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It takes a while for the team to adjust to having a cat around, but in the end, it’s not something they regret at all.
“You alright?” Hotch asks when they found Spencer standing there in that barn in Washington uninjured and Ms. Barker dead in the hay.
Spencer nods in confirmation. Their attention is drawn to the white cat curled comfortably on his shoulders when it meows into Spencer's ear. He flinches a little at the unexpected sound. “Right, this is Iris.”
“She seems to have taken quite a liking to you.” Hotch points out unnecessarily.
“Yeah,” Spencer agrees lamely. “She did that herself," he says, referencing her perch on his shoulders.
“Alright, let’s get you back to the hotel. I’m sure Morgan is waiting anxiously for us to return.”
“Morgan,” Spencer says, feeling guilty for having forgotten about him. “Is he okay?” He starts to follow his team out of the barn, leaving the local police to deal with the aftermath.
“He will be just fine,” Hotch says, looking at him curiously. He stops abruptly, and Spencer stops beside him, curious. “Look,” Hotch begins, his voice gentle and placating. “I know you’ve already named her, and I'm sure she's great, but you’ve got to leave the cat here.”
Iris hisses at the suggestion, loudly and clearly stating her distaste for the idea. Her tail lashes aggravatedly, and she stares at Hotch with narrowed, icy blue eyes, her disdain written clearly across her features.
Spencer lets out a nervous laugh. “She’s a little protective.” She licks at his hair again, and this time the unexpected sensation doesn’t bother him as much.
“Fine,” Hotch says. He's too tired to deal with something like this. “But she is your responsibility, and if she becomes a nuisance, then you’ll have to get rid of her for real.”
Spencer nods, and Hotch turns away, heading back towards the car. It was too late at night for bullshit like this.
_____ _____ _____
Of course, at first, they were a little wary of her being around. It’s not every day the BAU returns home from a case with a fuzzy new friend. It even seemed that despite Spencer’s strong bond and Iris’s protective nature, it took a few weeks for them to properly warm up to each other. So, it was only natural that there was a bit of a strain on the working relationship, with the propensity for a moody white cat to pop out of nowhere. It was only after she ended up catching onto some details that they didn’t that they started to trust her.
When they take a case in South Carolina dealing with a series of serial murders, they only take Iris along because she doesn’t let them leave her behind.
“That has got to be the most stubborn animal I have ever seen.” Prentiss comments from where she sits on the plane.
Spencer has promised that he locked her in his apartment, worried for her safety when going out in the field, but she had apparently found a way out and smuggled herself aboard the plane. Iris now sits in Spencer’s lap, looking at the stunned members of Spencer's team with a look that can only be described as smug. Spencer pets her absent-mindedly while looking over his physical copies of their case.
When they land, she takes her customary perch on his shoulders, and the team strolls into the police station, trying to look as professional as they can with one of their agents sporting a cat like a scarf. They talk to the receptionist at the front desk and two other police officers before meeting with the sheriff, and Iris sits calmly on Spencer’s shoulders, surveying her surroundings with disinterest. She’s so quiet, in fact, that the team seems to forget she was even there until they step into the sheriff’s office. The sheriff doesn’t even have time to finish standing from his desk when Iris is tensing and hissing loudly. Everyone startles and turns to look at Spencer, where Iris arches her back and lets out an unpleasant growl.
“Reid,” Hotch says, his voice thin and his posture tense with embarrassment. “Get her out of here."
Hotch turns to apologize to the sheriff as Spencer quickly throws himself back through the office doors, taking Iris with him. He catches the end of the sheriff’s polite reassurance, and the door slams shut behind them. Iris calms almost immediately but eyes the office door with potent distaste. Spencer hurries through the rest of the building and busts out into the hot South Carolina air.
“What was that about?” He exclaims almost frantically, moving around the corner to the side of the building and crouching down on the ground to let Iris hop off his shoulders. She settles into a sitting position in front of him, and he glares at her. “You’re not making this easy for yourself, you know. Now they’re definitely not going to let you come with me on future missions. Even if you sneak aboard, they’ll just lock you on the plane. Or worse.” He sighs and lets himself fall back into a sitting position.
Iris meows at him.
“I know you can’t talk, but Cas said you were intelligent. Certain we can figure out some sort of way to communicate.” He thinks for a second. “How about this?” He sits criss-cross and stretches his palms up out to rest one on each knee. “This one.” He says, holding up his right hand slightly. “For ‘yes’ and this one,” he holds up his left hand, “for ‘no’. Will that work for you?"
She walks forward and nuzzles against his right hand.
Spencer smiles. “Okay. Hopefully, that was you understanding me and not just a fluke.” He worries aloud, like he still hasn’t processed that he’s come into the custody of a magical cat. She nudges his right hand insistently. “Alright,” He can’t help but laugh. “Forgive me for being cautious.” He’s been doing his best to treat her like an equal sentient being, but sometimes it’s hard to remember that she’s not just a cat.
