It has become apparent to me as I wait for the Reid-flavored episode of Criminal Minds tonight that this story is moving slowly. And it's not because I haven't written in awhile- - it's that I know where I want to take this but I don't know how to get it there. But worry not: I now have it planned out!

You might remember Lila Archer, from the episode in which Reid falls for a Hollywood starlet. I know I do. I also know many Gube Girls were quite angered by the episode. Lila will be featured in my next chapter. If you haven't seen the episode, well…rent or buy Season 1, watch Somebody's Watching, and cry.

Or, like my friend Sabrina, clench your angry fists.

I plan on going through the chapters and editing things, so it is all grammatically perfect and the story correct. Soon. I'm in Grade 12, so cut me some slack.

P.S. Miss me? I missed the reviews : )

Spencer's POV

JJ never got the chance to meet Alice that night. We got a call around the time we finished talking, and, well, we worked late. Again.

I feel frustrated. I know Alice needs help, but at the same time I haven't yet confronted her about it. What's worse is our 'relationship' is so confusing right now…I mean, what are we?

One of these days, this genius will figure it out.

So here I sit, in the meeting room, waiting for Gideon to come walking in with Hotchner. I fiddle with my hands, as I do when I'm feeling apprehensive.

"Hey kid, you alright?" Morgan asks me suddenly.

I wet my lips, "Yeah…I think so."

But she isn't.

Alice's POV

It is officially impossible to run fast in heels. This I have discovered before, and I am rediscovering it now.

My shift has just ended and I am running as fast as I can back to Spencer's apartment. I have completely forgotten what time he finished work, therefore I hope to get home before him and change. I need to hide the evidence of my new job, especially since I told him I got a job at the public library near Brock Street.

Librarians and strippers don't exact work in the same conditions, you know.

So here I am, trying my best to run the streets of Quantico, in skyrocketing stilettos and fishnet stockings. Guys keep whistling at me and I ignore them. I really want to take a bus, but I don't want anyone seeing me. I feel ashamed in the neon lights of the club where I work, and on the street it's just as bad.

Then, just as I jump onto the curb after crossing the street, the edge of my left heel catches the curb itself and I fall flat on my face. I quickly wipe the tip of my nose, seeing fresh blood. I glance into a nearby store window and see I've scraped my nose on the concrete. But I don't have time for this. Despite my injury, I continue to attempt to run, and I fall a few more times.

Finally, I get to the apartment. I race up the stairs as fast as my painful stilettos can take me. All I can think is, "Please, please don't let Spencer be home…"

As luck would have it, he isn't. I turn the spare key in the lock and walk in to be relieved. I go change in the bathroom and hide my clothes underneath his bed, a place Spencer Reid would never look. I would know…when we were teenagers he was always afraid of under the bed. He probably still is.

Walking around in his pajamas, I got to make a pot of tea. After putting the kettle on, I see a couple papers scattered on the table in the living room. It isn't my place to snoop, but the handwriting seems familiar. So I take a peek.

Dear Spencer,

I'm so glad to see you and Alice are friends again. I remember when you were a teenager and she used to meet you when she was finished school for the day. She was such a sweet girl.

I turn to the next one.

Dear Spencer,

I should like to meet Alice again. I haven't seen her in years. What does she look like? Is she still as beautiful as you say?

I blush, quickly putting the letters down. It seems that Diana Reid and her son are communicating by letters. I wonder if she still lives in the same house…

"Alice?"

I perk up immediately, unintentionally, "Hi Spencer."

He closes the door, looking exhausted, "What a day."

"I'm making tea," I announce, standing up, "Find something on the television. I'll go get us some."

A shy smile appears on his face and I feel a bit flustered, "Ok. Sounds great."

Great. Not good, but great. I think I love him.

After a few minutes we are both settled onto the couch, watching CSI: Miami.

"You know, there are so many inaccuracies on this show," Spencer says, "I mean, if I could count them all…"

"And that guy's acting is terrible." I add, nodding.

We both look at each other. I point to the remote. He nods. We laugh.

But before I can change the channel, a crash of thunder echoes into the night and Spencer jumps. He looks embarrassed. I smile at him. Then another crash comes, followed by a flash of lightning. Then, just as the rain is about to fall, the electricity goes out.

"I spilled my tea!" Spencer says in the dark, sounding frustrated.

"Where are you?" I search in the dark, "Do you have a flashlight anywhere?"

"In the kitchen I did," Spencer replies, sounding panicky, "But I forget…" Thunder crashes. "WHERE I left it."

I giggle, "You're still afraid of thunder."

"No," he laughs nervously, "Of course NOT!"

He scoots closer to me, hugging me tightly as it continues to break into the sky.

I laugh, "Don't worry, I've got you."

Spencer hugs me tighter, "I hate thunderstorms."

"Remember what your mom used to say?" I ask him knowingly.

After a pause, he replies, "The only safe place to hide is your bed."

"Right," I feel around in the dark, "Come on."

Somehow, I make it to Spencer's bedroom, and we both crawl into the warm bed. Once under the covers, he snuggles up to me like a child. I know how scared his is. I've seen him this way before.

Thunder continues to boom, and he buries his face in my shoulder. I hold him. He's so fragile right now.

Rain starts to pour down on the windows. I can see them from the bed. Gently, I stroke his hair, and he hums quietly. The rain itself is like a lullaby, made just for us.

"Hey Spencer?" I ask in a half-whisper.

He answers me with a soft, sweet kiss.

Oh my, my, my.

Butterflies erupt in my stomach by the thousands. I can't breathe or think straight. But somehow…it feels just fine.

Suddenly, Spencer stops.

"You've got a scrape on your nose," he whispers, touching it gently.

"Fix it, then," I whisper back, "You know how."

This was the second time I'd felt love. I refuse to let it go, at least, not tonight.

In the morning, we'll blame fatigue for it, or pretend it never happened. But for now, we'll admit it to ourselves, and each other…that it is worth it.

When we finish, we lie there, staring at each other. One last piece of thunder crashes into the night.

"It's just an angel in heaven bowling," I tell him, "That's all."

Spencer shakes his head, "The angel is here."

So this is what it means to make love.