Disclaimer:

This work of fiction is based on the TV show "Criminal Minds," and certain elements, characters, and settings from the show belong to their respective creators. The original characters (OCs) and the fictional neighborhood are my own creations. I do not claim ownership of any copyrighted material from the show, and I am not making any profit from this story. This is purely a fanfiction piece created for entertainment purposes

Note: I hope you enjoy this chapter. I feel like it's not my best, as I've been busy creating outlines for many exciting chapters that will come later in the story (lol). I want to clarify that I'm drawing from my personal experiences with panic attacks and depression. As most people know, these experiences are highly personal, and our reactions to them can vary widely. If the portrayal in this chapter doesn't seem realistic to you, please understand that it reflects my own experiences.

This week, I've been vibing to some UK rap and French pop, so there aren't any specific songs to list for this chapter. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 4: A night of new beginnings

Sitting in his car outside Café Tapateo, Spencer Reid nervously tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. This wasn't his usual scene. The café's bustling atmosphere was a stark contrast to his typical haunts—his quiet apartment or his favorite bookstore.

As he discreetly observed the people coming and going around the café that Cassandra had chosen, his analytical mind kicked into gear, naturally sizing them up. What had drawn her to this place? From their brief encounter in the park, he'd noted her good looks and impeccable style, qualities that seemed to effortlessly mesh with the social scene here.

As he watched the people mingling, his mind briefly brushed against memories of the past, of those who moved so easily in social circles but left scars in their wake. A soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaped him, then he steeled himself, determined to give this evening a chance.

He found solace in the fact that he blended in with the crowd; many other men at the café were dressed similarly to him. He had researched the place after Cassandra sent him the information. Upon arriving home, he hastily selected the most suitable clothes from his wardrobe, though he despised feeling rushed. Another team had urgently requested his assistance, even though it was his day off; he couldn't turn down their call for help. When Cassandra had texted him, expressing her desire to meet, he felt a sense of gratitude that she still wanted to go out. One silver lining was that he didn't have much time to over think the outing and talk himself out of coming.

The thought that this was a date crossed his mind briefly, but given how little he and Cassandra knew each other, it seemed unlikely, considering his limited dating history. Instead, his mind wandered back to a painful memory - the time he'd asked JJ out on a date. It had been a significant step out of his comfort zone, marked by stammered words and racing thoughts. He'd invited her to a movie, hoping she'd appreciate his choice and his rehearsed witty comments.

However, JJ's response hadn't unfolded as he'd expected. Her warm smile had initially filled him with hope, only to be dashed when he saw her arrive at the cinema with Emily. That night had left Spencer feeling like he'd made a fool of himself, a reminder of his social awkwardness and his yearning for a deeper connection beyond the BAU office and his books.

When Cassandra, the woman he'd met in the park, suggested dinner at Café Tapateo, he felt compelled to accept. She'd piqued his curiosity, offering him another chance to step out of his comfort zone.

Cassandra surveyed the groups of people lingering around the bar. It didn't seem overly crowded, and everyone appeared to be having a good time. As she moved, a gentle breeze tousled her curls around her shoulders, providing a pleasant relief from the day's heat. She smiled and greeted a few people but did her best to look away before anyone got any ideas. Despite not being her hometown, old habits died hard:

Reaching the front of the building, she mentally smiled at the bold deep blue doors adorned with bright red letters spelling out the name of the Spanish bar. Nearby, looking somewhat out of place, stood Spencer. She would wager her rent money that he didn't notice the small group of women checking him out, but Cassandra did. She found it amusing.

As soon as she stepped onto the sidewalk and began heading toward him, Spencer looked up. She struggled to avoid averting her gaze from his, but she couldn't conceal the blush. Doing her best to suppress her nerves, she smiled and looked up at him as she approached. In her shoes, she didn't feel particularly short next to him, which eased her nervousness. She had always felt awkward around men, not scared but out of place, as if she should constantly check over her shoulder to see who they were addressing or glancing at when they approached her in the past. She had been working on it, but progress had been slow. At that moment, it almost felt nice to have his gaze fixed on her.

"I'm so happy we could make this work," she said, breaking the silence between them. He glanced away from her and ran a hand through his hair.

"Yes, this is a place I've never been before," Spencer replied.

