Spencer walked into Derek's apartment, hanging his bag on the hook by the door and bending down to scratch Clooney behind the ears. He got up, walking to the living room, where Derek was watching TV.

"…Hi?" he said, stepping toward the couch.

Derek looked up and reached for the remote, turning off the TV. "Hey. Good day?"

He smiled slightly, before nodding and taking the seat beside Derek. "How was work?"

He leaned back, stretching. "Boring. Just another day of good ol' case files that last way too long."

"There had better not be more than 16 files in my stack on Monday morning, Derek, or I swear to God-"

"There won't be," Derek said, putting his hands up defensively. "After I get into work and fix the issue."

He shook his head. "So, are you going to ask about my lecture?"

"Do I really need to, considering you just said that?"

He groaned. "Derek."

He smiled, running a hand through Spencer's hair. "How was your lecture?"

"That depends on which one you're asking about."

"Excuse me?"

"I gave not one, not two, but three separate two hour lectures, complete with question and answer sessions and several students approaching me afterward for my card."

Derek raised his eyebrows, impressed. "How many cards did you go with?"

"Fifty."

"And how many do you have left?"

Spencer smirked. "Four."

"And how many people did you give multiples to?"

Spencer rolled his eyes, swatting at Derek's chest. "None."

Derek wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "So, what happened?"

"Well, as you know, I talked about the BAU and the science of profiling, and I related all of it to cases that we've solved as a team in the past. Pretty much every student in the class had a question or wanted to know something about the job, so I was happy to oblige. The lecture took up about an hour, and people wanting to speak with me took up the last hour and then some. I even had a few repeat faces at the lectures."

"Repeats?"

He nodded. "One person in particular was front row and center for all three of my lectures. He's on his way to the FBI in a few months, and he's currently out of the academy with an injury."

"…So, he's already guaranteed a job at the bureau, and he still attended three of your lectures?"

"Well, yeah. He enjoyed what I had to say, and he had different questions every single time I spoke. When I was leaving, I ran into him and we got to talking about the lecture, and he really seemed to enjoy my way of speaking and the way I related everything to my work, so I was able to draw in the audience."

Derek squeezed his arm protectively. "You didn't give him your card, did you?"

Spencer looked at him, confused. "Of course I did. I said if he ever wanted to ask me anything about the job, the bureau, or anything else, I'd be available."

"And you didn't include your cell number, did you?"

"…Yes, I did. It was written on the back. I fail to see why this is an issue?"

"Because to me, it sounds like he wants less to do with picking your brain, and more to do with getting in your pants."

Spencer sat up, pushing Derek's arm off of his. "…So, let me get this straight. Because someone actually showed interest in my intellect and everything I had to say, he must just want sex from me, because I'm not that interesting?"

"No, but… Spencer, he was at three of your lectures-"

"…I changed the subject matter every time I spoke, so I never said the same thing twice. I didn't want to bore the audience with the same statistics and facts over and over again, so I moved everything around. Maybe he just wanted to see what I'd say differently."

"Or maybe he's just a pervert."

Spencer shot up from the couch, arms crossed. "Just because you're no longer rushing to get into my pants doesn't mean every other member of the male gender who comes up to me is trying to do it. What, so now I can't hold a conversation with another guy, because obviously, he just wants sex from me and nothing else?"

"No, I'm just saying that I don't have a good feeling about this guy."

"…It's amazing how much you detest him from the little I told you."

"In case you've forgotten? The same happened to Penelope a few years back, and she ended up with a bullet in the gut. I'd say that's a good judge of character."

Spencer scoffed. "Once. Once you were right about not trusting somebody, and now anyone who talks to your boyfriend just wants sex from him. Forget the fact that he's a triple doctorate genius who's read more books than are in any public library, and that he can recite them verbatim. Anyone who talks to me only wants to speak to me because I'm going to put out. Not only are they assholes, but I'm easy."

"That's not what I'm saying at all, Spencer. I'm just saying-"

Spencer put up his hand. "Save it." He shouldered his bag, taking out his keys. "When you feel like being an adult and having an actual conversation with me, you can give me a call. Until then, consider growing up."

Without another word, Spencer turned toward the door, walking out and slamming it behind him.

He sat in his apartment, his leg tucked underneath himself, a glass of wine in his hand. Fighting with Derek was never easy on him, but he knew that this time, he wasn't in the wrong. In the past, they'd had arguments which he would gladly admit were his fault. The phone in his apartment was ringing, and he knew it was Derek attempting to get in touch with him: he wouldn't call his cell phone, because with caller ID, he knew Spencer wouldn't answer. He watched the phone until it stopped ringing, and hoped he'd get the hint. The one person he didn't want to talk to was definitely Derek, so when the phone finally stopped ringing for the night, he was relieved.

