Innocence [ spencer reid x reader ] ✔

seven: anger

"Morning sunshines!"

You grin as you walk into the bullpen, a cup of coffee in your hand. You smile as you look at the faces of your coworkers, Morgan immediately closing his eyes.

"Fuck, you're too loud."

You giggle, sliding into your chair and twirling around to face them. "Aw, did you guys have too much vodka last night? I feel fantastic."

JJ looks at you with tired eyes. "I hate you."

"My head is going to fucking explode," Garcia pipes up from the little coffee area, turning around. She pushes her chunky sunglasses up her nose, taking a sip of her coffee. "Everyone please talk quieter."

Prentiss looks up from her desk, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. "Did you get Reid home okay?"

You nod, tilting your head as you look at her. "He was absolutely smashed. He got inside and in bed okay; I made sure he drank water."

"I'm sure you did."

Something in Prentiss' tone makes you narrow your eyes, holding her gaze until you hear the bullpen door open. You turn, watching Spencer stumble inside, clutching his bag. He meets your eyes, giving you a small smile before sliding down into his chair.

"Well if it isn't Mr. Big Shot," Morgan jokes, leaning back in his chair.

"How do you feel?" You ask him, flipping open a file on your desk.

"I actually don't feel too bad," he says, taking a large sip of his coffee. "A little headache, but it could be worse."

"Sometimes, I forget you're twenty-three. I hate you," JJ says, holding her head in her hands.

Spencer laughs. "I wasn't that drunk."

You raise your eyebrows. "Mhm, okay."

He shoots you a look and you grin before looking up as Hotch emerges from his office.

"Roundtable room. We have a case." He looks out at the six of you, a shadow of a smile on his face. "Good morning. I hope you're all in tip top shape for today."

Prentiss and Garcia groan, causing a laugh to bubble in your throat. You resist, standing up and following the team into the roundtable room. You sit, Spencer sitting next to you. Prentiss eyes you from across the table and you meet her gaze, raising your eyebrows, challenging her to say what she has to say. She looks away as JJ clears her throat.

"Serial in Atlanta, Georgia. Three men, all in their twenties, have been found dead, all show evidence of rape."

"Hm, isn't that rare?" You ask.

"Actually, one out of every ten rape victims is male," Spencer says. "Granted, only one point seven percent of the male population has reported rape, whereas women are at eighteen percent. Still...male rape alongside death is a little unusual."

"Sexual sadist?" Prentiss asks, looking down at the file in front of her.

"Sounds like it," Hotch says.

"Are the victims straight?" Morgan asks.

JJ looks down. "All single, all last seen at a popular gay bar in downtown."

"So the unsub is a male...I'm guessing he's struggling with his sexuality and taking out that frustration on other men," you say, tapping your fingers against the table.

"That's a good start," Hotch agrees. "Alright everyone, wheels up in thirty."

The team breaks apart and you set the file down on your desk. You look up to find Spencer's eyes on you and he smiles. You grin back and brush past him out the BAU doors. Your go bag is in your car—thank god you packed a new one this morning. You jog to your car, grabbing the bag and throwing the strap over your shoulder. Walking toward the doors, you hear someone call your name.

Turning, you find Michael leaning against a street lamp.

"Michael?" You ask, walking over to him.

"Hey, baby, I haven't heard from you in a while." He stands straight up, meeting you in the middle.

"So you just show up to my work?" You cross your arms. "And I'm not your baby. We're not dating."

"So you're not interested in me anymore?" He asks, his voice actually sounding hurt.

You sigh. "It's...complicated. I'm not interested in hooking up anymore, Michael." You avoid his gaze, biting the inside of your cheek.

"There's someone else, isn't there?" He asks, tapping his foot on the ground.

You don't answer, looking up to meet his gaze. His face scrunches, anger flashing across his face.

"Fine, I don't need a whore like you anyway."

"Whore?" You say incredulously, a brittle laugh ringing out around you. "Last time I checked, this whore made you her little bitch."

