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He couldn’t sleep.
Not that it was anything unexpected, it wasn’t something unusual those days, though things had gotten better after he’d spoken with Morgan and Gideon. It’d at least made him understand that there was nothing wrong with him, with his head, that it was a rather common experience for people in the field of work. Shouldn’t have surprised him, truly, as they all saw the most terrible, abominable cases every single day; it hadn’t made the nightmares disappear, but it had soothed them a small amount.
He supposed for a mind like his, it could result even harder to forget things, as he’d been both blessed and cursed with a rather precise eidetic memory; and he couldn’t simply turn off his brain, it kept working and thinking even when he actually had no need for it. It was something he’d been living with his entire life, certainly, and he’d made a habit of it. At times, it still resulted rather hard to do such thing, when the memory of a case was still fresh in his mind, especially if there were elements that he should’ve seen sooner that had escaped him, and it always left him wondering how different things could’ve been, trying to find the fault in his reasoning.
Everyone else had fallen asleep a while before, leaving him with nothing to distract himself with, other than looking outside the jet’s window, rather half-heartedly fidgeting with a puzzle he’d solved in about ten seconds. Could’ve probably taken him less, had he been a little more focused on the task at hand. But he still had many things on his mind, and he was having a difficult time focalising on a single train of thought. An academic paper he’d recently read. The case they’d barely even solved in the nick of time. The next case they’d have to inevitably face with barely any time to rest.
And, for how mundane and trivial it might’ve seemed, there was a part of his mind that wanted to think about JJ. He’d told himself he wasn’t going to think about that so-called date, which had never led to anything more. Neither of them had said anything.
It’d been a rather mortifying experience for him, as he understood everything about baseball (he had read on it before going to the game, certainly) but cared little for it, and couldn’t actually sympathize with the fanatism surrounding it. He had spoken of it from a statistical and scientific stand-point, boring her out of her mind, he was sure. Sometimes, he truly didn’t realise when he was speaking out of line, and he truly wished someone would tell him.
He hadn’t said a thing because he was sure she’d hated every second of it, and he wasn’t going to dare asking her out again, when it was rather evident that she’d refuse. He would’ve been able to tell even without being a profiler. Maybe Morgan had been right, after all. He was alone because he spoke too much, about things no one could’ve ever cared about except him, and he knew much more than it would’ve made sense for him to.
People his age usually still went out partying and drinking, unable to comprehend that they’d left adolescence already and they should’ve started acting like adults; he’d never cared for such things, which probably resulted in him being rather boring to someone around the same age as him. Not that it’d truly ever made sense to him: there was so much to read and know about the world, he didn’t understand why someone would’ve wasted years of their life doing nothing of significance when they could’ve been doing so much.
He was so deeply immersed into his thoughts, overly tired, he didn’t notice someone was approaching him until they sat down in the empty seat beside him. Considering he was an FBI agent, he supposed he shouldn’t have let himself be caught off guard, but knowing they weren’t in a situation of any danger, he’d allowed his senses to relax, instead of being constantly on high alert.
A small gasp escaped his lips, and the puzzle he’d been holding tumbled to the ground, without breaking, as every little piece was perfectly in place. He went to pick it up, but the person who had sat down next to him was faster, grabbing it before he could.
Elle considered the puzzle carefully, looking at it rather intently, like she was trying to figure out how he’d even resolved it. She didn’t speak a word, but she left him wondering when she’d woken up, as he was quite sure she’d been sleeping a few minutes before, when he’d last turned around to look at her. Not that he was looking at her specifically; sometimes when he couldn’t sleep, he had to check on the others, to make sure everything was alright. He wondered if she’d been sleeping at all or had been faking it, and whether there was something on her mind. He wished he could’ve asked her, but he was sure she would’ve avoided the question all together, as it was rather common of her.
After a while, exactly when he’d started to convince himself she wouldn’t say a thing, she placed the puzzle back on the table, keeping her fingers on it, tapping onto the wood, like she was deeply considering something. Then, she turned to him, brown curls falling off her shoulder, brown eyes twinkling with curiosity. Oh, this didn’t look good. Her and Morgan were particularly fond on teasing him. There was a hint of smile on her lips.