Cassandra's smile widened, and she tilted her head slightly. "That's great! I thought trying something new might be a fun way for us to get to know eachother better. but if you don't like it, we can go. I wasn't joking about that Vito," she said, adding the last bit playfully. Waving her hand, she added, "Should we go in?", With a nod, Spencer followed her as she headed for the doors.

Spencer observed Cassandra's ease in social interactions, as she conversed with the host and the waiter. Cassandra was a social butterfly, a trait Spencer couldn't quite fathom how it would play out for him, but he was willing to see where the evening would lead.

With a bright smile, Cassandra asked, 'I feel silly for asking, but do you drink?' She posed the question after the waiter had left a pair of menus and filled their water glasses. A book-like drink menu lay between them on the table, where the waiter had placed it before leaving. Spencer couldn't help but notice Cassandra's nails, painted in a soft shade of peach, and he found himself wondering what had inspired her choice.

Spencer replied, 'Casually, I guess, but don't let that stop you.'

She flashed him a half-smile and replied, 'Well, I think I would be a social drinker.' She said it softly as she reached for the drink menu. 'But let's see what they have.'

Cassandra's attention shifted to the menu as her finger gracefully traced the list of wines. "I'm thinking of trying 'Sangre de La Tierra' [Blood of the Earth), a red wine. The grapes come from the Rioja region in Spain, renowned for its unique soil composition. A friend of mine has family from there, and she said their wine is simply amazing, so I'm curious to taste it for myself."

Spencer, taken slightly aback by her enthusiasm, began to share facts about Rioja's winemaking history. "Um, well, you see, the Rioja region does have a fascinating history when it comes to winemaking. They were pioneers in the use of oak barrels for aging, which gives the wine its distinctive flavor." As he spoke, Spencer's words tumbled out in a rush, and he nervously ran a hand through his hair. He could feel the weight of his own words, wondering if he'd overdone it with his spontaneous lecture. The moment seemed to hang in the air, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he had somehow messed up.

Cassandra looked genuinely interested and flashed Spencer a warm smile. "That's fascinating, Spencer. I'm impressed by your knowledge."

Spencer was caught off guard by the unexpected compliment. He blinked rapidly, his cheeks coloring as he fumbled with the drink menu, a subtle, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It was a mixture of self-consciousness and gratitude reflected in his eyes.

While they conversed, Spencer noticed Cassandra's curiosity about the menu. It was as if she was testing his knowledge, and he gladly shared facts about the dishes and wines. They decided to split a half bottle of wine based on their mutual interests. They moved on to selecting starters and appetizers together, and Spencer found Cassandra's enthusiasm for the culinary experience captivating. Following their order with the waiter, Spencer excused himself briefly to use the bathroom.

Cassandra observed Spencer's departure from the table, her mind swirling with a mixture of curiosity and anxiety. What was he thinking? Would he return? She mentally chastised herself for allowing such doubts to creep in. Spencer didn't strike her as the type to abandon someone. She bit her lip and took a moment to gather herself. There were no signs that the evening was going poorly, but she couldn't help but wonder. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the glass of ice water, the condensation forming a delicate sheen on the outside. Her small handbag rested on the bench seat beside her, between herself and the wall. As she took a sip, she couldn't resist the urge to retrieve her phone from her handbag and send a quick text to Brandy, letting her friend know that everything was fine. The familiar glow of her phone's screen provided a brief moment of comfort.

With her message sent, Cassandra retrieved a small bottle of hand sanitizer. Its scent was a soothing mint that seemed to momentarily transport her from her swirling thoughts to a place of calm. She squeezed a small amount onto her palm, relishing the cool sensation as she rubbed it in. It was a simple act, but it helped ground her in the present. Putting her things away in her bag and closing it. Just as she settled back into her seat, she noticed the waiter's timely arrival. With practiced finesse, he poured a deep crimson wine into her glass, allowing the rich aroma to gracefully envelop her senses. Cassandra offered the waiter a warm smile, genuinely appreciating his impeccable timing.

Spencer returned to the table, and Cassandra, taking a sip of her ice-cold water, couldn't help but notice the details of his appearance—the tousled mess of his hair, the way his eyes seemed to lock onto hers, and his imposing height that momentarily made her feel small. A sudden unease crept over her, catching her off guard. In that moment, as she looked at her trembling hand, Cassandra noticed the glass of water she was holding shaking within her grasp. With careful intent, she placed it down on the table, not wanting it to spill. Her breath steadied as she sought solace in the tactile sensation of her shaky hand gently resting on the cool tabletop.