"I was pretending to like it so you could get off," he spat back, fists clenching.

"Oh yeah? It didn't look like you were pretending when I made your sad excuse for a dick cum in under a minute," you shot back, anger rippling through you. "You sure have some tough talk for a bitch with a small cock."

"You fucking bitch—"

"Y/n?"

"What?" You snarl, turning around to find Spencer holding open the door.

He's taken aback by your tone, his face turning red. "Uh...we're leaving soon."

You turn back to Michael, voice cold and steady. "Don't try to contact me again, asshole. If I ever see you again, I swear to god, I won't hesitate to pull your fucking dick off your body and shove it up your own ass." You start to walk away before stopping, turning your head, a smile on your face. "Although, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

You turn your head back around, walking toward Spencer, your heels clacking angrily against the sidewalk. You brush past Spencer, face stone cold. He closes the door and trails behind you, not saying a word. After a moment, you stop, Spencer running into your back. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asks, shuffling to your side.

You open your eyes, exhaling as you look at Spencer. "I'm fine. I'm sorry I snapped at you."

You continue the walk to the jet, not in the mood to talk. Spencer surprises you, his hand going to yours, lacing your fingers together. You debate ripping your hand away—someone could see. Thankfully, you're in the hallway leading to the jet, no one around. For a moment, you relish in Spencer's familiar touch. He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, and you turn your gaze to him. He smiles at your softly; you return it, thankful that someone seems to be on your side. As you walk through the doors leading out to the jet, you release his hand, walking up the ramp.

You sit near the back, resting your head back on the headrest. After everyone's filed in, Hotch speaks up.

"When we touchdown in Atlanta, Prentiss and Y/l/n, go the bar, see if anyone saw anything. Morgan and Reid, go to the dump sites. JJ and I will set up at the police station."

You lock eyes with Prentiss, keeping your face neutral as an unrecognizable emotion flashes through her eyes. You break your gaze, pushing your headphones in your ears and closing your eyes. You don't feel like socializing—your good mood has been flushed down the fucking toilet.

The flight feels long, even though it's just a couple hours. After the jet lands, you grab your go bag, shoving it in the back of the SUV. It's warm in Atlanta, the heat seeping through your black long sleeve shirt. You strap your gun to your hip before getting into the car. You drive, Prentiss in the passenger seat. The drive to the bar is quiet. You want to ask Prentiss what her fucking problem is—she's been weird since last night—but you're still too mad about the incident with Michael that you're afraid you'll fucking explode.

You parallel park outside the bar, Prentiss following you closely as you walk inside. It's not crowded—it's only 3:17 in the afternoon, definitely not peak "getting fucked" time. You and Prentiss walk to the bar, ignoring the stares of the patrons inside, coming face to face with a young man with curly blonde hair and brown eyes.

"Well, hey there," he says, a half smile on his face. "It's unusual to see two ladies here."

You hold up your badge. "I'm Agent Y/l/n, this is Agent Prentiss, we're with the FBI."

"The FBI?" The kid's eyes grow wide. "Why are you here?"

"We're here about some people who were murdered recently," Prentiss says, handing the pictures of the victims to the bartender. "Do you recognize them?"

The man's eyes scan the photos. "Uh, yeah, they're all regulars here. Nice guys. Why?"

"They were last seen here," you respond, tapping your fingers on the wood. "Did they leave with anyone?"

He shakes his head. "No...at least I don't think so. But, I mean, it gets pretty crowded here at night, so I can't be sure."

Prentiss slides him her car. "If you end up remembering anything, please call us."

The two of you look around the bar, noticing a side door that leads to an alley.

"If the unsub did leave with them," Prentiss says, "he could've led them through this door."

"It's big enough to hold a car."

You walk along the alley and something catches your attention. Squatting down, you wrinkle your nose. "Prentiss."

She walks over and nods. "Blood."

