The case is more background dressing...I just needed a way to get Spencer back out in the field.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Shine
.
Once the team arrived in Dallas, they headed straight for the local police station instead of the hotel. They needed to get started as quickly as possible; and after introductions had been made, they settled into the conference room set up for them while Hotch divvied up the assignments. He sent Morgan and JJ off to interview all the families of the victims while Rossi and Prentiss went to the latest dump site. Reid stayed behind, working on the geographical profile and sifting through every piece of evidence the LEO's had compiled throughout their own investigation. Hotch took point, fielding phone calls and answering questions; putting out fires and helping wherever he was needed.
Part of Aaron's self appointed duties, Spencer assumed, was keeping an eye on him. Hotch made sure to give him space, but he could still feel the older man hovering protectively around the area.
The man was making his presence known, but Spencer didn't particularly mind it.
Having Aaron close by gave him a sense of security while in an unfamiliar environment. He was surrounded by strangers—alpha male types—and while he didn't believe any of them were truly a threat to him or his safety, their presence still put him on edge. Also, having an endless supply of fresh coffee delivered to him by his boss was an added perk. He could definitely see himself getting used to being supplied with caffeine by his own hot alpha male.
He closed his eyes and shook the thought away, silently berating himself for even indulging in the idea. This was neither the time nor place to be thinking about such things. They had a murderer to catch and a victim to save.
Hopefully.
The last case he'd been on hadn't ended so well, though. They hadn't gotten there in time; they'd been too slow, and the unsub had killed the victim before they could apprehend him. He didn't want a repeat, so he reined in his inappropriate thoughts and got back to work.
By the end of the day, he'd finished the geographical profile and established a general hunting area using the information Morgan and JJ had obtained from the families and from the coroner's reports. It appeared that all three women had preferred to work in the same five mile radius, and both bodies were found within that same area as well. Therefore, he believed their unsub was keeping Jo Bradbury somewhere nearby, and he'd had Garcia search for locations that were slightly out of the way, yet still inside their target zone. Places that could lend themselves easily to holding someone captive and torturing them without being seen or heard while doing it. Those results narrowed down their suspect pool significantly, and the tech analyst was currently looking into all the men left on her list.
It was a good start. He felt like he'd actually helped contribute to the case, and it was definitely better than sitting around the house all day twiddling his thumbs. He had a purpose again—he was working toward a goal and making a difference.
There wasn't much left for any of them to do now, though, at least for the night. They were all exhausted and in need of sleep, so they packed up their things and piled into the two government-issue SUVs that had been waiting for them when they'd arrived.
As they headed toward the hotel, Spencer leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. He was certainly feeling the day, his body aching from the stress of traveling and the nature of the case. There'd been no time for him to take a break and lie down, which he wasn't used to, so he was definitely looking forward to getting to his room, showering and collapsing into bed.
However, they did also need to eat; a fact that Morgan was making sure everyone knew.
He really couldn't blame the other man; he could go for something, too. He tried to think back on the last meal he'd had. Hotch had attempted to get him to eat a sandwich from the vending machine at the precinct, but he'd looked at it with disgust and promptly went back to his maps and reports, ignoring its existence all together. So the last actual meal he'd eaten...if it could even be called a meal...had been for breakfast that morning. It had been the celebratory pop tarts he'd shared with Aaron and Jack. A smile curved his lips at the memory, but a moment later his stomach vehemently growled its disapproval at the same.
The only other thing he'd had all day was the endless coffee Aaron had supplied him with and half a bag of chips from the same vending machine the questionable sandwich had come from.
So before checking into the hotel and calling it a night, they stopped at a restaurant across the street to grab a quick dinner.
The place seemed nice enough, and they were seated at a large round table toward the back.
As Spencer sat there watching his friends read over their menus, he was reminded of all the times—good and bad—that they'd found themselves gathered around similar tables throughout the years...in practically every state in the country. It felt right to be here, with these people—his team, his best friends, his family. He glanced over toward Aaron, who was sitting by his side studying his own menu, and he smiled at the sight.
It felt right to be here with him.
Hotch must have sensed eyes on him because he looked up and gave Reid a small half smile, leaning in slightly, "You doing okay?"
"Mhm," he nodded, "I'm perfect."
