Hidden // Spencer Reid

Stop

I look at myself in the mirror. Blue eyes, black, shoulder-length hair, expertly applied makeup... but the girl looking at me is past all that. Her expression is that of worry; her lips turned downward in an indecisive frown. What is wrong with me? Why can't I forget Dr. Reid? I don't even know his first name!

I splash some more water on my face, then dry off quickly. Thank goodness I have waterproof eye makeup, or else I would look like a raccoon these days. I walk out of my bathroom. Just getting some groceries. Just getting dinner.

...

I unlock the door. "I'm home, Derek!" I call, stepping in with the grocery bags.

As I start to unpack the groceries, Derek walks out of the living room. He stops, a huge, mischievous grin on his face.

"What?" I smile, leaning back on the counter.

"Is that a cucumber?" He laughs, and I roll my eyes and groan.

I hate how he looks at everything. He's so sexual. Always looking at things in a dirty mind. "Stop." I command. He shakes his head and chuckles. He's so immature. It makes me want to strangle something. I turn around, gripping the counter as hard as I can. My knuckles turn white, and slowly, my anger drains away.

"Sorry, baby girl." He says, putting away the other groceries. I ease up some. But I don't like it when he calls me that. It used to be his nickname for Penelope, and I just don't understand the appeal.

I bite my tongue to hold back my comment. I turn around and continue putting away the groceries.

"So what are you making tonight?" He asks casually as he returns the cucumber to its spot in the fridge. Okay. Why does he assume the women always cook?

Okay, Alice. You need to ease up a little. Derek is a sweet guy. Not a sexist pig. You need to stop taking everything he says the wrong way. I stop gritting my teeth. I smile. "Garlic noodles, like the ones from P.F. Changs," I respond, and he nods appreciatively.

"Sounds good," he comments and leaves me to prepare dinner by myself. I bet Reid would have helped me..

Okay. I really need to stop.

I get the ingredients that Derek put away back out and start making dinner for the two of us.

"Oh, Alice?" Derek calls from the living room.

"Yep?"

"The team's coming over."

"Great. I'll prepare it for-"

"Eight."

"Thanks Derek!"

Wow, thanks for telling me sooner.

Okay. I. Need. To. Cut. This. Attitude.

I get out more ingredients. I'll make garlic noodles and a salad.

...

The doorbell rings. "I'll get it," I call as Morgan makes no sign of moving from the living room.

Reid. My eyes grow wide.

"Hello!" I greet him calmly, still blocking the doorway with my body.

He looks cornered. Not wanting him to leave, I open the door for him.

"Thanks." He mutters. As he disappears into the living room, I shut the door and slide down into sitting. I pull my knees close and rest my elbows on top of them, my hands in my hair.

What can I do? I can't act normally around him.

I need to stop. I need to pull myself together.

...


Emily sits down next to me in the couch. She finished dinner second. I finished first.

"Yes?" I ask knowingly.

"I just have some questions. Well, the team does, but I was sent to be the liaison." She explains quickly.

I laugh. "Are you scared of me?"

"Oh, no, of course not. But my team is a little shy sometimes," she tells me.

"Okay. Ask away." I nod, and she smile.

"Okay, first one's a relationship question. Aren't you a little-"

I cut her off. I've been asked this thousands of times. "It's not like there's a huge, huge difference. Sure, it's a bit of a gap. A bit. I'm 26, you know." I answer. I mean, I guess I'm a little young for Derek. But not by that much. Right?

"Okay, okay, then, what do you do for a living?" She asks.

"I work at Dominos. That's why I always cook. Because Derek thinks pizza carries over to all sorts of household foods," I say, a little jokingly. Mostly serious.

She nods. "I see. Um, family?"

I wince. "Maybe we can stay away from that topic, at least for now?" I ask politely.

She smiles apologetically and nods. "Of course. Now, don't get freaked out, but Garcia ran a background check on you. What did you study at Harvard? I'm sure you didn't want to end up a pizza maker, no offense.

I half-smile. "Actually, I majored in fine arts and minored in psychology. I know, I know. Very different. But, I kind of just do whatever I feel like, you know? I was a football player in middle school, and I even requested a tackle team. After some work, we got one. It was fun. In high school, I was prom queen, and I also had all AP classes. Then in college, I thought, hey, why not major in fine arts? Why not minor in psychology? So I did. I like to go big or go home." I explain. Emily's eyes widen and she nods.

"Interesting," she muses.

"Is that all?" I wonder aloud.

"Oh, no. I have one more. Do you feel comfortable with all of us?" She asks. Of course. Reid set this up.

I feel my face grow hot. "Well, I feel like Hotch is intimidating and Reid doesn't like me." I answer honestly.

She laughs. "Well, Hotch is very intimidating. And we all like you," she assures me.

"Thanks, Emily. It was nice talking to you," I say, standing up.