Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.
"If you think there are no new frontiers, watch a boy ring the front doorbell on his first date." – Olin Miller
o o o o
28 August, 2008
Spencer couldn't stop reliving what he had heard García and Morgan saying back in Garcías office as he sat down in the wingchair in The Hobbit Hole after yet another unsuccessful walk through of the building. He leaned his head back against the back of the chair and almost immediately small, soft hands covered his eyes.
"Guess who?" Her breath was warm on his ear as she spoke in a singsong tone. He could feel some of the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and smiled.
"How can I guess? You never told me your name."
"Calliope."
"The muse of epic poetry? The eldest of the Mousai? The mother of Orpheus? What about her?" She removed her hands from his eyes and he watched eagerly as she sat down on the floor in front of him, laughing.
"No, silly. My name is Calliope. Calliope Sellers."
"I'm Dr. Spencer Reid."
"A doctor? Which kind?"
"Um, engineering, chemistry and mathematics."
"Ew, gross."
"Gross?" he smiled at the way she wrinkled her nose in disgust.
"I'm not a fan of the mathy-sciencey stuff. I like the literature, history, arty stuff. Mathy-sciencey stuff is nasty."
"I guess we'll have to agree to disagree," Spencer smiled.
"Or I could try and turn you to the dark side."
"What dark side? I enjoy English and history. I just don't have degrees in them."
"I know. You'd have to like lit to have picked up The Odyssey and you'd have to at least know a lot about history to know so much about Homer and his works. Or that may just mean you really like Homer. Which leads me to the idea that… you don't like art?"
"No, that's not necessarily it. I just, I, uh, I don't tend to understand a lot of art. At least that's what my friends tell me."
"Maybe I can help fix that," she said, smiling up at him from the floor.
"Do you want to… um… have you, uh, have you had dinner yet?"
"Nope, not yet. You?"
"No. Would you like to, uh… I mean, do you… Nevermind, I'm sorry. I should probably go." Spencer stood up, turned and started to walk out of The Hobbit Hole, mentally demolishing himself for acting like such an idiot.
"Spencer?" He steeled himself to be laughed at before turning around to face her. "Were you trying to ask me to dinner?"
"Yes," he muttered honestly, staring at the floor and turning scarlet.
"Well alright then. Where should we go?"
"Pardon?" Spencer looked up at her in surprise.
"You asked me to dinner and I accepted. So, unless you can pull a picnic basket out of your pocket, Spencer, I think we have to go somewhere."
"Oh, right."
"So? Can you?" Calliope asked, walking towards him with a smile on her face.
"Can I what?"
"Pull a picnic basket out of your pocket?"
Spencer stared at her for a second before laughing and shaking his head. "If I managed it, you'll be the first to know."
"I expect to be." She nodded seriously before smiling. "So, where to?"
"I, uh, I really don't know Fredericksburg all that well."
"I figured you weren't from around here," she admitted, stopping next to him. When he raised an eyebrow at her, she explained, "People around here – at least the ones who live around this side of Fredericksburg – we all know each other. I'm not saying I can give you a narrative on every single person – there's fifteen thousand people in Fredericksburg."
"Nineteen thousand, two hundred and seventy-nine as of the two thousand census," Spencer interjected before he thought it through.
"It's a decent sized town," Calliope smiled after he interrupted, "but, like I said, the people walking down Caroline Street on a Thursday night, most of us at least know each other's names. You know no one. Not one person's stopped you to say 'hi' or anything and you haven't stopped anyone else."
"You've been watching me?"
"Well, you've been watching me."
"No, I haven't. I couldn't find you. But you're right. I live in Quantico, Virginia. About forty minutes north from here."
"So what brings you to this neck of the woods?" She asked, skillfully walking backwards out of the reading room.
"Calli –" Spencer tried to warn her, but was too late as she bumped into a young man their age.
"Umph! Sorry, Nick! My bad."
"Do you ever watch where you're going, Calliope?" he asked as he stooped down to pick up the book he'd dropped.
"Not usually."
"Make it up to me by watching next time," he laughed.
"I make no promises. Bye, Nick."
"Bye. Hey, I don't know you, but, uh, make sure she doesn't fall down the stairs on her way out."
"Yeah, thanks for the advice."
"You never answered my question," Calliope smiled at him once they were safely outside of the building in the crisp August air.
"Why have I been coming to Fredericksburg?" Spencer looked at her as she nodded expectantly and he flushed a bit before answering. "To see you, actually."
From his height advantage, Spencer saw the pleased smile the tiny woman was trying to hide from him. She brushed her hair behind her ear and then turned to him. "How do you feel about hamburgers?"
