"What is the matter with you?"
"What do you mean, what's the matter with me?"
"I have never seen you act like this."
"Oh, really? Oh, in the months that you've known me you've never seen me act this way? Hey, no offence, Emily, but you don't really know what you're talking about, do ya?"
Emily Prentiss was probably the most beautiful woman that Spencer Reid had ever laid eyes on. Sure, he'd been with women in the past, he'd been attracted to other women, and he'd seen women he thought were good looking - but this was different. Emily wasn't like the other women that he had been with. No, Emily Prentiss was something else altogether. Something else, that he would find himself lying awake at night thinking about. Something that made him have to put down the book he was reading, because it was always in the back of his mind.
Don't let her close enough to hurt you.
The truth of the matter was, Reid was finding it hard to do anything other than push her away. There had come a point when he got tired of other people offering to help put the puzzle pieces of his life back together, because they never stuck around long enough to complete the puzzle. These days, he was finding it more and more difficult to open up and trust people, because so many people in the past had left. An underlying part of him blamed that on his father, but another part knew that it was of his own doing. Now, with his using thrown into the mix, the whole situation had become a lot more complicated.
He had spent hours upon hours lying awake at night, eyes fixed on the ceiling, rolling from side to side in his empty bed. Most of the time he lay there was spent attempting to convince himself that he felt nothing but friendship for Emily, but it was proving to be harder than he thought. He barely knew her, anyway, so what was this that he was feeling? Why did he feel giddy when he looked at her, and why did the bottom of his stomach have a tingling sensation? Sure, the two had a lot in common. He found that he could talk to her about things that he could talk to no one else about, because what he found interesting seemed to interest her, too. But did it really matter? Nothing could come of "feelings" - if that's what they were, if they were not returned.
And let's face it, they're never going to be.
Emily was, as Morgan would probably say, way out of his league. She was beautiful, and older than him, which meant she was probably more experienced. Not necessarily more sexually experienced, mind you, because contrary to popular belief, Reid had in fact had his fair share of sexual experience. But she was absolutely gorgeous, with her dark features contrasting against her milky pale skin. Her eyes were enchanting, and he could listen to her voice for hours, even if she was talking about nothing in particular. But he hardly knew her. So how had he managed to pay so much attention to her, that he knew all of this?
There was another contreversial discussion rattling away in his brain. While Reid knew that she was different to anyone else he'd ever met, why was he so certain that she was going to turn around and leave just like everyone else? When she'd asked him what was wrong, it didn't seem like a forced routine, it seemed like she genuinely cared for him. Perhaps the reason he felt so perturbed about the whole situation was that if on the off chance she felt something for him too, then things would change. If things did change, he'd be all in. He'd find himself wanting to take risks for her, including his job, and the thought of that alone really scared him. Because although he'd been with women before, he'd never really felt that he would find himself risking absolutely anything and everything for another person. Emily was different, he knew that.
He had raised his hand to the door of her apartment a few times, still giving himself the chance to change his mind, before he finally heard the loud knocking of his knuckle against the wood. When he could discern footsteps coming closer, and finally the door unbolting, for a second he almost turned around and ran. He'd read about this, it was called the fight or flight response. But he was tired of running. This time he was going to fight.
"Reid," she said when she opened the door, clearly surprised to see him at this hour.
"Emily," he replied sheepishly.
"May I – may I talk to you?" The apprehension in his voice was obvious. He couldn't even look away from his feet.
"Sure…" Reid looked up as Emily lifted her arm towards the interior of the apartment, indicating for him to come inside. He did so, and she then gestured for him to sit on the sofa, before walking to the kitchen and took a mug out of the cabinet.
"Coffee?" she asked, trying to decide whether to take a second mug.
"No, no I'm fine, thank you." Reid replied, watching intently as she busied herself in the kitchen.
"So uh… what was it that you wanted to talk about?" she queried as she poured the hot water into the mug and stirred in the sugar and milk.
"Just the way I've been treating you recently. I've been horrible to you, Emily, and I wanted to apologise. I've thought about it a lot… and I think I've come to the conclusion that I'm pushing you away because–"
"You don't want to get close to me. You don't want to let me in, because you fear that I'm going to abandon you," she said, sitting beside him.
He looked at her in awe.
"I'm a good profiler, Reid." She shook her head and a small laugh escaped her lips.
"I didn't doubt that for a second." Emily put her mug of coffee on the table in front of her, and turned to face him, scooting closer to him and crossing her legs on the sofa. She took his hand in hers, and listened as his breath hitched when she did so.
"You don't want me to–"
"No, leave it there," he replied, giving her hand a squeeze to reassure her he really was fine with the contact.
"It's just I'm not really used to–"
"Me neither," she replied softly, sighing when a confused look spread across Reid's face.
"Look, Reid…"
"Emily–"
She breathed out, slowly. "Thank you for the apology," she rubbed her thumb up and down the back of his hand. She leaned closer to him, so close that he could feel her breath against his face. It smelled warm, of milk and coffee and spearmint. Then he felt contact, her warm, soft lips against his already flushed cheek. Just for a second, but in the moments that followed, he felt his heart race and his cheeks grow even redder. "Thank you, I appreciate it."
It was just a friendly peck on the cheek, Spencer. She doesn't see you as anything more than that.
But she didn't pull away. Her face lingered in front of his for a moment, a smile spread across her lips.
"Well?" she asked, barely audible.
"Well what?"
Emily was amused, probably at the fact that he was unsure in what she wanted. In actuality, he knew perfectly well what she wanted, he just didn't understand why she wanted it from him. There was no way that she could feel the same way about him as he did her. Could she?
He was still thinking about this when she gently pressed her lips to his.
At first he didn't know what to do. He sort of just let her move her lips around his, while he sat, captivated by the fact that she, Emily Prentiss, was kissing him, Spencer Reid. After a while, he kissed her back, but was still confused. "Emily?" he asked, drawing back. He frowned.
Maybe she's drunk.
"Mm?"
"Are you– I mean, are you sure this is what you want?"
"Don't doubt yourself so much," she replied, seemingly agitated by the fact he'd interrupted her. Then she let out a small sigh, realising that of course, he would be doubtful. "I wouldn't have done it if it wasn't what I wanted."
"I thought maybe–"
"I'm completely sober, Reid."
"No– I just… it doesn't matter," he replied, brushing a piece of hair away from her eyes, "so where were we?"