The next day, Spencer sat on the couch reading through a book. Sleeping hadn't helped him feel any less angry at Derek, so he decided it was safest to keep him out of sight and out of mind. He heard his cell phone start to ring and raised an eyebrow, setting in a bookmark and picking up the phone. He checked the caller ID and saw a number he wasn't familiar with. Figuring that it couldn't be Derek, he answered, sitting up.

"Hello?"

"…Doctor Reid?"

He got up, walking to the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee. "Mason?"

"Yeah, sorry, I should've probably introduced myself. I have a habit of forgetting that part of the conversation, in case you haven't noticed. Is this a bad time?"

He smiled to himself, pouring the sugar into the cup and stirring. "It's no problem, I do the same thing. What's up?"

"I'm working on my dissertation for Criminology, and I was wondering if I'd be able to bounce a few ideas off of you. If you're busy, I understand, but you said I could call-"

He sipped his coffee, setting it down on the counter. "It's no problem at all. Where do you want to meet?"

"I was thinking a coffee shop, if you'd like to pick one?"

He thought to himself. "There's a shop about four miles from the FBI building that's a little hole in the wall, do you know which one I'm talking about?"

"The one with the chalkboard specials outside and free refills?"

"That's the one." He checked his watch. "I can meet you there in about twenty, if that works."

"That sounds great, you're a lifesaver. Thank you so much."

"It's no trouble, believe me. I'll see you soon." He hung up, putting his phone in his pocket.

After finishing his cup of coffee, he packed a few of his Criminology books into his satchel, along with his wallet, cell phone, and a few notebooks. He tucked his glasses into the pocket before taking one final sweep of his apartment and putting the bag over his shoulder, walking out and locking the door behind him.

He sat in the coffee shop at a table with a large cup of coffee and the books stacked in front of him. It felt like yesterday that he was writing his own thesis for his Engineering PhD, and he remembered how much of a pain it had been. He hoped by helping, he could reduce some of the stress and help him have a successful paper to get him his Masters.

Mason sat down in front of him and he looked up.

"Sorry I'm late," he mumbled quickly, sitting down.

Spencer looked down and saw a stack of papers on top of his books. "…Is that it?"

"Yeah. If you look at the margins closely, I'm sure you can see my desperation."

He laughed softly. "I'm sure that's not the case. Do you mind if I read it?"

"Not at all!" he held it out to Spencer, who quickly took it. "I'm going to grab myself a drink first. If you feel a need to ridicule it, just save the opportunity for doing it directly to my face."

"I'm sure it's not that bad." He opened it, reading the title page. "'Understanding Evidence'?"

"Well, yeah. I'm trying to come up with the best way for anyone involved in criminology, whether they be profilers or CSI, to understand objects left behind and taken away from crime scenes in the case of a serial killer, where I compare the different theoretical models and try not to just throw around a ton of terminology to make it seem like I'm a human dictionary."

He nodded, starting to read. "Go grab your drink, I'll let you know how it is when you get back."

Mason raised an eyebrow but nodded, leaving Spencer to read his paper.

When he came back to the table with a coffee and a bagel, Spencer set the paper down.

"…Done already?"

"For the second time, actually."

He winced, setting down his things and sitting in front of him. "How bad is it?"

"Bad? On the contrary, I think this paper is absolutely fantastic. It's insightful, it's not too terminology heavy, and it's able to get to the point without losing the reader in the content. I don't know why you need my help, really, because you seem to have a great handle on the subject matter."

"Truthfully? I wanted to be able to reference someone's firsthand experience, instead of having to dig through a book and find examples that anyone else using a similar subject matter is going to use."

Spencer raised his eyebrows, impressed. "You want to interview me for answers for your dissertation?"

"…If that's all right with you, of course."

"That's fine." He sat up straight, sipping his coffee. "So, what was your IQ getting into MENSA?"

"…Beg your pardon?"

"The way you write, there's no way your IQ is any lower than 150."

"It's 184, actually. Yours?"

Spencer smirked. "187, though 184 is definitely nothing to be ashamed of." He set his cup down, looking at his stack of books. "The third one down will give you some insight on investigating crime scenes, including a few chapters on evidence. The rest won't do you any good, but that one is yours for the borrowing."

