All The Crime Show Imagines

The Brian and the Writer - Spencer Reid

I leaned against the kitchen counter, watching my sister YN expertly chop vegetables for tonight's dinner. Cooking was something she enjoyed doing and if she was happy doing so, she could make dinner whenever she wanted, I would never try to stop her. The rhythmic sound of the knife hitting the cutting board filled the air, creating a familiar and comforting ambiance around us.

"You know, YNN, I never get tired of this," I said, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "The quiet and tranquility of being at home, both of us in our own little worlds but still in presence of each other. It's quite... calming."

YN glanced up, her YEC eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and affection. "That it is. But knowing the chaos you and the rest of the BAU deal with on a regular basis, I try to keep the peace around the place. Besides, Spence, if our separate happy places are on totally different sides of the spectrum, then we have to meet in the middle somewhere."

I chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the room. "Are we calling this the middle? I could have sworn it was the kitchen."

She playfully nudged my arm. "Oh, so big brother is capable of having jokes of the normal perspective. This a new finding." YNN says with a grand smile placed upon her face. "I think I just might have to inform Derek of this newfound discovery within my own household."

We both laughed as she continued preparing dinner, the familiar scent of spices filled the room, intertwining with memories of our childhood. We had always been close, even when life threw its challenges our way. The mixture of scents from the sautéed vegetables and the chicken she had thrown together sent me back.

"YNN, do you remember when we were kids and mom used to try to make dinner as well as help with our homework? How she would almost burn the food every time?" I asked, a hint of nostalgia in my voice.

YN's laughter filled the room, bringing warmth to my heart. "Of course, I do! My stubborn ability to not do any kind of math was, I'm pretty sure, the bane of her existence. It's why I got into the habit of asking you to do my math problems for me on the bus going home. It was so much simpler for you to do the work and me copy it down, learning it in the process, and having actual edible food than it was watching our mother walk in circles from the stove to the table and back."

I smiled at the memory of it all as the words flowed from my little sister's mouth. There were so many times the house almost went up in flames because mom had left the food in the oven far too long while YN was getting frustrated with her homework. The girl had never been good at math or science, but she could recite historical facts or any piece of literature just as well as I could.

"You were always the brains, Spencer," she said, her voice brimming with pride. "Your mind was a puzzle-solving machine, even back then. I mean it still is. Look at you, Dr. FBI special agent Spencer Reid."

I shook my head modestly. "It was nothing compared to the way you took on the 'mom' role like it was nothing or the way you lock on to something if you find it even the slightest bit fascinating." I wave my hand towards where she was standing at the counter with ingredients spread all over and her phone on its stand at the far end that played a history podcast in her earbud that, undoubtfully, had since been paused when I started speaking because she didn't want to miss a detail. "Exhibit A. All of that and your ability to read people like it's nobody's business are things that you can do. I'm great at multitasking. I'm a genius for crying out loud but all that you do without even trying dares to surpass my degrees and training. On top of that, let's not forget that interminable book that you have been writing for almost 3 years."

YN paused her chopping, her gaze meeting mine. "It's not that long, Spencer. I just can't help but reread the work I have done on it and find something I need to tweak in some areas. It's a lengthy process but the book itself is not all that long," she explains and goes back to what she was doing beforehand. "Besides, I think we can both agree that though we are two totally different people, we understand each other more than anyone else will ever be able to. There are only a few people that can decipher your intelligent banter."

I felt a surge of love and gratitude for my sister, my best friend. We had shared so much together, both the good and the bad. From overcoming childhood bullies to navigating the turbulent waters of adulthood, we had always supported each other. I wouldn't have ever asked for a better sister than her, never will either.