Flight Risk | Spencer Reid

VIII

In which a profiler and the stars have something in common and a pilot has a decision to make.

.

All Saturday, Reid struggles to focus. It is the fault of one particular pilot, who has suddenly taken up much of the space in his mind. He loses his place in his books. He forgets about the leftovers he's put in the microwave so long they get cold. He doesn't realize he has neglected to put sugar in his coffee until he brings it to his lips and tastes the bitterness. And how can he think straight when he keeps replaying memories of the night before? When he asked to talk, Y/N didn't even hesitate. She listened to him. She comforted him. She even shared part of her own heart with him. With her, he forgot about the case and the fight with JJ and all of his doubts. With Y/N he could just be himself.

And he hasn't stopped thinking of the couch in her apartment. Where he shifted his fingers ever so slightly to touch hers. Touch isn't easy for him, but it is a commonly accepted manner of expressing comfort or gratitude. He felt both of those things with her. And he had wanted her to feel them too. So he let his hand rest on hers. It took him by surprise when she rested her head on his shoulder, but he was even more surprised to discover he very much liked the sensation. So he put his head on her own and everything in the world was quiet and perfect and right.

Some time later, as Audrey Hepburn was singing "La Vie en Rose" for Humphrey Bogart on the television in front of them, he realized she had fallen asleep on his shoulder. With one hand he had grabbed for the remote, trying to remain still, in order to turn the volume down, so as not to wake her. Amelia, Y/N's golden tabby cat had walked into the room at stared at him with big green eyes, as if quietly judging him. What are you going to do? she seemed to ask him.

And what was he going to do? Reid hadn't been sure, not until Y/N shifted. In her sleep, she wrapped an arm around his waist. His heart thudded in his ears. Y/N had buried her face into his sweater and smiled. Smiled. As if simply being close to him made her happy. And oh what it did to his heart to think of that.

Reid had realized her found her attractive in a uniform, but looking at her now, she was utterly adorable. Her breath soft, her heart so fast and fluttering. Like a bird. There was still time now. He could nudge her gently and wake her up. He could leave the apartment. Leave her. End the moment before it could begin. There were things he was not allowed to feel. Things he was not allowed to do. But in spite of himself, he put his arm around her and lay his head back on hers. Falling into place. Like a puzzle, the pieces fitting just right. It felt so right to be by her side. And so he let himself fall asleep, too.

It is the memory of drifting into dreams with the feeling of her body against his own that continues to follow him long after they have parted ways. The smell of her shampoo. The soft smile on her face. He doesn't want to ever forget it.

The days that follow are both slow and busy. They're swamped with paperwork and consults, but there aren't any cases out of state. Which means that he doesn't see Y/N for two weeks, having no reason to be on a plane and no time to meet her outside of work. They text when they can, but it's not the same. He replays that night. The starlight reflecting in her eyes in the car as she drove. The soft noise of the television. Audrey Hepburn singing that song again, slowly. Humphrey Bogart staring at her, saying, "Suppose I asked you to – well I suppose I'm just talking nonsense." And he supposes that it will have to be enough, this memory.

When they finally meet again, it's in the Quantico hangar, preparing for a case in Minnesota. She's re-reading Peter Pan and it pulls at some spot in his heart to remember the day he first met her.

"Well hello, stranger," she teases.

"I'm sorry it's been so long," he says, sitting down next to her on the bench. "But it's good to see you again. I missed you." What an understatement that is.