He nodded, taking the book and tucking it into his backpack, before taking out a laptop and starting it up. "Are you sure this isn't a problem?"

"Not at all. Until my phone rings and tells me I need to be on a case in anywhere, USA, I'm all yours."

He smiled slightly. "Then let's get started."

After Mason had finished questioning him, he watched as the younger man diligently worked on his paper. He was taken back to his years in school, when he worked his tail off to get everything done as quickly and efficiently as possible. He had just grabbed his second cup of coffee when his phone started ringing in his pocket. Reaching in and taking it out, he saw Derek's name on the caller ID.

Mason took his fingers off the keys. "…Is that work? If you need to leave, I understand."

Spencer thought about it, and didn't remember ever feeling so comfortable talking with another individual in the bureau. He'd finally met somebody he could talk to on his level, and didn't feel the need to hold back his intelligence around him. He quickly shook his head, putting his phone on silent. "It's nothing that can't go to voicemail. Do you need any more help?"

He shook his head. "I think I'm all set for now, but it'd be nice to still have you here to throw ideas to, if that makes sense?"

"It makes perfect sense. I'm here as long as you need me."

"Are you sure? I'd think you'd have much better things to do on your Saturday than sit in a coffee shop with someone stressing over a dissertation that isn't even due for another three weeks."

He smirked, laughing slightly. "Trust me, there's nothing else for me to be doing right now. I actually don't mind it, considering I can help you if any other questions pop-up."

This answer seemed to suffice, and Mason kept typing.

"Have you ever had a case where the evidence was tainted?" he asked, not looking up from his screen.

Spencer nodded. "Just this year, we had that Zodiac case I was telling you about. As most people know, the cab driver was wearing a striped shirt and had O negative blood. There was a piece of striped fabric left at the scene soaked in O negative blood. Everyone automatically jumped the gun and assumed that the Zodiac was, in fact, back, instead of waiting for forensics to get back to us with the facts. The fabric was distressed to look old, and was in fact very new. Rossmore wanted us to think the Zodiac was back, when he was simply a fan who strived to be him."

"That's fascinating," he said, continuing his typing. "Do you think I'll ever find something that interesting?"

"Oh, there's going to be plenty of things to keep your attention on the job. Not to mention injuries."

"…Injuries?"

"Let's see," Spencer started, adjusting in his seat. "In my eight years at the BAU? I've been beaten on multiple occasions, forced into addiction, held hostage, shot, and poisoned, not to mention the emotional toll the job can take on you. But saving innocent people makes it worth every single second."

Mason gave him a smile before returning to his work.

An hour later, Mason turned the laptop around to him. "I think I'm finished. Do you mind reading?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. Just a fair bit of warning? I'm sort of a 'technophobe', as those closest to me put it, and if I press a button and fry your laptop, I hope you have this saved someone else."

He laughed. "I have it uploaded to Blackboard, so don't worry about it. There's nothing I mind losing on there and you can't possibly mess up."

"Just remember that," he said, pulling the laptop closer to him and looking at the screen, pressing the down arrow as he read. "For future reference, I prefer hard copies – computers tend to slow me down, which is pretty much the opposite for everyone else on the face of the earth."

"Noted."

Spencer finished reading, turning the laptop around.

"It's bad, isn't it? I shouldn't have used so many examples, or I should've referenced the text, or-"

Spencer smirked, holding up his hand. "It's great. I don't think there's anything I could say or give you to improve on it."

He raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Seriously, it's amazing. You should definitely be proud of it."

Mason gave him a smile. "And my laptop remains in one piece. I'd say today was a success."

"Indeed." Spencer checked his watch, chewing on his cheek. "And because of my long tangents during my answers, it's already 6:00. Do you want to go pick up some dinner, on me?"

"On you? Please, I took up your entire Saturday. Dinner's on me." He shut down his laptop before putting it into his backpack. He put it over his shoulder, looking at Spencer. "Is there anywhere else you need to be? If so, you can take a rain check on dinner."

Spencer remembered his argument with Derek and considered going to see him, but shook his head. "Absolutely nothing. Let's go."

"So you mean to tell me, there was a kid with an assault rifle on the loose, extremely mentally unstable, and your choice was to just talk him down? You didn't even have a gun or any form of protection on you?"

Spencer smiled, nodding. "He was a disturbed high school student who had been mentally abused for years. He didn't need a bullet in the chest to stop him. He needed somebody to talk to him like he was human."

"And nobody on your team thought otherwise?"

