DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to CBS, except for Lauren and Greg. Those are mine. Also, there are no lemons in this chapter. But there will be some later. This is my first fic on here, so I'm experimenting. (:
[Introduction Paragraphs]
Reid sat there, staring at the beautiful blonde agent who was talking excitedly with Emily. He smiled, remembering the feelings he had had for her a long time ago, when they were together. He was still very much attracted to her, but they had both moved on after they had tried a relationship. It failed, sadly, and they parted as friends. Of course, they had fucked a lot. And hard did they fuck. Thankfully, they were still friends, all awkwardness gone.
She looked up, her hair falling from the place where she had it tucked behind her ear. When she saw Reid, she smiled slightly. Then, Emily said something that caught her attention, and she zoned back into her conversation.
"Dude, like seriously. You have got to get over her." Morgan said, shaking his head. He sat at the desk at the head of Reid's. Reid looked at him, slightly confused.
"I am over her." He said, lying through his teeth. Well, he thought he had been over her. Every smile and look still sent chills through him. He hated to admit it, even to himself.
"No, you're not. Listen, let's go to a club tonight. There are lots of ladies there more than willing to get a smart guy like you." Reid looked up at him again, and watched Morgan smile and wink.
"I don't want to go to a club to get a girl. They're all drunk and dumb."
"That's the fun part Reid."
"I'm just not like that, Morgan. I want a girl who has brains and respects herself. Not a dumb slut." Reid flipped open a file on his desk, skimming over it. He hoped Morgan would drop the subject.
"Maybe so, Reid. But you have to get over her sometime." Morgan sighed and turned away.
"Hey guys," Reid and Morgan looked up to see the blonde standing by their desk. Reid's cheeks turned red, hoping she hadn't heard the conversation. "We have a tip on the case."
"What is it, JJ?" Morgan asked her, adopting a serious and professional tone that contrasted with the playful tone he had used just mere seconds ago.
"We had a phone call, someone giving us an address of the unsub, Greg. The police are heading over their now. We need to get a move on it." She said, just as Hotch and Rossi passed her. Hotch nodded, signifying that they needed to go-and now.
[Lauren's POV]
In my point of view, this was indeed the worst day ever.
The television repairman had come two days ago, saying he was with DirectTV and was here to upgrade my channels and fix my "broken" satellite. I hadn't seen anything wrong with it, but when I protested, he became dark and demanded to be let in so he could fix it. Scared, I let him in, keeping the phone by me at all times just in case he tried anything. Stupid me, the next day when I turned it on, all of my DVR-d programs were gone and all of my favorite channels were gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. And that really pissed me off.
And so, yesterday I had been bored. So bored that I called my lazy boyfriend, Jared, and told him to come over. He was hot. Tan skin, muscled, brown curly hair, and blue eyes. Seeing him-and including the make-out session on the couch-I couldn't help myself and we fucked. He then dropped a bomb on me, saying that he cheated on my. Fucking bastard. I kicked him in the balls and thew him our of the house.
So, here I was, no boyfriend, no television, and bored out of my mind. I had my phone turned off because of all of the apologetic phone calls Jared had attempted. But now, I turned it on, planning to call a friend and go out. No sooner had I turned the phone on, Jared called.
"Baby, you picked up. Listen, Lauren, I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry that I cheated on you. It was stupid and I only want to be with you," he whined pathetically into the phone. My face twisted in disgust.
"You know what Jared? Shove that fake apology up your ass. And do not call me baby." I snapped and hung up. I ripped the battery out of it, and threw it to the wall. Yes, I had anger issues, but right now, I think it was pretty justifiable.
I tried to calm my heavy breathing. I took a deep breath, counted to ten, and let it out. My shoulders relaxed, and I smiled slightly. Walking over to my bookshelf, I scanned it, looking for a book I hadn't read in a while. I found one-"The Greeks: The Myth World"- and flipped it open. After lounging on my favorite leather recliner, I skipped the borish introduction, preferring to get right to the actual storys. I looked up when I heard a loud, quick knock on the door.
