A Little Chaotic Piece of Heaven
"I need to talk to you about a..." Spencer searched for the perfect word in his head. The perfect word to describe how awkward it felt to talk about such a topic. He was going to ask her if she knew about a possible affair her mother could have had. Is there a perfect word to describe the feeling you get when you ask an almost stranger a question like this? "It's a... a topic that might not be comfortable..." In lack of better words, he decided to make the sentence longer than it needed to be. Because he felt uncomfortable, as much as she'd feel as soon as he asked her the question.
"I knew you would." She smiled to herself, looking at him but trying not to look straight into his eyes. All those people around them made her feel really awkward and she wasn't comfortable talking about anything at all in that place. She considered asking him if they could go to her house, but she was afraid of his reaction.
"Look, it's about your mom..." Spencer said, a low voice, so low she had to make an extra effort to understand what he had said.
Emily could hear everyone around her talking, laughing, the sound of the coffee machines. She could hear all these things, yet, Spencer's low voice was the only thing resonating in her head. His voice. She glanced up at him for one tiny second, just to make sure he wasn't looking. But he was. Their eyes locked in each other, none of them could break that chain now. As embarrassing as it could feel for both of them, none of them broke the eye contact. She looked into his hazel eyes and he looked into her blue-ish ones and they got lost in each other. Both of them having no clue what the other one was thinking. But they were both thinking the same: that kiss. That exact moment they were both looking in each other's eyes and wishing they could kiss again. More passionately, though. More fiercely. Let all the frustration out, let all their feelings out, let the anger out.
"I... I'm not comfortable talking about this in such a public place..." She timidly said, breaking the eye contact and ruining the fantasy for both of them.
He was taken by surprise with that. He too wanted to be alone with her, but they both chose Starbucks at their meeting point exactly to avoid any physical contact But a popular public coffee shop wasn't exactly the right place to talk about a federal investigation, especially since it involved Emily's mother. Apparently, none of them put much thought into that, which was surprising, since Spencer puts all the thought he can into anything he does or says. For the second time in such a short period of time, he found himself being highly irrational.
"I guess we could..." he was about to say it loud. He was about to say they could go to her house, if it made her feel comfortable. "...we could go somewhere else..."
He shrugged. She gave him a tiny smile and got up. He did the same thing, leaving a couple of dollar bills on the table. She didn't even notice he had paid for both his and her cappuccino.
In an impulse, she took his hand, taking her a couple of minutes before she realized that she was actually holding his hand in hers and how awkward it felt. It also felt good. She pretended she hadn't noticed. And so did he. So they just walked to her house holding hands, only letting go when she had to remove the keys from her pocket.
They both went upstairs and he followed her into her room, without even stopping in the living room/kitchen.
"Okay, here we can talk." She said, dropping her purse on the floor, like she didn't exactly care about how tidy her room was supposed to be when there was someone visiting.
He carefully placed his messenger bag on top of her desk. The differences between them were pretty relevant: she did not give a single fuck about tidiness, even though she cleaned for a living. Maybe she was tired of cleaning up after doctors and dead people, so when she got home all she wanted was her little chaotic piece of heaven. Him, on the other hand, he was always so organized, so flawless. He was never diagnosed with OCD but he did like everything super in order, he couldn't stand messes. If something was not properly organized, he found it hard to concentrate.
They both sat on her bed, a little too far from each other, to prevent physical contact to happen. After five minutes, though, they were mysteriously close to each other, none of them noticing they had moved.
"Okay, so..." He started talking before any more awkwardness could happen. "I need to ask you something, Emily..."
She looked at him. They were only a couple of inches apart.
"Yes?" She had no idea what he was about to ask, but she figured it would be about the case rather than their feelings towards each other. After all, they were there to talk about her mother's murder.
"Did you... you... did..." He was searching for the right combination of words. "Did you know of any sort of..." He paused. He didn't want to use the word affair, it would sound bad. But he didn't have a lot of time to come up with a better word.
He finally spilled out the question, feeling like a complete ass.
However, she just shrugged and said, very calm:
"Well, yeah, I know she was somehow involved with this guy namedsomething something Baker who was actually a fisherman. Or Fisher who was actually a baker. Something like that...
He looked at her in disbelief. Was she serious?
As if she was reading his mind, she added "Yes, I'm serious!"