“So, are you really not gonna tell us anything about your date with JJ?” he was a rational individual with an agnostic mind, but, for a split second, he wondered if she’d read his thoughts, because it seemed an incredible coincidence that she’d asked him such a thing exactly in that moment.
He blinked at her, as she angled her head to the side, evidently waiting for him to say something. There wasn’t much he could or wanted to say. It hadn’t gone well. They could’ve definitely never been more than friends. He sent a glance towards JJ, sleeping with her head on her shoulder, in what seemed an uncomfortable position, face relaxed. She was undoubtably beautiful, but he liked to believe himself someone who looked at the deeper parts of people, not simply at the surface; she was smart, she was funny and she was incredibly sweet. Perhaps, a little overly much, at times. Ah. Morgan was right. She behaved like a mom. He wasn’t even that young! And she wasn’t even that much older than him.
Certainly, she was a good friend, but that was about how far their relationship stretched. He knew he should’ve been more than alright with it, but there was a part of him, a rather irritating and irrational part of him that wonder if he truly was meant to spend the rest of his life alone, if he truly had nothing interesting or attractive to him. He definitely wasn’t your regular twenty-four years old, but he was far from being the only one, and he doubted everyone with the same intelligence and interests was as alone as he was.
A sigh escaped him before he could stop it, as he turned to focus his attention back on Elle, who seemed to have been attentively looking at him for all that time. He didn’t give her the answer she’d been looking for, his mind going astray for a second. Instead, he asked her another question, one he hadn’t truly meant to ask.
“Am I really so—uninteresting?” it was the second time he found himself confiding in her about this, but seeing the way she’d actually managed to make him reflect upon his sudden insecurity the first time, it seemed his brain hadn’t found any reason not to do it again. Although he supposed she’d been wrong: he was alone because he was unusual, not because he hadn’t asked anyone out, seeing how it’d gone.
Perhaps he was being a little bit bitter, because such feelings weren’t always required on a regular basis, and he certainly couldn’t blame JJ if she didn’t reciprocate. Not that he’d ever blamed her. He’d always blamed himself for being—like this.
He could barely even look at Elle, when he truly registered what he’d just said; he kept his eyes low, waiting for a reaction. She frowned, which gave him reason to think she didn’t understand where that had come from and it prompted him to continue. “I mean, I know things not a single person other than me seems to know, and I talk way too much and never know when to stop and—” he stopped his rambling when she softly placed a hand against his arm, like she was realising he needed to be interrupted. She had just wordlessly told him he needed to stop, which was exactly what he’d been wanting. He found the courage to glance back at her, as she shook her head, a small smile on her face.
“I find it endearing,” she said, and he couldn’t help the blush that spread on his cheeks at that remark, because it sounded sincere in the upmost way, and there was something in him that didn’t know how to deal with it. Then again, he supposed it wasn’t that difficult to find it somewhat adorable, from a distance, observing him like he was nothing more than a child who still hadn’t discovered the world, but was it that difficult to appreciate him as a person? He simply wanted someone who would see him for who he was.
He knew Elle was trying to help him, but she was somehow making everything even worse for him. Without knowing what else to do, he shrugged, turning towards the window once more, finding it in himself to finally give an answer to the question she’d asked in the first place, completely ignoring what she’d just told him.
“The date went badly. Obviously,” he hadn’t meant to sound that bitter, but he doubted he could’ve sounded any different even if he’d tried. And, really, he didn’t want to sound as insecure as he was, but he had every reason to be insecure, he knew. It wasn’t JJ’s fault, or anyone else’s. It was only his in the end. He shouldn’t have asked someone who was way out of his league out, and he would’ve spared himself the ordeal.
“No one would ever look at me twice. One look is enough to know who I am, and I’m not someone anyone would ever be interested in,” he had never meant to say such things, he'd never meant to reveal all the horrible bitterness he kept at the bottom of his heart most of the time and only resurfaced at times. He had better and more important matters to worry about, and love had never been one of his priorities. Didn’t mean he didn’t feel the lack of it, at times.