Aaron's hand came down to curl around his for just a moment, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. He let go before anyone noticed. "Try to order something with at least a little nutritional value," he playfully murmured, although Reid could tell he was slightly concerned, "I don't think pop tarts, coffee and chips constitute an adequate diet for someone still recovering from an injury. Or, well, anyone for that matter."
He gave him a sheepish grin and hummed in agreement. Hotch did have a point, and in the end he ordered a turkey club and a bowl of fruit, which seemed to appease the man well enough.
The food arrived shortly after, and he couldn't stop his mind from racing through all the details of the case over and over again while he ate. The one thing he kept coming back to consistently was the disturbing ritual of removing the victims' eyes. It was just too specific, and a hell of a lot of trouble for it not to be very important. It was obviously significant in some way, he just needed to dig deeper to figure out what that was and why.
He needed to get into the unsub's mind.
Think like him.
Think about the eyes.
Human eyes are complex.
They're remarkable machines that house over two million parts all working together in perfect unison to distinguish between ten million different colors.
They're how people see the world around them.
They don't discriminate.
Eyes are supposed to see everything...the good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly, the simple and the intricate.
But what if they didn't?
What if their unsub was angry because he hadn't been seen? What if he'd been overlooked for something in particular? Something important? Something significant to him?
Like a job.
Or a promotion.
Or even a date.
Most likely a date, actually, given the sexual nature of the victims' work and the repeated rapes.
It made sense.
Maybe their unsub had been rejected by someone—a potential love interest, perhaps—and he was using surrogates to channel his rage...attempting to get back at the one person he was truly angry with. He was making his victims see him before killing them. Then he was taking their eyes as a trophy. If that were the case, it would only be a matter of time before this man worked up to his real goal, taking revenge on the actual woman who'd rejected him.
"Earth to Dr. Reid..."
A hand moved back and forth in front of his face, and it pulled him from his musings. He looked up to see Prentiss eyeing him warily and Hotch examining him with apprehension plastered across his face. Morgan, JJ and Rossi had also gone quiet, all of their attention focused squarely on him as well.
Just the way he hated it.
"Reid, what happened?"
Aaron was trying to hold back the fear in his voice, but it wasn't working. Reid knew exactly what the man was thinking; what they were all most likely thinking, for that matter. He'd zoned out, and they were probably worried that he'd just had another flashback. He didn't have time to explain what was going on, though.
"Sorry, but I need to make a call."
Without elaborating further, he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Garcia's number. Less than a ring later her bubbly voice was humming through the line.
"Talk to me, Junior G-Man!"
"Garcia, I need you to see if any of the men on the list we gave you this afternoon suffered from some sort of rejection recently. Say, within the last six months?"
"Okaaay...but what exactly are we talkin' about here? Just romantic entanglements, or is anything fair game?"
"Anything, really. But a romantic rejection would make the most sense considering that all the victims were prostitutes and they were sexually assaulted."
"You got it, my adorable super genius. I shall scour the depths of social media, the heights of phone records and the jungles of email, then call back post haste. Take care, chic geek. Garcia out!"
He smiled and hung up, slipping his phone back into his pocket. The table was still quiet, everyone continuing to stare at him; but their faces were much more amused now and far less worried, which helped to put him at ease.
"Sorry," he apologized again, shrugging, "I just—I guess I had a hunch."
"No need to apologize, Reid," JJ smiled fondly, folding her arms on the table, "It's just really great to see the old you coming back again."
"Yeah, Kid, it looks like fate may have known exactly what she was doing by not givin' us a case until you were back," Morgan grinned.
"It was nothing, really," he argued, feeling heat creep into his face.
He really did hate being the center of attention.
"No, it was definitely something," Aaron murmured, low and close to his ear, "It was absolutely, perfectly you."
When they finally arrived at the hotel, they were all dragging themselves into the lobby by what felt like sheer will power alone.
Everyone looked spent.
Reid certainly was.
It'd been a long, grueling day, and he was feeling the effects of it, both physically and mentally. His body was weary, exhaustion creeping deep into his bones. It settled there like a heavy weight, pushing down on him until he just wanted to curl into a ball right there and go to sleep. He wasn't used to doing a whole lot, and it amazed him how two weeks of relative inactivity could zap his energy reserves that drastically. Of course, he realized a big part of his fatigue was due to the fact that, although he didn't want to admit it, he really was still recovering from what had happened.
