CLANDESTINE : Spencer Reid

54

I'm not late the next day, but everyone else is already here. They are swimming in work, piles of folders stacked on Reid's desk that I can see from the entryway to the bullpen. His files dangerously teeter over my desk, but they don't touch it. He glances up when he sees me. His nose turns.

Fuck. I'm so screwed. I won't let myself fall in love with him. It is absolutely unacceptable.

Reid looks away.

"Bouchard!" Morgan calls. My head snaps to him. "Aren't congratulations in order?"

My heart sinks into my knees. What exactly did Reid tell them? What exactly does Reid think happened?

"I don't..."

Morgan looks away from me, turning his head to JJ, who is leaning over Prentiss' computer, "you didn't tell her?"

JJ looks up at me. She presses her lips together, a smile in her eyes and nothing on her lips. I feel like I can breathe again.

"When would I have?" she glances at Morgan before back at me. Her shoulders rise and fall, the muscles in her neck so tight, "I'm pregnant."

I smile wide and do the routine of congratulating her. The father is that detective from New Orleans, which does give me a bit of whiplash, but she seems happy. It is something worth congratulating, and it at least hushes the buzzing in my brain. Reid didn't say anything. He didn't say anything because there isn't anything to say, and he knows it. I know it too. Nothing happened. I'm smiling for JJ and not looking at Reid. Nothing happened.

We sit down and get to work. The day flies by, since the team is so busy with all the documentation that accompanies bombings. We work and work, and then the next day they are gone, flown off somewhere again. It's another case, and more days gone, but after the weekend they are back and working again.

Work right now is slow for me, unlike how it moves for them. I want to book a trip somewhere. I spend my lunch break at my desk, browsing travel websites. I book the vacation time with Hotch for the week of June 20th, to go to Inverness. Estelle is more excited than I have ever seen her. She calls people on the phone every few nights to rant about it. I can hear her whispering through the walls.

But I'm looking at connecting flights from Scotland anywhere else in the world. I haven't booked it yet. At lunch, I try to eat a sandwich, but the bread just feels like a slimy ball in my mouth. It's shameful, trying to do this. I wouldn't tell Estelle until we are in the airport flying back. I can't tell Stéphane what I feel. I promised I would do better. I promised.

Sitting across from Reid, I am missing out on a good thing. He has a talk at Georgetown and I don't attend. I could not bare to step in a room just to listen to his voice. He is clearly annoyed; the team notice it too. When I enter the coffee room, Prentiss and JJ stop whispering. Maybe he did tell them. Maybe they think he's using again. Maybe he is. God, I can't do this anymore.

I end up booking a flight for this weekend.

I'm usually good at gifts. Maybe I'm not in the right headspace, but it feels like everything I do is an insult. It's the beginning of June now, a warm month, yet cold air fills the space between Reid and me. We aren't rude, but quiet. We're normal. We are the way I always wanted us to be. So, I make him coffee. I make him coffee on Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday, and I try to pour enough sugar for him. The smoky and nutty smell becomes sweet. For Spencer. It is left undrunk at the end of the day. He doesn't even dump it out. It just becomes colder and colder on his desk. On Thursday night, I work late and so I'm the only one left in the office. I touch the liquid inside his mug, and I swear the arctic wouldn't be as cold.