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stunudo · 7 years

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That Got Away: A Criminal Minds Fanfiction 2/?

A/N: I am so humbled by the amount of love the first part of this new Spencer x Reader story has received. I do not own any characters, lyrics or images. xoxo Stu

***Update: I wanted to apologize with the chronological error I originally made in a paragraph about Hotch. It had Haley and Jack in Witness Protection too soon. A genuine thank you to everyone for not being judgemental about it, it has been fixed! xoxo Stu***

Inspiration: Katy Perry’s ‘The One That Got Away’ and Darlin’ Companion sung by Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash

Setting: Season 4 Rating: Teen Warnings: Grief, Teen Angst, Bad Kissing

Spencer Reid had held Y/N until she had cried herself to sleep on the floor of her hotel room. He very carefully covered her half-naked form, cushioning her head with extra pillows from the bed they hadn’t made it to. He remained there, watching her sleep, the gentle rising of her back a hypnotic rhythm. Spencer did not want to leave her, but she needed more rest than he had time to give. He sat at the oddly placed desk, found the hotel stationary and prepared to write Y/N a confession.

Hotch had the hotel issue wake up calls for the BAU team at 6:30am. Spencer had made it back to his (much simpler) hotel room around two in the morning. The four hours of sleep left the doctor with an anxious stomach. After showering and dressing in a very typical Reid ensemble; he headed to the lobby. It was there he, naturally, bumped into Prentiss at the coffee cart.

“Morning Emily,” Spencer’s soft voice greeted the black haired beauty.

“Well, well, good morning, Reid,” Prentiss teased, feigning surprise in seeing him.

He remained patient, anticipating all the inevitable questions he would be fielding after leaving the team at the precinct to return Y/N’s luggage the previous night. His utter exhaustion was ensuring a shorter temper than was strictly professional.

“Late night?” Prentiss pressed after taking her coffee from the barista.

“You could say that,” Spencer nodded, his voice cracking. “How was your evening?”

“Mine?” Prentiss sighed, “Wild night. I took a bath and passed out to the hotel access channel.” She waxed sarcastically. “See you by the cars, Reid.”

Spencer placed his order, thanking the barista with a slight tilt to his head. He noticed Hotch near the entryway, speaking on his cell phone. Hotch was on edge with The Reaper in the wind. Spencer felt awful for him, knowing Hotch had lost his marriage to the job already. A tenuous situation was that much more paralyzing for someone like BAU chief Aaron Hotchner, someone who had to be in control.

The team assembled into the waiting SUVs and returned to Pasadena Police Department shortly after 7:30 am. The team dispersed into the previous decided assignments; Reid and Prentiss going through Y/L/N’s contacts and research. Just after 8 o’clock, a distinguished man in his fifties was escorted to the office the BAU had annexed for the case, by Detective Chang.

“Agents,” Chang announced,”This gentleman claims to be the guy who wrote the threatening letter sent to Dr. Y/L/N last month.”

“Who are you?” Emily Prentiss approached the new suspect.

“Byron Osbourne, ma’am,” the man nodded to the female agent with an English lilt to his voice. “I saw the press coverage footage this morning and knew I had to come forward before anything got out of hand.”

“Dr. Y/L/N is dead,” Spencer uncharacteristically spat at the man,”I would say we are passed out of hand.”

Agent Prentiss eyed Dr. Reid suspiciously. She then formally arrested and cuffed Mr. Osbourne. After reading his Miranda Rights, she passed him to the stocky lead detective who escorted him to interrogation room 1.

Spencer was quick to make the call to Quantico. “Garcia? We need background on one Byron Osbourne, a possible British national. He just voluntarily admitted to writing the suspicious letter Dr. Madison mentioned that Graham received nearly a month ago.”

“Good Morning, to you too, Boy Wonder,” Garcia grumbled. “I am all over this, but in the mean time... “How’s your reunion going?” The savvy analyst coyly pounced on the inexperienced doctor.

“I am going to hang up now,” Spencer responded testily, “And catch the unsub that killed my mentor.”

“But!” Garcia couldn’t use her vicious wit against a grumpy and determined Reid.

At some point during the night, you had found your way into your excessively large bed. Your body was stiff from traveling and sleeping on the unforgivably flat surface of the hotel room floor. The inside of your head was inflamed from dehydration, your chest gaping with the hollowness of grief.