"Burgers are great. Where to?"
"Only one place on my map for burgers – Capital Ale House. It's right up the street. C'mon," Calliope slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and they made small talk as they walked down the semi-crowded sidewalk toward the bright restaurant. He liked the way her hand felt on his arm and the animated way she had about her. Spencer couldn't help but be a bit disappointed when she let go of his arm as they walked into the restaurant.
"Miss Calliope!" The old man behind the bar smiled when he saw them.
"Hey, Frank. How's it going?"
"Pretty good. Here for dinner?"
"Of course. Why else would I be here?"
"Lunch, breakfast, dessert, drinks…" The man rattled off as he skillfully mixed the alcohol and fixed the drink before uncorking a bottle of wine and pouring a glass.
"I've only known him twenty minutes and you're already telling him all my dirty, unhealthy secrets. Is nothing sacred, Frank?" Calliope gave the man with an exasperated smiled before turning to Spencer. "I don't come here all that much."
"Once, twice a week tops. Three on occasion." Frank chuckled.
"Frank!"
The hostess' appearance ended the conversation and Frank smiled, laughing to himself as the pair followed the woman who had announced herself as Karen to their table.
"I'd ask if you came here often, but I think that question's been answered," Spencer said nervously as he picked up his menu and silently wondered what had compelled him to opened his mouth and attempted to ask her to dinner and why in the world she accepted.
"I work at The Hobbit Hole. It's convenient and it's good."
"You're a cashier?" Spencer asked, looking up, cringing inwardly at the judgmental way his question had came out sounding.
"No. I'm not a cashier," she giggled. Apparently his inward cringe wasn't as inward as he had thought it was. "I'm a painter. The second story is a studio and I teach painting classes."
"Really?"
"Really." Calliope handed the waitress her menu after pointing to the entrée she wanted and Spencer did that same, asking for no onions. "You don't like onions?"
"I'm slightly allergic to them."
"I didn't know you could be allergic to onions."
"You can be allergic to anything. Allergies are just an overreaction of your immune system to an antigen that isn't generally harmful to people. They are one of the four types of hypersensitivity. Allergies cause the overproduction of antibodies, specifically immunoglobulin E, to that specific allergen when it enters the body and triggers several chemicals, especially histamine, which creates allergy symptoms like sneezing and inflammation or asthma and coughing."
"Are you sure you're not a medical doctor?" Calliope asked after a few seconds.
"I'm – I, uh, I'm pretty sure. I'm sorry. I, uh… I tend to give people more, uh, more information than they necessarily needed or wanted," Spencer explained, embarrassed.
"It's okay." She grinned and he felt relieved. "I have a feeling I'm going to be learning a lot from now on."
Spencer smiled widely when the words 'from now on' registered and he watched as she turned when her name was called. A blonde haired little girl scurried up to their table.
"Hi Miss Callie."
"Hi Maggie. Where's your mommy?"
"She's over there with Daddy." Maggie pointed towards a throng of adults waiting at the hostess station.
"Do they know where you are? Did you tell them you were coming over here?" Calliope asked, keeping a smile on her face as she picked the little girl up and put her on her lap.
"No. I'm not supposed to interrupt when the grown-ups are talking. I get in trouble."
Spencer's brow furrowed at the contradiction that statement provided. She walked across a crowded restaurant, away from her parents, to another set of adults, one of which she didn't know, to interrupt while they talked. Without telling her parents because she wanted to avoid getting in trouble. If all children did this, it was a real miracle the BAU didn't get called to more child abductions than they already did.
"I'll be right back, Spencer," Calliope smiled at him, standing up with the little girl in her arms. "Say goodbye to Dr. Reid, Maggie."
"Bye," the girl pouted sadly, waving at him as Calliope carried her back to her parents.
"Bye Maggie." He waved as well. Spencer watched the girls parents react to the return of their daughter. They hadn't even known she had wandered away. The waitress brought their dinner just as Calliope returned childless.
"Sorry."
"It's okay. You get that a lot?"
"Little children leaving their parents to come up to me?" Calliope grinned. "Oddly enough, yes. Maggie is a student in one of my painting classes. She's a sweet girl."
"Are all your classes with children?"
"No, mostly teenagers and adults. I have more children in the summer, obviously, because school's out. But teenagers and adults don't generally run away from their parents to come see their teacher."
Spencer chuckled and took a bite of his burger. "Wow. You were right. This is really good."
"It's why it's my favorite. So, you know what I do, Dr. Reid. What do you do? I'm sure you don't let all those doctorates go to waste."
"I, uh, no. I don't. I work for the FBI as a part of the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico."
