Wicked Game

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Spencer Hastings drives through the quiet streets, the city lights casting a warm glow over the interior of the car. Spencer Reid glances at her from time to time, each stolen look revealing another side of her he's only just beginning to understand. She's leading this night on her terms, and for once, he lets go of his endless need to analyze and just... observes.

The drive is a mix of comfortable silences and moments of Spencer Hastings stealing glances at Reid. Each time, she catches him choosing a song or fiddling with the radio, and she's surprised by the warmth that rises in her chest. She's used to being guarded, careful with anyone who might see the cracks beneath her polished surface. But here, with Reid's quiet presence beside her, she feels something different—a strange, unfamiliar urge to let him in, even just a little.

For a few minutes, they sit in a silence that feels safe. The faint hum of the engine and the gentle sounds of the city outside create a cocoon of intimacy, where words aren't necessary. Spencer Hastings's hands grip the wheel a little tighter than necessary, and Reid senses her unease, the tug of words she seems reluctant to speak.

Eventually, he decides to break the silence, leaning forward slightly. "If I hadn't joined you," he asks, keeping his tone casual, "where were you planning to go tonight? I assume you had a place in mind, by the way you were leaving the house."

For a moment, her gaze flickers to him, hesitant. She shifts in her seat, her eyes on the road but her mind clearly somewhere else. "Honestly?" She pauses, as if weighing her words. "I was considering going to an AA meeting... one I'd heard about but never got around to attending."

Reid's heart clenches. He understands, in ways she probably can't imagine. He's well acquainted with the weight of that decision, the courage it takes to admit the need for help—even if only to yourself. He nods, keeping his voice soft. "No quizzical glances? No questions about addiction or trying to read into my behavior?"

He offers her a gentle smile, one meant to show her he isn't there to judge or pry. "I'm off the clock tonight," he says. "Just Reid."

Relief flickers in her eyes, and she lets out a small sigh, her shoulders relaxing a fraction. "Great."

A few more moments pass, and she suddenly pulls the car over to a small park, glancing down at her phone as she searches for an alternative plan. "It's too late for any decent meetings now. But..." She pauses, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "Lucky you, Doctor Reid. We've got ourselves a 24-hour carnival near RFK Stadium. Ready to eat some terrible popcorn and shoot at plastic ducks?"

Reid's lips twitch into a grin. "If it helps you sleep."

She raises an eyebrow, and for a moment, something unspoken passes between them—a shared understanding, a silent acknowledgment of how hard things have been. She doesn't press him on his meaning, and he doesn't elaborate. Instead, they drive in easy silence to the carnival, letting the night unfold with a new sense of lightness.

Spencer Hastings parks the car near the small, glowing carnival set up close to RFK Stadium. The twinkling lights against the dark sky create a magical ambiance, one that seems to lift some of the tension they've been carrying. Reid breathes in the cool air, feeling a slight thrill at the sight of the Ferris wheel slowly turning, its lights reflecting in the puddles left from an earlier rain.

As they walk toward the entrance, Spencer Hastings leads the way with a playful smile that makes her look years younger. Reid catches her smile, and for a moment, he's struck by how different she looks—so far from the guarded, tense woman he first met.

"Terrible popcorn and plastic ducks," Reid repeats, amused. "I'm in."

The carnival lights illuminate the night in a dazzling array of colors. Spencer Hastings feels a pang of nostalgia as they step through the entrance. The smell of funnel cakes and fried foods fills the air, mingling with laughter and the faint strains of carnival music. They're surrounded by people, yet this night feels like theirs alone, as if they've stumbled into a world separate from everything that normally weighs on them.