"You smell so good." Reid muttered into the flesh on Riley's neck. "I missed you so much."
"I missed you, too," Riley complained, trying to ignore how wonderful it was being enveloped in his arms. "But you have to get back to work, your break was over a half hour ago. I bet you, any minute now, I'm going to get a call from Hotch or Morgan asking where you are."
It was eight weeks and five cases later. Reid had just returned from four days in Birmingham, Alabama. On his lunch break, he took a cab to Riley's office for a quick hello. She was standing at the bookshelf, trying to find the right volume for her next session, which was difficult with her husband behind her, his arms wrapped around her middle, constantly kissing and nuzzling her neck.
"Come on, just one more kiss and then I'll go," He moaned, wanting so much to forget he still had to work and just take her home. With a chuckle, Riley forfeited her search and turned to face him. Her arms slipped over his shoulders, leaning up to meet his lips with hers.
At the sound of her contented sigh, Reid pulled her even closer. It amazed him, after four and half years, how those sounds she emitted still drove him crazy. Her fingers slid up into his hair and he groaned with content, holding her in a vice grip, refusing to let her go.
As it ended, he rested his brow on hers. "There is a problem I need to discuss with you, though, Dr. Reid." He said, allowing his eyes to open and met hers.
"Oh, and what would that be?" She asked with mock curiousity, her brown eyes glowing with intensity.
He cleared his throat and feigned humility. "I keep having all these sexual fantasies about my therapist. I don't know what to do."
With a smirk, she pretended to think for a moment. "Well, that's very serious, Spencer. We should discuss this in depth during your session... but my professional opinion would be... to indulge them."
"Well, you're the professional. Who am I to argue?" And his mouth spread into a wide smile before he kissed her again.
The thought of the rest of the day and the thirty folders sitting on his desk kept his mind from falling into a fog. Their kiss ended and Reid's lips moved up to her forehead. "I've got another session in fifteen minutes," Riley stated, and he could hear the irritation in her voice, knowing she wanted him to leave just about as much as he wanted to go.
"Yeah, I've got paperwork." He agreed, pulling away, the better to see her face. "But I'll see you for dinner?"
"Yeah, I should be done by four, so I'll pick you up at the unit." She explained, running one more hand through his hair.
He met her lips again one last time. Her hands went over his as they rested on her hips. Reluctantly, he pulled away, placing one more kiss on the top of her head. He hurried to the door before he lost his self-control again.
Reid headed down the hall to the waiting room. There were a few people in there. Most of them sitting, waiting for their turn with whatever doctor they were here for. One woman, older than he, with short blonde hair and dark roots, stood at the front desk, waiting for assistance. CJ, the assistant, was nowhere to be seen, apparently taking just as long a break as he.
"Oh," she exclaimed, grateful to finally get some attention. "I'm sorry, but… can you help me?"
He didn't work here, but Reid was automatically concerned for her. She looked terrified, like someone was hunting her. This woman had an aura about her that reminded him of a victim, his instincts kicking in automatically. "Is something wrong, ma'am?"
"I just need a consult with Dr. Reid." She said.
"Oh, how do you know Dr. Reid?" He asked kindly, curious.
"Just… from a long time ago." She explained. "We… went to school together."
Probably someone Riley knew from Harvard. Reid knew she was alone right now, she wouldn't mind someone stepping in, especially if it were just a consult. "Room 202, right down the hall, on the left." He pointed down in the direction of her office.
"Oh, thank you." She looked over his face, looking at him in question. "Have we met before?"
"No," Reid replied with certainty.
"You look awfully familiar, are you sure?" The woman wondered.
"Yes, ma'am, I'm certain I'd remember you," He smiled with a nod. Still, he felt a pang of sympathy for her. "Good luck, ma'am."
"Thank you," she muttered, moving past him down the hall. Reid headed to the door, reluctantly heading back to work.
The woman made it to room 202. With a deep breath, she gathered her courage and knocked on the door. She began to wish she was wearing something better than jeans a sweatshirt, but maybe he would respond better if he knew what mess her life had spiraled into.
"Come in," a voice called.
At first, the woman believed she had the wrong room. But the young man had said room 202. Perhaps the voice was from a secretary or intern. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her strength and opened the door.
