I apologize for the long wait. Funerals, the beginning of school, and weird work hours forced writing to the back burner.

P.S. Remember how I said I'm pretending the season finale didn't really happen? Just checking.

The room is anything but quiet despite the fact that Emily and Reid aren't in the mood for talking. Well, to say that they aren't in the mood to listen to the other's attempted reasoning is more accurate. Emily leans back in one of the small chairs encircling the police station's small break room table, using another as a footrest. Reid continues to twirl a straw between his fingers as he rests his weight against the stained counter. Snippets of conversations taking place throughout the halls of the station drift down and echo in the small space, adding to the sound of the brewing coffee and the whine of the refrigerator.

Ever since the older woman working the desk at the city morgue had commented on Emily's now obvious baby bump, asking questions about names, due dates, and what color the nursery will be, Reid and Emily have found it difficult to have a conversation without an emotion threatening to flare—mostly aggravation, anger, or annoyance.

Truthfully, they haven't thought about baby names, and at the moment it's the last thing on either of their minds, because they haven't talked about what color the nursery will be either. More precisely, they haven't talked about where the nursery will be, hence the now uncomfortable situation.

Emily knows the logical answer is to empty out her guest room and put in a crib, and she can't help feeling annoyed that Reid isn't on board. Reid can't help feeling aggravated that Emily's idea makes sense, and is kind of the obvious answer to their problem if he had to admit it out loud. He knows he's being selfish, and definitely acting more than a little immature, but he can't help it. Emily hadn't asked, nor attempted to discuss the issue with him. Instead, she just automatically assumed that the spare room would be transformed into a nursery and Reid would either move in with her or continue to live at his apartment. Alone. Without her or the baby. And that's where the anger comes in.

Instead of fighting or attempting to talk it out, both had decided to keep quiet, not wanting to bring any more attention to themselves. However, after it became apparent that not only the team, but the handful of cops working with and around them over the last two days were aware that something was wrong, Emily and Reid decided they needed to talk it out.

So, now they continue to sit in the small kitchenette designated as the Mason County Sheriff Department's break room, each waiting for the other to break the silence, or better yet, give in. Emily's hoping Reid will see reason, that he'll admit there's no need for her to have to move and give up her apartment when she's really just getting used to it after settling in again.

Reid's hoping Emily will realize she's asking him to do what she doesn't want to. He understands her point of view, her reasoning for not wanting to move, but he wonders if she's even considered his.

He's lived in his apartment since graduating from Quantico. At first, it was intended to be temporary, somewhere to sleep while he looked for a better place. But then he got to know the neighborhood, the different businesses surrounding his place, and he grew attached. More importantly, he grew to know his neighbors, including the toughened, former nurse who lives across the hall. Reid understands perfectly well that Emily is tired of changing and moving, but he knows that no matter what, things will be changing anyway. Why not change altogether.

Reid knows his apartment isn't suitable for he, Emily, and a baby. There isn't enough room. He had proposed finding somewhere else to live, a place that was new to both of them, but Emily didn't want it. He had bit his tongue in order to stop himself from pointing out that she was being irrational and moody.

At some point in time, each member of the team, along with Lynette and Will had suggested it would be a good idea to not tell Emily she was being hormonal due to the pregnancy. He had been offended that they all thought he wasn't capable of figuring that out for himself. However, as he waits for the coffee to finish brewing in the small break room, he can't help thinking that they had probably been right to remind him. Especially now that Emily's being hormonal and stubborn.

Reid wouldn't mind moving in with Emily, they've been practically living with one another for nearly nine months already. His problem is that he doesn't see her place being big enough. Yes, she has a spare room that can easily be transformed to a nursery, but there isn't any room for Reid and his things.

While it's easy to find traces of him at her apartment, the place still belongs to Emily—her furniture, her choice in artwork on the wall, her TV, her bed. All of it belongs to her, Reid just shares it some nights of the week. If he were to move in with her, there would be no place for any of the things he's collected over the years.

As Emily's already pointed out, Reid doesn't have a great deal of furniture. He does however, have enough books to rival a small town library and more than enough odds and ends he's picked up from various conventions and conferences, both academically related and not. Then there's his couch. He loves his couch, it's comfortable. There's no room for that at Emily's apartment and even he knows it would stick out like a sore thumb if they were to swap it out with the one Emily already has.

