Atrin glared up at her best friend who was currently bouncing on the edge of her bed. "What do you want?"
"Come watch a movie with me!"
"Mistie, it's -" She stole a quick glance at her cell phone display, "-one in the morning. I need sleep. I'm tired."
"Oh, poo on you. You can sleep in, since you have tomorrow off anyway. Remember? 'I just need a break, because it is just so difficult planning a wedding, even though you're doing all the work, and I'm going to reap the benefits, so I'll be at the spa for the next thirty-six hours,'" mocked Mistie, and Atrin had to laugh at the almost-correct imitation of the finicky bride-to-be; Louise Barker certainly was the epitome of a Bridezilla.
Ironically, it was Mistie who had fallen asleep first on the couch, not even halfway into their second movie. Atrin let out a soft chuckle, headed to the kitchen, and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. Her throat was parched from singing along to Grease with her best friend. She filled the cup with her pineapple-orange juice. As she stared out at the city lights along the darkened horizon, her mind was assaulted with memories she thought she'd never recover.
She leaned against him as they walked along the sidewalk, mindlessly manoeuvring around the onslaught of people. His smile was intoxicating, and she couldn't help but laugh as he rambled on about statistics on gambling. Though high intelligences normally turned her off, it was inexplicably different and endearing when it came to this young man. Her body tingled when he wrapped his arm around her back; she had never been attracted to anyone like this, not this swiftly. The lights of the strip reflected in his warm eyes, and the chocolate orbs sparkled, deepened to profundities that should be humanly impossible - and illegal, she'd have to guess by the way her body reacted to the sight. She could feel his gaze intensifying, yet softening, and he hooked her chin with his finger. She lost all rational thought then; his lips were soft, insistent, tender…amazing on hers. The others surrounding them disappeared once she let herself become spellbound by his kiss.
Atrin shook her head and glanced around the kitchen. Once she realised Mistie was still snoring on the couch, she pulled open the cabinet hiding the trash bin. She plucked the file from the top of the pile with nimble fingers and scurried down the hall to her bedroom. The lamp from the bedside table spread just enough glow to illuminate the pages inside; she stared down at the man she'd married, and slowly, she could see in his image all the attributes and qualities she had once admired to the point of giving her reason to exchange vows with him.
!:!:!:!
Spencer's phone rang on the coffee table, and he sighed as he placed his book down on the couch. Quickly giving his greeting, he cringed at the ear-splitting screech only one person in the entire universe was capable of emitting. He barely caught the caller's words before the line went dead. His lips quirked upwards in a grim smile before he headed into the kitchen for a cup of coffee.
Penelope Garcia shoved her way past him after he opened the front door fifteen minutes later. "So, you and I need to talk."
"Did you find her?"
"Questions, questions. Wait a minute, boy genius, while I relax."
"Garcia, honestly, I don't think I can wait very much longer for answer. It's been fifty-eight days since I got married."
"Ya know," she quipped, gazing up at him through her glasses, her brown eyes sparkling, "it's still so hinky hearing you say you're married. Who knew Dr. Spencer Reid would be married at the tender age of 27?"
"On average-" he started before she stopped him with "Love you, Reid, but please, no stats. I've got something more intriguing about our girl."
He gazed down at the photograph, quickly scanning over the information. His eyes drank in every detail the simple picture could offer, but it was hardly as satisfying as realising his own mind held more.
He pulled her closer to him on the queen-sized mattress and watched her flinch as the bucket of pigs' blood splashed upon the unsuspecting victim. She had sworn she'd never seen Carrie; therefore, Spencer felt it was his duty to have her watch such a classic horror movie. Besides, she felt wonderful in his arms - like she was made to fit just for him. He vaguely wondered if this was what it was like for Hotch when he'd met Haley, like nothing could happen to ruin the amazing sensations flowing steadily through his body. She glanced up at him, and he couldn't control it. He had to taste her kiss again. It may have just been the alcohol, or it could have been love. At that moment, for once, the BAU's personal genius had no clue as to what was happening. Then again, he didn't really care. All he knew was he had no desire for the night to end.