"That means absolutely nothing to me." She admitted, running her napkin over her mouth.
"The BAU is a part of the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime. The team I'm a part of travels all over the U.S. to assist all levels of law enforcement by psychoanalyzing the crime scenes and the crimes themselves to see what the behavior of the criminal tells us. We, uh, we use the analysis, the profiles we create, to help find and subsequently arrest the offender."
"You're a profiler?"
"Technically, there's no such thing as a profiler. That's a job that doesn't exist within the FBI. I'm a supervisory special agent and a behavior analyst. We do get called 'profilers' a lot though; the term has become so common that we've begun using it too."
"Are you analyzing my behavior?"
"No-o. Of course not."
"Well, damn. If you were, you could enlighten me about myself. I confused myself constantly. It can be so annoying. Only, if only. I could have finally understood. Oh well. I'll have to try some other way to figure out why I do what I do. Maybe I'll put up surveillance cameras in my house and then go over the tapes of what I do later. No, that'd just confuse me more. Bad idea."
Spencer laughed. Her reaction wasn't exactly what he had expected, but he liked it. He liked the way her first reaction to his career wasn't horror or disgust, but humor and smiles.
"So, you do like the, um, the CSI stuff. DNA or fingerprints and stuff? Like Horatio Caine and all that jazz? CSI: Miami."
"Actually, the CSI shows on television are highly dramatized. The real thing is nothing like what they portray. But, no, we don't do the 'CSI stuff.' Generally all that is done before we get called in. CSI goes over everything before we get there and then, if any more crimes are committed while we're on the case, they work with us. They call us when they have hit a dead end and need additional help, normally when there isn't much physical evidence. We deal with the psychological aspects, the 'why.' Why do they do what they do, how they do it, etcetera."
"Basically, you get inside their heads."
"Basically."
"That sounds… absolutely horrific. It really makes you wonder just how far humanity has sunken when we have to create jobs like that." Calliopes' mouth turned down in a frown and her forehead wrinkled. Spencer wanted to see her smile again. That happy, crooked smile had invaded his thoughts and dreams for the past month and he didn't like seeing it gone. He didn't like that he was the reason the smile was gone. He wanted it back.
"It is. But it's not completely bad. We do manage to save a lot of people."
"Really?"
"Really." Taking a sip of his coke, Spencer saw the smile start to reappear on her face. "We got back from Phoenix, Arizona a couple of days ago. We caught him and a lot of police officers are alive today because of it."
"Police officers? No. I don't want to know. Have you saved children?"
"Yeah. We saved four children and their daycare teacher. A little over a month ago."
"You mean, the one from Loretto, Virginia? Kaylee Robinson? I watched that on the news. Your team was the one who saved them. Oh my gosh, I remember. You were quoted in the newspaper article the Free Lance-Star published! What'd you say… you said, um, 'Rothschild thought he could outsmart us, but, if you look properly, anybodies behavior will give them away. Today we were right, we were smarter, and Ms. Robinson and those children are safe because of it.'"
"You remember the exact quote?"
"I liked the article. I liked that something like that could turn out well. I don't know, with all the terrible stuff reported in the news every day it was nice to read an article that had a happy ending. So I read it a few times. It's on my fridge. I can't believe I'm in the presence of a real, live hero. I should get an autograph."
"An autograph? You're the artist, I should be asking you for your autograph."
"I don't give autographs," Calliope said with faux pretentiousness, turning her face away with her nose up, the corners of her mouth turning up despite her attempts to appear snobbish. Spencer raised his eyebrow and she dissolved into giggles. He couldn't help but laugh along with her: her laugh, her smile was infectious. They crawled under his skin and into his heart and he wanted to make sure she never stopped smiling for long.
Spencer and Calliope talked and laughed throughout dinner. During dessert, he grinned when she reached across the table and took a chunk of his brownie.
"I love chocolate," she told him, popping it into her mouth.
"That's probably because chocolate's main ingredient is phenylethylamine, commonly referred to as the 'love-chemical.' Chocolate also contains theobromine, anandamide and tryptophan. Those chemicals prompt mood-enhancing chemicals to be released in the brain. You know, the average person living in the United States eats eleven point five pounds of chocolate annually."
"Really now?"
"Yes, chocolate makes people feel happy in the same way caffeine give people energy. That's why people eat chocolate as a comfort food when they're sad or depressed. The phenylethylamine triggers mesolimbic dopamine in the, uh, the pleasure centers of the brain. Scientists think that that's why so many woman report preferring chocolate to sex." Spencer closed his eyes, mortified, when he realized what had come out of his mouth, but Calliope just started laughing.
