Like Real People Do

Chapter 6: Before those hands pulled me from the earth?

You wake up the next morning to knocking at your front door, Garbage immediately running out of the bed in search of the sound, probably hoping it was someone with food.

You groggily walk to the door in your pajamas and open it, it's Spencer. Standing in his typical cardigan over a dress shirt, messenger bag clenched tightly in his grasp.

"Spen, what're you doing here?" You ask, sleepily.

"I-uh, I know today's going to be rough, I just thought you maybe didn't want to go in alone." He says, nervously. "It's stupid, I'll just go-" He starts to turn but you grasp his wrist, tugging him down so you could peck his cheek, you smile at the instant blush that spreads across his cheeks.

"Thanks for thinking of me but I still have to shower and get dressed. Do you mind making coffee?" You ask, Spencer shakes his head no before walking to where he knew your kitchen was.

You go into your bathroom and undress slowly in front of your full length mirror. It had been a big selling point when they showed you the apartment, but you kept covered it in newspaper the second you moved in. You hated your reflection, often reminded you of that night and your time with Gabriel. Large raised scars adorned your abdomen and sides, and if you could turn and see they'd be all over your back too. Stray tears fell from your face. Your mom would always tell you how beautiful your skin naturally was. How women her age would pay just for their skin to look like yours again.

You knew she'd be disgusted with how it looked now.

You sighed heavily before stepping into the hot stream of your shower.

When you come out, you dress blandly in a simple gray button up black slacks and blazer. You put your hair in a tight bun and opt to wear your glasses instead of trying contacts. Typically, this is boring and not your style at all but Hotch and Rossi had briefed you on how you should dress and act today. To look exactly the opposite of what attracted you to him in the first place, to be sensible and adult.

You come out and Spencer is leaning against your kitchen counter, sipping from a mug with one hand and petting Garbage who was sitting happily on the counter next to him. When he sees you, he smiles and hands you another mug. You cautiously take a sip. It's made exactly how you like it.

Of course it is.

You lean against the other counter across from him and listen absently as he tells you facts about cats, still affectionately petting Garbage. The whole thing feels domestic and scarily, right. Normally, you get antsy when people are comfortable in your space but Spencer just seems to fit. Like it's exactly where he was meant to be.

"Are you ready to go?" He asks as a while. You had almost forgotten why he was here in the first place. You nod, and the two of you walk outside to your car.

You drive silently, Spencer chatting amicably in the passenger seat. You could tell he was trying to distract you, you welcomed that. It was only a matter of time before you saw the entrance to the FBI parking garage.

You drove straight past it.

"Uh, Y/N... That was the turn." He says, warily.

"I know, I just needed to circle the block really quick." You say, He nods understandingly, You blow a breath as you circle the block. You see the entrance in sight.

You drive straight past it again.

"Fuck!" You swear. "I've got it this time, I swear."

"You can take your time, Y/N/N." Spencer says, softly.

"No, I can't!" You say, looking over at the man next to you. He looks at you with a soft expression. "And God, stop looking at me like that."