He was shocked at the amount of fucks she did not give at the fact that her mother used to have an affair. She seemed pretty normal about it, like she didn't mind it at all, like all she wanted to do was to just live her life and forget about everything else. He admired her for that. Nonetheless, it was still hard for her to accept that her parents were both dead and she had to live with a mentally ill old woman. Still, she acted like it didn't affect her all that much, at least most of the times.
"Oh..." He didn't know what to say. He was still kind of shocked at how easy her reaction was. "Okay..."
"Aren't you gonna write that down?" She asked, a puzzly look on her face.
"I have an eidetic memory." He simply answered, then remembered she was a normal person who probably didn't know the meaning of the word eidetic. "I can..."
"I know what eidetic means." She interrupted, smiling. He smiled back. "So..." she changed the subject "No further questions?"
He kept his eyes wide open, looking at her like she was insane. Which, on one way or another, she kind of was.
"Ahm... no." He said, preparing to get up. "Well, then I should leave."
But before he could leave, she decided to, yet again, give him a reason to stay. A reason in the form of a small hand gripping onto his wrist. He didn't move any further and gave her a confused look that slowly turned into a sigh and a mysterious look. He could read her like a book and every inch of her body that moment was telling him I want you. He knew she wanted him and that only made him want her even more.
"Maybe we could... talk." She said, still keeping her grip on his wrist, unaware that she was actually hurting him a little. "You seem like a nice person to talk to."
She let go of his hand, knowing he wouldn't go anywhere, which he didn't. She walked (well, actually more like took a couple of steps) to her desk and turned on the computer, so she could put on some music.
"What kind of music do you like?" She asked, smiling.
"I like classical music." He answered, giving her a tiny smile.
"I have loads of Bach, here. I can even play some of his cello suites."
And just like that, his feelings for her increased a little more. She was pretty, simple, depressed, lonely and she liked classical music. Chills were sent down his spine by these thoughts. Spencer Reid was, despite of all logic and rationality, in love with Emily Bronson.
"Well, have you ever heard of Jeff Buckley?" She asked.
"No."
"I'm gonna show you, then." She smiled and double clicked on the file that said Everybody Here Wants You.
He was actually enjoying it, much to his own surprise. It was a calm sensual beat, a lot of bass making it sound really deep, like the music was sinking into his skin. Then the voice started. The singer sounds like an angel from Heaven, metaphorically speaking.
"Oh, you like it!" She smiled, sitting on the bed again, really close to him.
He felt his breath thickening, going faster as his heart started racing. Hers, however, was so slow, due to the serenity he made her feel, God knows why.
And, just like that, they were kissing again.
"I knew you would." She smiled to herself, looking at him but trying not to look straight into his eyes. All those people around them made her feel really awkward and she wasn't comfortable talking about anything at all in that place. She considered asking him if they could go to her house, but she was afraid of his reaction.
"Look, it's about your mom..." Spencer said, a low voice, so low she had to make an extra effort to understand what he had said.
Emily could hear everyone around her talking, laughing, the sound of the coffee machines. She could hear all these things, yet, Spencer's low voice was the only thing resonating in her head. His voice. She glanced up at him for one tiny second, just to make sure he wasn't looking. But he was. Their eyes locked in each other, none of them could break that chain now. As embarrassing as it could feel for both of them, none of them broke the eye contact. She looked into his hazel eyes and he looked into her blue-ish ones and they got lost in each other. Both of them having no clue what the other one was thinking. But they were both thinking the same: that kiss. That exact moment they were both looking in each other's eyes and wishing they could kiss again. More passionately, though. More fiercely. Let all the frustration out, let all their feelings out, let the anger out.
"I... I'm not comfortable talking about this in such a public place..." She timidly said, breaking the eye contact and ruining the fantasy for both of them.
He was taken by surprise with that. He too wanted to be alone with her, but they both chose Starbucks at their meeting point exactly to avoid any physical contact But a popular public coffee shop wasn't exactly the right place to talk about a federal investigation, especially since it involved Emily's mother. Apparently, none of them put much thought into that, which was surprising, since Spencer puts all the thought he can into anything he does or says. For the second time in such a short period of time, he found himself being highly irrational.
"I guess we could..." he was about to say it loud. He was about to say they could go to her house, if it made her feel comfortable. "...we could go somewhere else..."
He shrugged. She gave him a tiny smile and got up. He did the same thing, leaving a couple of dollar bills on the table. She didn't even notice he had paid for both his and her cappuccino.