"FBI! Open up!" A man's voice called out. My heart stopped. The FBI? Why were they here? Was I under arrest? I had a traffic ticket I hadn't paid yet, but I didn't think they would have sent the FBI here to get it. I dog-eared the page and stood slowly. "FBI! Open up or we're busting through!" I took another step towards the door. I didn't want to open it, I watched crime shows. I knew that sometimes, it wasn't actually the FBI, but just some pshycopath looking for victims.
The door banged open, and I reflexivley held my hands up. "Oh shit!" I screamed when I saw about five guns pointed at me, "don't shoot!" I closed my eyes.
"Is Greg here?" The man's voice asked. I opened my eyes, their guns still raised.
"Greg?" I didn't know a Greg.
"Greg Sanders. Do you know him?" A tall, older man with black hair asked. I looked at him, my head turning towards the side.
"You mean TV repairman guy?" I was confused. Why would they be looking with him at my house? The man looked at a caramel-colored guy beside him, nodded, and lowered his gun. The others followed suit. I tried to see who all was in my doorway.
The black haired guy stood in front with the caramel-skinned guy. A shorter, more tanned black-haired guy stood behind them and beside a brown-haired lady and a blonde-haired woman. Behind them, a tall, skinny guy with brown hair cropped short and curly yet neat way stood behind them. He was taller than the rest, the only one closest to his height was the caramel-skinned guy. I noticed that the women were pretty, with strikingly different features. The black-haired paleish guy and the tanned guy looked old enough to be my dad. The caramel-skinned guy was...amazingly well built. But it was the guy behind them all-the skinny one-that I found my gaze lingering on.
"You've seen this man before? This TV repairman? He's been in your house?" The tanned black-haired guy asked. I nodded.
"Yeah, two days ago actually. Why are you looking for him?" I was still very much confused. The group exchanged glances before stepping in the house.
"We are going to need you to come with us." The caramel-colored guy said nicely.
"Like hell I am! Not without some answers first." I cried boldly, lowering my hands so that I could place them on my hips. I proubably looked a mess. I was still in my blue pajama bottoms and brown "Stanford" t-shirt. My blonde hair was proubably half-way out of the ponytail I had half-assley done this morning. I had no make-up on. And here I was, standing here cockily refusing to go with the police looking like absolute shit.
"You will get your answers," the blonde-haired woman kindly assured me, "we just need you to come with us for your saftey." I raised an eyebrow.
"And I will get my answers?" I asked.
"Yes, we will answer them." She replied, smiling slightly. I removed my hands from my hips and nodded.
"Okay then, well...can I at least change first?" The caramel-colored skin guy cracked a smile, and the blonde girl nodded. She followed me down the hall towards my bedroom.
"You will need to pack for several nights, just in case." She said. I nodded again, and left her standing in the hall by my bedroom door.
I shoved several outfits into my black, modest suitcase. With what room was left, I put in my toiletries, and notepads. I zipped it tightly and slipped on a more decent outfit for today. I tugged on a white t-shirt with "Yale" written in blue on the front, and a pair of plain dark-washed jeans. I rolled the suitcase out, grabbing my backpack along the way.
"Okay! We're all ready." Blondie called out.
"No, wait just a second, okay?" I said and walked over to my book shelf. I opened my backpack and tossed in several books just in case I had some down time and wouldn't be allowed home. I turned back to them-backpack full to the brim-and noticed they were all staring at me, eyebrows raised and half smiles on their faces. "What? You've never seen a girl pack books before?" I said sarcasitcally. My eyes fell on the skinny guy, whose eyes were distant before realizing he was being looked at. He focused his gaze on me before I looked away, a blush coming on my cheeks.
"All right, let's go." The brown-haired lady said.