He shook his head, cutting into his chicken. "Considering my unit chief threatened my job on the flight home, he wasn't too happy with me. Not to mention I was blocking all of their shots when they wanted to shoot him."

Mason raised an eyebrow. "You stood in the line of fire for this kid?"

"Well, I know none of my team members would've shot me, but yes. I understood him, I knew how he thought. The two us were extremely scarred from emotional trauma in our childhoods, and still feel the pain of it to this day. I couldn't let him be taken down like he was a hardened criminal."

He looked at Spencer, chewing on his cheek. "Which parent left?"

"Excuse me?"

"The way you talk about relating to him, and the fact that he lost his mother at a young age, the intonation of your voice… one of your parents either died or left. If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to, it's just-"

"You already have the makings of a great profiler," Spencer said, taking a sip of his wine. "My father left when I was ten, and my mother wasn't well, so I didn't have the best of childhoods."

"I'm so sorry-"

"After all these years, I've learned to cope." He shrugged it off, asking the waiter for a refill on his drink.

They were waiting for the check when Spencer felt a hand on his shoulder. He panicked, assuming it was Derek.

"How did the speech go this morning, Reid?"

He sighed, relieved, turning around to face Rossi. "Great, actually. Thanks for letting me fly solo on this one."

"Any time, kid."

He nodded slightly, before realizing that Mason was still there. He cleared his throat. "Sorry, David Rossi, this is Mason Adams, he'll be finishing up at the academy and joining the bureau in the next few months."

Rossi held out his hand to Mason, who quickly took it and shook. "The David Rossi? It's an honor, sir. Your work is legendary."

Rossi chuckled, shaking his hand and turning to Spencer. "Reminds me of someone else, Reid."

Spencer smiled at Mason's confused look. "I um, I pretty much reacted the same way when he rejoined the bureau a few years back." He looked at Rossi. "A word?"

He nodded, walking toward the back. Spencer put a finger up to Mason. "This'll just take a second." He followed Rossi and leaned against the wall.

"You do realize you're in a relationship?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"You're at a dinner with another guy on a Saturday night, looking pretty happy with yourself."

He swallowed. "I helped Mason finish his dissertation this afternoon, and to thank me for my help, he's paying for dinner. I'm just enjoying being able to have a conversation on my intellectual level for a change, instead of fearing that I'll continue to blabber on or drive away everyone with the way I speak."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Really. Derek and I are currently in an argument, and I needed to spend a few hours away from him. Mason called for help and I went to the coffee house to meet him. Nothing more."

"Just be careful, Reid."

"I will be."

Rossi gave him a nod, before patting his arm and walking back to his table. Spencer walked into the bathroom, leaning over the sink and splashing cold water on his face. He reached for a paper towel, wiping his face off, before pressing his palms into the counter, looking at his reflection. He knew exactly what he wanted to do, and hoped he could find it in him to forgive himself if it really happened. For once, he needed to be able to be with someone who understood him, not somebody he'd constantly feel a need to dumb himself down for. He cleared his throat, shaking his head and walking back to the table.

Spencer sat down across from him. "Sorry about that, work stuff."

Mason looked up at him. "Did something come up?"

He shook his head. "Nothing to worry about. Did the check come already?"

"Not yet. My guess is it gets so busy on Saturday nights they sort of forget about dropping off checks on tables they've finished with. I couldn't blame them, really, considering the amount of different things they need to remember on the job. And… I'm rambling, aren't I? I'm so sorry."

He smirked. "Trust me, I've done much worse."

"I doubt it."

"Believe me, I have! There are points on the job where the team actually has to tell me I'm being annoying, whether they say it outright, ignore me, shush me, snap at me, or immediately change the subject matter. I often go off on tangents that they can't get me off of without doing one of those, or coming up with a new way."

"…Do you think I'll have trouble adjusting to my team?"

He licked his lips, thinking. "Since I've joined the team, we've gotten me, our tech analyst, our former media/communications liaison, and two agents, in addition to losing a former unit chief, an agent, and two others temporarily. I had fears about not fitting in and having trouble adjusting, but the team actually took me in. The only problem was, because I was so young, they all looked at me as the younger sibling and felt a constant need to take care of me. So you should definitely prepare yourself for being treated like a child. You're working toward your doctorate? Your unit chief may start calling you 'Doctor Adams' instead of 'Agent Adams', so people take you more seriously."

"You're kidding me?"

