𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗦 𝗕𝗘𝗧𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗡 ━━ Spencer Reid

- Chapter Thirty-Three

Sitting on the white leather seats of the private jet, all Harper could think about was how much she would rather be anywhere else right now. She yearned for the comfort of a month ago, the warmth of her apartment and Boba curled up in her lap. 

In between bouts of anxiety-induced nausea, she gripped the edge of the seat and closed her eyes - willing her mind to think of anything other than Spencer in a jail cell. She thought back to her birthday - just a few days after Spencer had first started "visiting Diana". 

Harper wasn't the type that hated her birthday, she'd never had a bad one before and it was always nice to hear from family - but she had never liked presents. 

"I'm not just being polite," she insisted to Spencer in her memory, "I just don't need anything! I don't want extra stuff, just... write me a card. I love letters." 

"Actually," Spencer had replied with that familiar glimmer of excitement that always preceded one of his fact-dumping tangents, "the tradition of giving cards instead of tangible gifts can be traced back to the Victorian era. Greeting cards were seen as a more practical and intimate way to express sentiment without burdening someone with a physical object they might not need or want. The Penny Post, introduced in 1840, made it affordable to send cards, which popularized the practice even further. Of course, handmade cards predate that by centuries, but Victorians were particularly fond of sentimental gestures like writing heartfelt messages."

Harper remembered laughing at him affectionately, like she always did, and holding his face. 

"See? I'm just a Victorian at heart."

Spencer laughed too, adjusting his glasses. He always wore glasses at her apartment. Partly because she loved them, but he also told her that his contacts dried out his eyes but he sometimes felt self-conscious wearing glasses at work. 

The memory contorted her stomach into a feeling even more unpleasant than the nausea and Harper gulped back bile, her eyes opening again. Emily was discussing some details with Luke and Rossi that Harper frankly had no interest in right now. She didn't care about the story, had none of her normal curious instincts - she just wanted to see Spencer. Safe, home. 

She forced her eyes shut. My birthday, she willed the memory into her mind again, nails digging even deeper into the chair. 

Spencer grinned at her from the doorway, two coffees in each hand with a tote bag hanging from his elbow stuffed full. 

"Happy birthday!" he smiled, leaning down to kiss her forehead, nose and finally lips. 

Harper giggled, taking the coffee out of his hands. 

"Did you bring me breakfast?" she asked happily, her voice a little higher than usual and cheeks flushed a little more pink.

"Of course, your favourite."

"Almond croissants!?"

"Almond croissants." He confirmed, his cheeks a similar flushed pink. He followed her over to the couch, pulling the pastries in brown bags out of his tote, along with a colourful assortment of flowers. 

Harper was almost childlike in her gratitude, eyes twinkling as she took the flowers and put them into her favourite vase on the coffee table. "They're so perfect, thank you so much." 

Spencer smiled, brushing her hair behind her ears absentmindedly as he moved his bag between them on the couch, "There's one more thing."

She tilted her head in fake exasperation, not at all surprised that he had brought a present despite her refusals. He laughed, as if reading her mind.