The Chariot (Spencer x Reader)

SIX

warning: mention of scars similar to self-harm, mention of addiction

Spencer had taken two weeks off of work to go visit his mom and the team continued going on cases in his absence. We had managed to catch three unsubs, but there was obviously something missing in the group dynamic, something only the brainiac fix.

We got back from the last case early on a Saturday evening. Someone suggested drinks like they always did when we got back at a decent time on the weekend.

I decided to join them, with nothing – or no one – better to do tonight.

Much to my surprise, I showed up to O'Keefe's to find Spencer sitting alone in a booth, head buried in a book. It takes a certain kind of person to bring a book to a bar, let alone actually reading it there. The team would've made fun of him for it, but I found it endearing.

I bypassed the bar and immediately went to sit across the table from him. "Hey! I didn't know you were back yet; how'd you know we were coming here?"

"Yeah, I just got back this afternoon. Morgan texted me a while ago, I'm honestly surprised you beat him here."

We both had stupid grins on our faces as I opened my mouth to ask how he was.

"Well, hey there, lovebirds." Morgan interrupted as he approached the table.

Shit. Did he know? We've been so careful at work, there's no way he'd know. I tried and failed to comfort myself as my mind raced through every possible way he could've found out.

"Oh, go talk to Garcia over at the bar," I quipped, trying to hide the truth behind his greeting.

"You want time alone, I get it," he winked at us before doing as I suggested.

The night went on and the whole team spent it laughing and shouting over the music. Even Spencer was drinking. Not knowing if I should be worried or not, I shook it off. He was an adult perfectly capable of making his own decisions.

At one point, I got up and excused myself to the bathroom, needing a brief break from the noise and socialization more than anything. I was washing my hands as I heard a knock at the door.

"Hey, it's me."

I cracked the door. "Spencer? Wha-"

He burst past me into the room. "I can't keep sitting out there and pretending I'm not thinking about doing this." He put his hands on either side of my confused face and pulled me in for a kiss.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and ran my fingers through his hair. The kiss was slow, like he was searching for an answer that only my lips could give him.

I prematurely ended the kiss. No amount of alcohol would make me want to have sex in a dingy bar bathroom. "Spence, we can't do this here, the team is right outside."

"I don't care." He kissed me again.

I allowed myself to kiss him back for a minute until I pulled away a second time, dropping my hands from his hair and taking a step back. "They'll notice we're both gone."

He looked at me angrily and I could tell he had a little too much to drink. "I don't care, y/n! I don't care! I almost died a few weeks ago and I missed you!" The anger now mixed with sadness and curiosity as he looked down at me scratching my arms.

"C-Could we not do this here? Let's just go back to your place and talk," I pleaded with him.

He barreled past my question as if nothing had left my mouth. "That's another thing! Why have I never been to your apartment? And why the hell do you keep scratching your arms?"