What had been done to him.
His body just wasn't up to par yet, and the only thing that would change that was more time and more healing.
Still, he hoped he could get back into the swing of things quickly; but until then, there was always extra coffee.
He opened his eyes when Hotch walked up to them, room keys in hand. It was odd, though, since he didn't remember closing them to begin with. Stifling a yawn, he listened as Aaron passed out the room assignments.
"JJ and Prentiss take a room," he handed them a key, "Dave with Morgan, and Reid's with me. It's been a long day, so let's all try to get some rest. We'll meet down here at seven to head back to the station."
Aaron's voice left no room for argument, and Spencer felt several sets of eyes staring at him.
Again.
When he looked up, Emily was giving him a little smirk. He narrowed his gaze at her, trying to read her mind, trying to figure out exactly what she was thinking...what she knew. He could tell she had to know something....she'd been shooting him odd looks all day.
He couldn't figure her out, though.
The woman was like a steel trap.
The group rode the elevator to the third floor in relative silence, then separated, and Reid thought he heard Dave mumble something to Hotch about trying to get at least a little bit of sleep, his gruff voice filled with innuendo.
Either he was delirious from exhaustion, completely paranoid, or everyone knew something was going on between him and Aaron.
Hell, maybe it was a bit of all three.
He tried to put the thought out of his mind as he followed Hotch to their shared room, and when they entered he threw his bags on top of the bed closest to the door.
There were two of them.
Two beds.
One room.
He wasn't exactly sure what to expect from the sleeping arrangements. They hadn't made a real habit of sleeping in the same bed together, let alone in the same room, but it had happened a few times.
Usually only when he was struggling.
Except for last night.
Last night there'd been no nightmares or flashbacks that had lead to them sharing a bed; Hotch had just asked him to. Of course, he'd ended up freaking out later on, after they'd gotten too worked up—too carried away with one another—but that hadn't been the catalyst.
Aaron had simply wanted him to be there...
.
"I don't think I want to let you go, Spencer. Will you stay with me tonight?"
.
He smiled as Aaron's words echoed in his mind, then the feel of hands slowly moving down his arms and a warm chest pressing up against his back brought him out of his reverie.
"What's running through that head of yours?" Aaron murmured against the nape of his neck, arms circling his waist, holding him close.
The man's breath ghosting across his skin gave him goosebumps, and he leaned further into the touch.
"I was kind of wondering about the, ah, sleeping arrangements?" he rasped, head cloudy as he felt Aaron's bulge push up against his ass. Suddenly the room felt ten degrees hotter and his own pants seemed much too tight. "There's...um...two beds, and I just didn't know if..."
His words trailed off as he was gently turned around to face Hotch, and the man smiled back at him with those perfect dimples and chocolate eyes. His mouth went dry at the sight and he licked his lips as he waited for Aaron to speak.
"Spencer, I'd love to hold you tonight," he began, stroking knuckles down Reid's cheek, "But if you'd feel more comfortable sleeping in separate beds then that's fine, too. Remember, you're the one in control here. You can tell me what you want and I won't get angry or upset with you. Okay?"
"Okay," he sighed, his body relaxing with the reassurance. Leaning in, he gave Aaron's lips a light brush with his own. "I'm gonna go change and get ready for bed," he whispered, ending the kiss, "But then, um, I think I'd really like it if you held me."
There was a soft chuckle and Aaron gave him another kiss, this time to the forehead. "That sounds like a wonderful idea," he sighed, "Go get ready and I'll call Jack."
He frowned at that, looking over to the clock by the TV. It was already after ten; Jack should be asleep by now.
"It's late, Hotch," he stated, "It's well past his bedtime."
"It is, but when we're out of town I call him at night," Aaron patiently explained, "I don't want to miss telling him goodnight, even when I'm not there. With our job, you never know what might happen. Jessica already knows to expect the call, and I feel like it's worth keeping him up a little later for."
That made a perfect kind of sense to him, and he nodded his head in understanding. With their line of work, if something went wrong on a case it could be catastrophic. Every time they walked out their door, there was a very real possibility that they'd never walk back through it. Someday one of them might not make it home.
