24th August 2017
"Come on, Pen!" Spencer heard the loud voice as soon as he was through the door. "I'm celebrating and you have to come with me!" He knew that voice. With the still unplaceable accent, it was hard not to.
"I can't just drop everything!" Garcia countered.
"You are entitled to a lunch break though." Spencer butt in, joining the two women in the kitchenette.
"Oh - back on duty?" Sasha asked, her eyes searching his person for a visitors badge.
"Yes, and no." Spencer smiled at her. They hadn't seen each other in a couple of weeks. "I'm being allowed to lecture when the term starts.
"Very nice!" She nodded her approval. "Tell Penny she has to come and get a drink with me. And cake."
"Apparently," Spencer sighed looking at his blonde friend who was currently flashing pleading eyes at him. "You have to go with Miss Clarke for a drink and cake."
"You too." Sasha said.
"No."
"Yes." She folded her arms across her chest. "You helped with the case. You deserve the drink too. And you're not at work so you can party longer than she can."
The three had been joined by Jethro and another employee of the city's ME's office. He was a quiet man who had stiffly introduced himself as 'Clive' and didn't say much from that moment on. Spencer felt that he had also been dragged away from something he had felt was more important on Sasha celebration mission.
"What even are we celebrating?" Garcia finally questioned, accepting her drink from the tray Sasha returned to the table with.
"We'd a case, a bad one." Sasha took a large gulp of her drink. "They've just been convicted and sentence to life."
"Was it the foster parents." Sasha nodded. Spencer fought the urge to reach out and take her hand again. JJ and Garcia hadn't let it drop for almost a week last time. Taking his own drink and moving it up to his lips, Spencer let himself look at Sasha was a critical eye. Her hair was a day over due for washing. Dry shampoo lingered in her roots. Her eyes were stained purple and she looked skinnier than last time they had seen each other. From their meet ups, Spencer knew this case had been weighing on her mind. She felt like she owed it to the small boy to find the people that had treated him so severely that he'd lost his life.
Garcia and Clive had excused themselves after the one drink, heading back to their respective offices. Spencer and Jethro had begun a conversation over whether or not regeneration of an entire person would cause more or less difficulties - should it be true - and Sasha had restocked their drinks more than was necessary. Before Spencer knew it, last orders were being called. He tried to stand, his hands feeling fuzzy and his eyes taking a moment to refocus. Jethro wandered off waving his farewells over his shoulder. Sasha linked her arm in Spencer's.
"Come on," She giggled. "Lets get something to eat, I'm starved."
They wandered out of the bar, the slight chill on the air now the sun had set hit Sasha's bare arms and she shivered into Spencer's side. It took him a moment in his alcohol fuzzed mind to take note of the situation and react. He mused how in the past, he'd likely have shied away from her, but now he registered unhooking his arm, taking off his jacket and draping it over her shoulders before hooking his arm back into hers. He let her steer him into a small alley, barely recognising the statistics flashing through his brain, before pushing him into a lit doorway. The smell of fresh pastries hit his olfactory senses and made his mouth water.
"You don't mind your sugar and carbs together do you?" Sasha grinned and patted his arm. Spencer's eyes took a moment to adjust to the bright of the small cafe before he could see exact what was producing such a mouth watering scent. Trays of freshly baked croissants, pain au chocolat, brioche, eclairs and danish pastries lined the glass counters. They had all been freshly glazed with a mixture of plain glaze and chocolate frosting. They sat at a small round table, not dissimilar to the table they had picked in the deli Garcia had taken them to for lunch that time.
"Miss Sasha!" a heavily accented voice called across the room and a small, plump lady waddled over, her arms open wide. When she reached Sasha, who also had a wide grin on her face, the older women put her hands on the younger one's face and gave her cheeks a small squeeze. "Still at work?"
"No, not today Orla," Sasha smiled as the older lady's hands dropped and began rummaging in her floral apron. "We need something to soak up some serious day drinking." Sasha laughed gesturing between herself and Spencer. Orla nodded and smiled broadly at Spencer, who offered a weak, thin lipped smile in return.
"I have just what you need." she scribbled on her notepad. "Tell me, dear," she was looking at Spencer with her warm hazel eyes that were wrinkled at the corners with age. "tea or coffee?"
"Ah... Coffee, please." Orla scribbled some more, smiled again and then waddled back behind the counter. "How often do you come here?"
"Well that varies." Sasha answered with an air of vagueness.
"On average?"
"Six to eight times a week." Spencer couldn't hide his surprise. "The lab, and your office, is literally a ten minute walk from here. The pastries are to die for and Orla opens most of the hours of the day." Orla was already making her way back with a tray holding a plate piled high with beige foods, two mugs and a tea pot.
"Here you are!" She cheerfully announced serving everything from the tray. Spencer's coffee towards him, the tea pot and second cup to Sasha, and the plate of pastries with a small cow shaped jug of milk and a small pot of sugar cubes between them.
"Thanks, Orla!" The old woman nodded and smiled then made her way back into what Spencer assumed was a kitchen.
"I have to ask," Spencer started, already feeling awkward. After knowing her for all of these weeks, there was still a mystery to solve about Miss Sasha Clarke. "Where are you from?"