Riley looked up as her visitor stepped inside. This was not her 2 o'clock. "Can I help you, ma'am?"
She let out an annoyed sigh, "No, I… must have the wrong room, I'm sorry." Whoever that was either didn't know what he was talking about or had sent her on a wild goose chase. That wasn't what she needed right now. "Could you please tell me where I can find Dr. Reid?"
"Uh…" Riley muttered, a bit amused and she stood and walked over. "You've found her. How can I help you, ma'am?"
She stared at Riley in shock, like she had just learned this woman was her long lost sister. It took her a long time to find her voice, making several attempts to clear her throat. "You're the only Dr. Reid here?"
"In this department," Riley clarified. "But I assure you, I'm a fully qualified psychiatrist."
"I'm not looking for a psychiatrist." She snapped, "At least, I don't think so. This Dr. Reid is a man and he also works for the FBI. I contacted the Bureau and they gave me this address."
"Oh," Riley understood with a nod. This happened a lot, though usually it was the other way around. "Are you looking for Spencer Reid?"
"Yes," she replied, slightly relieved. "Does he work here?"
"No, Spencer Reid works for the Behavioral Analysis Unit, at the FBI Headquarters. I'm sorry for the confusion." Riley explained.
"You know him, then?" The woman asked.
Riley smiled, "Yes, very well." She offered her hand. "I'm Dr. Riley Reid, Spencer's wife."
The woman had trouble holding back her shock as she shook Riley's hand. Again, she had difficulty finding the ability to speak. Her eyes looked Riley over, this time treating her like some kind of extraterrestrial.
"Is something wrong?" Riley asked.
"I just… didn't expect Spencer to be married, that's all." She responded.
No surprise, Riley found that offensive, both to herself and for Spencer. She took her hand back, folding her arms over her chest. "How exactly do you know my husband?"
"Just… from a long time ago." She stated. "Thank you for your help, I'm going to go."
"You know… if you don't mind waiting, I could take you to the BAU myself. Or call ahead and tell them to expect you."
"No thank you, Dr. Reid," She replied, hurrying out the door before she could inquire anything further, like her name.
Riley didn't chase after her. At first, she thought about calling Spencer, just to tell him what had happened. But her 2 o'clock would be here soon. And she had another session after that. Besides, she would see him in a few hours, and they would be together in the morning for their lecture. She could tell him then. Deciding a cup of coffee would be more productive, she turned and went to her coffee maker.
It hit her all of a sudden. An unexpected wave of nausea and dizziness took her over. Riley's hands gripped her bookshelf to keep from falling as the vertigo claimed her full control for a moment. It was so powerful, she was amazed she had remained on her feet.
A full minute passed before she felt it begin to fade away. Her free hand covered her mouth, afraid if she breathed in, whatever was inside her would spill out. At last she managed to regain her composure, standing steady on her feet. She'd been feeling a little under the weather for almost two weeks now, but that was the first spell to hit her so hard.
After another deep breath, she felt better. She went to the pot, but the smell was making her feel sick again. She took the carafe and moved to the sink, pouring it down the drain. Coffee was a bad idea.
"That thought is certainly a first," Riley said, still a bit concerned, but quickly push it from her mind. It was nothing to be worried about, she was certain.
Meanwhile, Reid made it back to the lobby of the FBI. He wasn't the only one returning, running into two familiar faces at the elevator in the lobby coming back from a consult in Arlington.
"Hey, Reid," Emily said, standing casually a foot away from Morgan, "Where have you been all this time?"
"I went to say hello to my wife." He replied, and caught the suspecting look in their eyes. "And it was just a hello."
"Sure it was, Reid," Morgan nodded with a wink. "That's a nice shade of lipstick. And what's that cologne? Roses?"
Reid gave her a partial glare. "Give me a break, we're celebrating our 18 month anniversary."
Emily considered that a moment. "Wait... I thought you celebrated that last week."
He shrugged. "Well, now we're a week longer."
She let out a chuckle and turned to Morgan. "There is a perk to him being married, I don't remember him being in such a good mood all the time."
