TW: smut (you can skip the part marked by dots if you don't wish to read it)
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Spencer Reid had been falling in love more and more each day, with every glance, every smile, every word said to each other, every drive home, every minute spent together. Eleanor Beaumont had been growing more and more fearful each day, with every question, every detail, every case, every minute he'd learn more and more about her. It wasn't that she didn't like him. She simply liked to take her time, build trust to allow herself to open up to him. The speed factor consisted in his profiling skills. He started to decipher her, little by little. She was aware that it was only a matter of time when things won't become so logical in his head, when his little frown will make him ask her more questions and when she won't be able to answer them to his liking, he'll start asking himself. Others. That's the moment when everything will become beyond her.
For now, all she could do is maintain the veil she'd built. She cleaned up her whole apartment of things that could be incriminatory. Questionable. All her files were locked in drawers. All her personal belongings were hidden in boxes. All her open bottles were taken out. All her glasses were washed. The bitter alcoholic taste of her supposed coffee mug was now flooded with peppermint tea. She was washed up, her clothes were clean, her hair was still damp, her cheeks were still blushed from the heat. She seemed pure. Seemed.
Taking one last look around the apartment, she then hurried up to open the door at the sound of a sudden ring, a tall, slender man carrying a paper bag that seemed heavier than expected greeting her with a prominent smile. She invited him in, indulging in savoring a longing kiss, melting between his arms after closing the door. "I brought you something," he confessed excitingly, slightly lifting the bag to her visual field. He hastily offered it, rushing her to check its contents, a mass of DVDs flooding more than half of the paper bag. "I remember you said you've never watched Doctor Who and Lord of the Rings so I brought them both, just in case." Of course Spencer would remember such detail. Excepting his extraordinary memory, that very moment shocked its core, such cinematographic staples of his being so casually ignored by her. Her. His girlfriend? How should he call her? Since then, he insisted until she obliged to watch all his fantasy favorites.
"Okay, okay, but first," she giggled at his enthusiasm, taking his coat and laying it on an armchair in the living room. "Can I get you something to drink?" She headed to the kitchen, taking her mug with her, yet, when she turned around, her stomach shrunk at the sight of Spencer checking around her living room. For him, it was the first time he'd actually gotten a better glimpse at it, all the ample, imposing paintings on the walls, another one filled with books of all sorts, a few stacks laying around the room, the characteristic dark blue paint. "Whatever you're having is fine."
She smiled, forcefully, trying to get herself to move away from the kitchen countertop to the tea pot, her stiffness being unnoticed by his curious eye that roamed around the large room. "Your apartment has such a strong personality," he turned around to her in awe and she once again forced another smile before succeeding into pouring him a cup of tea.