“So, you don’t like the sheriff?"
She nudges his hand to say yes.
“Is there anyone else in there you don’t like?”
No.
“So just the sheriff?”
Yes again.
“Why? What's wrong with him?” Spencer thinks out loud. Iris stares at him like he’s stupid. Certainly, he hasn’t forgotten the parameters of the communication system he’s just established. “Right,” Spencer says sheepishly. Yes or no only. Is he mean to animals?”
She bumps into his left hand repeatedly, as if saying, no, no, no, you’ve got this all wrong.
“Okay, not related to you then. Related to the case?”
Yes.
“Is he lying to us? Withholding information?"
Yes, yes, yes! She rubs against his right side emphatically before hopping into his lap.
He grins and laughs as she cuddles against him. “Okay. Thanks for letting me know. I’ll see what the team found out and keep an eye out for him. Can you promise not to cause a scene if I go in there with him again?"
Iris lets out a disapproving sound but eventually nuzzles into the right side of his face.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He says, scooping her into his arms and standing to his feet. He makes his way back towards the front of the building and meets up with his team, which is exiting through the front doors.
Hotch eyes Iris warily. “Did you get her calmed down?” he asked, obviously still annoyed with her outburst.
“She promises not to do it again,” Spencer reassures. “What did you find?"
Hotch sighs. “The sheriff didn’t have much else for us to go off.” He admits. “There’s not much that they can find to link the victims.”
“Wierd.” Spencer notes, “given that it’s such a small town. Normally everyone knows everything about everyone in tight-knit communities like these. I’d like to go in and talk to the sheriff myself, if you don’t mind.”
Hotch raises an eyebrow. “I’m not letting you go in there to have her freak out again."
“I promise she won’t,” Spencer says. “I think she was just feeling overwhelmed. It’d be nice if we got the chance to apologize.” He says, though it's not entirely true.
Hotch sighs. “Fine. but if she goes crazy again, you’re getting rid of her for real," he threatens.
It’s a testament to her control, because Iris does nothing more than shift in his arm, dropping down onto the ground and rubbing against Spencer’s left leg, a firm no, no, no . Spencer stifles a smile. “Of course.” He turns to head back into the building, and Iris trots happily along after him.
Spencer knocks on the door to the sheriff’s office.
“Come in," the sheriff calls, and Spencer does so, allowing Iris to slide in behind him before shutting the door again.
“Hi there,” He only has to mildly fake the apologetic look on his face. “I just wanted to apologize for earlier. Iris is my therapy cat; she’s usually very calm, but she must’ve gotten overwhelmed."
“That’s alright," the sheriff reassures. “Animals have never liked me.” He says, as if it’s a funny joke, laughing. Spencer joins in half-heartedly but feels something uncomfortable stirring in his gut.
“Did you know that it’s been scientifically proven that animals can sense a person's mood or demeanor? It’s pretty easy for household pets like cats or dogs to tell when a person is relaxed, happy, anxious, or hostile.”
“Is that so?” The sheriff asked, his friendly demeanor slipping some.
“Yeah, cool, right? Anyway, my team already went back to our hotel to look into this case more,” Spencer lies, knowing his team is waiting outside for him. “I just wanted to stick around and see if I could find out anything else."
“What are you implying?"
“Well, is there anything you can think of that could help us with this case? something that you might have left out?"
“What do you know?” The sheriff asks, his tone dark, and Spencer is honestly surprised at how quickly his manner has shifted. Iris paws at his left leg, a frantic no, no, no! “The rest of your team had no suspicions of me. What do you know that informs you otherwise?"
“I wasn’t trying to imply—“ Spencer stutters out, eyes wide with panic at the aggression that has seeped into the sheriff's tone.
“I won’t have you stop me!” He roars suddenly, attacking Spencer with a growl and knocking him to the ground. He’s got a knife that Spencer isn’t sure when he grabbed and instead focuses on not getting stabbed. Iris yowls, jumping on the sheriff, hoping to draw the attention of the others and distract the sheriff from hurting Spencer.
“Damn cat!” The sheriff yells, shaking his leg to try and get her off. “This town was running just smoothly before you all came along. Anyone who had a problem would come to see me in my office and never complain again. Anything bad that happened would go away when there was no one else to complain about it.” He snarls, finally dislodging Iris and turning back to attack Spencer. “Then you had to come in and fuck it all up. Sticking your nose where it doesn't belong.” Iris yowls again, and finally, the door to the office swings open, revealing Hotch and Prentiss.
