wasted times- s.r

ELEVEN

Finishing up your appearance for dinner tonight, you adjust the tights under your skirt and smooth it down, making sure the shirt is tucked perfectly into the waistband. You decided on wearing a plaid pleated skirt, with a black long-sleeve tucked into it. Since it was a bit chilly outside, you add on a pair of black sheer tights underneath and a pair of Doc Marten boots, adding a few layering necklaces and a black jacket on top. You left your hair natural and spritzed your wrists and neck with perfume, grabbing a small clutch to toss your phone in and your wallet. Since it's such short notice, Rossi couldn't find any reservations at any of the fancy restaurants he insisted on going to, so he invited everyone over to his house for dinner instead.

You jog down to your car and start it, rubbing your semi-exposed legs together to keep them warm against the cool leather seats. You start the engine and back out of the spot carefully as not to hit any pedestrians or other cars parked as you follow the GPS directions to Rossi's mansion. You're not going to lie, you're definitely excited to see the place Rossi lives, and brags about constantly. And when you arrive, it is sufficient to say it most definitely lives up to your expectations. You park your car behind Will and JJ's and step out, ringing the doorbell beside the large front entrance.

Rossi appears on the other side, an apron tied around his waist as he welcomes you in, taking your coat and hanging it in a room near the front foyer. You take it upon yourself to venture further into the house where bubbling laughter can be heard, glancing around the hallway filled with expensive artwork as you approach the kitchen. Everyone has already arrived, except Reid, it seems.

You approach JJ, Will, and Henry first, giving them all a hug before moving to Garcia and Morgan, and Hotch last, who came with Jack. Rossi was behind the island, tossing something in the oven and wiping his hands on his apron, grabbing a bottle of wine from the fridge, pausing his ministrations when the doorbell rings again. It's most likely Reid at the door since you're sure Rossi hadn't invited anyone else to dinner except for the team.

You're surprised, however, when he doesn't come in alone. His arm is linked with nervous-looking brunettes, and you recognize her as the woman from the coffee shop, and from when she kissed Spencer in her car, making you want to gauge your eyes out after. She nervously glances at everyone, giving soft smiles as Reid greets everyone and introduces her.

"Pretty boy, who's this?" Morgan said slyly, gesturing to the very pretty girl on his arm. You wonder how Reid could have landed a girl like her-- not because he isn't attractive, but because he's a dick.

"O-Oh, uh everyone, this is Heather. My, uh, girlfriend." She goes around and shakes everyone's hands, instantly hitting it off with everyone. She even goes as far as to shake your own hand, even though she knows about your unspoken rivalry with Spencer, she doesn't show it. You put on a fake smile, ignoring the fact that this girl unsettles you greatly, but you can't be bothered to care. You're not the one dating her.

Reid goes and greets Henry and JJ, while Heather makes her way into the seat beside Morgan, looking a little too friendly for someone she just met. Morgan doesn't seem to pick up on it, which is surprising since he's a profiler. He doesn't notice the way she tucks her hair behind her ears, or the way she giggles just a little too loudly when Derek says something not even remotely funny, or the little flirtatious smirk she gives him over the rim of her wine glass. You roll your eyes and focus on the contents of your own glass, making small-talk with Penelope until Rossi announces that dinner is ready, and the group transitions into the dining room.

You aren't sure how, but you somehow get stuck seated across from the happy couple at the table, and it makes you want to vomit. You aren't particularly paying attention, but you notice the way she zones out slightly whenever Reid talks, or goes on a ramble, removing her hand from his for a moment and busying herself by taking a bite of the food or sipping from her wine glass. She isn't exactly a good conversationalist, and you realize this when she tries to talk with you, but her only topic of conversation seems to be the weather.