"And that was the only time you had seen them?" The caramel skinned guy asked again. I rolled my eyes, leaning back even further on in my seat. I knew why the interrogation room chairs were made out of steel, they wanted you to get so uncomfortable that you finally just gave up and answered the questions or admitted you were guilty. As if the windowless, colorless room didn't make you already feel worse.
"Yes. I am positive. Usually, they would send some blonde-haired girl over to fix the television. But this time, they sent him." I said, draping an elbow on the table. Caramel skin was leaning on his arms which were on the table. He was looking at me with adorable dark brown eyes that made me want to just...melt. But he was pissing me off, so all I wanted to do was smack him in the face with my fist. The skinny guy was sitting patiently in a chair across the table from me, hands folded neatly on it, face calculating. I tried my hardest not to look at him. I would surely just go wild if I met his gaze. Why was this guy turning me on so much?
"Even when he was stalking you?" Skinny boy asked, opening his mouth for the first time. I looked at him.
"Huh?" Was all I could manage.
"Did you notice him when he was stalking you?" he repeated.
"Um...no. Why? Was he?"
"We have reason to believe he stalked women to learn their routines before going into their homes, and later on kidnapping them."
"Wait, he was fucking stalking me? Well, that just puts icing on the fucking damn cake." I said, crossing my arms across my chest, suprised at how much curses spewed out. Caramel skin guy smiled slightly.
"I know this is...difficult to believe. But yes, we think that he was indeed stalking you." Caramel was polite as he spoke, tender with his words. I ran a hand through my hair.
"Well that's just...sick." I said, bewildered.
"You're safe now, and that's all that matters. Keep that in mind." Skinny guy said. I looked over at him, our eyes locking in on each other for a minute. I stopped breathing. He broke away the gaze, lookng upwards at the blocks above my head for a distraction. Caramel didn't notice this, and simply walked over to the door.
"Interview's over." He said, opening it. I stood, and walked though it as he held it open for me.
So yeah, this day officially sucked.
"I'm going where?" I asked bewildered. My eyes widened as I looked at the severe but calm face of the pale black-haired guy. I had learned his name was Aaron Hotchner, but he just wanted to be calle Hotch.
"We're sending you to a hotel down the street. You will be close enough to the station that we will be close enough to come to you if something happens. And besides, you can't stay here all night, there are no beds." He said kindly.
"Am I staying there alone?"
"No, of course not," Rossi-the tanned black haired guy-answered me. "We're sending you there with Reid." Reid. The skinny, cute guy who turned me on just by his mere presence. I was almost looking forward to it, except that I would have a bodyguard.
"I can take care of myself." I challenged.
"I'm sure you can, but still, we don't want to take any chances." Hotch smiled slightly. I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest childishly. I may be thin, willowly; but I could throw a punch. Just ask an assortment of ex-boyfriends and sluts who tried to get into my then current boyfriend's pants. They would tell you.
I realized that arguing would get me no where, so I simply sat there as Caramel skin-Morgan-grabbed my bags. I stood, attempting to get one, but he held onto them tightly. I followed him out the door and into a black vehicle. I opened the door, sliding in before shutting it. It was dark outside, pitch-black except for a few half-lit streetlights. I saw Blondie-JJ-in the driving seat. Reid was in the passanger seat, and Morgan opened the door across from me and slid in, smiling charmingly as he did so. I smiled back. I may have been pissed, but he was just so darn adorable. Not as much as others... But that other wasn't very talkative. In fact, he had been ignoring me all day.
JJ drove about a mile down the asphalt road, turning into a brightly lit Holiday Inn. I got out, rounding the car to the back, and popping the trunk open. Morgan began to help me get my bags.
"No." I snapped, "I can get. My. Own. Bags." I said through clenched teeth. He smiled widely, amused and nodded.
"Alrighty then." He shut the trunk door after I got my suitcase and backpack out. "Have fun Lauren, and don't get into any trouble okay?"
I smiled back slightly. "Don't worry Morgan, I won't."