"That's because he's getting it regular." Morgan mentioned as the elevator opened. The three stepped in and pressed the button for the sixth floor.
As soon as the door closed, Morgan wasted no time to take advantage of the seclusion. He wrapped Emily into his arms and pulled her into one last slow kiss before they reached their floor, bringing her body as close to his as possible. Through the corner of his eye, the young genius pretended for several moments not to notice the practically pornographic make out session going on beside him.
As Emily let out a loud groan, he finally lost it. "Alright, that's it," Reid exclaimed, grabbing their attention. He could take no more. "You guys have to stop this."
"What is your problem, Reid?" Morgan asked. Emily turned to look at him, remaining wrapped in Morgan's arms. "What do you mean we have to stop, I thought you wanted us to be happy."
"That's not the point." He said, "I don't have a problem with you dating, but you guys are abusing my knowledge of it. You make me cover for you, you make me lie to the others, when the three of us are alone you pretend like I'm not here so you can kiss like this, and you always make sure one of you has the room beside me when we're out of town so I'm the only one who hears what's going on next door. You guys have been taking advantage of me and… I have had enough."
"What are you saying, you're going to go to Hotch?" Emily was practically panicked.
"No, of course not," Reid sighed, "Look, you guys have done so much for me over the years. I don't mind keeping your secret… but at work, you guys have to act like there's nothing to keep."
"Alright, Reid, calm down," Morgan urged, "We'll cool it, okay?"
"I just don't want you guys to get into trouble." Reid urged. "I don't like keeping secrets."
"Said the kid who slept with his therapist," Morgan reached behind Emily to give the kid a tousle of his hair.
Reid let out a laugh as the doors opened, the three heading back into the BAU. It was a calm afternoon, with Garcia and JJ waiting for them in the bull pen.
"OMG, where have you guys been?" Garcia cried, "I was beginning to think you found a crack in the universe or something."
"Found what?" Morgan asked.
"You wouldn't understand," Reid replied, sitting at his desk. It was easier than spending a half an hour explaining the reference. "Is Hotch looking for us?"
"No, in fact, he hasn't come out of his office since we got back this morning." JJ replied, glancing up at the closed door. The blinds had been shut a long time ago.
"I hope he's alright," Emily mentioned. Her attention, too, lingered on his shut up office. "Maybe it's just me, but he seems awfully depressed lately."
"I think I know why that might be," Rossi said coming from the break room, refilling his coffee mug.
The entire group was curious, despite the so blatant invasion of privacy. Rossi regretted saying anything, having spoken without thinking. But there was no avoiding it now. They knew something was wrong and, if they didn't hear it from him, they would simply bother Hotch until they knew.
"Well?" Morgan asked into the silence, "What is it, Dave?"
Taking a deep breath, he checked to make sure Hotch hadn't come out. "Hayley got married last weekend."
No had been expecting that. Indeed, Reid had been the only one in the group to know Hotch's ex-wife had been dating anyone. He had known how hard that had been on his boss two and half years ago, it was only imaginable how much this was affecting him.
"Apparently, she eloped with her boyfriend in Niagara Falls on Saturday." Rossi explained. "She told Hotch Sunday evening, when he dropped Jack off. He told me at the crime scene on Monday… after he yelled at a rookie forensic investigator."
"Poor Hotch," Garcia mumbled, wishing she could give him a hug, which she wouldn't do even if he knew they were informed, "I always thought he and Hayley would eventually get back together."
"I speak from experience, you guys." Rossi stated, "It doesn't matter how much you love a person, sometimes two people just can't make a marriage work."
"Technically, the success of a marriage depends on a certain similarity of the two persons." Reid explained, "Friendship and communication are what most believe are the aspects of it, but from a scientific position, it mostly results from a degree of compatibility on personality."
The group looked at him in question. With his hands slipping into his pockets, he shrugged. "I read a few books while I was engaged."
"Anyway," Rossi continued, "Don't let Hotch know that you know. He'll get over this in a few weeks, so for now just pretend you don't notice anything different."
They agreed, and Rossi headed back to his office. Everyone sat at their desks, preparing to spend the next few hours on useless paperwork, trying to ignore that their boss was in misery… and there was nothing they could do for him.
