Gravity

Disclaimer: I don't own 'Criminal Minds'. All recognisable characters, content or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: In 1x04 (Plain Sight), it's established that Reid can't get a date. Enter Dr Caitlyn Masters, who is the reason why. "Meet my fiancé." Extreme AU. OOC. Reid/OC.

Rating: M for language, and mild adult themes.

Author: tlyxor1.

Author's Note: In Season One's episode 5 through 9, I've seen elements of a Spencer Reid not nearly so socially inept as initially interpreted. In any case, I'm taking a lot of creative liberties here, in the sense that I'm going to have Reid influenced a lot more by the strip culture of Las Vegas, and the party culture of undergrad as well. Enjoy..

Disregarding that, this story was started without a plot in mind. Normally when I do this, a plot sort of unfolds as I write, but in this case, it didn't happen. Thus, I have three chapters that set the foundation of an OOC Reid and his partner, and that is it. I briefly toyed with the idea of writing a romance, but then I realised I actually can't. Like at all. I am physically incapable of it.

Enjoy, anyway. -t.

Gravity

Chapter One: Paradise

"Are you joining us for drinks?" Morgan asked.

Elle looked hopeful. They were friends, more or less, and after the fresh hell that was the Tommy Killer, they could all use a break.

And if she could forget the sight of sightless eyes, if only for a night, than Elle wouldn't complain.

Spencer Reid carted a hand through his hair, thought about the plans he had already made, and shook his head in denial.

"Come on, Spence," JJ entreated, and the Redskins tickets burned a whole into his pocket. "It won't be the same without you."

"of course it won't," he agreed "But I've already got plans."

The elevator chimed, the quartet stepped on, and behind them, Hotch and Giddeon worked away.

Reid slumped against the back handrail, his head tipped against the glass, and he thought he could fall asleep there.

It had been a long couple of days.

"What are your plans, kid?" Morgan queried. As he did, the lift began it's descent.

Reid ignored him, rifled through his pockets, and withdrew his gift from Gideon. He held them up in front of JJ's face, and her eyes widened.

"Do you want them?" He queried. "Gideon gave them to me, and I figured they'd be more use in your hands. You like Redskins, right?"

JJ gave a token protest, but by the time the lift had reached the ground floor, they were securely in her wallet, and Reid was free from the burden of escort. Evidently, Morgan was a football enthusiast, and the two spent the last few moments in the lift animatedly discussing the game, Reid sufficiently forgotten.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

"Nice diversion," Elle commended. Reid smirked, entirely shameless. "But you won't get off that easy."

He stepped off the lift, passed through security, and began the approach to the doors. Already ahead of them, Morgan and JJ were in the midst of organising transport arrangements for the Redskins game, and neither paid their team members any heed.

"At least tell me what you're doing?"

"A birthday tradition," he answered vaguely, but Elle relented, apparently content with that answer, or at the very least, aware she'd get nothing more out of her coworker, and probably too tired to try.

Reid didn't ask.

"I'll catch you on Monday, Elle," Reid excused himself, began the short walk to the nearest metro station, and sighed a breath of relief when he reached his building, nearly half an hour later.

He was glad to be home.

Inside his third floor apartment, Caitlyn would be waiting for him, with the belated birthday dinner she'd promised, with a Matt Nathanson album in the stereo, with the lights dimmed and the love she reserved only for him.

The predictability was a comfort, in a life where comfort was hard to find.

He greeted the doorman with a wave, and in turn, the man smiled and tipped his hat, and Spencer climbed the six flights of stairs, eager to see the woman that was his everything, to hold her in his arms, to be comforted by the beat of her heart, the warmth of her skin, the life in her eyes.

And maybe, he might just stop picturing her as one of the Tommy Killer's victims too.

It had been a nightmare to focus with that image on his mind, but even after their unsub had been arrested, it had haunted him, and now he worried: what if his work one day followed him home?

"You're home," she greeted.

Her relief was palpable.

"I'm home," he agreed, locked the door behind him, and held his arms open. She fell into them with a grateful smile, and in the silence, in the press of his lips on hers, of the scratch of her fingers in his hair, in the way he held her just a little bit too tight, they said more than words could express, and for the moment, it was enough.

""I made dinner," Caitlyn informed him later.

They were tangled up on the sectional, hair mussed, clothes rumpled, and Spencer was tempted just to skip dinner, to head straight to the bedroom, and to love her as long as she let him, until the world fell away, and it was just the two of them, and their dreams of forever.

"It's ravioli," she teased, and Spencer couldn't smother his smile if he tried.

"With bacon?"

"Of course," she confirmed, as though the answer was obvious, "Your favourite."

He bent his head, kissed her sweetly, and they shuffled into the kitchen. He'd kicked off his shoes at the door, and he'd discarded his tie in the living room, and somewhere along the way, Caitlyn had untucked his shirt, had discarded his miscellaneous pocket things, and had undone his belt, but she'd lost her bra, and her french braid too, but she was still the prettiest woman he'd ever seen. Not for the first time, he counted his blessings, and supposed that he was one of the luckiest bastards alive.

They ate over the kitchen island, bickered the philosophies of Aristotle versus Plato, drank wine and shared a chocolate pecan brownie, and shared the clean up over more wine, and an old discussion of strawberry versus vanilla, and eventually failed to determine which flavour was better.

It grew late though, and Caitlyn had work in the morning, and so he gathered up his miscellaneous pocket things, and his gun too, and the pair shuffled into the bedroom they shared. He deposited the glock in his gun safe, and his FBI identification in the same safe that held most of Caitlyn's jewellery, and deposited everything else on his nightstand with a clatter.

"I'm going to take a shower," he murmured, treaded into the bathroom, and was out some twenty minutes later, clean and content, sans contact lenses, and ready for bed.

Caitlyn was already beneath the covers, and once he'd donned a pair of boxers, he joined her, content simply to know she was close. Beneath the sheets though, he could feel her bare against his skin, and he hummed his surprise. He trailed his fingers along the satiny skin of her taut stomach, settled his hand against her sternum, and savoured in the heat of her skin there, the faint drum of her heartbeat. He kissed her shoulder, mouthed his love into her faintly tanned complexion, and Caitlyn rolled to face him, an impish smile on her face, just for him.

Spencer lowered his head to kiss away her smile, and he lingered there until Caitlyn rolled onto her back. He followed her motion, and he settled his hips in the cradle of her thighs, still clad in his boxers, but already half hard for her.

"I love you," she reminded him, and he smiled.

"I know."

Later, when they were both naked and sated, with their cover sheet kicked away, and covered only by the duvet, Caitlyn asked the question she always did - the same one he always answered.

"Do you want to tell me about the case?"

Spencer sighed, an arm thrown over his eyes, and his mind wandered back to San Diego. Even knowing that they'd caught the unsub, that a victim was still alive for their efforts, all he could think about was Caitlyn, and the wreck he would be if she was ever targeted - by anyone. He couldn't get the image of her as one of the victims out of his head, and the mental picture left him nauseous.

And so he spoke, explained the case, his feelings, his fears, and Caitlyn curled up close to him, allayed his concerns, and promised that she'd always stay by his side, that she was by his side now, and she wasn't going anywhere.

And as he fell asleep, he thought he might have found paradise.