Echos of a Genius | Spencer Reid

Fresh Meat

Stephie

It's been about a month since the whole ordeal with my father, get this, the bomb was inside him. He ate it. That crazy son of bitch. The damage to building wasn't bad, it wasn't good but it was fixable. It's pretty much all back to normal now. Spencer and I are back to our normal, barely speaking to each other, selves. Great.

"Who's that?" I lean over to Spencer since we're sitting at our desks, Derek comes over and leans against Spencer's desk.

"No idea," Derek mumbles and Spencer shrugs, not really that interested.

"She has a box." I point out and Spencer nods his head,

"Yes, she has a box." He looks up to Derek who is laughing a bit.

"Probably Elle's replacement." Derek shrugs and we watch Hotch walk out his office after JJ pops in and then leaves. We've got a case.

"Maybe not?" I nod up to the room where the woman stands, she looks disappointed.

Spencer is back to wearing his slutty glasses again, he wasn't wearing them for a while but he is now. I swear I cannot focus when he has those things on, i'm about to file a complaint about him.

Tell me how we go from having sex to not speaking, it's makes zero sense. I barely pay attention while going over the case, all I know is we're heading to St. Louis, Missouri.

The jet ride there were just discussing things about the case, mostly the case.

"Where are your glasses, Reid?" I tease him from across the table.

"In my bag..?" He looks at me confused and Derek walks by then nudges my arm to leave him alone. Sometimes I can't help but just drive him crazy.

"Reid, Foster," Hotch announces and we both peak our heads up from the case file.
"Take a look at the letter for handwriting analysis and psycho linguistics?"

"Yes, sir." I nod and so does Spencer, why am I always paired up with him. I know I was clinging to him in front of everyone during my father's case but it's been a month, I haven't even gotten close enough to touch his hand. Now I have to spend the rest of this jet ride talking to Spencer about a letter.

We go back to the corner of the jet, so no one else can really hear us that well, I'm not sure why we did that, it's almost like we knew something else would come up.

"How are you doing?" Spencer whispers as he sets a copy of the letter down on the table in front of us.

"I'm fine," I pick it up and stare at it for a moment before setting it back down.

Spencer's gaze lingers on me, probably dissecting every micro-expression I make, trying to read between the lines of my too-casual "I'm fine." He doesn't buy it—he never does—but he nods, as if he's accepting my answer.

"You seem...distant," he murmurs, almost like he's afraid of scaring me off. It's a delicate balance we've been walking lately, teetering between professional and personal, and somehow always failing to find a solid ground.

"I'm not distant," I say, focusing on the letter. "Just focused."

Spencer leans back in his seat, adjusting the collar of his shirt. I can feel his eyes on me, but I refuse to meet them. The silence is suffocating, every unspoken word between us amplifying the tension.

"I miss you, Stephie." he says, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers twitch, like he wants to reach out to me, but he doesn't. We're still on this jet, still surrounded by our team, still buried under the weight of everything unsaid. My breath hitches as I realize what he said, and I finally look up to see Spencer's eyes soften.