Two Existentialists | S.R.

5

The unsub, Gary Lewis, was caught three days later, after he slipped up with the drowning of the third victim. Or rather, the third hostage. What he didn't know was she was still alive when he left her in the Ohio. She was found and saved by Kayakers and brought to the ER downtown. The team got a description of the unsub and with the help of Garcia, tracked him down to his home. He was recreating the death of his mother, who was brutally drowned by his father. It was truly a terrible fate for Gary, because he watched his father take his mothers life and never recovered. Not that you could from a traumatic event like that.

By the time the jet landed in D.C. it was nearing 8 pm. Hotch told everyone that, since it was the weekend, they didn't need to stay and do the paperwork. They could just do it on Monday.

You had been working on your paper for your philosophy class, crumpling paper and throwing it around as you became more and more frustrated by the simple concept of a rough draft.

You heard a knock at your door and looked at the clock. It was just after 9pm, who could it be?

You walked to the door and looked through the peephole. A grin took over your face as you opened the door. There stood Spencer with a bag in his hands.

"Hi," you muttered softly, looking up at the man.

"You mentioned pad see ew so I picked some up for you," he said as he held out the bag. You accepted it and he began to turn.

"Aren't you going to stay?" you asked, hoping he would.

"Oh! I didn't want to intrude. And I didn't know if you had plans or something already. But I just wanted to bring you some food as a partial make-up for being terrible and cancelling dinner."

"Spencer, you didn't cancel dinner on purpose. Your job needed you, people needed you. It's alright. Please stop apologizing. Now don't make me eat alone," you replied, reaching out and tugging his arm. He nodded and walked into your apartment, your hand lingering on his arm as he did.

He looked around and raised his eyebrows. "Did you have a fight with paper?" he asked softly, referencing the crumpled essay drafts that littered your living room.

"It's usually not this messy. I've just been drafting an essay all day and it has not been working," you said, picking up the pieces of paper.

"You write your drafts on paper?"

"I don't like computers. I'd much rather use the old-fashioned way."

Spencer smiled and picked up a ball, unfolding it. His eyes scanned the page. "I think this is well written and concise. What's wrong with it that you threw it out?" he said, holding up the draft.

"The thesis didn't function as well as I'd hoped. I'm thinking of scrapping the idea and going with a different one," you replied, grabbing the food he brought and two plates and sets of utensils. "We can eat in the living room, I just stained the kitchen table  yesterday and it's still a bit sticky."

Spencer looked at you in confusion. "You have time to be a triple major and still find time to do housework?"

You laughed at him as you sat down on the couch. "Time is just a social construct Dr. Reid."

He smiled as you handed him the food. "Y/N, please stop calling me that, it makes me think I'm at work." Your smile fell a bit as you nodded and began to eat. You didn't mean to upset him. "Besides, it's not fair that you call me doctor when you're not one yet," he teased, seeing your body language change.

You grinned, realizing he wasn't actually upset. "Alright, Spencer, let me finish this terrible essay and then I'm all yours," you said, grabbing your laptop. He looked at you quizzically as you held the computer in your lap. "My professor requires online submissions, something I'm not very fond of."

"I can leave so you can work on this in peace. I've already overstayed my initial plan," Spencer said as he stood up. You groaned and wrapped your hand around his wrist, pulling him back into the couch.

"I promise I will tell you if you're bothering me. But, since I haven't said anything, you can make the correct assumption that I like having you here," you muttered, your hand still on his. He nodded as you let go of his wrist and began typing.

He looked over your shoulder, slowly inching closer to read your essay. "It looks good Y/N, just add a qualifier there and it's basically perfect."

You turned and blushed, seeing how close he was to you. "Ok, I trust you," you muttered, following his suggestion and clicking the submit button. "Alright, all done. Should we watch something?" you asked, picking up the remote and tilting your head.

"You pick, show me your favorite movie," he responded.

"You, my kind sir, will regret this decision," you replied, putting on your favorite movie, Legally Blonde. An hour and a half later, you had moved closer to Spencer on the couch, leaning next to him without touching. He was watching you carefully as you watched the last scene of the movie, seeing Elle give her graduation speech. You turned and met his eyes. "What did you think?"

"It was funny. Although I knew Chutney killed her father."

"When did you figure that out?"

"About two minutes into the court room scene," he replied. You laughed and fell into his chest. You quickly realized how close you were to him and got up.

"Of course you did," you muttered, blushing. He smiled and pushed your hair out of your face. Your eyes met his and you tilted your head, a smile appearing on your face. He moved closer to you, you inched closer to him, but were interrupted by a knock at your door. You frowned and stood up, walking to the door and opening it, wanting to see who was bothering you at nearly midnight.

"Y/N! I have been calling for the last hour," Nate exclaimed, pulling you into a hug the second you swung open the door.

"Hey! Sorry, I put my phone down and forgot it. What do you need from me this late N?" you answered as he released you from his arms.

"Oh nothing important. I was just worried about you. I'll see you for dinner tomorrow, right?" He said, smiling at you. You nodded.

"I would never cancel our Sunday night dinners. I'll text you tomorrow, okay?" he nodded and hugged you again before leaving. You sighed and closed the door, shaking your head at him and laughing lightly. You turned and saw Spencer, standing up and holding his bag.**

"I think it's best if I go," he muttered, looking at the ground.

"Spencer, you don't have to," you reasoned, walking towards him.

"I should go, Y/N," he said again, still not meeting your eyes.

You purse your lips and stepped in front of him, your arms crossed. "I may not be an FBI profiler but I can tell something's wrong. Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head. "Nothing's wrong. It's just getting late and I'm kinda exhausted from the trip home."

You sighed and nodded. "I don't like the idea of you driving home this late. You could always stay over."

"I really shouldn't," he answered, his eyes meeting yours.

"Ok, well text me when you get home. And, next time, we're watching your favorite movie. I want to see what the brilliant Spencer Reid finds riveting," you said as you opened the front door of your apartment.

He looked up at you quizzically. You could tell he was about to say something but didn't. He walked towards the door and you grabbed his arm again. He stopped and you smiled lightly. "Goodnight Dr. Reid. This was fun," you whispered, standing on your tip-toes to reach his ear. You kissed his cheek gently before pulling away.

He blushed and gave you a little wave as he walked out of your apartment.