✓ | 𝗔𝗣𝗛𝗥𝗢𝗗𝗜𝗧𝗘 · ͟͟͞͞➳ spencer reid

DION & ELVIS ━━━

# ! | DION & ELVIS
- meryl gets more than
she was expecting on
christmas of 2010

━━━ FOR THE FIRST
time since joining the Undercover Operations unit, Meryl Murphy finds herself actually off the job for Christmas. She'd flown to Montana to celebrate with her family the week prior and has a gathering with friends next week, but on Christmas Eve she finds herself alone, peacefully baking pineapple tinted gingerbread cookies while an Elvis album spins on her record player.

Outside, snow clumps on the ground in watery tufts, the weather not quite cold enough to make the snow powdery. It's getting there, though; Murph stops midway through mixing batter, this time chocolate chip cookies for her neighbors, to put on a sweater.

She stops as she pases the door, hearing footsteps crunching rapidly though the snow in her front yard. She yanks the door open, spots the white sedan driving away, and then glances down at the box by her feet. It's a deep, cube shaped cardboard box and inside, two spheres of fur wriggle around. The larger of the two is white as the snow that falls, while the smaller is mainly tan with black splotches. A Great Pyrenees and a bloodhound, she concludes, scooping the box up.

Feeling themselves move, the two pups sit down and stare up at the woman coming to their rescue, the bloodhound's tongue lolling out of their mouth. Meryl closes the door with a light kick and then retreats to her living room. "Let's get you guys checked out, huh? Now why on Earth would someone get rid of you on Christmas?"

She scoops the sleepy white puppy out of the box first, finding him to be male and very healthy, if not just a touch overweight. The bloodhound is also male, with bright, perceptive eyes and paws and ears far too large for his current body. Both dogs soon fall asleep, easily influenced by the warmth and comfort of Meryl's lap, clad in fluffy sweatpants. She decides immediately that she will be keeping them.

There is a patch of brown fur that is on the top of the bloodhound's head. Thanks to the music, now a Dion album, that becomes his name. The white dog has puffy tufts of hair that resemble a pompadour style, so Elvis becomes his name.

She scoops them both up, one in each arm, and puts them in her car. Meryl drives more carefully than normal, does out of character things like obeying the speed limit, and eventually winds up at her local pet store. There she buys an electric blue collar, harness, leash, and bowls for Elvis and the same things for Dion in hunter green. She gets them each different kinds of puppy food and several soft and toothing toys. The final additions are lavish beds, though she knew they'd end up in her own, and coats for the winter months even though they'd rapidly outgrow them.

The cashier is a skinny boy with a look of genuine glee on his face as he spots the two wriggling puppies in the front basket section of her cart. The smile only widens when Meryl hands him fifty dollars, having paid for the things with a credit card. "Merry Christmas," she smiles, taking her bags and returning home.

There, two little puppies crawl around in their comically large beds, tumbling over each other as they follow their new person and favorite chew toy around.

Four months pass and two one hundred pound dogs fit in their beds a little easier now, but that doesn't mean they use them. Oh so carefully, as to not disturb Meryl's newly broken collarbone, the two dogs jump on to the bed and settle on either side of her legs. She smiles, one hand dropping to rub either of their heads.

"I love you guys," she murmurs sleepily. "You're such good boys. So good. Sleep well, my loves."

They settle more firmly against her legs and then all three members of the Murphy household are out like a light.

• • •

Christmas of 2013 and the house is alight with joy. Spencer and Meryl had spent the last week with Diana in Paris, Meryl's treat, and now the newlyweds have the actual holiday all to themselves. Tomorrow they'd meet at Rossi's for Christmas with the team, but today it's just them.

"Merry Christmas, angel," Spencer murmurs when he feels Meryl stir in his arms. "How are you feeling?"

The small woman turns in his embrace, her bare chest pressed against his as she kisses his neck. "Buon Natale. I'm sore, Spence. Really bloody sore. Not very nice of you."

Meryl smiles when she hears Spencer's laughter. "I didn't hear any complaints from you last night," he counters, watching her get out of bed, the sunlight illuminating her nude figure. "Merry Christmas to me," he murmurs under his breath.

In fifteen minutes, they both get dressed and then listen to an Elvis album on Meryl's record player whilst a pot of coffee brews. They dance together slowly, but are quickly interrupted by the doorbell ringing.

Meryl pops off to answer it while Spencer pours their cups, but he nearly drops them when she walks back into the kitchen, a bleary eyed puppy in her arms.

Her phone buzzes with a text.

pop
Merry Christmas, my little big shot. Diana told me you and Spencer wanted a dog. I made it easier on you.
Read 9:14 a.m

Meryl shakes her head and laughs, the hefty black puppy jiggling with the movement. "A Newfoundland? It's a good thing this house is so big."

Spencer whips his phone out to snap a picture of his bride and their new pup. "How big is this little guy gonna get?"

"About one forty, give or take ten pounds."

The taller's eyes widen. "That's more than you, like by quite a bit."

Meryl holds the jet black pup up Simba style. "What are we gonna name this nugget?"

The turntable switches and the needle drops on a Frank Sinatra record. They both look at each other.

"Frank," Meryl says to the puppy, smiling when the black cotton ball's ears perk up. Spencer takes the dog into the cradle of one of his arms and pulls Meryl against his side with the other. "Frank it is. Frank Reid, about to be the most spoiled dog in the BAU."