That thought sent an ache through his chest, and it made him long to talk to the boy himself. He missed Jack terribly, and he wanted to tell him goodnight as well—make sure he knew exactly how much he cared for him. He didn't want to intrude on Aaron's special time with his son, though, so he gave the man another quick nod before moving to his go bag. He pulled Spike out and sat him on the table between the two beds.
Aaron glanced at the stuffed animal, smiling at it before turning that smile on Reid, "I didn't know you brought Spike with you."
"I just didn't like the thought of not having him close by," he shyly answered, ears and cheeks burning.
It was silly, really, but the little stegosaurus was kind of like his security blanket...and it was a part of Jack that he could to keep near. Hotch just gave him an understanding nod, and he reached back into his bag, grabbing a pair of pajamas and a smaller bag filled with toiletries, then headed toward the bathroom to change and brush his teeth.
When he reemerged a few minutes later Aaron was sitting on the edge of the far bed with his phone up to his ear, voice hushed and clearly tired.
"Yeah buddy, I miss you too... ….No, it'll be at least another day..." Hotch looked over at him as he moved closer, "...Yeah, he's right here. Hold on—" He pulled the phone away for a moment, placing a hand over the microphone. "Jack wants to talk to you," he whispered, "He wants to know if you'll read him another chapter in your book. I said I'd ask, but if you're too tired—"
"No," he quickly replied, unable to stop the smile that crossed his lips as he shook his head, "I'm not too tired, it's fine. I'd love to talk with him."
He wanted to hear Jack's voice, and his heart filled with joy at the prospect of continuing their story. He'd been a little disappointed that they were going to miss out on that time together while he was away.
Hotch smiled at him and brought the phone back to his ear, "Okay, here he is. I'll talk to you tomorrow, buddy... ….I love you, too..."
Hotch handed him the phone, and he watched as the man pulled his own bag open, grabbing some clothes and a toothbrush. Aaron motioned toward the bathroom before moving in that direction; and once he was out of sight, Reid gave the boy his full, undivided attention.
"Hey, Jackie."
"Hi, Penny! Dad said you guys are gonna be gone for another day."
There was disappointment in the boy's voice.
"Yeah, Kiddo, we are," he sighed, "It could be longer, but we'll do our very best to catch the bad guy as fast as we can so we can come home."
"You can do it 'cause you're a superhero!"
He smiled at that, and laughed as he picked Spike up and hugged him close.
"I really want you to come back home. I miss you a lot."
"Oh, Jackie, I miss you too. Soooo much." The thought of coming back home to Jack was almost overwhelming to him, and his stomach flip-flopped in yearning while tears stung at his eyes. He imagined what he was feeling toward Jack could be described a tiny bit like the emotions a parent feels for their child; although, it seemed quite odd to think that he'd developed such strong feelings for the boy in such a short amount of time. Then again, Jack was Aaron Hotchner's son, so he shouldn't be too surprised. He was a remarkable young man, just like his father. "I can't wait to come home and see you."
"Hey, Pen?"
"Yeah?"
"I was kinda sorta wondering if you could, you know, maybe..." there was a pause on the other end, nervous, "Maybe read the next chapter of our book to me? Pleeeease?"
"Okay," he chuckled, "I'd like that. Are you already in bed?"
"Yep."
He climbed onto the bed closest to the bathroom and propped a pillow up against the headboard, then leaned back, situating himself until he felt comfortable.
"Do you have the book with you?"
"Mhm."
"Okay. I want you to read along with me."
And for the next half an hour Reid slowly recited The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe from memory while Jack followed along in the book, and the smile never faded from his face.
When the conversation finally ended, he turned to the other bed where Hotch had settled in and handed him back his phone. Aaron was lying on his side, his upper body perched on an elbow and his lower half covered by the blankets. He hadn't realized during the call that the man had been watching him the entire time, after he'd returned from the bathroom.
"You're amazing with him," Aaron murmured, "We're both so lucky to have you in our lives."
"I feel like I'm the lucky one," he countered, "I don't exactly know where I'd be right now if it weren't for the two of you."
"I do. You'd still be right here, right now, healing and shining through this case," Hotch gushed, then paused and simpered, "Although, you might be rooming with Morgan instead of me."
"Gee, you think?" he snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. His smile faded slightly as he thought about the last two weeks. "Everything's changed so much in such a short amount of time, hasn't it?" he asked, a nervous lilt to his voice, "You know, sometimes I wonder if this is all real or if I'm just imagining that it is."
