jacket and kisses Elia goodbye.

They both look at themselves in the mirrors in their hallways, flash a thumbs up, and then put on their black Converse.

Both Meryl and Spencer are almost to the restaurant when their phones buzz in tandem.

Garcia
GET HERE. NOW.
Read 8:13 p.m

ೃ⁀➷

"Woah there, pretty boy," Morgan smirks as Spencer walks into the round table room, his holster and revolver now on his hip. "Hot date?"

Spencer rolls his eyes. "Oh yeah, no place I'd rather be than here with all of you guys." He looks around to see Emily, JJ, and Garcia staring at him with interest. Hotch and Rossi exchange a knowing look, and Morgan just keeps smiling.

"Ciao, lovelies. Sorry I'm late." Spencer's breath catches in his throat as he gets his eyes on Meryl, who's lips are the same color as her dress and winged eyeliner makes her look that much more seductive. It was December 19th today, soon to be the 20th, and everyone was itching for that week off work that followed Christmas Day. It was mandatory, courtesy of Strauss worried about burnout and anxiety and other such things. However, no one had any objections.

Emily wolf whistles. "Hot damn. The doctor is in, ladies and gentlemen."

Meryl blushes. "I have a change of clothes in my desk. I know this isn't work appropriate but I wanted to get here as quickly as I could."

She takes a seat next to Spencer and her knee brushes his, sending heat running up her spine. He looked so damn good, usually he stuck to more neutral tones and it was her job to wear the dark attire but this was working for him. He wore a few rings on each hand, cool aluminum bands, and she couldn't take her eyes away from the veins and the metal and his face, the way he looked at her.

But she had to, they had to stay under the radar. Back in the moment, Garcia is giving the run down on their case.

"This one is bad. Like, eyebrows in the nineties bad. It's been three days and there are seven bodies piled up in Bozeman, Montana. Local PD has never had to go through anything like this before and they are frantic, to say the least. Thirty year old Carter Lee was the first victim. Was at a club with a friend and got abducted, turned up two hours later with his throat slit. Leo Yates, Ben Smith, Elton Lucas, Samuel Stone, and Dennis Arley have almost the same sad story. Families are there waiting to talk to you guys. The whole town is freaking out. Which is like, thirty seven thousand people." Garcia rushes through the crime scene photos of seven men with their throats slashed.

Spencer and Meryl speak at the same time. "Thirty seven thousand seventy."

Spencer looks to her. "You know that?"

She shrugs. "I'm familiar with the area."

Hotch stands then. "Internet reliance where we're headed can be a little iffy. Garcia, I want you with us on this one. Wheels up in 20, we don't have time to be messing around."

Meryl hops up from her seat, giving Spencer a nice view of the back. Physical and sexual attraction weren't commonalities for him, but he now understood the long debated topic of boobs or butt and he strongly identified as being an ass man. Murph innocently bends over her desk to grab her go back and an extra change of clothes and Spencer just about passes out right there.

"You look so great. I mean you always look great. Really good, like, it's kind of distracting. But right now..." Spencer trails off, staring awkwardly at his his hands.

Meryl's returning smile is gracious. "Now you know how I've felt for the last couple months. You look exceptional, by the way."

Spencer grins playfully. "Still... What was it you called me? Physically and sexually repressed?"

Meryl nods. "You still look a little bottled up, yeah."

Something comes over Spencer then, a little confidence due to comfort. "Let's get this case wrapped up, then, so we can pick up where we left off. Go get changed, sweetheart. As much as I'd like you not to."

Reid grabs both of their go bags and turns around, coming face to face with Emily, JJ, and Garcia. He laughs in confusion. "Are you here to take my lunch money?"

JJ nods. "Nah. We're here to tell you that if you ever say anything to Meryl like what you said on the jet that one time, Garcia will post your highschool yearbook photos to every media outlet she can get her hands on."

The four of them dissolve into laughter then, but the message is clear. They gave Meryl the same kind of talk when they cornered her in the bathroom. These two people now meant too much to them to see either get hurt.

On the jet, everyone settles in for an almost six hour flight. They run through victimology: brown haired, middle class white men in their early thirties. They then establish what these people must mean to their unsub. A surrogate, perhaps, since victimology hardly changes at all.

"Given the age," Morgan pipes up, "it's possible we're looking for a gay man who feels wronged by an ex lover. It doesn't feel personal enough to be father killing surrogates for his son."

Everyone agrees and then goes their separate ways. JJ falls asleep with Emily's jacket over her shoulders. Dave and Em play cards with Hotch, Derek and Garcia share a pair of earbuds. Spencer and Murph take the sofa, where he makes a geographic profile and she analyzes the ME reports.

A few minutes in to their search, Spencer reaches over and and cups Meryl's ankle, unbending her leg and laying it across his lap, hand continuing to rest on her her knee. She maneuvers a little bit and then adds her other leg, humming contently. Her lower half is now covered by a pair of skinny jeans, much to Spencer's dismay, but it's still contact. He never really knew where this physical longing had come from. Perhaps, he used words so often that they'd just lost their touch.

A few hours pass and the jet lands in cold, snowy Bozeman, spilling the agents out on to the icy streets, the threat of finding another body lingering on every corner.