"On the contrary, it's exactly what happened to me. There are still times to this day that I'm called 'Doctor' instead of 'Agent'. It's a bit of a pet peeve, considering I no longer look too young to be in the bureau, but if it's between that and the team thinking nobody's taking me seriously? I'll take the former."

Their waiter walked over, setting the check on the table. "So sorry for the wait."

Mason took his wallet out, tucking his credit card into it. "Nothing to worry about. It's all set." He held it up to the waiter and watched as he walked away.

"I should pay you for at least some of it. I did have three glasses of red wine tonight."

"For the 'A' I'm going to get on my dissertation? Trust me, it's no trouble."

The waiter walked back over and handed it back to him. Mason filled in the tip, signing the receipt and taking out his card. "Thank you." He then turned to Spencer. "It's been amazing talking to you about the bureau and your past cases and everything on the job, Doctor Reid."

"Doctor Reid? Maybe that was what you could call me this morning, but after everything today, I think I've earned the right to be called by my first name."

"Right, sorry." He held out his hand. "It's been great, Spencer."

Spencer shook his hand, chewing on his cheek and thinking. "If you'd like, I'm available tonight. We could maybe go back to your place, and you could pick my brain as much as you'd like."

"…I've already taken up most of your afternoon and night, I couldn't ask you to-"

"…Only you're not asking, I'm offering."

Mason gave him a smile, before nodding. "That sounds great, thank you."

"It's no trouble at all." He put his bag on his shoulder, following Mason out to the parking lot and getting into his car.

Before getting into his own car, Mason turned to face Spencer. "You're sure about this? I mean, I don't want to take up time you don't have-"

"I have plenty, don't worry. And there aren't many people I talk to who actually enjoy my extensive knowledge of, well, everything, so I often feel the need to hold back on my intelligence. Around you, it's actually comfortable, and the fact that you actually want to hear what I have to say is very refreshing. I'm sure you still want some of your Saturday night to yourself, so I won't take that long."

"This may come as a surprise, but I really don't have anything to do on a Saturday night. There's nobody banging on my door to make plans or making my cell phone go crazy with phone calls trying to do something or talk to me."

"Something else we have in common." Spencer reached in his pocket, taking out his cell phone. He saw a few missed calls from Derek, but cleared them, turning his phone off and shoving it into his bag.

When he pulled up to Mason's apartment, Spencer got out, picking up his bag.

"It's not much, but it's a place to call home," Mason said, getting out of his car and locking it. He walked around, going up to the front door and unlocking it, Spencer following behind.

"I'm sure it's fine." He stepped inside, following Mason to his apartment, then walking inside after he unlocked the door. The apartment reminded him of his own, with several bookshelves lining the walls. The only obvious difference was the fact that Mason had a large television in the living room and a computer in the corner: Spencer only had his work computer and had a much smaller television that he'd watch Doctor Who on when a new episode would premiere. He stepped inside, walking over to the couch and sitting down, setting his bag beside the couch.

"Can I get you a drink?" Mason called from the kitchen. "Some water, juice, maybe another glass of wine to wash down the first three?"

He smirked. "A water's just fine, thanks."

Mason walked in, sitting down beside him and holding out a water bottle. Spencer took it, sipping it and setting it down on the table.

"Have you ever taken a case personally?" he asked, leaning back against the couch and looking at Spencer.

Spencer swallowed, clearing his throat. "Other than the Owen Savage case? Yes, actually. The first one that comes to mind is Adam Jackson. He was disturbed, and he had a female personality, Amanda. She would lure men to her hotel room, then rape them and asphyxiate them. Then she'd check out of the room for them, and leave, so all evidence was destroyed."

"…How did you take that personally?"

"Well, I felt sorry for Adam. His father would beat him and make him dress as a female, and more likely than not, molested him. He was eventually put into foster care, and bounced between homes. He emancipated himself, did poorly in school, was extremely socially awkward, committed petty crimes, and had charges of drug possession. The marijuana seemed to be what fueled Amanda to come out."

"…That is a lot to take on."

He nodded. "He asked me when he could close his eyes and not see those images again, and truthfully, I still have moments where I still have them, so I didn't have an answer. All I wanted was justice for Adam, but when Amanda had Adam's father at knifepoint, we talked her down and he walked free, while Amanda was institutionalized and Adam seemed to disappear completely. Adam had no idea what Amanda was capable of, and all Amanda wanted to do was keep Adam safe. I tried going back to talk to Amanda on several occasions, to see if I could get Adam back, but… he was gone for good. Amanda's personality completely took over, and she's not going to let Adam out so he can get in trouble."