The chilling nightmare he'd had that first week shot through his mind, and he shuddered as he remembered Parker's awful words...
.
"I've been right here with you all along. Don't you remember? We've been together this whole time, baby. Just you and me."
"N-No...I-I got out...I got away...Aaron...he—he h-helped me. He came for me, took me away...he took me to the hospital..."
"Oh you poor, sweet, dear little thing. Fuck, baby...you really have lost your mind, haven't you? Good thing crazy's a damn sexy look on you..."
.
He knew that had only been a dream and this truly was his reality, but it still sent shivers cascading down his spine.
"Come here."
"Hm?" he looked to Aaron, watching as the man moved over in his bed and pulled the covers up, opening a space just the right size for him.
"Come here," Hotch repeated, "It's late. We need to get some sleep."
"Oh." He hesitated for just a second, then gave a quick nod and lifted off the bed he was currently on to crawl in next to Aaron, his back resting comfortably against the man's chest.
Familiar.
This was kind of his favorite way to sleep now, spooned together as Aaron's arms and warmth surrounded him—keeping him safe.
"I love being right here," he sighed, "With you."
The arms holding him tightened, and he felt the rumble of Aaron's words against his back as breath warmed his neck, "I love having you right here. More than you know."
"Aaron, what are we doing?" he suddenly asked, "What's happening between us?"
Everyone seemed to think something was going on with them, and that was most certainly true, but he didn't know exactly what it was. He'd been trying to figure it out—define it—but he couldn't.
"We're getting to know one another," Hotch answered, running his hand slowly along Reid's side, "We're learning more about each other." There was a kiss to his neck as that hand moved down to caress his stomach. Fingers tickled his lower abdomen and his muscles fluttered and tensed at the touch, "We're moving forward...together."
He had to bite his lip to stifle a moan as Hotch continued to lick and nip, continued to move that hand along his body; and when it settled over his stomach a part of him wished it would move just a tiny bit lower...wished those agile fingers would dip down below the waistband of his pants and feel all of him.
He closed his eyes, mentally dousing himself in cold water to halt his erotic thoughts; it was late, and they really did need to get some sleep.
Something Morgan had said earlier in the day kept coming back to him, though, and he couldn't get it out of his mind...
.
"You're living with him, Spencer. That's not very slow."
.
He wanted to keep spending time with Hotch and Jack, but he didn't want to overstay his welcome or rush into anything too quickly. When he thought about it, he'd gone from living with his abusive boyfriend to living with Aaron; and perhaps what he really needed to do now was be on his own for a while. That seemed like the appropriate next step in his recovery.
"Maybe...maybe I should start looking for a new place," he mumbled, chewing anxiously on the inside of his cheek.
The only reply he got at first was silence, and his stomach dropped at the implications. If Aaron agreed with him, he didn't know how he was going to feel.
"If that's what you really want," Hotch softly intoned a minute later.
He could hear the pain in Aaron's voice, and he rolled over to look him in the eyes.
That's not what he really wanted. He didn't want to move out at all, and he didn't much care if that was healthy behavior or not if he were being absolutely honest. He was happy with the way things were—with where he was at—and he wanted to stay there; not because he didn't think he was capable of living alone again, but simply because he didn't think he'd been this happy in years.
Being with Aaron and Jack made him happy.
"But you're more than welcome to stay," Hotch continued, threading his fingers through Spencer's hair, "I'd like it if you stayed."
"I'd really like it too, actually," he blushed, then worried his lip between his teeth as he thought about something else that had been nagging him. Something Dr. Martin had said to him in their session...
.
"I would also recommend that you find someone else you feel comfortable talking with other than myself. Doing so might help you work through certain feelings you may have concerning what you went through. There are a plethora of emotions that can manifest themselves after trauma...fear, shame, guilt. You need to let those feelings out or they could very easily become a problem."
.
"I think I need to tell you something."
"What is it?" Aaron asked, worry filling his eyes,"I hope you know you can tell me anything."
"Do you promise?"
"Of course, baby."