Reid closes his eyes as he tries to listen to a pair of detectives argue about the hiring of a new coach. He's trying to figure out whether they're talking about football or basketball when Emily decides to break the uncomfortable silence.

"I don't want to fight. I don't like fighting and I definitely do not want to fight with you," she spreads her hands out on the table, adopting a calming posture as she prepares to present her argument—again. "I think we're both capable of talking this out without yelling."

"I agree," Reid says, reaching for an empty coffee cup despite the fact that the coffee's still brewing. Emily smiles and rubs her hands over her protruding stomach before letting them rest in her lap. It's a habit she's developed over the last few weeks, and Reid hasn't pointed it out, yet.

"Okay. I propose we both give our arguments for what we want, we listen without interrupting, and then we work together to come to a workable agreement."

Reid simply nods, letting her know he hears her while he bites his lip, stopping himself from pointing out that they've already tried that—but hey, third time's a charm, right?

"I'm assuming you're wanting to go first?" Reid asks as the coffee machine beeps and begins to gurgle, adding even more noise to the mix. He looks towards the full coffee pot, watching as the last few drops drip into the carafe before turning his eyes back to Emily.

She's smiling a crooked smile, one that could easily be misinterpreted as being playful if Reid didn't know any better. Reaching for the full pot, he begins to fill his cup as he gestures for Emily to begin her argument.

Taking her cue, Emily takes a calming breath and begins counting reasons out on her fingers. "I think it would be easier if we were to change the guest room in my apartment into a nursery." She pauses, gauging his reaction. When he shows no sign of wanting to interrupt, but chooses to add sugar to his coffee, she continues.

"We can bring your stuff over to my place and you move in. You already sleep there most nights anyway." Having said what she wanted, Emily leans back in the chair, waiting for the familiar defense she's already heard twice before. However, instead of pointing out the distance between her apartment and Quantico or lease agreements, Reid proceeds to slowly stir his coffee while staring at the tiled floor as though he's hearing her proposition for the first time and is actually thinking it through.

Reid lifts the spoon and puts it in his mouth, removing any remaining remnants of sugar and coffee before dropping the utensil in the sink. He pulls out one of the remaining chairs at the small table and sits down opposite Emily, carefully thinking of a way to put his thoughts to words in a way that will show her exactly why he doesn't want to move into her apartment.

"Where would we put all of my stuff?" The question catches Emily slightly off-guard. She had easily envisioned adding a few bookshelves to her apartment, one or two in the living room, another in the bedroom. Most of Reid's things belong on shelves anyway, she's never thought of there being any problem with moving his things.

"What do you mean?" she asks when she still can't see any reason for why he'd be asking the question when the answer appears, at least to her, to be so obvious.

"There isn't enough room at your place for all of my stuff. Yeah, your closet will hold everything, but what I have more than just clothes." He knows he doesn't have enough clothes to take up more than two or three drawers in her dresser and maybe a fifth of her closet. That isn't anything he's worried about. He isn't willing to give up any of his books—most are classics, originals, or gifts given to him throughout his life.

Emily seems to be thinking along the same lines as Reid. She tilts her head, puckering her lips as she squints one eye, forming the universal face of contemplation. "We could change the dining room into a library." The intonation raises at the end, creating the sense of jest, slightly easing the tension between the two that had formed over the last two days.

"But you have a dining table." Reid smirks, remembering the first few months where Emily was generally amused at Reid's lack of what she considers a basic piece of furniture.

"You know, from what I've heard," she says, keeping the welcome playfulness in her tone, "there are some people out there who manage to live without a dining room table."

Reid's smirk morphs into a soft smile as he focuses on his coffee. He wants for things to be easy, for them to flow as smoothly as they have since beginning his relationship with Emily, only he knows that they've actually hit a bump in the road. Their first. Because he knows that they both know Emily's plan isn't going to work.

Her apartment is roomy for one person, comfortable for two, but three would just be too much. Not to mention he wants something that is strictly and uniquely theirs.

He's saved from having to respond when Rossi knocks on the doorframe. "Hey, we've got another body."

Reid hurriedly takes a large gulp of his steaming coffee before dumping the majority into the sink, trying to ignore the fresh burns on his tongue. With a quick 'good-bye' to Emily, he follows Rossi out of the police station on their way to the most recent body.