They don’t expect to see the scene in front of them and the reprimand that Hotch had died on his lips as he sees Spencer with a knife at his throat, already bleeding a little. They manage to pull the sheriff off of him, and Hotch drags him out of the room with the help of other police officers. Iris settles herself next to where Spencer lay on the floor, chest heaving. She nuzzles into the right side of his face as if to reassure him, and he reaches out a shakey hand to pet her.
“Jesus, Spencer,” Prentiss says, tucking her gun away and coming over to his other side, helping him to sit up. Any sign of the cut on his throat is gone, and she wonders for a second if she imagined it. “You could’ve told us that he was the killer, and you could’ve confronted him with backup."
“I wasn’t sure.” He admits. “Iris knew something was off about him, and I just figured he was giving us all the facts. I didn’t know that meant he was the one killing all these people."
“Hotch owes you an apology then, huh?” She says, only half-joking. “She’s a better profiler than all of us.”
“He better apologize to her, not me,” Spencer says sincerely, and Iris meows in agreement.
“In the future,” Prentiss says as she helps him to his feet. “I think I’ll listen to the cat.”
_____ _____ _____
There was no more talk of getting rid of Iris. They were still getting used to her presence; she was a cat after all, but Spencer kept a watch out for any subtle ‘yes’ or ‘no’ warnings she was giving him.
One such occasion was when the team gathered around a corkboard in the conference room. They are trying to figure out where the unsub might be hiding based on the locations of the dead bodies that have been found.
“It’s quite possible,” Spencer says, motioning to the board. Iris relaxes on the table nearby, keeping a watchful eye on him as he flitters around the room. “that the unsub is operating from here.” He sticks a pin to mark an abandoned warehouse that shut down recently due to unsafe practices.
“That would align with the rest of the profile we’ve put together for them,” Prentiss says, nodding thoughtfully.
“And it would explain why they’ve been able to get away with so much.” Morgan agrees.
Iris stands to her feet while they are distracted with their theorizing and goes over to the board, batting at the red strings until the pin that Spencer just placed falls to the ground.
“Uh, Spencer?” Morgan asks, and the team follows his gaze over to where Iris stands in front of the board.
“Right, sorry.” Spencer apologizes, unable to stop the feeling of embarrassment from welling up in his chest. “I’ll just…” He picks her up from the table and sets her on the ground, where she can no longer reach the board.
“It’s alright, Spencer.” JJ reassures, “She’s just a cat, after all."
Spencer picks the pin off the ground and goes to place it back where it was before when Iris rubs against his left leg. He stops and stares down at her. “What do you mean, no?"
The team has gotten used to Spencer talking to Iris like she’s just another human, and while they’ve come to understand their yes/no communication method, they still aren’t sure how he taught it to her.
“What, Reid?” Hotch asks, trying to parse what is going on.
“She disagrees.” He says seriously, and Hotch sighs a little, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.
“Hear him out,” Prentiss protests. “She saved his life a couple of months ago on that case in South Carolina."
The team turns their attention back to Spencer, who had been tuning them out almost entirely. “What do you think?” He asks Iris, bending down to pick her up in his arms. He brings her close to the board, and she stares at it for a moment before batting at a local community college. Spencer sticks the pin there, and she meows at him, rubbing against the right side of his face. He smiles without really meaning to and kisses her on the head before setting her back down on the table. “Thank you.” He tells her before turning back to the board.
The community college in question is still central to the scenes of the crime and is only a few blocks away from where the abandoned factory sits. “He could be a student.” Spencer posits, the new information causes pieces to slide together in his brain. “That would explain the irregular hours. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to look over the school’s roster to see if any of them fit our profile.”
Later, when Garcia digs through the community college’s records and they use the information to stop their unsub before he kills again, Iris does nothing but meow contentedly from her spot on Spencer’s shoulders.
_____ _____ _____
After having her help them solve cases twice now, Hotch’s final rule was to have her registered as an official FBI service animal.
“I’m not trying to take her away from you,” Hotch reassures. “I just need this to be all official so someone doesn’t decide to bust our ass about it. Spencer agreed, figuring that it was the next logical course of action. Iris disagrees.
Iris meows at him discontentedly.
Spencer sighs, “I know you’re intelligent,” he explains from his spot on the floor in front of her. “But you have to prove to the FBI that you are, or they won’t let you keep coming on missions with us. Right now, they just see you as a glorified office pet."
Iris looks at him, continuing to be unimpressed.
“I’m not saying you are,” Spencer reassures, ignoring the awkward look from the agent here to provide her certification. “You just have to do what he says for a bit, and then you can go back to doing whatever it was you were before."
He gestures over to the other agent, and Iris hisses at him.
“He’s plenty trustworthy.” Spencer counters, rubbing his hand over his face. “Don’t try that with me. Now will you cooperate?” Iris meows again, and Spencer takes it as a yes. He turns to face the other agent. “Sorry about that,” he says, feeling sheepish but also starting to feel frustrated for constantly having to apologize for Iris, especially when he doesn’t mean it. “I think she’s ready now."