"Everywhere." Sasha said with a serious look across her attractive face. Then she burst out laughing. "I'm a pad brat. I was dragged around, country to country, until I went to university."
"Where was your favourite?" Spencer was truly interested, a transient lifestyle can be difficult on children.
"Germany." Sasha answered quickly and popped a chunk of croissant into her mouth.
"Any reason?" Spencer reached out and took a danish swirl from the plate before breaking off a small piece. It was soft and buttery with the occasional burst of fresh tang from a raisin.
"The people are friendly. The food is good. And the scenery?" She placed her hand over her chest and sighed. "To die for!" Spencer chuckled at her excitement.
"Maybe you could show me around one day." The words were out before he even registered thinking them. It felt like time stopped as the simple statement hung heavy in the air between them. Spencer felt his cheeks flush and his eyes shot back to the half eaten pastry in his hands.
"Totally!" Sasha enthused, seeming to not notice the agents sudden change in behaviour. He relaxed some. "You know something,"
"What?"
"Doesn't matter." Sasha shook her head and lowered her own eyes this time. She sat further back into her seat, her shoulders hunching slightly and a charming flush of pink hit across her cheeks.
"No, tell me."
"So over the past few weeks," Sasha started. She was now just ripping apart her croissant, refusing to look up. "I've found that I really enjoy our time together." Spencer nodded, aware that she couldn't see him. "And... um... I don't know, this is probably just the alcohol talking, but I really think that maybe I could possibly like you."
"Oh." Was all Spencer could muster.
"I'm sorry," Sasha stutter. "It's stupid, I'm drunk - just forget I said anything."
"But, I know I like you."
"I'm am sorry," Orla hushed again for the seventh time. "I really do need to close now." Her eyes held genuine sadness at having to kick the pair out of her little cafe.
"Thank you again, though." Sasha smiled, now far more sober than she had been when they had arrived at the cafe. She hugged the old lady after paying her. "Do you have far to go?" She asked Spencer.
"Not really." Spencer pointed in the rough direction of his apartment. "Ten minutes that way."
"Mind if I call an uber to meet me there?" Sasha was already tapping on her phone. "I'm meant to be off tomorrow. Well today I guess. I don't fancy my chances standing around on my own."
"Just call when we get there if you'd like?" Spencer offered. Quickly realising it could have been mistaken as a proposition. "They don't like waiting around, so I'm told." Sasha smiled, pocketed her phone in Spencer's blazer that she was again wearing as a defence against the chill of the night air. They walked in a comfortable silence. Sasha shivered closer to Spencer's side whenever they had to wait for traffic and Spencer found himself enjoying the feeling more and more. He found it charming how she'd tuck her chin into her chest and raise her shoulders before relaxing against him. He was rather taken by intimate gesture that was becoming so natural between the pair.
"I'm sorry," He said as he ushered her into the warmth of the apartment foyer. "The elevator is broken, we'll have to walk."
"It's fine." Sasha breezed. "What floor?"
"Forth." Spencer cringed. Sasha turned to him and smiled, mischief twinkling in her green eyes.
"Race ya?" She giggled and darted up the stairs leaving the confused agent to process and catch up.
When Spencer reached his floor, he was puffing and red from trying to keep up with the impish woman. She, on the other hand, appeared to have only gone for a brisk stroll. Cardio was not his strong suit.
"I run." She shrugged. "A lot." It fit her physique that was for sure. Spencer just nodded, getting out his keys and opening the door to his book laden home. Sasha followed him inside. Dropping her bag and Spencer's blazer on top of the cardigan Spencer had discarded on the back of an armchair the day before.
"Can I, um... Would you like a drink?" Spencer suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable. She was in his home. A person he'd know for just short of ten weeks was in his home. His safe place. She was already wandering around his front room, looking for a space without books to sit.
"Is this your mum?" She said, pointing to a small picture frame on a shelf beside the only free chair. Spencer nodded coming over to join her. "She's beautiful."
"A beautiful disaster." Spencer sighed picking up the frame and tracing the contours of his mother's younger face.
"No." Spencer had already told Sasha his mother's story, although he suspected, from the lack of surprise on her face when he shared that information, she had already known. "A beautifully intricate puzzle." She threaded her fingers around Spencer's unoccupied hand. It was then that Spencer became aware of how close they were standing. Of how perfectly their hands fit together. Of how her hair smelled like apricots. He was vaguely aware that he'd put down the picture frame. He felt his shoulder angle themselves towards her. He saw her head tilt and her eyes flit from his to his lips and back again. He registered himself doing the same, flicking from eyes as green as a summer meadow to rosy, fill lips. As spark ignited in his stomach as he caught sight of her tongue darting out, wetting that alluring feature.
It took Spencer a moment to realise what was happening. He felt his hand running through hair. A hand lightly pulling on the back of his neck. His other hand was grasping something soft, yet firm, and kneading his long fingers without instruction. His heart rate was rising and his breathing catching. A primal burning began to swirl deep in his abdomen and a soft moan escaped his lips. This was met by a contented sigh. Spencer then recognised that he was kissing Sasha Clarke.