Okay, I don't own anything to do with the perfection that is CM or any of its affiliations. I do, however, have the pleasure of owning my OC, Charlotte. Hope you enjoy the story - and have a great day!

Spencer POV

Was God punishing me for something that I didn't quite remember, because, seriously, having to watch these two gallivant around was really starting to piss me off. I wasn't one to believe in karma, however I had to have pissed someone off up there, because this was just cruel.

It took all I had inside of me to not tear his arms from her body, and pull her into my own. It was probably for the best considering Morgan would probably punch me into next century. Now that would have been embarrassing.

For the last 20 minutes, I had been reading over the same page in this god forsaken book on the history of Latin phrasing throughout the centuries and how it's used in modern day linguistics. I knew I was preoccupied, and the source of this bother was his fucking arm thrown over her petite shoulder, and it was driving me crazy.

They were sharing quiet, whispered discussions, and I felt a clenching around my heart every time she smiled, endearingly, up at him. That should be me.

I never understood why men were jealous over other men conversing with their women - notice I said their, as, ironically, she's not even mine - and now I get it. It's because they're - read we're - all afraid of their intended leaving them, and it burnt something deep inside. It awoke some kind of feral, carnal rage whenever someone that wasn't them was touching something of their own.

Realistically, I knew that this was very pre-school and juvenile of me to be thinking in such a way, but I couldn't help it, even if I wanted to. She wasn't my girlfriend, she wasn't even a friend, particularly. We hadn't spoken, we hadn't even looked at one another really, so this fucking infatuation was really pissing me off.

For once in my life, I've found someone who I was attracted to, both intellectually and physically, and I'd be damned if I let her go, especially to someone who I knew was an blatant womaniser. Now I wasn't going to knock Derek for his life choices, because come on, it's only sex, but there was just something about her that I felt was too innocent, too precious for that.

Firmly, I clenched the book in my hands as I saw, out of my peripherals, her snuggle further into his obnoxiously large biceps, and I growled under my breath, drawing the attention of Rossi, who simply glanced up, regretfully, seeming to know what I was going through.

Deep down inside, I knew Derek and Charlotte would have arrived here together. I just had a looming feeling deep inside my gut, and after finding that everyone else, but those two, had arrived, safely, sent a intense fury tunnelling through my body, and I couldn't stop the thoughts pulsating through my mind, each scenario becoming more and more explicit and stomach churning by the second.

I felt sick.

Honestly, I didn't know if they had done anything together, and I told myself, over and over, that didn't want to find out. She didn't seem like the type, but, I suppose, you could never tell just going off face value. I fought away the urge to run a hand through my hair, and tear at my scalp. I hadn't felt so much rage inside my own body for years, and I truly did feel like a different person. Is this what women did to men? If so, I can understand why the Trojan War took place all those centuries ago.

Seriously, I felt like some kind of fucking animal, trying to show off his feathers for a female of his kind.

I wasn't exceptionally strong. Nor was I remarkably brave or special, I just had brains. I knew I was smart. I was a genius, and I used that to my advantage.

Academically, nobody I had ever met could match me, and even though that sounded especially egotistical, I didn't mean it in that way. It was a fact, and I only even played with specifics. Facts couldn't deceive you. They couldn't lie, they couldn't change. They were completely black and white, and couldn't convince me of something that isn't true.

Sighing, I closed the book that was seated, unused, in my hands, and lay in on the carpeted ground beneath me. I kicked my feet up, over the arm of the plush sofa I was sitting in, and reclined my head on the other, throwing the crook of my arm over my eyes, to shield them from the harsh lighting above me. I bit my lip out of habit, and wiggled my shoulders to get comfortable, and once I did, I couldn't drift off to sleep at all.

My thoughts insisted on flickering back to Charlotte and Morgan, and I kept feeling the intense rage nestle deep inside my heart, blackening every crevice with its dark lustre. Vaguely, I could taste the venom swell in my mouth, and I had to swallow back the spiteful comments that lay in wait of the tip of my tongue.

I felt a weight dip on the arm of the sofa that my legs were hanging from, and when I glanced under my forearm, I saw Hotch, glowering at me, ferociously.

"Can I speak to you, Reid?," he asked, leaving no room for denial, and, with a begrudged huff, I followed him into the reserved area, behind the cashmere curtain that separated us from the pilots cabin. My eyes slid to him, and asked, not unkindly, "Is there something you needed, Hotch?"

He studied me, silently, for a moment, then enquired, nonchalantly, "Will this be a problem?"

Raising an eyebrow, I asked, "Will what be a problem?"

He mirrored my expression, and explained, bluntly, "Your feelings for Charlotte, will they affect your judgement?"

My stomach dropped to my toes.

There was no other way to describe the sensation that exploded within my being than that.

I felt too many things at once, and I could barely sort my thoughts out. Clearly nervous,, I stammered, "F-Feelings? W-What feelings?"

Even I could hear the lies on my tone, and I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. He rolled his eyes, and replied, sternly, "It's clear that you have feelings for the girl, now, will it influence your judgement?"

I shook my head, disbelievingly, and, after a moment of silence, I responded, "No.. Sir."

He nodded, once, and commented, "Good. Now.. Take a moment, and collect yourself. I can almost taste the jealousy in the air."

Embarrassingly, I could feel my cheeks flush at his observation, and I blinked, impassively, until he left to return to his seat. I walked into the bathroom, and ran cold water over my face, in an attempt to wash away the bad feelings that had attached themselves to me. I whispered in the mirror, "Come on, Spence. Get over it."

After a few calming breaths later, I made my way back to the main cabin, and honestly, I was feeling much calmer and more relaxed than I was before, however, upon looking at the couple tangled in a sleeping embraced in the seat, directly within my scope of vision, I felt the rage return, with a blistering vengeance.

This was going to be a bitch of a plane ride and I knew I was going to be so very irritated until we landed.

Alright, guys. I've decided to create a system into my stories - I'll upload every other Sunday, so you'll get a chapter every fortnight. It's the best I can do - I'm sorry. The work load is only going to get harder, and I'm hoping to keep you guys filled it along the way! I love you guys, and, each and every one of you - have a wonderful day!