"I still don't understand why some people take so much pleasure in torture. It's sickening," I mumbled to myself as I looked through the new case photos. All I could see were blondes with ligature marks on their wrists and long, deep cuts around their abdomens and legs. These women had been raped and tortured before being dumped into random dumpsters around the city.
"Genetically you're predisposed to mental disorders if your parents or even your family tree has some sort of mental history. Other than that the environment actually helps create a lot of the personality. He's sadistic, a loner, and probably using these women as substitutes for the real woman who caused him so much pain," Spencer spoke, placing two coffee cups on the table and taking a seat next to me.
"Still, makes me kinda sad that there's so many bad people out there. And just because you've had a bad experience doesn't mean you get to become a killer," I replied, reaching for my coffee. Spencer had run out to the nearest coffee shop and the warm liquid was a nice feeling against my lips considering how cold it was tonight.
"Mmm, so good," I commented as the pumpkin spice scent filled my nostrils. Spencer smiled at my response to the warm beverage.
"1/3 water, 1/3 milk, and 1/3 cream, just like you like it," he said smugly, as if getting my coffee order right was a huge accomplishment. Which it kind of was, considering how picky I was with it.
"Knowing my coffee order by heart? Gosh Dr. Reid , we might as well as be married," I smiled, winking at him. He blushed, like he always did whenever I made flirty remarks, and quickly got up to study the map of the city we were in.
I smiled to myself as I saw how he looked so intently at the different streets. His eyebrows furrowed deep in thought as he marked certain places, eyes searching faster than a normal human would be able to do. But he wasn't normal. He was Dr. Spencer Reid.
He was smart, honest, and handsome. We were practically best friends-spending countless nights hanging out together, eating takeout Chinese food and watching old 80's movies.
I loved that boy. He was the best person in my life and honestly the most special person I'd ever met. Lately I found myself looking at him differently. I saw everything he was and whenever we fell asleep together I felt at home.
Falling asleep together was something we'd been doing a lot lately. The past months had been case after case, and my apartment was the farthest away from the BAU so I found myself passed out on Spencer's couch more times than I'd like to admit. Although I'd always wake up in his bed. The first time I woke up there I was confused and at first thought I'd been kidnapped until I recognized the apartment and saw Spence asleep on the couch. I told him he could sleep on the bed with me next time, it's not as if we were strangers.
We slept together but never actually slept together, if you know what I mean.
He liked to talk in his sleep. Always mumbling about some sort of formula or some book. It was cute and I found his voice comforting. Penelope had tried so hard to set us up but I always refused her help. The bureau had rules against dating coworkers. And I always followed rules. Usually.
"We have a lead. A man named Matthew Collins. Let's go," Hotch announced as he hung up the phone with Garcia. We all got up, grabbing our vests and guns on the way out.
"You drive," I tossed the keys to Spencer as I got into the front seat and Morgan hopped into the back.
"I never get to drive," he said, smiling as he started the engine. I held my weapon in my lap as we raced down the street following Hotch and Prentiss.
"Hey Princess, be careful with that," Morgan said from the backseat as he eyed my gun. I rolled my eyes.
"You know I can handle myself," I grinned, thinking back to other cases where Morgan and I would actually take down the unsub together.
"Morgan's just upset because he's not the only badass around anymore," Reid commented smugly. I laughed as Morgan protested. I liked a bit of danger while Spencer enjoyed doing the "office" work. But without him we'd never even know where the unsubs were half the time.
"Reid!" I shouted as I saw a figure run into the road. It was a man running desperately. Spencer hit the brakes but the car didn't stop in time, causing a collision between the man and our vehicle. We all rushed out of the car and I immediately pressed my fingers to his neck, checking for a pulse.
"He's alive."
"Not only that," Morgan said, "he's our unsub."
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