"Okay," he sighed, steeling his nerves before diving in, "When, ah...wh-when Parker, um..." He felt his heart start to pound anxiously against his rib cage, the swoosh of blood flow roaring loud in his ears as a sudden wave of nausea turned his stomach. He was extremely nervous, and part of him had no idea why he was even contemplating telling Aaron what he was about to. He needed to get it out, though. He wanted to stop holding onto the shame and guilt he felt over what he'd done; and he didn't want to continue keeping things from the man he loved, so he took a deep breath and tried to start again, "When Parker...ah, r-raped me...when he raped me...he um, he made me...y-you know..."
"What?" Aaron gently coaxed, an arm moving down to circle his waist, pulling him in closer, "Tell me what he did, Spencer."
"He, he f-forced me to—to um..." his eyes stung, and the words stuck in his throat like they were trying to gag him into silence, "He forced me to...ejaculate. He—He made me have an orgasm...and, and he made me...he made me...like it."
His voice was nothing but a whisper, hoarse and tight.
"Spencer," Hotch cupped Reid's chin, tilting his head up until their eyes met, his expression calm yet filled with sorrow, "That was in no way your fault, honey. Not even a little bit."
"But Aaron, I responded to him." He let out a pained sob, his chest heaving as tears started to burn a trail down his face, "H-He said he wouldn't stop unless I did, though. He said it wouldn't be any fun....and it hurt so much—I-I couldn't take it anymore! I just needed him to stop, Aaron! That's all I could think about...making it all stop..." His face crumpled as he clutched desperately to Aaron's shirt, now wet with tears, "God...I just wanted the pain to end, so I—I gave in to him. I let myself feel the p-pleasure while he, wh-while h-he did things..."
"Shhh," Aaron murmured, "I know you didn't want that, Sweetheart; but I also know you didn't have a choice." He pulled Spencer right up against his chest, hugging him tight, rubbing soothing circles along his back as he silently wept. "You did what you had to do to get through a horrific experience, and I'm so glad for it."
"Wh-What?" he hiccuped, brows furrowing in confusion.
That's not at all how he'd expected Aaron to respond to his confession.
"I'm glad you did what you had to do," Hotch clarified, pulling away slightly to look into Reid's eyes, "Baby, listen to me...when I first stepped into that bedroom and saw you on the floor, saw the state you were in, I thought you were dead. I thought I was too late. I was terrified that I'd lost you, honey—that he'd taken you away from me before I'd even truly found you."
"You—You were?"
He'd never actually thought about how Aaron must have felt when he'd called him for help that day. He'd just been too lost at the time—too confused and in too much pain. All he'd known was that he'd needed the other man more than anything else in the entire world in that moment.
Aaron had been the only thing he could think about.
"Yes, Spencer, I was. I'm so grateful that you did what he said, even if you didn't want to; because giving him what he wanted may have very well saved your life."
"I—I was afraid you'd think I was filthy...or—or disgusting," he mumbled, "I didn't tell you because I didn't wanna ruin things between us. I didn't want you to leave me."
"Never, baby. You're not disgusting, and I could never think that of you," he pressed a long kiss to Reid's forehead, "And I promise, you haven't ruined anything. As long as I have any say in it, I'm never gonna leave you. I'm not going anywhere, Spencer."
"Really?"
He gave Hotch a look, examining him, trying to figure out if he was real or not. The man just seemed too good to be true.
The whole situation between them seemed so beyond anything he'd ever thought possible.
He'd been so scared to tell Aaron the truth, but now that it was out in the open, now that Aaron knew everything, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. There were no more secrets between them, and he felt like he could truly breathe again.
"Really," Aaron answered with a smile, "I want you, Sweetheart. Just you, just this, just us. You don't have to be anything more for me." He bowed his head and kissed him, and Spencer let himself melt into the embrace as Aaron sweetly whispered against his lips, "I think you're stunningly beautiful, immensely fascinating, and absolutely remarkable."
"Yeah?" he blushed, a huge smile donning his face as Aaron wiped his tears away.
"Yeah," Hotch murmured, "You're perfect just the way you are."
Two days later found them back on the jet, headed home. Spencer was sitting in a seat by the window watching the clouds pass by as he leafed through the case file. He didn't know why he kept looking at it, but it worked to keep his hands busy. Everyone else was napping, save for Morgan, who'd put his earbuds in and was listening to music on his iPod.
Aaron was stretched out on the couch, snoring and totally adorable.
The case had ended well enough.
They'd saved Jo Bradbury.