"I am so going to be learning a lot," she said, still laughing as the waitress brought the check and Spencer reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. "You have a son?"
"Godson," he corrected, following her gaze to the picture of him holding Henry in the hospital that he kept in his wallet. "That's my godson Henry."
"Can I see?"
"Of course," Spencer carefully pulled the picture out from under the plastic protection and handed it to her.
"He's precious! How old is he?"
"Three months old as of two days ago."
"He's adorable. Do you have any other pictures?"
"A few."
"Well, what are you waiting for? Let me see." Calliope held her hand out expectantly. Spencer laughed again and reached into the fold where he kept his cash and fished out the few other pictures that were important enough for him to carry around with him, laying them in her palm.
"That's J.J., Jennifer Jareau, and Will LaMontagne with Henry. They're his parents."
"Which one?"
"Which one what? There are only three people in the picture and I think who's who is pretty obvious."
"No," Calliope rolled her eyes, "which one are you friends with? Originally, I mean. Which one is the reason you're a godparent? J.J. or Will."
"Oh. J.J. She's the communications liaison for the team. She deals with the media and mediates with the local law enforcement."
"Gotchya. She's very pretty."
"She is. She's one of my closest friends."
"Okay, this is a motley crew." Calliope laughed, looking at a picture of the team. "I know you and that's J.J. Who are the other people?"
"This is my team; this is the BAU team I belong to. That's Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Aaron Hotchner, Dave Rossi and Penelope García."
"Are they all supervisory special agents like you? Behavioral analysts?"
"All except for García. She's a technical analyst." When Calliope gave him a blank look, he explained further. "She goes through computer files, information, cyber web activity, tracking phones and credit card, finding people – anything that is stored in a computer she can find."
"I like her cloths." Calliope said.
"She's Henry's godmother."
"Is this your mom?" Calliope held up a third picture and he nodded. "She looks like you. Or, I guess, it's you that look like her. Is this your dad?"
"No, that's Jason Gideon. He used to work at the BAU. He recruited me from Cal Tech, he's sort of my mentor."
"You must be close if you carry around his picture."
"We are. He lives in Colorado now. Thank you," Spencer took the black folder from the waitress and put his credit card back into his wallet, signing the slip. Calliope handed the pictures back to him.
"No pictures of your dad?"
"I was raised by my mom."
"I was raised by my grandparents. Hey, uh, do you want to get some coffee? There's a little café a block over at the intersection of William Street and Princess Anne. Hyperion Espresso."
"Sure." As they walked out of the restaurant, Spencer was glad she had asked. He didn't want to say goodnight yet.
"I'm a complete coffee addict," she smiled as they walked down the sidewalk. He felt her hand slip into his and he looked down in time to watch her thread her fingers through his. She was holding his hand. "I think I should let you know that now. I'm ninety percent coffee and ten percent pure caffeine. Water is for the weak."
"I drink a lot of coffee as well," he told her, watching her happily.
Everything about her was bright and colourful, a complete contrast from his life; from her hair to the summer dress she wore, even down to her flip-flops, she radiated vibrant colour. The bright colours reminded him a bit of Penelope, but it wasn't quite the same. Penelope was sort of polished and she gave thought to her outfits. Calliope looked more like she hadn't been able to decide what to wear, she liked all of it, and walked out of her house wearing everything that had appealed to her that morning without regard to whether or not they should really be worn together. Sort of a bohemian eclectic that made him smile.
"Doctor Reid, twice in one day?" the barista called as they walked in. Calliope turned to look at him and smiled, raising a single, thin eyebrow.
"I said I drink a lot of coffee."
"Not nearly as much as she does," the barista laughed. "Let's see… Sumatra Mandehling with two teaspoons of sugar for Dr. Reid and a regular mocha espresso for Calliope with an extra shot of espresso. Am I right?"
"I know I come here often, but I didn't realized you came as often as I do," Calliope laughed as she paid.
"Calliope, no one comes here as often as you do. We should just take down your credit card and make a tab for you. You single handedly paid for Mike's vacation last year."
"The town has it out for me! First Frank, now you. You're hanging out all my dirty laundry. You're going to scare him away."
"Oh please," the girl rolled her eyes. "You could do that all by yourself."
"Okay, that was just cruel, Ashley."
"I speak only the truth. Here you go. See you tomorrow morning at nine forty-five, Calliope."
"So cruel!"
Spencer just grinned and waved at Ashley as he followed Calliope out of the café. They walked side by side down the street, people watching, with no particular destination. He was surprised by how quickly he had become comfortable around her, how easily the conversation flowed between them. Her hand had found its way back to the crook of his elbow as they walked. She was definitely one for physical contact and, usually, he wasn't, but he didn't mind it. If fact, it felt nice.
