A/N: Let me be the first to state that this story is a complete fanwank, so it does not adhere strictly to canon and may contain scenes of the ridiculously fluffy nature. This chapter is set roughly after the Fisher King case. Enjoy!

A/N: I planned for this fic to be a multi-chapter story, but unfortunately my muse didn't share the same plans and so I'm downgrading it into a one-shot. On the plus side, I'm still running with this plot bunny and if you guys are still interested, you can go read my second attempt at writing this fanwank. It's called Normalcy in Moderation. Link is in my profile.

It was raining by the time the bus reached Spencer's destination, and the young BAU agent was immediately drenched the moment he stepped out into the sidewalk. God, he had missed California during the rainy season. Getting soaked to the bone brought back memories of his college days; back then, his only troubles were whether or not someone stole the wheels of his bicycle. He had been late many a times to lectures because more often than not, he was forced to walk. Back then there were no murderous unsubs targeting his family, his mother, simply because they can.

And then suddenly, the warm seasonal rain that incited his nostalgia became chilled as Spencer was reminded of recent events. He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and ducked into the art gallery, the reason for why he was out in the rain without an umbrella. He had foolishly thought he can outrun the weather and hide inside the LA County Museum of Art for the rest of the afternoon.

Spencer felt art was wasted on him, thinking of how he never really understood why a picture of something as mundane as a teakettle can be considered remotely interesting. Nevertheless, he made time for art galleries. He thought that perhaps if he spent enough time in one, he might be able to understand the public's fascination with teakettles in monochrome.

It was near the end of his wandering tour of the gallery, peering studiously at a comic-style painting of a woman, when he heard his name being called. Distractedly, he tore his eyes away from the comic-style painting of a woman he had been scrutinizing and scanned the throng of people around him. He can't have imagined that voice. He listened harder, and there it goes once more. Spencer turned around and abruptly came face to face with someone he never thought he'd see in person again.

"Lila," he breathed. Social niceties such as a how have you been to probing questions of what are you doing here rushed through his head, and they all fought to be said aloud first. Lila, for her part, listened to Spencer's incoherent babbling with an amused smile.

"You haven't changed a bit, have you?" she said the moment she can get a word in. "It's nice to see you, Spencer."

"Yes, thank you," he replied. "It's nice to see you, too, Lila. You're probably wondering why I'm here – actually, I'm questioning that about you myself." He laughed uncertainly. That didn't come out the way he intended. "Um, not that I don't want you here. In fact, it's more feasible that you're here instead of me because you actually live in LA and I… do not. Um. Incidentally, I am in town because of work. I had an afternoon free and I figured an art gallery is as good a place as any to be in."

"Do you still work for the FBI?" she asked, genuinely curious. She walked around Spencer too look closer at the paintings, and he turned as she moved so that she did not move out of his line of sight. Fourteen months since he had seen her last and she still looked as dazzling as ever.

"Yes, I still do," he replied. "Only, I'm not here on a case. Elle – that is, Agent Greenaway – and I are in California to conduct recruitment drives for the BAU. We were assigned here, actually, because CalTech is my alma mater and the Bureau likes to be particular like that."

Spencer watched as Lila smiled warmly at him before going back to look at more artworks. "What is it?" he asked, feeling self-conscious.

"Nothing," she said lightly. "I should have known, really."

"You should have known what?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, "you and your smarts. Of course you went to CalTech."

"And you went to Julliard," he supplied. "I don't see the significance of which institution of higher education we both respectively attended. You were interested in acting and Julliard has one of the world's finest and most prestigious art programs, while I chose CalTech because of its focus on engineering and the sciences. Admittedly, I was pulled in because of the graduate programs as well, and the fact that it's so close to home."

"Really? I chose Julliard because it's the furthest I can get from my hometown. Anyway, I thought you weren't much of an art fan. What is it about the Lichtenstein's Cold Shoulderthat managed to captivate Dr Spencer Reid so?"

Spencer felt heat on his face, which he chose to ignore and instead leaned closer towards the painting in an attempt for distraction. "It perplexes me," he said. "The title says 'cold shoulder' but Lichtenstein uses the colour red, a colour usually associated with heat and warmth. Is the contradiction the point of this piece?"

"If that's what it makes you feel, then yes. Art is supposed to make you feel. There's no right or wrong."

"I don't think it's supposed to inspire this much confusion," Spencer remarked wryly. His heart stuttered when Lila's laughter reached his ears.

"But look closer," she said, pointing at a specific area of the painting. "The speech bubble says hello but you can tell the woman does not mean it as a greeting. She's turned from us, giving us the literal cold shoulder, and the red background is just one shade. It's flat. It has no depth. It makes me feel… offended. Why is she giving me the cold shoulder?" Lila scoffed. "She's such a snob."

Spencer laughed. "I don't think you're supposed to insult the works."

"I'm not insulting the works," Lila shook her head, "I'm insulting the woman in the work. There's a difference."

"If you say so," Spencer allowed. "From where I'm standing, you're the art expert and I am completely out of my depth."

Lila smiled widely. "Well in that case, I'd be happy to give you a tour. Some of my favourite artists are housed here, which actually explains why I'm here this afternoon. Have you heard of Mark Rothko?"

At Spencer's declaration that no, he had not heard of Rothko beforehand, Lila's entire expression lit up. Her smile grew wider, her eyes sparkled, and there was a blush on her face that cannot be explained away by her makeup. "I know where we're going first!" she said, and then she grabbed his hand and led him out of the exhibit.

For the second time that day, Spencer Reid explored the LA County Museum of Art. Some things, as it turns out, are well worth the second consideration. Lila might just make an art enthusiast of him yet.