The soft strumming of an acoustic guitar in the background provided a comforting soundtrack, and the sturdy bench beneath her became her anchor, pulling her back to the present. Blinking, she turned her attention to Spencer, who was now seated across from her. His tousled hair, intense gaze, and imposing height momentarily left her feeling vulnerable. A surge of unease washed over her, but she took a deep breath and reminded herself to stay composed. Opening her eyes, she realized that Spencer was looking at her, his gaze holding a certain intensity. It didn't scare her, but it did make her cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Sorry about that," she stammered, unsure of what else to say.

Spencer's tone was gentle and understanding as he asked, "You have panic attacks. Do you want to step outside or need me to get you anything?" His words were meant to be helpful, and Cassandra appreciated his concern. She cleared her throat and shifted slightly in her seat, her blush deepening. "I'm fine now," she reassured him, her voice steadier. "It was just a moment."

With those words, the waiter returned, placing an array of delectable starters and appetizers on the table—Tabla de Tapas Variadas, Gambas al Ajillo, and small plates for the shared dishes. Glancing up from the food, Cassandra found Spencer still watching her.

"It's been a while since I've been out like this," Cassandra admitted, her earlier embarrassment dissipating as she spoke. She chuckled lightly, recognizing her own tendency to ramble. "It's overwhelming, but it's not you, just me having a few too many emotions to handle at once, I think."

Spencer nodded in understanding, his warm smile never wavering. "I can relate; I work a lot," he admitted, his tone gently reassuring. Cassandra sensed that there was more to his story than what he was saying, but she appreciated that he was giving her an opportunity to steer the conversation in a different direction. "What kind of work do you do?" she asked, her curiosity piqued as they began to serve themselves.

"I work for the FBI, research mostly, and I also do a lot of traveling for my work," he revealed. Cassandra was aware that in a place like this, many people worked for the government, and they couldn't always reveal the full details of their jobs. There was something about Spencer Reid that told her he was more than just a researcher, but she wasn't going to press him for answers.

"I'm a writer," she confessed, her cheeks warming again as she shared this personal detail. She sighed softly, her nerves gradually easing as she continued, "I moved here to open a gallery." To her surprise, Spencer didn't seem put off by her work. Instead, they found common ground in their discussion of books and art history. Cassandra began to feel more relaxed, especially since these were topics she knew well and enjoyed talking about. It allowed them to connect on a deeper level as they continued to share their thoughts and interests throughout the evening.

As Spencer reached for the bill, his mind began to churn with a familiar flurry of thoughts and anxieties. He couldn't help but overanalyze every detail of the evening, from their initial meeting to Cassandra's panic attack. He wondered if he had said or done something to upset her, and it gnawed at him.

After settling the bill, they exited the restaurant together. The night was clear, and the soft glow of streetlights illuminated the parking lot. They walked side by side until they reached Cassandra's car.

Cassandra turned to him with a friendly smile, and Spencer's heart raced as he tried to anticipate her next move. She pressed a button on her car key fob, and the familiar sound of the car's locks engaging filled the air. It was such a simple action, but in Spencer's overthinking mind, it held a world of meaning. Did she want to end the evening quickly? Was she trying to signal that she wasn't interested?

His thoughts were racing so fast that he almost missed the next moment. Cassandra, her cheeks aglow, leaned in and kissed him gently on the cheek. Shock rippled through Spencer's entire being. It was a gesture he hadn't seen coming, and it left him momentarily stunned.

Cassandra pulled back, her eyes searching his for a reaction. "I hope to hear from you again, Spencer," she said, her voice carrying a mix of hope and sincerity.

Spencer's overactive brain was struggling to catch up with the whirlwind of emotions he was experiencing. He managed to stammer out, "I... I'd like that," his voice laced with genuine surprise and a touch of vulnerability.

As Cassandra climbed into her car and drove away, Spencer was left standing there, feeling like he had just stepped into uncharted territory. His analytical mind raced to process the evening's events, and he couldn't help but smile to himself. In that unexpected kiss on the cheek, he found a glimmer of hope and a promise of new beginnings, something he wasn't quite prepared for but was eager to explore.