Coffee // Dr. Spencer Reid

coffee at the town

Spencer and Eleanor were granted an interval of exactly twelve minutes interval to have their first date by the time their schedules finally aligned. In thirty minutes, he was expected to be at work. In eighteen, Eleanor needed to relieve Sydney from her shift.

Coffee in hand, the two walked arm in arm down the chilly Virginia streets, each speaking animatedly about any exciting events to happen since they last had time to talk. They had spoken briefly on the phone through his last couple cases, or when he ran in for coffee. Nothing other than a fast, "How are you?" could ever be exchanged. 

"I went six whole days without you and your coffee. I thought the end was near," said Spencer dramatically. 

"There's coffee better than mine," she insisted, lowering her head. 

Spencer placed the back of his hand on her forehead. Giggling, she waved away his hand. 

"Are you insane?" he wondered. "That's not even remotely true."

Eleanor smiled up at him. "Hey, Spencer?"

"Hey, Eleanor?"

"Do you think it would it be okay if I held your hand?"

"Oh, um, it's okay if you don't remember, El, but holding hands isn't something I particularly enjoy to participate in... It's actually--"

"--less germ infested to kiss, than to shake hands."

Spencer lifted his eyes from the pavement. A crinkle appeared between his eyebrows. He tilted his head at the slightest. "What?"

"That's would be exactly why I asked," she explained nervously.

"Oh. Oh. You want me to-- right, I can do that. Okay," he said breathlessly.

Impatiently, Eleanor unhooked her arm from his. She popped onto her tip toes, reached for his chin, then brought his lips down to her own softly. 

"Thank you," breathed Spencer when they broke.

"For what?" laughed Eleanor.

"Being patient with me. I know how long you've waited for me to kiss you."

"How...? Oh. Behavior analyst," she said smartly. "Well, you don't have to thank me. Being patient goes both ways. It's frustrating for me with my terrible memory."

"It's not terrible," insisted Spencer.

"Last week, Nora took off six days for vacation. I couldn't remember her name for the first three days she was back."

"El..."

"It's getting worse, Spencer, I'm telling you."

"Don't say that."

"I don't want to hit another stage. I'm scared out of my mind, and no one understands it. No one understands how frustrating it is to know where I'm going to end up. And I can't do a damn thing about it..."

"I'm scared," he offered quietly.

"About me?"

"About you, about me. I fear about my own future. I don't think I've ever told you about my mother."

"She's in..."

"Vegas," he helped her to remember. "You think she would be living the life, yeah."

"She's not?" 

"My mother is a schizophrenic."

Eleanor nodded. "You're afraid you're going to follow in her footsteps."

"I am," he admitted.

If Eleanor wanted to say anything more on the subject, she couldn't, due to both of their cell phones ringing. They silenced the alarms.

"I wish we had more time," muttered Eleanor sadly.

"I'll be here after work, if there's no case today," offered Spencer.

"You know what that probability is."

Spencer was the one to lean in. Against her lips, he smiled. "Goodbye, El."

"Goodbye, Spencer..."