Up in Flames | Spencer Reid x Reader |

Chapter 11

Chapter 11: His Oedipus Complex

It would not stop.

It simply would not stop.

You did everything you humanly can to shut the boy's trap, but his mouth seemed to be running a marathon.

Fortunately enough, after half an hour into the drive, you gained the skill to tune out his gibberish. Yet, every once in a while, you'd glance over at Demetris to note that his expression had changed, meaning he was onto the next irrelevant topic.

Out of politeness, you nodded every minute or two, humming and saying things along the lines of "yeah, wow," or "that's so interesting," to not discourage the boy, but you were irritated by the fact that that was only feeding the flame. Eventually, after you had repeated the same sentence monotonously for the sixth time, the child caught on, immediately snapping, upset.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Of course, I am."

"Then what was I talking about?"

You glanced over to Demetris briefly, before returning your gaze to the road. "About how you stopped Mr. Deol's car with your mind before it ran over your bike."

"Oh . . ." The child muttered, his face brightening at the realization that you were, indeed, listening. The mind control story was a little more amusing than all the others. So you may have been attentive then. A smile inevitably crossed your lips. You attempted to make yourself look unapproachable so boy wouldn't get attached, but the child's innocence had made it a difficult to maintain that façade. "Where are we going?"

The question had brought your focus and priority back in line. "Mrs. Casha's house or—"

"Why?" The boy hollered; his tone more suitable for a "no!" than a question.

". . . Because. I have my reasons."

"What reasons?"

"Lower your voice, please."

"No! Tell me why first!"

"Demetris."

"Tell me!"

"Demetris!" You called, your voice twice as loud. "That's enough alright? Indoor voices. You can throw tantrums with your father, but not with me. I'm taking you to Ms. Casha's so she can play with you."

"But . . . I want to play with you," he muttered almost inaudibly. You gazed towards the boy who had suddenly gone quiet. You felt a twinge of guilt picking at you nerves. You had quite a long day, even though it only just started. The way both you and Spencer parted felt unceremonious, making you feel as though it might be the last time you'd see him again. With that troubling you, you felt as though you really didn't want to be around anyone. And even if you did, you didn't want to be around anyone that reminded you of your past.

Studying the boy and his features, which seemed to contort similar to the way you did when you were upset, you came to the decision that it was okay to give up just one day for him. He is your son after all. You could be nicer to him. With a scowl plastered on your face, you averted your route towards a quaint little dessert shop in the downtown area. And it wasn't until you were parked in front of the building did the boy's eyes fill with excitement once more. "We're getting ice cream?"

His sing-songy voice replenished that foreign sensation of giddiness again. With a nod, and a skip, the two of you were basking in brain freezes and vanilla flavored mustaches. When the mood had lifted once again with the aid of a sugar rush, you were surprised to see that the child looked . . . upset. "What's the matter?"