The only reason you made yourself get out of bed for the day was because you knew you had absolutely no reason to do so. Across the pillow tops, you recognize the scrawl on a folded piece of paper Spencer left for you on the bedside table. You leave it, knowing that whatever he had to say could wait.

“But Aristotle didn’t say that,” Spencer argued, “That is attributed to Plato.”

“Sorry, Professor,” Your 18 year old self teased,”Ancient Philosophy isn’t on my course schedule until spring semester.”

Spencer had stopped over on a Tuesday afternoon the second summer you knew him. You were clearing the debris from your built in swimming pool, one of the many chores your Dad made you help with. You obliged because you were, in fact, the only one who used said pool.

“I’m just surprised you got that quote wrong.” Spencer twisted his lips in a smug smile.

You eyed him, shaking your head at his taunts. “Watch it, or you’ll end up in my net too.” You intended to whip a trail of pool water at the skinny genius, but he had hopped backwards, avoiding your wrath. You, however, lost control of the momentum along the length of the net, which knocked you off balance. You fell into the pool, fully clothed.

You remember the dread of trying to act normal when internally you were freaking out over the pair of black granny panties you had on underneath your now soaked khaki shorts. You stayed in the pool, chatting and cleaning until Spencer had to leave for the day. He always had to leave quickly, it was almost like he was sneaking over to see you. Though you knew your dad was fine with you spending time with his young protegee, you guessed your dad knew you didn’t interest Spencer that way.

You remember waving at him from the shallow end of the pool, as he walked his bike out of the side gate.

Morgan and Rossi were waiting for the M.E. to bring them back to examine the body of the late Professor Y/L/N, Y/N’s father.

“Oh, Baby Girl, please tell me you got some dirt for me!” Derek Morgan crooned into his phone.

“Easy there handsome,” Garcia directed. “I’ll give you work now, and need-to-know later.”

“That’s my girl!” Derek chuckled. His brilliant smile lighting up the dreary corner’s office.

“Byron Osbourne just confessed to writing that threatening letter to Dr. Y/L/N. Hotch and Prentiss are going to question him, very soon.”

“Garcia, who is this guy?” Rossi chimed in.

“He’s, well he’s, a wannabe,” Garcia confided,” He comes from money, old British money to be exact. He uses philanthropy to strut his family name about academia. But he never finished “university” himself.” She finished in her own mock accent.

“Wonder what the professor did to set this guy off.” Rossi supposed.

“Penelope,” Derek added, “Were the victim and Osbourne on any boards or committees together?”

“Oh sugar bear, you know I am all over that like a cardigan is on grumpus Reid,” Garcia muttered,”Hotch and Emily already have what they need. Now do you have time for the need-to-know? Or do we get to rendezvous later?”

“Later, Baby Girl, sadly I have a very different body to go examine,” Derek lamentably flirted. “Just warn me if this one is off the rails.”

“Nope, peaches, you’re good. I mean, Reid is good, “Garcia bumbled, “Well, who knows if that’s true, then. I’m going to stop thinking and talking now. Okay? Okay, bye!”

Rossi looked at Derek sideways, “That woman is very multi-faceted.”

“Oh, Rossi, you have no idea, man,” Derek agreed, shaking his head.

You had slowly gotten dressed. Remarkably you were early enough to make the tail end of the complimentary continental breakfast buffet held in the small nook off of the hotel lobby. You rifled through the remaining stale doughnuts, claiming a chocolate cake flavored one, that was calling your name. The ambience was perfect there, the warm sun coming through the skylights. You lied to yourself, pretending you were vacationing for a few quiet moments.

Your phone buzzed beside your mug of bland coffee. You check the name before answering.

OLIVIA MADISON

“Olivia, how are you,” You answer quickly.

“Y/N, hi, how are you?!” Olivia rushed back.

“As good as can be expected, I suppose.” You recite.

You make small talk and arrange to take lunch the following day. Cal Tech’s spring break was over, so Olivia would be lecturing for your father’s senior seminar in the morning. Your stomach lurched at the image. As another female nontenured professor in academia, you respect the shoes that Olivia has been asked to fill. You would be excited for her, if it weren’t so devastating.

Spencer had just left his mother with a therapy group she had been attending for the summer months. He was finding it harder and harder to balance school and care for his mother as her disease progressed. The long summer days found him yearning for a more normal life, a less complicated, a less responsibility-riddled life. He rode his bike on the familiar route to Y/N’s house. Spending time with her made him feel like a regular seventeen year old guy, not a prodigy, not a caregiver. She was intelligent, funny and so easy to talk to. Y/N was a geek, too, a sheltered only child with a single father who was a celebrated Mathematics professor.