The ride is relatively short considering the rural and disperse layout of the county. Twenty minutes is all it takes to get from the center of town to the dumpsite of the fourth victim, a thirty-seven year old Mary Gilbertson.

It doesn't take being a profiler to see that something's different about this one. As Reid walks by one of the deputies losing his lunch beside his cruiser, he tries to focus on the significance of the dumpsite and not on the fact that he still hasn't resolved things with Emily.

They came to Mason County, Wyoming in order to investigate a series of stranglings having taken place within a few days. While it's apparent that someone had at least attempted to strangle Mary Gilbertson, it's obvious that it wasn't the cause of death.

"He bashed her head in," Reid says, using the new information to capture his attention and push the dilemma of his future living arrangements out of his mind.

"Repeatedly," Rossi adds as he shines a flashlight on her skull, the light highlighting the broken fragments of bone along her hairline. The victim's husband reported her missing when she never showed to pick him up at the airport. It's only been seven hours since she was last seen, and she's only been dead for maybe five.

Rossi stands and shines the light over the rest of her body, taking in the disheveled state of her clothes. "He's devolving," he says unnecessarily, but Reid just nods as though it needed to be said out loud. He's making a conscious effort not to let his frustrations with Emily interfere with his work or his interactions with the rest of the team.

When it becomes apparent that they aren't going to get anymore information from the crime scene, Rossi and Reid climb up the embankment and begin to make their way to the car, neither one saying anything aside from the occasional theory on what could have happened that resulted in the unsub beating the latest victim's head in.

Reid's a little surprised when Rossi pulls off the main road and stops at a small gas station. The store looks as though it were picked right out of Mayberry, complete with fresh fruit and vegetable stands framing the glass doors displaying signs with cartoons illustrating the difference between 'push' and 'pull'. Reid can only imagine how many people have walked into the door before reading that it opens outward.

"I'm gonna gas up. Will you let the clerk know to turn the pump on?" Rossi doesn't wait for an answer, leaving Reid no choice but to get out of the car and head into the store. He passes the stands showcasing the store's best selection of apples, oranges, and tomatoes and makes sure to pull when he reaches the door.

"Good afternoon." The sight of the elderly man behind the counter makes Reid want to smile. He looks like the stereotypical grandfather, right down to his thumbs hooked on his suspenders. "What can I help you with?"

"Can you turn the pump on? My partner's gonna fill up." Reid sees the man's eyes go to the gun and badge at his hip, his smile never faltering before turning to the cash register.

"You with the FBI? Workin' on those killings?"

Reid just nods and sticks his hands in his pockets as he looks at the many shelves displaying ashtrays in the shape of the United States. "Yeah, we, uh…we're helping the Sheriff's office investigate."

"They need all the help they can get. Use to drive most of those dunderheads around back when I was a bus driver. Don't know who had the bright idea to let 'em be cops." The man snorts indignantly, and shakes his head as though he's trying to shake off a bad memory. "Bunch of trouble makers they were, the whole lot of 'em."

Reid just raises his eyebrows and gives the man a tight-lipped smile, not really sure what the appropriate response should be. He casts a glance out the window, hoping to see Rossi finishing filling up the car, but is disappointed to find him leaning against the back door, one hand still on the nozzle.

As Reid turns to look at the snow globes resting near the ashtrays, he catches sight of a crate near the front door, a familiar shape peaking over the top. As he steps closer, he smiles a little and reaches down, picking one of the pineapples from the case.

"My daughter sells those. Got a whole garden and greenhouse thing going," the man tells Reid with pride.

"They look good," Reid says as he sets the fruit on the counter, happy when he hears a chime indicating Rossi has finished fueling up. Reid gladly pays the cashier and leaves the store, pineapple in hand.

"Is that a peace offering?" Rossi asks when Reid places the fruit on the dashboard so he can buckle his seatbelt.

"What? No, it's…I don't know, she likes them." Reid stutters as he finishes buckling in. "I don't really think I need a peace offering."

Rossi just smiles as he eases the car back onto the county road. "Well, if you want advice on women, I'm more than willing to give it."

Reid finds himself matching Rossi's smile despite his best efforts not to. "No offense, but seeing how all your years of experience with women has resulted in three ex-wives, I think I'll just take my chances."

