CHERRY FLAVOURED || Re-Write

TEN

p.s... little freak by harry styles is yn's song and from the dining table is reid's. perfect.

SPENCER REID

My head was lying on her thigh, with the smell of sex steaming in the air. The phone was pressed into my ear and I was humming along to Emily's vibrant need to pick on us.

"You guys are having sex, I understand," she said, her voice clear, which meant I was not imagining what she said.

"No," I spat, acting disgusted. We didn't have sex but it smelt as though we did–with two bodies and fluids connecting us both in a captivating yet sickening way–and I wouldn't have been surprised if Emily could smell it through the phone. "I'm helping her put up her groceries."

"And that has taken so long?"

"Yes." I removed my head from YN's lap and rolled my eyes in her direction. She chuckled and crossed her legs, hiding herself from me. "YN is a difficult person, Em. You expect me to be able to handle her? God, it's hell even trying to help her with groceries."

She kicked me and pushed my face away. She glided down the counter and picked up her panties, sliding them back onto her long sweaty legs. I could hear her walking around me towards her room, and I zoned all of my attention onto her. I watched her walk in, close the door–with only a crack to see into–and change.

"Spencer?" Emily asked. "Please tell me nothing is going on right now. I'd rather not be on the phone with someone while they're having sex or something."

"That's disgusting," I said once I realized I'd completely zoned out. "YN needed help putting up some groceries and I put myself on mute while I helped. Sorry I didn't listen."

"It's fine," she sighed. "Just get back here soon, we have a case and I have to catch you guys up on information."

"Alright." I moved around the counter towards her refrigerator as Emily wished me well, and placed my phone into my back pocket. There were magnets stuck onto the stainless steel fridge: red and hot pink, red chili peppers that glimmered under her bright chandelier. She had photos stuck onto the fridge as well, like pictures of her as a child, with her mother and father, with a bottle in hand and two cones on her breasts. Then there was a note.

Don't brush me off. I didn't mean to homewreck–I'm not a shitty guy, promise. Text me back and maybe one day we can do this again.

Adam, xx

Was it that guy I nearly walked in on fucking YN? The guy who scurried out of her apartment? When did he leave the note on the fridge? Or had he done it at all and YN had only picked the note up from where he left it and placed it onto the fridge?

"I see you've found the note," YN said as she walked into the kitchen. She slid over to me in a pair of skinny jeans–the same one's lying on the ground as we spoke–and a new tight black long-sleeve that didn't smell of mouth-on-genitals action.

I nodded. "Yeah." I whispered and looked deeply at the piece of paper. I stepped back a foot and craned my head forward so the words behind the paper bled through from the light. "Is anything written on the back?"

She uttered a sound that could only be explained as a cat and a dog whine mixed into one. "Nothing important," she muttered.

I looked over at her, watching her grimace and step forward to, what I believed, grab the paper. I knew something was written on the back. Something she didn't want me to see. So I raced her to the fridge and snatched it off the steel. The chili magnet dropped to the floor and sliced through the room, banging the highly-cushioned red couch.