“Oh, a little saucy mare like you should have a steed. Oh, a little bridlin' down from you is what I need.

Darlin' companion, I tell the mountains and the canyons, Long as I got legs to stand on, I'm gonna stick by you.”

The crackling recording poured through the Y/L/N house as Spencer pedaled up the welcoming driveway. He knew that you were home alone, Dr. Y/L/N would never let you keep the speakers at that high of a volume. He left his bike near the back door that lead into the kitchen. The door was unlocked, so Spencer went in to find Y/N.

This was always when he began to panic, the time between entering their house and finding Y/N. Spencer scratched his neck as he made his way up the winding staircase in the house’s cavernous center. He wiped his palms on his pants and continued towards her room. The song had finished leaving the hum of the speakers awaiting the cd change in the air. Spencer cleared his throat, his head down as he knocked on the door frame to her bedroom.

The door was ajar, he didn’t hear Y/N inside as the next cd began. He knocked again as he pushed the door open, strolling into the room. Spencer froze, he had no idea how to move. There she was, on the bed, sitting on a bath towel, rubbing lotion on her outstretched leg. Completely naked. His prodigious mind was useless as his pants constricted around his sudden boner.

“Spencer!” You screeched when you finally saw him. “What the hell?!” You struggled with the towel beneath your butt, trying to cover your bare body.

Spencer spun on the spot, but didn’t flee. He just started reciting facts. “Did you know that many people attribute the model Betty Grable as the inspiration for women to start shaving their legs? The shorter skirts of the forties and stockings made it more desirable for women to emulate the style icon...”

“Spencer,” You shouted. “It’s okay, um, I’m covered now.” You had shut off the deafening grunge band that had followed the Man in Black. Spencer just stood there with his back to you. After a moment he sort of side stepped to the desk chair, where he crossed his legs. Finally he looked at your face. You were both blushing and couldn’t hold eye contact. You had thrown on your awful yellow terrycloth robe.

“Did you try “Margaret Thatcher” to cool him down?” You asked out of nowhere. You slapped your hand over your mouth. Why did you always say what was on your mind?

Spencer open his mouth to respond, then closed it. He thumbed his nose and sheepishly answered. “I don’t think I understand that reference, Y/N.”

“Ignore me, it was from a movie, when this British spy was trying to stop an erection,” You tried to explain, like you always did with pop culture to Spencer. “And I just said erection. Again.” You finally stopped talking. After a few agonizing minutes, you sat down on your bed.

“Spencer?” You asked, cautiously. Remarkably he hadn’t left, you both had just sat there looking around your bedroom and not at each other.

“Yeah?” He replied, his voice faint.

“I am very flattered.” You admit. “Is that alright to say? Like, I know it is does not prove anything, it’s just a thing that happens to guys and it does not reflect my level of attractiveness or not-attractiveness...”

“Y/N/N?” Spencer interrupted your rambling.

“Yeah?” You ask, your face growing warm and your chest feeling tight.

“I am sorry, that was rude of me to walk in without a confirmed invitation,” Spencer was talking to the pile of clothes on the floor. “Also, I want to apologize if I in any way offended you or jeopardized our friendship by making unintentional advances towards you. I just could not help it, honestly you took my breath away.”

What? Your brain was repeating the last words he spoke like a broken answering machine, ‘you took my breath away’. Shocked could not cover the amount of surprise that was flowing through your bloodstream at that moment.

“So you’re not like, traumatized?” You push, “Like seeing me, all of me, doesn’t change how you feel? Is it going to be weird now?”

Spencer, cleared his throat. “It only makes me care about you that much more.” He actually looked at you now, his brown eyes searching for yours. But he only holds your glance for a second, because this is so new, so unique for two friends to overcome in a few moments’ time. He smiles nervously, you are stuck in place as a ribbon of hope is sliding through your mind.

“Spencer, can I kiss you?” You said it, out loud. “I mean, is that something that would interest you? Am I a girl that you would like to, with, maybe?” In the entirety of your friendship you had not heard him mention girls like the guys on the floor of your dorm did, this was not a weird question.

Spencer blushed. “Am I a guy you would like to kiss? Or is this a test?”

“Not a test,” You held up your hands in mock surrender, smiling nervously. You stood up, walking towards your friend, who was now one of the only people to have seen you naked. Spencer stands up as you approach him, backing up into your clutter filled desk.