Rossi quirks an eyebrow, and attempts to produce a hurt face. "You know, I remember a time when you were a lot nicer to me, almost looked up to me…"

"Yeah, I had just met you, too. Didn't really know you yet," Reid says, not falling for the kicked puppy look Rossi doesn't quite pull off. If there was any doubt that Rossi's feelings could have really been hurt, they're instantly removed the moment Reid sees the corners of Rossi's goatee crinkle up in a barely suppressed grin.

"Fine, I'll give you the whole ex-wives thing, but you have to admit, I haven't done too bad on the whole 'friend' front. At least Aaron hasn't tried to divorce me, yet."

Pushing aside the mental image Rossi's statement conjures, Reid lets his fingers run over the rough texture of the pineapple as he considers whether or not to tell Rossi why he and Emily have been out of sync the last few days.

"She wants me to move into her apartment." He keeps his eyes focused on the leaves beneath his fingers, not looking up to see Rossi's reaction.

"You don't want to live together? Don't get me wrong kid, I understand the importance of a bachelor pad, but the two of you have practically been living together from the get go."

Reid finally looks up and squints his eyes against the sun's rays. "I want to live together, just not in her apartment. And before you ask, no, I'm not wanting us to live in the cubicle I call an apartment."

"I said it resembled a crowded cubicle, I didn't say it was one," Rossi defends. "But I'm still not seeing your point here kid."

"I think we should get a new place, both of us start over."

"And Emily doesn't want that?" Rossi asks, making certain he's following along.

"Exactly." Reid rubs both his hands over his eyes, balancing the pineapple on his knees. "She won't even consider looking at places."

For a whole two minutes, Rossi doesn't say anything. He keeps his eyes on the road and Reid begins to think he doesn't have anything to say on the matter. However, as the first building on the edge of town comes into view, Rossi slows the car down to the recommended speed limit and gives his well thought-out opinion.

"I think you both have a good argument, but I think I might sympathize with Emily a little more." Reid doesn't even try to hide his surprise and somewhat disappointment in hearing Rossi's opinion.

"You do?"

"Think about it Reid. The woman's only been back just over a year. She spent the year before that on the run, hiding. You can't blame her for not wanting to give up the safety of the familiar environment she's worked the last year to create."

Reid doesn't say anything, mostly because he can't think of any argument against it. All the reasons he had for not wanting to move in to her apartment now seem childish and selfish. Well, he was suspicious that they might have been before, but now he's certain.

He wanted to build something that was just theirs, no one else's. But now, listening to Rossi's blunt estimation of Emily's preferences, he can't help feeling that he should have abandoned his endeavor after the first argument.

He could make it work, most of his stuff is just that, stuff—not really anything that he needs. He'll just have to sort through it all and figure out what he can't live without. As much as he hates to admit it, he's willing to get rid of his beloved couch, at least if it'll help Emily be comfortable.

As mad as he had been about how the Doyle situation was handled, he understands that Emily hadn't had it easy while in Paris. He knows what it feels like to look over your shoulder and be afraid, to fear something you weren't entirely certain was going to come.

If giving up his couch and moving in with Emily means ensuring that she won't have to feel that, then his decision is already made. Sitting in the passenger seat watching the hustle and bustle of a tiny town at nine o'clock at night, Reid decides to just give in and give Emily what she wants.

To his credit, Rossi does a fairly decent job of keeping them from falling into an awkward silence. He thrums his fingers against the steering wheel and begins to hum an old Sinatra tune, effectively bringing a lighter air to the suddenly heavy car.

By the time they reach the station, the humming as morphed into a combination of singing and whistling. Reid gratefully pushes the door open and climbs out of the car. When Rossi, reaches the door first, stepping back and holding it open so Reid can enter, Reid stops and says, "Thanks, Rossi." He means it to be for more than just holding the door.

When Rossi says, "No problem", he means it the same way.

Reid wastes no time walking his way back to the small kitchenette. He searches the numerous cabinets until he finds an empty sour cream bowl and a knife. Taking care not to cut his fingers, he steadily works to cut away the outside of the pineapple before slicing the rest into nice circular pieces.

When he walks into the conference room, he hands Emily the bowl, smiling at the look of confusion on her face when she sees the picture of a cow holding a sign for sour cream.

"Oh, I love you," she whispers when she sees what's actually in the bowl, earning a laugh from the rest of the team as she picks up one of the slices and proceeds to eat it with her fingers.