Their unsub turned out to be 29 year old Nick Masters, a man whose advances had been rejected so many times by potential love interests that one day he'd just snapped and decided to start taking what he wanted instead of asking for it. He'd kept his victims alive for five days, holding them captive while forcing them to do all sorts of heinous sexual acts. Then, when he was done with them—when he'd used them up, grown tired and bored of them—he'd shoot them in the back of the head before scraping out their eyes.
He kept them as twisted trophies.
.
"None of those fucking sluts ever saw me, but now...well, now they won't see anything at all."
.
Master's crazed voice echoed in his mind.
He could still see the way the man had looked at him through the one way mirror in the interrogation room. It had been unnerving, and a shiver ran down his spine at the thought.
He shook it off.
The man didn't deserve to get under his skin.
His epiphany at dinner the first night had led Garcia to Masters' sorted past, and eventually to a break in the case. He'd stayed behind while the rest of the team went to confront Nick and make the arrest, but he'd been okay with that. Although Hotch, in his worry, had pulled Garcia up on a video link before they'd left so she and Spencer could keep each other company. It had been a sweet gesture, albeit one he hadn't really thought he'd needed. He'd gone along with it without protest, though, because he knew it would make Aaron feel better about leaving him alone. He hadn't wanted Hotch to be distracted while confronting Masters.
Distractions were how bad things happened.
Everything had gone smoothly, though, and it'd felt amazing to know he still had what it took to do the job. That was something Parker hadn't been able to take away from him, no matter how hard the man had tried.
He heard footsteps approaching as he continued to stare out the window, and a moment later he registered the rich smell of coffee. When he turned toward it he saw Hotch sitting down next to him, two steaming cups in his hands.
"I thought you were asleep," he hummed, taking one of the offered mugs with a grateful smile.
"I was just resting my eyes."
"Oh, is that what they're calling it now?" He looked to Aaron, quirking a brow and grinning, "I heard you snoring."
"I don't snore."
"Yes," he adamantly nodded, "You really, really do."
"Well, we'll just have to agree to disagree on that."
Spencer just shook his head and chuckled, "If you say so," then took a drink of his coffee. It was the perfect blend of sugar, cream and caffeine. "Mmm, you do know exactly how I like it," he mumbled, unaware of how dirty the words sounded until they'd already left his mouth.
The way Hotch was looking at him told him the other man had caught the innuendo, but didn't respond to it.
Verbally, anyway.
The smirk he wore spoke volumes, though.
"You did good work back there," Aaron's hand landed on his knee, "Jo Bradbury is with her family right now because of you."
A small part of him beamed at the praise, and he felt himself sit up just a little straighter in his seat. They'd all done their fair share of the work, but it was still nice to hear. He only wished they could have gotten there sooner, before Masters had done anything to her at all.
Unfortunately, they hadn't been so lucky on that front. Jo Bradbury would have to deal with the aftermath of what had happened to her—what she'd been forced to endure—for the rest of her life, and that was something Spencer could relate to all too well. He knew what she was going through, to an extent.
He tried to shake those thoughts away, changing the subject, "You know, Morgan knows about us."
Hotch just gave him a nod of acknowledgment as though the news wasn't a surprise at all. "So does Rossi," he supplied, "...and Garcia."
"JJ called me out on it at the zoo last weekend," he frowned, "And Emily keeps giving me these looks..."
"Yeah," Aaron grunted, clearly amused, "I'm pretty sure everyone knows."
Reid stared at him incredulously at that. He'd had his suspicions, but it was still a bit shocking to hear. How in the world could the entire team know about them when he didn't even know exactly what they were to each other? What they were doing?
"So...are we, ah, worried about that at all?" he asked.
"I don't think any of them care, honestly," Hotch surmised, "I'm pretty sure they just want us both to be happy."
Aaron was probably right. After all, Morgan and JJ had seemed okay with the idea when they'd confronted him about it.
For the most part, anyway.
"Well, Morgan said he'd kick your ass if you ever hurt me," he informed.
"Oh did he, now?"
"Mhm," Spencer mischievously nodded, smirking, "He most certainly did."
"Well, he'd have to wait his turn," Aaron murmured, voice switching from playful to serious as his hand came up to tenderly stroke the back of Reid's neck, "Because if that ever happens, Sweetheart, I'll be the first person in line."
.