In an impulse, she took his hand, taking her a couple of minutes before she realized that she was actually holding his hand in hers and how awkward it felt. It also felt good. She pretended she hadn't noticed. And so did he. So they just walked to her house holding hands, only letting go when she had to remove the keys from her pocket.
They both went upstairs and he followed her into her room, without even stopping in the living room/kitchen.
"Okay, here we can talk." She said, dropping her purse on the floor, like she didn't exactly care about how tidy her room was supposed to be when there was someone visiting.
He carefully placed his messenger bag on top of her desk. The differences between them were pretty relevant: she did not give a single fuck about tidiness, even though she cleaned for a living. Maybe she was tired of cleaning up after doctors and dead people, so when she got home all she wanted was her little chaotic piece of heaven. Him, on the other hand, he was always so organized, so flawless. He was never diagnosed with OCD but he did like everything super in order, he couldn't stand messes. If something was not properly organized, he found it hard to concentrate.
They both sat on her bed, a little too far from each other, to prevent physical contact to happen. After five minutes, though, they were mysteriously close to each other, none of them noticing they had moved.
"Okay, so..." He started talking before any more awkwardness could happen. "I need to ask you something, Emily..."
She looked at him. They were only a couple of inches apart.
"Yes?" She had no idea what he was about to ask, but she figured it would be about the case rather than their feelings towards each other. After all, they were there to talk about her mother's murder.
"Did you... you... did..." He was searching for the right combination of words. "Did you know of any sort of..." He paused. He didn't want to use the word affair, it would sound bad. But he didn't have a lot of time to come up with a better word.
He finally spilled out the question, feeling like a complete ass.
However, she just shrugged and said, very calm:
"Well, yeah, I know she was somehow involved with this guy namedsomething something Baker who was actually a fisherman. Or Fisher who was actually a baker. Something like that...
He looked at her in disbelief. Was she serious?
As if she was reading his mind, she added "Yes, I'm serious!"
He was shocked at the amount of fucks she did not give at the fact that her mother used to have an affair. She seemed pretty normal about it, like she didn't mind it at all, like all she wanted to do was to just live her life and forget about everything else. He admired her for that. Nonetheless, it was still hard for her to accept that her parents were both dead and she had to live with a mentally ill old woman. Still, she acted like it didn't affect her all that much, at least most of the times.
"Oh..." He didn't know what to say. He was still kind of shocked at how easy her reaction was. "Okay..."
"Aren't you gonna write that down?" She asked, a puzzly look on her face.
"I have an eidetic memory." He simply answered, then remembered she was a normal person who probably didn't know the meaning of the word eidetic. "I can..."
"I know what eidetic means." She interrupted, smiling. He smiled back. "So..." she changed the subject "No further questions?"
He kept his eyes wide open, looking at her like she was insane. Which, on one way or another, she kind of was.
"Ahm... no." He said, preparing to get up. "Well, then I should leave."
But before he could leave, she decided to, yet again, give him a reason to stay. A reason in the form of a small hand gripping onto his wrist. He didn't move any further and gave her a confused look that slowly turned into a sigh and a mysterious look. He could read her like a book and every inch of her body that moment was telling him I want you. He knew she wanted him and that only made him want her even more.
"Maybe we could... talk." She said, still keeping her grip on his wrist, unaware that she was actually hurting him a little. "You seem like a nice person to talk to."
She let go of his hand, knowing he wouldn't go anywhere, which he didn't. She walked (well, actually more like took a couple of steps) to her desk and turned on the computer, so she could put on some music.
"What kind of music do you like?" She asked, smiling.
"I like classical music." He answered, giving her a tiny smile.
"I have loads of Bach, here. I can even play some of his cello suites."
And just like that, his feelings for her increased a little more. She was pretty, simple, depressed, lonely and she liked classical music. Chills were sent down his spine by these thoughts. Spencer Reid was, despite of all logic and rationality, in love with Emily Bronson.
"Well, have you ever heard of Jeff Buckley?" She asked.
"No."
"I'm gonna show you, then." She smiled and double clicked on the file that said Everybody Here Wants You.
He was actually enjoying it, much to his own surprise. It was a calm sensual beat, a lot of bass making it sound really deep, like the music was sinking into his skin. Then the voice started. The singer sounds like an angel from Heaven, metaphorically speaking.
"Oh, you like it!" She smiled, sitting on the bed again, really close to him.
He felt his breath thickening, going faster as his heart started racing. Hers, however, was so slow, due to the serenity he made her feel, God knows why.
And, just like that, they were kissing again.
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