“Um, Y/N, I don’t know if we should be doing this.” Spencer’s hand was pulling at his hair, his voice catching.

“Spencer, can I kiss you?” You asked, but it was stronger than the first time. You wanted this and you were not getting reasoned out of it now.

“I don’t know how,” Spencer whispered.

You caught his bony face in your hand, looking up into his scared eyes you smiled, calming both of you for a split second. You took a deep breath and leaned in to him, with eyes closed and heart on your sleeve. After kissing his chin, you found his lips, his large hands were resting oddly on your shoulders. This went down in your shared history as the most awkward moment of your lives.

”The murder weapon appears to be a long, metallic, needle like instrument, about four inches long.” Dr. Shearer stated.

Morgan and Rossi were taking notes. Dr. Y/L/N was a typical guy in his fifties, he could have been one of Rossi’s buddies from his days in the Marines. The agents were being extremely diligent, for Reid’s sake.

”How many stab wounds were there?” Rossi verified.

”Thirty-seven.” Dr. Shearer replied.

”And no defensive wounds, Doc?” Morgan double checked.

“Correct.” Dr. Shearer answered. “The tox screen does show a decent amount of alcohol in his blood, but not over the legal limit. Perhaps he was asleep when the assailant struck, agents.”

”It’s possible, but he was sitting up right at his desk.” Rossi countered.

”No, that tracks; no defensive wounds, late night, maybe he had someone over for a night cap?” Derek worked further.

”What kind of strength did our unsub have?” Rossi went back to the coroner.

”Moderate, nothing impressive.”

”Are we looking for a female unsub?” Rossi asked cautiously.

“Mr. Osbourne, can you tell us why you would send such a violent letter to Dr. Y/L/N’s office?” Hotch asked succinctly.

“Well, frankly, I am extremely embarrassed about it now, as you can imagine.” Osbourne smiled placating.

“Let’s start at the beginning then,” Prentiss pressed. “How do you know Dr. Y/L/N?

“We were on the Board of Regents at the school, agent, surely you know that.” Osbourne cheeked.

“What made you write a letter stating that you, “Would see him destroyed?” Hotch asked.

“Well, he just so happened to vote against the use of some funds that would have benefited the school, greatly.” Osbourne elaborated.

“And would have trumpeted your name.” Hotch deduced.

“Well, if we had gotten to that stage of the development, yes, my name would have been attached to the project.” Osbourne admitted. “As it should be, I was a major backer and had spearheaded the development.”

Spencer shifted on his feet in the observation room. This man was a narcissist, but not the unsub. His patience was straining, he left Hotch and Prentiss to continue the interview. His long legs brought him to the evidence boards, his racing mind, back to the stack of evidence bags holding the papers Dr. Y/L/N was reading over the night he was killed.

Spencer Reid lost himself in the equations before him for the next few hours.

Your phone rang with an unfamiliar number. The amount of planning you had started with your dad’s lawyer had you seeing spots. Welcoming the distraction, you took the call.

“Dr. Y/L/N.” You answer.

“Yes, hello, this is Agent Morgan with the BAU.” A sultry voice answers you.

“How can I help you, Agent?” You wonder why someone besides Spencer was calling you about the case.

“I was calling to inform you, that the Medical Examiner has released your father’s body, ma’am.” Agent Morgan gently explained. “Now if you need help with arrangements, of any kind, please let us know and we will ensure you are getting the help you need.”

You exhale a ragged breath, “Thank you, um, Agent Morgan?” You answer, forgetting who you are speaking too.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Can you tell me, did my father suffer?” You ask because you need to know how much to hate this son of a bitch.

“No, ma’am,” Agent Morgan soothed. “He was asleep when he was attacked, he never saw it coming.”

A single tear leaves a trail on your cheek, you sniffle loudly over the line. “Thank you, again. And, please, catch this guy.”

“We are doing everything we can, ma’am.” Morgan confirmed, “I don’t know if anyone told you, but we have our own personal genius working on it as we speak.”

You smile through your tears, this guy was a good egg. “I might have heard about that guy, takes a lot of sugar in his coffee?”

A pleasant chuckle answered your retort. “Yeah, that’s our guy.”

To Be Continued...

Part 1 Part 3

@reiding-and-writing @holagubler @imagicana @hotchnerfuckmeup @speedreiding

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer imagine #johnny cash #june carter cash #angst #grief #katy perry #fluff #mgg #smart is the new sexy #geek love #california girls #austin powers

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