Every sense in his body was operating in overdrive concerning her. Her hand on his arm, her arm brushing against his, the tropical scent of her shampoo, the melodic tones of her voice, her laugh. Everything about her registered with him; he noticed everything. He was completely focused on her, so much so that Calliope had to point out that his cell phone was buzzing.
"Excuse me," he said, frowning when he saw Agent Todd's name on the LED screen. "Hello? Really? Alright. Tonight? Okay, I'll be there in an hour. Bye."
"Bad news?" Calliope asked, her smile disappointed.
"I'm sorry. We have a case. Hotch wants to go over it tonight so we can leave first thing tomorrow morning."
"Where are you going?"
"Los Angeles. Where's your car?"
"I walked."
"You live close enough to walk?"
"Yup. I live on Lee Drive and Dahlia Road."
"That's three miles away. I can't let you walk three miles home in the dark, Calliope. Especially not along Lee Drive. There are no sidewalks or lights and the roads surrounded by woods." Spencer protested. "I'll drive you home."
"So chivalrous." Calliope smiled at him as he led her back towards Caroline Street where his car was parked. He opened the door for her before getting into the drivers side.
"Sorry, it's not exactly the nicest car."
"I like it. It has character." She told him, pointing to where he needed to turn. "Are you safe?"
"Pardon?"
"Your job. When you go on cases, are you and the team safe?"
"There's always risk with our job, Calliope, but we do everything in our power to diminish as much of that risk as we can. We take every precaution possible."
"Thank you." She said as she pulled a keypad out of her purse as they approached the gate to her property.
"For what?"
"Being honest. And the ride home." Calliope opened the gate and Spencer drove through. Stopping in front of her house, Spencer put the car in park and turned off the engine; getting out of the car, he opened her door and helped her out.
"I had a really nice time tonight, Spencer. Thank you."
"I, uh… would it be all right if I called you some time?" he asked, nervously.
"I'd like that a lot," she smiled brightly and reached into her purse, pulling out a teal Sharpie and grabbed his hand. She wrote her number on his palm and dropped the Sharpie back into her purse. Spencer smiled, looking down at the loopy handwriting on his hand. Unsure of how to proceed, of what to do, he stood awkwardly for a second and was a bit startled she gave him a quick hug and kissed his cheek. "Good night, Dr. Spencer Reid. Thank you for one of the best nights I've had in a long time. Don't wait too long before using that number."
Spencer got back in his car in a daze and, when he was back on I-95 driving towards Quantico, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number from memory.
"Hey there, Boy Genius. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I talked about allergies and phenylethylamine."
"What?"
"I met her, the woman from the book store. I met her and I took her to dinner."
"You went on a date? No way! What's her name? Oh man, give me the dish!"
"Calliope Sellers. She's really nice, García."
"I would assume so. I doubt you would have been obsessing over her for a month or have called me after your date if she was a bitch."
"Good point. I totally screwed it up, though."
"What went wrong?"
"I explained allergies to her. Why people have allergies and then I told her phenylethylamine is the reason woman prefer chocolate to sex."
"You did what? Oh my God, Spencer Reid. Please tell me you're lying."
"I know! I completely messed it up."
"Did it end badly?"
"Well, no. After dinner we went and got some coffee, but pretty soon after I got the call from J.J. I drove her home and I asked if it would be okay if I called her."
"What'd she say?"
"Yes. I don't know why, but she did. She gave me her number and told me not to wait too long before calling. And then she kissed my cheek."
"Awww… Spencer Reid shoots and scores."
"You think she likes me?"
"Take it from me, Boy Genius, girls don't give their numbers to boys they don't like. Much less kiss their cheek or accept an offer for dinner."
"Yeah. She likes me."
"She does indeed. Just a word of advice: next time you talk to her, stay away from the topics involving bodily functions and things women prefer to sex."
A/N:
This is an out-take from my multi-chapter Mystery Muse which focuses on Spencer and Calliope. It takes place after chapter two. So, if you like this and want to read more, that's where you find it. Along with almost all my other one-shots, which are S&C-centric.
Sooooo yes. This is Calliope and Spencer's first date. Completely awkward. Ah, I love Dr. Reid. He's hilarious to write. And this is exactly how I think a first date would go for him.
This takes place right after 4x10 Brothers in Arms and before 4x11 Normal, which is the case Agent Todd calls him about towards the end.
Anyways, Thanks for reading! I hope you like it! Please, tell me what you think, good or bad!
Love, Thalia