"You visited on company time?"

"No, I actually went on my own. On days off or whenever I was in the area, to try to see if I could get her to talk about him, but it never happened."

"Does this happen to everybody in the bureau?"

"Definitely. We've all taken cases too personally or had them affect us. It just happens. Rossi ended up holding onto a case for twenty years before he was finally able to solve it and give three kids closure on losing their parents."

He raised his eyebrows, exhaling. "No wonder my professor talks about alcoholism being a problem."

"Alcoholism and narcotics abuse. I'm not going into detail, but the job definitely takes its toll on your life. It affects you mentally, physically, and does a wonder on relationships, which is sort of why there are multiple rules and seminars against dating fellow agents." He cleared his throat, shaking his head. "But that's broken all the time. Most of the rules are in place because of things Rossi did in the past."

"Are you serious?"

He laughed softly, nodding. "Quite the ladies' man with three past wives. I'm sure when you join the bureau, you'll hear about it plenty."

There was a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Mason finally spoke up. "Spencer?"

Spencer looked up into Mason's eyes and saw curiosity, which he'd always seen in himself. He resisted the urge to smile. "Yeah?"

He exhaled, setting his bottle down. "Am I too forward in thinking that there are, for lack of a better word, feelings here?"

He cleared his throat, chewing on his cheek.

"…I am, aren't I? Wow, I am so sorry, we can just pretend that didn't happen. I usually don't take social cues well, and this situation is quite obviously no different than the rest. I should just – you should go."

Spencer bit his lip, shaking his head. "You're not – you're taking social cues just fine, Mason. Really." He shifted closer, running a hand through Mason's hair.

"This isn't a prank of some sort, is it? Trust me, it wouldn't be the first time, and you could break it to me."

He shook his head again. "I promise, it's genuine."

In the back of his mind, Spencer was replaying Derek on the dance floor with countless attractive single women, throwing themselves at him. He remembered Derek not refusing any of them, and practically having sex with them right there and then. It didn't matter to him that he was in a relationship, all that mattered was making Spencer jealous. He knew that two could play at this game, and he was about to even the score.

Mason leaned in, before hesitantly pulling back. "…You just said there are multiple rules in place, prohibiting relationships between agents."

"That's true, but technically speaking, you're not going to be an agent for another three months."

"…Has anyone ever told you that you're a genius, Spencer Reid?"

He smirked. "Once or twice."

Mason leaned in again, and Spencer took the opportunity, wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him in, kissing him. He was extremely relieved when Mason responded as he wanted, kissing him back. He threaded a hand in his hair, before slipping his tongue into the younger man's mouth. He couldn't believe how amazing he tasted: he recalled kissing Derek and couldn't remember him ever tasting this good. Then his mind stayed on the subject of Derek and he pulled back, screwing his eyes shut.

"…I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?"

He shook his head, exhaling. He had to clear Derek out of his head: he needed his revenge for what Derek did, and he was going to get it. He swallowed, willing himself not to get upset, and looked at Mason. "Everything's fine, don't worry about it."

Kissing led to touching, touching led to undressing, and undressing led to the bedroom. Mason was a much different lover than Derek. Where it felt like Derek wanted it to go quickly, Mason wanted to take everything slow. Where it felt like Derek only wanted to take, all Mason wanted to do was give. Something about being with Mason felt, for lack of a better word, right. He never wanted it to end, and once it was over, Mason bit his lip, turning to face Spencer.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded, smiling to himself. "I'm fine. Thank you." His mind was still slightly hazy, but he wrapped an arm around him, kissing his forehead.

Mason seemed comfortable with him and the two of them talked for nearly an hour before Mason started to doze off.

He yawned softly. "I'm sorry, it's been a long day."

Spencer looked at him. "Don't worry about it. I'm not insulted."

He nodded, before slowly drifting off.

When Spencer felt his labored breathing, it all suddenly hit him. Not only did he get his revenge on Derek, but he definitely did something that would make Derek hate him. He not only took it a step too far – he took it farther than anything ever should've gone. He didn't just hurt Derek, he also hurt Mason, who was completely innocent. Whatever just happened wasn't going to be permanent, and was simply a one-time thing. He definitely led Mason on, and in a few months time, he was going to be extremely awkward to bump into at work. Attempting to swallow the growing lump in his throat, he sat up, groaning to himself. This wasn't the Spencer Reid he was used to, and it definitely wasn't a Spencer Reid he would ever be proud of.