“No problem.” The other agent reassures. “Iris, come.” He says, and Iris begrudgingly stands to her feet and walks over to the other agent, settling into a sitting position at his feet. She stares over at Spencer like this is the stupidest thing she’s ever done, and suddenly Spencer just feels bad for her.
She didn’t ask for this. Sure, she had consented to it, but her life could’ve been so nice and peaceful without constant death and sitting through his nightmares. Maybe Spencer should’ve turned down Cas’s offer. Maybe he should stop this test right now and give her up, leave her to roam free, or gift her to someone with a normal life.
In all his spiraling panic, he doesn’t notice Iris ignore the other agent’s instructions, abandoning the test and walking over to shove herself into his arms. He hadn’t even realized that his breathing had picked up and that he had been rhythmically squeezing his hands in an attempt to comfort himself. Her fuzzy fur against his bare skin ground him a little, and he reached up to pet her. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he says, and she just nuzzles against him, purring reassuringly. He feels the warm sensation that he now understands is a part of the grace that Castiel gave her, which winds its way through his body and calms him down. “Do you want to leave?” He asks her, despite the fear that races through his chest at the thought of being alone once more. “Do you want to not be with me anymore?"
She bumps against his left side adamantly, as if implying he was stupid for ever thinking anything of the sort.
“Excuse me, Dr. Reid?” The other agent asks, obviously hesitant to interrupt. Spencer jolts, having forgotten that anyone else was there.
“Yes?” He asks, trying to regain his composure and ignore the fact that he freaked out in front of a practical stranger.
“You’re all good to go now.”
“Oh,” Spencer says, feeling crestfallen. “Do we need to reschedule? I promise I’ll have her on her best behavior next time.
“No, no.” The agent rushes to explain. “She performed exceptionally well. I’ll need your signature at some point, but I will have to process some paperwork between now and then, so you’re free to leave."
“Oh,” Spencer says, feeling stunned. “Thank you.” He says, voice wavering. He looks down at Iris, who sits smugly in his lap. “Sorry, I doubted you."
She just purrs louder, reaches up, and licks his face.
_____ _____ _____
Now that she is official, the rest of the team took to having her around quite easily, and Garcia cooed something about having a team mascot. Iris is notoriously protective of Spencer, as the team continues to witness time and time again, but she continues to find ways to surprise them.
“Look, all I'm saying is that logically—“ Spencer argues.
“Logically what?”
"Logically, I’m of no use in this case. I’m out of my depth in many ways, and I have nothing to contribute. I practically useless.”
“Useless?” JJ exclaims in disbelief. “Spencer, how could—“
“I can’t figure this code out.” He huffs, obviously upset and catastrophizing. “And if I can’t do something as simple as that—“
“Simple as that,” Morgan mutters in the background. “It’s a cipher in a different language with multiple possible solutions. He's been working on it for, like, 30 minutes."
“—then I'm worthless.” Spencer finished.
Then, the team watches as Iris gets up from where she had been curled up on the conference table, stretches leisurely, and turns to face Spencer, where she reaches out and smacks him, like scolding an overexcited kitten.
“Ow,” He exclaims, though it doesn’t hurt that much, his team watching in growing awe and disbelief. “What was that for?” he asks, rubbing at his head.
She reaches out and places her paw on his head again, staring at him with her icy blue eyes and meows. He stares at her for a moment and draws away, crossing his arms over his chest and sliding down in his chair. She licks at her paw innocently. “I wasn’t trying to be self-deprecating." He says to no one in particular, though he was probably talking to the cat. “I was just suggesting that I sit this one out. It’s not like that’s your job anyway.”
She stops licking at her paw and stares at him again.
“Okay, that probably is your job," he admits. “But I didn’t—“ he cuts himself off with a sigh.
“She’s just looking out for you, kid,” Morgan says
“You’ll probably be able to figure it out in no time once you’ve had some proper sleep.” JJ agrees.
He sighs again, admitting defeat. “Yeah, you’re right. Okay,” he says to Iris. “Let’s go.” He grabs his messenger bag and heads off, assumedly to find an empty room to nap in. Iris follows him, hopping off the table, but not before looking smugly at the rest of the team and accepting an affectionate pet from JJ nearby.
“You’re such a sweet, good girl, taking care of our Spencer like that," she says.
She gives them a look as if to say, obviously, and follows after Spencer.
JJ stumbles across Spencer napping on the couch in an empty conference room just a few hours later. He looks peaceful, like he's actually resting, and it relieves some of the anxiety that has been growing in her chest. Iris doesn’t have to do anything more than lift her head from where it is resting against his chest and stare at her for a few moments before JJ shuts the door again, leaving them to rest.