The storm comes out of
nowhere, the sky opening up and letting loose an ocean upon the city. He’s been
waiting for her just outside her office, and shifts quickly under the cover of
an awning to avoid getting drenched. Of all the days he doesn’t have an
umbrella with him, he thinks bitterly. The temperature is falling nearly as
fast as the rain, and Reid glances at his watch. Any minute now, she’ll get off
work. Any minute now, they’ll be able to go somewhere warm and dry and not
Each time the door swings
open, he turns to check, and each time it is an unfamiliar face instead. The
eighth time, it’s a face he recognizes, one that lights up upon seeing him.
“Spencer!” When her arms wrap around him, the cold air is no match for the
warmth he feels. Every time they touch, it’s like realizing he’s been missing a
vital part of himself all this time, and never realized it until that moment.
To hold her is to feel whole.
“I thought I would come
surprise you today,” he says. “Do you want to go out for dinner?” After a long
day at Quantico, he’s hoping y/n will say yes. Good food and good conversation,
shared with her, is one of the most surefire formulas to feel better after file
folders full of horrific crimes.
To his relief, Y/N
agrees. “Can we stop by my apartment first? I just need to drop off my work
things.” Her apartment building is nearby, only two blocks away. Neither has an
umbrella, and the way the rain is coming down they’ll need some sort of cover.
Reid shrugs out of his coat and holds it over them as they make a mad dash down
the sidewalk. Since his legs are longer, he has to slow his pace so as not to
leave her behind. Water is pooling on the ground, waves hit their heels with
every step, and before long both their shoes are soaked, the bottoms of his
pants are two shades darker than the rest, and his socks are starting to
By the time they reach
the door of her building, they’re both breathless from running, and she breaks
into laughter at the sight of him. Reid raises an eyebrow, but when he catches
a glimpse of their reflection, he can understand. It’s as though they’ve
stumbled through a hurricane, hair plastered against their foreheads, their
clothes soaked with rainwater, faces pink. So much for staying dry.
Inside it’s warm, and she
leads him up two flights of stairs to her apartment, kicking off her shoes as
he tries to shake the excess moisture from his coat. “I think I’d better change
out of these wet clothes,” she says, shivering. “I think I’ve still got some of
your clothes from the last time you stayed over. Want me to grab ‘em?” He nods,
grateful, and she disappears into her bedroom, leaving him to continue wringing
water from his coat and his bag. Only a few minutes later, there’s a crack of
thunder. The lights flicker ominously, and Y/N pokes her head out into the
“Just thunder,” Reid
assures her. But then there’s another clap, another flash, and the apartment
goes completely dark. On second thought, dinner might not be happening after
all. A quick glance out the window tells him that most of the city has gone
dark. The power is out. He finds his way through the dim apartment to her
bedroom to let her know.
Surprisingly, Y/N doesn’t
seem upset. Instead she smiles, her eyes shining in what little light remains.
“We don’t have to go out. We can just have our date here.” She tosses a bundle
of clothes at him. “It’ll be cheaper anyways.” Throwing a sweater over her
dress, she slips out into the living room in search of a flashlight, leaving
him to change into a pair of pants and a shirt that aren’t both cold and wet.
In the kitchen, he finds
her lighting tea candles with a match, the flashlight set on the kitchen
counter to provide some light there. “So what do you have in mind?” Nothing
could be made on the stove or with the microwave, and he wasn’t sure she had
anything in her fridge that didn’t need warming first.
“Oh! Right.” Y/N sets the
box of matches down, a ring of tiny candles glowing softly on the table. There is
a flurry of cabinets and drawers opening, and she triumphantly sets two plates
on the counter before gesturing to a row of food. “I haven’t gone grocery
shopping yet this week, but there’s enough to eat. On tonight’s menu, a retro
dish noted for its simplicity and nutritional value alike.” Skeptical, he
looks across the meager display. Bread, a jar of peanut butter, a
“Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I know it’s not
exactly gourmet dining.” She shrugs.
“What are you talking
about? This is the pinnacle of the cooking,” he laughs. Already he’s pulling
two slices of bread onto a plate and unscrewing the lid of the peanut butter
Y/N follows behind him
closely. “Well, that’s only because you can’t cook, darling.” He doesn’t
respond, knowing he can’t deny it. Two sandwiches join the ring of tea candles,
and Y/N tosses him a bag of pretzels.
It’s almost comical how fancy their dinner appears at first glance, until you
notice the meal and the fact that their wine glasses hold only water. It
doesn’t matter much to either of them though. Eating peanut butter and jelly in
a dim apartment is just as good as ordering a fancy dish at a restaurant. As
long as they’re together, it’s perfect. It doesn’t take long before she’s
telling him about her day, and he has her laughing at the prank he managed to
pull on Morgan. Her laughter is his favorite kind of music.
There’s no cleaning
required, thanks to the wonder of paper plates. Instead, Reid helps her to find
two bowls and a set of spoons. There’s a half-pint of ice cream in the freezer,
and she scoops the entirety out. “After all,” she says, “who knows how long the
power will be out? It might end up melting.” There’s logic to that reasoning,
and who is he to argue with logic? She leads him to the sofa, where they sit
side-by-side, working away at the mound of mint chip ice cream. There are a
great many things he loves about these long evenings with y/n, too many to
count. Perhaps the two he discovered earliest on was the fact that they could
talk for hours on end without growing bored, and the fact that when they
finally stopped talking, the silence was a comfortable one. They had more than
enough to say, but were more than content to just be in the presence of the other.
When their voices fell
quiet, the sound of the storm filled that space in the same way that his
fingers fit perfectly in the spaces between her own. Warm hands, dim light, and
two hearts beating softly in the dark. And then her mouth is against his, her
hands in his hair; and then they are lying against the couch, few gaps between
them at all. His lips make their way to her neck, and Reid has never been so
pleased with a power outage before.
“You know,” she says, the
words whispered in the sighs between kisses. “The metro might not be running.
Maybe you should just stay here tonight.” The previous statement is retracted,
he’s far more pleased with that power
outage now. He makes a mental note to appreciate storms from now on.
It takes him a few
seconds to respond, as the kiss she presses to his jaw has a habit of slowing
his thoughts significantly. “I think that’s a very good idea,” he manages to finally answer. No sooner have the
words left his mouth than do the lights all surge back on, a shock of brightness
that leaves him blinking until his eyes adjust.
She sits up, groaning,
clearly disappointed by the turn of events. But he thinks fast, leaping from
the couch and dashing across the living room to flick off the light switch.
“Look at that. The power’s out again.”
Y/N grins at him,
standing as well. “What a pity,” she laments. “I guess you have no choice but
“It would seem so. But I
don’t think I left any pajamas here last time.”
“Who said you would need
any?” Making her way down the hall, she beckons him towards her bedroom. It
doesn’t seem possible to follow her fast enough. Every cloud has a silver
lining, he supposes. And after every storm, comes something beautiful.