All Of The Wrong Reasons

Chapter One: Roasted Coffee and Case Files

Spencer opened the door to the coffee shop and was greeted by a burst of warm air and the smell of roasting coffee beans. He took a moment to breath in that tantalizing scent, before quickly getting in line behind the only other customer in the shop. The shop, simply named 'Roasted,' was just a small family run shop that had only opened a few months previously around the corner from Spencer's apartment. He'd stopped in once on a whim and had loved both the atmosphere and the coffee. He was a bit of a regular now.

He glanced up at the menu with tired eyes while he waited for the other customer to finish up. He'd already decided what he wanted before he'd arrived, but it didn't hurt to see if something else would catch his fancy. Nothing did, though, and he went with what he'd already decided.

"What can I get for you, Spencer?" The barista asked. Spencer came in enough to be recognized by name and develop something of a friendship with the employees.

"Hi, Aimee," he greeted sleepily. Aimee was small girl with mousy brown hair and a quick smile. She was very friendly and very talkative. During one of his previous visits, she'd told him all about how she'd gone away to college, met a boy, fell in love, fell pregnant, gotten heartbroken, dropped out of school, came home to Quantico, and opened the shop with her mother. She'd said that she'd been very upset about having to leave school, but she loved this little shop and she loved her daughter more. "How's Jillian?"

"She as well as can be expected. She's starting to cut teeth and she's making sure the whole house knows how much it hurts."

The door to the shop opened and closed behind Spencer and he assumed that the lady who had been in line before him had left. "Sounds like you're all getting about as much sleep as me."

Aimee laughed. "I think we may be getting a bit more sleep than you, dearie. You look like hell."

Spencer smiled sheepishly. He's just completely his bimonthly hell week—also known as his Omega Heat—so it went without saying that he would look like hell. "I feel like hell, too."

"Have you found yourself a lover yet? Spend the night practicing making babies? Jilly-Bean could use some kids her age around here."

Spencer coughed embarrassed by her straightforwardness. No one had ever called Aimee shy or subtle. He ignored the question. "May I have a large caramel mocha with three shots of..." he broke off in a yawn, "Three shots of espresso?" He finished, a light blush coloring his cheeks. He yawned again. "Actually, make that two... two coffees, not two espresso shots," he added quickly in clarification. For some reason, it seemed more OK to ask for two coffees instead of six shots of espresso, but he really needed it.

For some reason this Heat had tired him out more than usual, probably because his body was tired of him being in the near constant company of two Alphas—one of which he was extremely attracted to and compatible with—and not bonding with one of them. Spencer mentally rolled his eyes. He would bond when he was good and ready and right now he was definitely not ready. To bond now would be just like what Aimee had done, put her life completely on hold for the sake of raising a baby.

Still, after another Heat spent alone—behind no less than four locked doors, an alarm system, and a security detail outside just to keep wandering alphas at bay—his body was extremely exhausted. He'd slept like a log the previous night but had woken more tired than before he'd slept. So, six shots of espresso was more than justified, especially considering it took two shots to get him normal functioning levels on a good day.

He had known ignoring his biological urge to mate for so long would begin to wear on him, but he'd been sure he could handle it. He wasn't exactly a normalomega, after all. Actually, Spencer Reid could not be called normal by any standards.