❝ But I'm only human
and I bleed when I fall down ❞
The Behavioral Analysis Unit team around Aaron Hotchner gets called in to assist on a serial killer case in New York where they meet the young and surprisingly talented Special Agent Skylar Brown...
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Skylar and Emily didn't lose another word about the previous night. Silence engulfed them even through breakfast. They blamed it on the massive hangover. Spoken words caused headaches, so they decided to stay quiet. It was a lie, of course. Skylar remembered every detail vividly — she doubted Emily had forgotten, judging by the way she stole meaningful glances at her during a share of pain killers. JJ and Garcia were so hungover, they didn't remember a thing about the events that had taken place. It was a fortunate coincidence.
Skylar felt the pressure of Emily's lips on hers long after she was gone. The silence drove her insane. Her thoughts spiralled down, down, down; an endless circle of overthinking everything. Had that kiss meant something, maybe? Had Emily enjoyed it just as much? Skylar hadn't kissed anyone for years before last night, so did the lack of experience make her a bad kisser or why did Emily refuse to address it? She herself refused to address the awkwardness of that dare, but if it meant anything still, Emily would've told her. Right? Right. Skylar groaned. Garcia had put them in quite a situation, one that seemed impossible to escape.
Emily kissing her wasn't so much about sexuality but the fact that her best friends had kissed her with such an intensity, one that would suggest deeper feelings, and it confused her. Spencer always sat in the back of her head, his perfect face, his perfect nose, and he smiled and it made her heart bloom. She knew there was something there. Skylar told herself to forget about it every day and yet he was there every second of every day, taking up space.
She had never thought about Emily this way before. The thoughts rummaging through her head scared her shitless, to say the least. A pure chaos of emotions. She needed to get it sorted, but how? How could she sort something she didn't understand in the first place?
The shrill sound of the door bell ripped her out of her temporary misery. "Oh sweet Jesus," she cursed. A knife impaled her skull and started to hammer against her brain.
There he stood in the building's exterior camera, dressed neatly as ever, shifting from one foot to the other. For a second, her finger hovered above the buzzer. Truth was, she didn't want to let him in. Her heart was drained cold. Out of all people, he was the last she wanted to see.
"Yes?" She asked through the speaker.
His eyes searched for the camera. "Hi, uh, it's me," he said. "And with me I mean Spencer. Reid."
"I can see that." Skylar chuckled.
A moment of silence. "Would you mind if I come in? It's getting kind of cold out here."
She did mind, but she couldn't have left him outside even if she had tried. "S-sure," she agreed. "Seventh floor, it's the apartment on the left." And she buzzed him in.
The elevator took approximately three minutes to arrive. Skylar held the door open. She couldn't breathe. Spencer's Converse barely made a sound. He crossed the hallway with ease and then he suddenly stood in front of her, tall and handsome and maybe a little bit disheveled. She gulped.