Apart from discussing the details of the case, Reid doesn't say anything else to Emily until they're back at the hotel. It's late and he's already dropped his bag and copies of the files off on his bed when he decides to knock on Emily's door.

She opens the door and he smiles as he's once again reminded how much has changed within the last few months. She's wearing one of the large, men's t-shirts she bought two weeks before when it became obvious that she was either going to have to buy more clothes or start sleeping naked. The shirt normally would hang to her knees, but thanks to the noticeable bulge of her belly, the bottom rises a few inches above.

He knows she's wearing a pair of shorts beneath the shirt, the waistband rolled up below her baby bump. She's got a toothbrush in her hand and her hair is haphazardly pulled up into a bun. They've only been back at the hotel for ten minutes, yet she's wasted no time in getting comfortable. Before the pregnancy, she would walk around her room still dressed for the office until minutes before getting into bed.

"Hey," she says around a mouthful of toothpaste, stepping back so he can enter the room. "What's up?"

Reid watches her go into the bathroom to spit and rinse. He waits until the water finishes running before he starts speaking. "Nothing in particular."

She walks out of the bathroom wiping her mouth with a washcloth before dropping it on top of a used towel. "Thanks for the pineapple today. I was actually craving one."

"Yeah, because it had probably been a whole five minutes since you had last had one," he says sarcastically, smiling when she pushes against his shoulder indignantly.

"Five minutes or not, it was still appreciated."

"Well, just think of it as a peace offering." Reid decides to use Rossi's words, not finding any better.

"Peace offering?" She says it slowly as though she's trying to find a context in which it would make sense.

"Yep, for me being stubborn."

"Spencer Reid being stubborn? Never." Reid just rolls his eyes at her mock look of shock.

"It's been known to happen on occasion," he says, once again enjoying the easiness of talking to her.

"Sure, occasionally. But why exactly a peace offering? Do you think you've found an agreeable truce?" She takes a step towards the bed, feeling the butterflies because she doesn't want to start a fight again, doesn't want to end the comfortable mood.

"Sort of," he answers her, kicking at a loose thread hanging from the bed's comforter. When he looks up, he sees her staring at him expectantly. Smiling he shrugs his shoulders and says, "I guess we can turn your dining room into a small library." He figures that's a better way of saying he's agreeing to move in, even though he has no intention of actually forcing her to change her dining room. The books will just have to go somewhere else.

She sits for a moment, taking in the implications of what he's saying. Slowly her eyes widen excitedly and she feels the muscles in her arms start to shake and tingle with extra energy. She fights the urge to punch her hands in the air like Garcia had done the night of the pregnancy test, choosing instead to wrap her arms around Reid's neck, hugging him tightly despite the awkward position of her stomach between them.

"Are you sure?" she asks, leaning back to look him in the eye. "What made you change your mind?" She doesn't even wait for an answer before she hugs him again, this time a little less enthusiastically.

"More or less, I had it pointed out that I was being selfish." He wraps his arms around her as she rests her head on his shoulder, letting her fingers play with the curls at the back of his neck.

"Rossi?" she asks, already knowing the answer.

"Isn't it always?" They slowly start to move, sort of like a pair of twelve year olds at their first school dance.

"I can't say he was completely right. I was being selfish, too," she admits, closing her eyes as they start to sway from side to side.

"Maybe, but it still doesn't change the fact that it would be easier to just stay at your place." After Reid conceded to giving in, it was easier for him to see the benefits. "I mean, who wants to go look all over the city when your six and half months pregnant?"

"Not me," she answers with a laugh, the sound muffled by his shoulder. "It'd be easier to tote around a bowling ball all day."

"A bowling ball's heavier than the baby," Reid points out, letting his hand rest on the side of her stomach when he feels the baby kick.

"Yeah, but you can set a bowling ball down," she counters, and Reid has no choice but to agree.

They continue their slow dance to the tune of the room's air conditioner, discussing the different ways they can rearrange the apartment in order to accommodate Reid's belongings before they both decide to go to sleep.

Reid doesn't go back to his room, choosing instead to climb into Emily's bed, falling back into that comfortable peace he's missed the last few days.

I'm only seeing a few more chapters. I really don't want this to go over thirty chapters. The next won't take so long. Promise.

Reviews are lovely and they make me feel good. It's the truth, why lie?