"I think we found where the unsub abducted the victims."

You and Prentiss drive back to the police station, finding the rest of the team already there.

"Did you find anything?" Hotch asks.

You take a seat at the table. "We found blood in an alleyway right next to a side door by the bar."

"It must be the abduction site," Spencer says.

You look up at meet his eyes, him giving you a small smile. He fiddles with his fingers, and you return the smile. The team confers with each other for a while; Hotch and Prentiss breaking away to go ask the families some questions, leaving the rest of the team with the geographical profile. 10 PM hits, and you slump over in your seat, groaning.

"My head is fucking mush," you complain, standing up.

"Everyone go to the hotel," Hotch says, coming back in the room. "We'll pick up where we left off tomorrow."

You sigh in relief, sharing the car with Spencer and Morgan. The drive to the hotel is short, each member of the team getting their own room. Once again, you and Spencer's rooms are next to each other. You whisper a goodnight to him before unlocking your door, collapsing into your bed.

After a few minutes, you get up, taking a shower. You try to wash the still lingering anger off of you, your thoughts flashing back to your conversation with Michael earlier. That mixed with the strange looks Prentiss has been giving you is driving you crazy. You dress in a tank top and sweatpants, leaving your room to go down to the little shop the hotel has, looking for little travel size bottles of rum.

"Can't sleep?"

Prentiss' voice behind you makes you jump, and you turn, holding several bottles of rum in your hands. You laugh softly, standing up straight.

"Not really. I have a lot on my mind."

You go to pay, the cashier putting the bottles in a small bag. Prentiss follows you out of the shop, on your heels.

"I'm sure you do have a lot on your mind."

You stop in your tracks, spinning around. "Okay, what the fuck is your problem?"

She raises her eyebrows, shaking her head. "I don't have a problem."

"Uh, obviously you do. You've been weird around me since last night."

"Care to tell me what you're doing, kissing a coworker?" She blurts out. "And Spencer, nonetheless.

Your laugh is humorless. "Spencer?! That's what this is about? Me kissing Spencer?!" You laugh again, louder. "Oh my god, that's hilarious."

"Last time I checked, we aren't allowed to date coworkers," she says, crossing her arms.

"First of all, we're not dating. Second of all, what Spencer and I decide to do on our own time outside of the Bureau is no one's business. It's certainly not yours." Your anger blooms in your chest. "We aren't breaking any rules—and even if we were, what? You'd go tattle on us to Hotch?"

"It's a danger to the team, getting emotionally involved with one another."

"It's not emotions, Prentiss. It's..." You hesitate. It's not sex—you haven't had sex with him yet. "It's a mutually beneficial arrangement between friends." You hold your hands up in front of you. "I've had a shitty day. I'm angry. I'm stopping this conversation. I'll see you in the morning."

You turn and walk away from her, pushing the button to the elevator so hard it's a surprise it doesn't break. You try to calm yourself down, taking deep breaths as the elevator ascends to your floor. The sharp ding hurts your ears and you go to your door, stopping outside of it, hand on the doorknob. You look at Spencer's door, then down to the rum in the bag, then back up. You need to drink. And you don't wanna do it alone.

You exhale sharply and walk to Spencer's door, knocking four times. After a minute, Spencer opens it, his face lighting up when he sees you. His hair is damp, a t-shirt and sweatpants covering his body. He clocks your mood and his smile disappears, furrowing his brows.

"Are you okay?"

You hold up the bag of little rum bottles, a grin on your face. "Wanna drink?"

Spencer looks at the bag, then back at you, a grin breaking out on his face. Opening the door wider, he nods. "Come in."

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Author's Note
Another filler chapter, but this one is really focused on the Reader's emotions. I wanted her to be really angry this chapter lmao. Smut is to come in the next chapter!
Thank y'all for the support here and on Losing Control, it's sweet! I appreciate y'all so much. My new tik tok is @/reidssbau, if ya wanna drop a follow. I love y'all!!