Gravity
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Chapter Three: Inquisition
"Back the truck up," Greenaway raised her hand, turned a bewildered expression to Spencer, and asked, "How long have you been engaged?"
"11 months, 3 weeks, and 4 days," he replied, "Given the nature of my job, Cate and I thought it would be best if we kept our relationship quiet. I didn't want to take the chance that work could one day follow me home."
"I guess I can't fault you for that," Morgan conceded, "I'm hurt that you didn't tell us though. Don't you trust us?"
"It has nothing to do with trust, Morgan. I'd trust you - and have in the past, in fact - with my life. It's security, is all."
There was a vaguely awkward silence, and Caitlin, seated on the arm of Spencer's chair, curled Spencer's hair around her fingers. As she did, the intercom buzzed, and she clambered to her feet with a wry smile on her face.
"That'll be the Chinese," she said, "I hope you're all hungry."
As Caitlin occupied herself with organising the food, Spencer retrieved some glasses and a bottle of wine, gestured for the team to settle themselves around the dining table, and flicked on the stereo. The alto strains of Suzanne Vega filtered from the speakers, and Caitlin offered him a soft, pleased smile.
"What brought you by, anyway?" Spencer asked over plum duck and fried rice, "I don't mean to be rude, but…"
"But we did turn up unannounced," JJ reasoned, "I blame Morgan for that. He and Garcia showed up on my door an hour ago."
"I didn't want to risk any of you bailing," Morgan shrugged, "And we were going to talk you into a night out. I'm more interested in finding out about you two, however."
Garcia nodded her emphatic agreement. "Do tell all."
"Is that necessary?" Spencer queried. "It is our personal life."
"Oh, it is absolutely necessary, my Junior G-Man," she answered, "If only because Morgan's dying to know how his profiling skills managed to overlook the fact that you're not only not single and ready to mingle, but also that you happen to be engaged. And can I just say, by the way, congratulations! I'm happy for you both."
"Thank you, Agent Garcia," Caitlin acknowledged, "And to answer your question, Spencer and I met at MIT. We started dating a month later, and we've been together ever since."
The years had not come without hurdles. Caitlin's mother had died when they were 21, Spencer's younger siblings had taken turns acting out, Diana Reid's schizophrenia had taken it's emotional toll. There had been fights, and disagreements, and tears. They'd muddled through though, and they'd come out stronger for it, and Spencer couldn't imagine a life with anyone else.
"When's the wedding?" Elle enquired.
"Not for another year," Spencer replied, "We're not in any rush."
"We're both very busy too," Caitlin contributed. "This way, we can plan at our own leisure without a deadline hanging over our heads."
The questions continued. What did Caitlin do for a living? How had Spencer proposed? What hobbies did Caitlin enjoy?
Eventually, it transcended into wedding talk, and Spencer directed Morgan into the living room. They sat on either end of the couch, wine glasses in hand, and the silence tense between them.
"It's bothering you, isn't it? The fact I didn't tell you about her."
"Yeah, Reid, it's bothering me. I'm wondering how I can trust you when I'm not even sure I knew you at all."
"I never went out of my way to insinuate that I was single," Spencer answered, "Ever since day one, everybody assumed, and I didn't think it was necessary to rectify that assumption. Not only is it completely irrelevant to my job, it kept Caitlin safe, and I won't apologise for that."
"And you don't think a fiance is something we should know about?"
"Please, Morgan, as if you don't have secrets," Spencer scoffed, "You need to get off your high horse before you start choking on your own hypocrisy. Even better, get some help for those trust issues while you're at it."
He stalked into the kitchen then, rolled back his shoulders, and attempted one of Caitlin's deep breathing exercises. He failed, unsurprisingly, and instead opted to clear up the dishes from dinner, agitated.
"Guess Morgan didn't take it well," Elle observed. She stood in the arch that divided the kitchen from the dining room, a sympathetic smile on her face. In her arms, she held a number of empty wine glasses, and without prompting, the New York native settled them on the counter to his left. "For what it's worth, the rest of us are simply happy you're happy."
"Thanks, Elle," he acknowledged, and smiled slightly. It didn't last. "I just… what's his problem?"
She shrugged. "Who knows? Just remember, we all have the right to a private life. Don't let Morgan - or anyone - convince you otherwise."
"I won't."
She nodded, pleased. "In saying that, I think we've overstayed our welcome." Spencer made to protest, but Greenaway raised a hand to stop him. "Don't be ridiculous, Reid. We showed up - unannounced - to what was obviously supposed to be a cozy night in, intruded on your dinner, and interrogated your fiance. By all rights, you should have told us to piss off at the door."
He smiled wryly. "I considered it."
"And I don't blame you," she acknowledged earnestly, "But in all seriousness, we're going to bounce, Garcia's going to talk some sense into Morgan, and you are going to salvage what's left of the night with your lovely fiance."
He nodded his acquiescence, not particularly inclined to protest. "I'll walk you to the door."
Morgan was already in the external hallway, and Spencer didn't bother with farewells in that regard. Instead, he bade Garcia, JJ and Elle a good evening, closed the door behind them, and locked the deadbolt with a grateful sigh.
"That was uncomfortable."
Caitlin circled her arms around his waist, raised up on her tiptoes, and awkwardly propped her chin on his shoulders. "I don't know. I think it could have been worse."
"Oh, absolutely," he acknowledged glibly, "Hotch could have seen me sans t-shirt, too."
She laughed. "I doubt they minded the view."
"I think you're biased, Cate."
"And I don't think you understand how hot you are, Spencer."
"I see how it is. You just want me for my body."
"You caught me, baby." She pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek. "What are you going to do about it?"
"I'll think of something." He carefully guided her towards the couch, made himself comfortable in the corner between the back and arm, and tugged her into the 'V' of his legs. He flicked on a late news broadcast, they watched it in an easy, companionable silence, and slowly, with the scent of her hair in his nose and the curve of her waist beneath his hands, Spencer began to relax. "I love you. Thank you for making tonight bearable."
She turned in his embrace, coiled her arms around his neck, and pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat. "I wasn't about to leave you out to dry. We're partners, and that includes the good times, the bad times, and the ugly times. You need to stop expecting me to leave you when the going gets tough. I love you - warts and all - and I'm not going anywhere."
"I don't have warts."
"Obtuse doesn't suit you, Spencer Reid."
He smiled, soft and sweet, and bowed his head to kiss her, long and languid. "Us against the world, right?"
She chuckled, the old promise an inside joke between them these days, nodded, and dropped her head against his chest. Her speech was murmured, but the meaning was clear. "Always."