Chapter 4- the piano bar
After they checked in, Delaney invited Spencer for a drink in the hotel bar. Despite his mental resolve to say no, he accepted and agreed to meet her there after a few minutes to settle into their rooms. Talking to himself in the mirror, he began to panic, 'What does that mean, 'Wanna get a drink with me in the hotel bar?' What should I drink, what should I say?' Berating himself for agreeing to this weekend at all, he straightened his hair, took a deep breath and headed to the elevator. At the bar he wasn't surprised he beat her there. Whenever Elle and J.J. said they needed to freshen up first he usually watched Morgan drink as least 2 beers waiting for them.
He ordered ginger ale, and found a corner table near the piano player. He made a mental note that he was a better pianist than the man, but that he wouldn't look as nice in a tux. He began to break down the probability that the pianist's looks had gotten him hired rather than his talent, but was caught mid-thought when Delaney walked into the bar in a little black dress. Her long blonde hair now fell loose over her shoulders, and her tan legs glistened for miles into her strappy heels. She smiled when her eyes settled on him, and for an instant he wondered if she was really moving in slow motion or if his brain simply couldn't keep up with the swish in her hips.
Spencer remembering his manners at the last second jumped up, nearly spilling his drink, while reaching to pull out her chair. "Thanks," she almost whispered. He remained standing trying to focus long enough to remember the next appropriate step. "Can I get you a drink?" he asked. "Yes, thanks. Gin and tonic, double lime please." He walked to the bar and ordered. Watching her while he waited he followed her eyes to the pianist and fought an irrational rush of jealousy. For all he knew, she was engaged to a professional football player or a tattoo artist with a free spirit, but in his moment of jealousy, he decided that the pianist was definitely hired for the way he looked in the tux. Further more, he decided he would share his professional opinion with Delaney should he came up in conversation.
"Thanks again," she laughed as he handed her the drink. "What are you drinking?" "Um, ginger ale actually," he said. "Do you not drink?" she asked him. "No, not often," he admitted. She laughed… "Well…thanks for having a drink with me anyway. What do you think of the pianist?" "It's nice," he said out loud, sure to add 'how good he looks in that tux' in his mind. "I think you could do better," she said catching him off guard. "What?" he asked a little shocked, but more pleased than he cared to admit. "I remember you playing for my mom. She loved it. You were really good Spencer. Do you still play?" "Sometimes," he answered, with a thoughtful expression. "Do you still sing while you do the dishes?" He couldn't believe he had just said that out loud. She smiled, and laughed. Tilting her glass she coolly replied, "Nope, only when I am in the shower." Spencer almost choked on his drink, and her smile forced a grin to his reddening face as well.
After she finished her drink she noticed his yawn, and opted to end the evening. They walked to the elevator in silence, his mind wandering all over her body the way he wished his hands were. He wondered what her skin felt like, and didn't have to wait long for an answer, she brushed against him gently as they got in the elevator. For an instant, from her downward facing smile, he wondered if she had done it on purpose. She stood right at his side, though they were alone in the elevator. The smell of her hair was enough to make him wish for a hot embrace or a cold shower. When the door finally opened on their floor he walked her to her room, turned quickly to hide in his, muttering 'goodnight' as he turned away.
"Spencer?" her soft voice causing his breath to catch in his throat. Slowly, he turned unaware of how close she was behind him. "Thanks, really, for everything. I know you didn't have to do this, but I have to admit, I have never been more glad to have such an over protective father. I've missed you. Seeing you again reminded me of that." He was sure his cheeks were crimson, and that his heart might burst her ear drums as she gently leaned in and kissed his cheek. All he could do to keep his composure was turn and slide wordlessly into his room.
He had never been more thankful for a cold shower. As he played her words over and over in his head, he couldn't help but think, 'Maybe you aren't totally hopeless. Maybe being a young doctor/F.B.I. agent is a draw to some beautiful young women. Maybe Spencer, you have a chance.' After getting comfortable in the hotel bed, Spencer Reid went to sleep with a smile on his face, and an erection in his briefs.