From the beginning living in towns that frowned at our handholding, we folded their stares like hate notes into our pockets, so we could pretend they weren’t there. You said, ‘fear is only a verb if you let it be, don’t you dare let go of my hand’
The next couple of weeks were tense. Hotch had grounded you to HQ, which made you jump to the assumption that Spencer was more needed in the field than you, and it only served to drag your spirits down more. You fielded random calls from your desk, helped Garcia whenever she needed an extra set of hands, took calls at 3 in the morning whenever you were dead asleep at an attempt to make you feel useful, and video-conferenced in whenever you felt you had something on the case.
Which was never, because it seemed that Spencer always came to those specific conclusions just before you called.
You had practically gotten used to the one-ring-hang-up noise from your phone.
You started to wonder if the team was even in need of you at this point.
Sitting at your desk, phone calls all ringing to voicemail, Garcia taps on your door.
“Y/N?” she asks meekly, your head slowly turning to her direction. “Hotch has been trying to get you on the phone. I wanted to come make sure you were alright.”
Sighing, you open up your laptop and video conference him, Hotch appearing on the screen with a very disapproving look on his face.
“Is everything alright?” he asks, his voice stern and his eyebrow high.
“Yes sir, just a little distracted,” you say, sighing with every word.
“Well, have you found anything looking thru the file and using Garcia as an aid?” he asks, a worried Spencer now emerging in the background, furrowing his brow as he sees how tired you are.
“No sir, I think between her and Spencer they have it covered,” you retort, your exhaustion finally getting the best of you.
Hearing Hotch sigh, his voice softens and he says, “Y/L/N, I know you’re upset about being at HQ, but until you can get your head back in the game, it’s safer if you’re there. You not only put yourself at risk, but you risk the lives of those around you, being as distracted as you are right now.“
“Oh, and Reid does have his head in the game?” you shoot back, seeing him visibly wince at you using his last name. “Like you weren’t complaining last week to Rossi about how distracted he was, and yet I’m still here and he is still traveling…which only tells me one thing.”
“And what is that?” he voice tenses, Spencer widening his eyes and shaking his head in the background, begging and pleading silently with you to stop.
“That you need to wrap your head around the fact that you’re not my father. You can’t force me to make time for an evening with someone to get to know them better, you can’t force me to not be distracted when the only thing distracting me is the fact that it’s clear that Reid is more of an asset to this team than I will ever be, and that you can’t force me to just ‘cheer up’ when the man that I have grown to love can’t even so much as look at me because of how far I’ve pushed him over the brink!”
Watching Hotch continuously blink, Spencer’s eyes widen in the background as you hear Garcia suck in a sharp breath of air.
Realizing what you just said and the tone you’ve said it in, you open your mouth to defend yourself.
You try to reason your way out, scanning thru your mental imageries in a last ditch effort to find some way of back-pedaling out of this horrid scenario you have, once again, created. But, with his hand raised, Hotch stops you in your tracks, closing his eyes and sighing before he proceeds.
“Go home,” he says.
“W-what?” you stammer.
And with that, the conference calls cuts, and you are left alone.
“Hotch…” Spencer says, taking a step towards him as Hotch spins around, looking him dead in the eyes.
“I don’t know what happened between the two of you, and I don’t know if what just flew out of her mouth is true. But whatever it is…go home and fix it.”
“But, the case-” Spencer tries to defend himself.
“Go. Home. Now. Fix it, and don’t come back until you do. Either of you.”
“Boss-” Spencer tries to change his mind.
As Spencer looks at Morgan, pleading for a ride back to the hotel, Morgan puts his hand on his shoulder and guides him out to the car.
“I need to get my things, and get to the airport,” Spencer says.
“It’ll be faster for you to just drive,” Morgan says, throwing Spencer the keys.
“Then why are you getting in to the car with me?” Spencer inquires, his brow furrowed.
“Because you’re going to tell me everything that has happened between you two in the span of the 15 minutes it will take to get us from this police station to the hotel, starting with the question: ‘What the hell have the two of you done?’“
Sulking onto the elevator, Garcia gives you a great big hug, along with promises to come over tonight with lots of wine and fruit to jumpstart a weekend of sulking. She tries to reassure you, telling you that at one point in time or another, they have all yelled at Hotch over something that they feel he is doing wrong.
Then, she tried to reassure you that, though it didn’t feel like it now, Hotch had always been right.
Sighing, you let the elevator doors close, your head pounding from the last few weeks, your mind whirling from the fact that you had just told off your boss via video-conference because you were angry at your fake husband for being more important than you.
Laughing in disbelief, you start towards your car, not understanding that a couple of hours away, Spencer was telling Morgan all about your wedding right now, in the hopes that someone, for once, would be on his side.
As Garcia sighs and turns from the elevator, she spots the envelope she had seen you give Spencer a couple of weeks ago, the contents of it sprawled out underneath all the paperwork on boy wonder’s desk.
Curiosity getting the best of her, she meanders over, slowly shifting the papers to the side as she gets giddy at the sight of pictures.
Picking them up, her eyes begin to widen as she realizes that the contents of the pictures are from you and Spencer’s drunken night, everything from the shots you drank to the wedding chapel…progressing with the two of you curled up in bed together, kissing furiously as you take pictures…and finally, ending with a loving picture of the you both with your foreheads pressed together, your wedding rings in the forefront of the picture with your fingers intertwined.
Picking up her cell phone, she dials Morgan’s number as fast as she can.
“Talk to me, baby girl,” he says.
“My sweet chocolate desire! Oh my god! I know what’s wrong with them!” she says, huffing into the phone as she tries to spit out all the words at once.
“Baby girl, breathe…breathe, sweetheart,” he coos.
“Didn’t you hear me, Morgan!? They got married!” she squeals.
“I know,” Morgan says as he waves Spencer off in the black SUV.