He waited, waited for Elle to say anything, even that he was being incredibly stupid and worrying about meaningless things, but she didn’t speak for a bit. He could see her reflection on the glass of the window: she didn’t betray much of her thoughts, though she was still lightly frowning, like she was surprised by his words.
Then, she moved and, catching him completely off-guard, took hold of his chin, making him turn towards her. She wasn’t exactly forcing him, but he couldn’t have objected even if he’d wanted to. There was a magnetic force to her. He found himself staring into her dark eyes and, for a second, they seemed like a black hole inevitably pulling him in. Unexplainably, his heart seemed to miss a beat, as he scanned her face, trying to understand what she was thinking. He couldn’t read her, and it felt strange.
Once more, she crooked her head to the side, giving him what seemed more a smirk than a smile. She didn’t let his chin go, as she reached out her other hand, running her fingers along his cheekbone.
“Really?” was the only thing she said, after a while, after observing him for a long moment, almost like she’d done with the puzzle, considering him carefully. Like he too was a puzzle she wanted to figure out. That single word left him rather confused, because he didn’t truly understand what she was trying to say.
Until she continued, making everything a little clearer. “Because these cheekbones are to die for,” she gave a small flick to his cheek, as if she wanted to underline her words.
“You have sharp features, but you always look like you’re afraid someone could get cut on them,” he wasn’t sure he’d ever considered what he looked like, really. He’d never had that much time to worry about it, always having something to do. Maybe, though, he did worry he was a little too sharp, that he looked nothing more than skin and bones.
“And you’re rather lean. That’d make you look taller, if you didn’t always seem afraid you’re occupying too much space,” he had never seen it that way, and he’d never even realised he did any of those things, but it made sense. Everything seemed to make sense when she said it. She chuckled, as she continued.
“There’s something in your gaze that makes you look like a lost puppy. It’s actually rather charming,” he blushed once more, cheeks getting warmer, even more than before, if that was even possible. He didn’t know why she was describing him like that and he didn’t know why it made him feel that way. He supposed it made sense for him to be rather embarrassed because of the situation. It was unusual, more than unusual.
And there was something in him that truly didn’t like how much she seemed to understand him, seemed to know exactly how he perceived himself. She was profiling him, like he was nothing more than another criminal. He didn’t know why. More than that, she kept saying that he was endearing, and charming, and he didn’t see the reason why she was doing any of that. Perhaps, it was because he’s shown her such a pathetic and desperate part of himself he didn’t like and mostly tried to shove in a far corner of his mind.
No matter the reason, there was something in her gaze that pulled him in, like she was a siren trying to lure him into deep waters, and he wasn’t quite sure how to deal with it. He wondered if she’d drunk, because she was behaving quite out of character. Although, he supposed, making light-hearted fun of him was kind of her thing.
Something in him told him to move back, to scoff and tell her to forget everything he’d said, but everything in her stopped him from doing so. He could only stare, with what he supposed was a lost puppy look, as she’d described it. He didn’t see the analogy, but if it made sense to her, he couldn’t fight against it. Elle didn’t speak again for a long moment, letting her fingers run across his face, like she was still intensely considering something.
She travelled along his jawline, the shell of his ear, pushing back a strand of his hair, the curve of his nose, until she brushed against his lips and he felt himself dying without even knowing why. Then, she let him go, and he felt himself foolishly chasing the contact. Her voice broke the strange silence that had settled between them, so suddenly he almost winced.
“But you know well that’s not everything about you,” she said, voice lower than it’d been before. It wasn’t exactly a whisper, but her tone seemed to have fallen. She was right, and he knew it, but that was probably the worst part of him.
Looks didn’t matter: even if people had looked at him twice, they’d probably change their mind after talking to him. He might’ve been an interesting person to be around, in some measure, but he certainly wasn’t someone anyone would’ve wanted to be with. He’d already half-opened his mouth to retort something, but Elle was faster than him, silencing before he even had time to say anything at all.
“You do know things no one else seems to know, and that alone certainly doesn’t make an uninteresting person. You simply need someone who would be willing to listen,” she shrugged a little, smiling once more, almost with a mischievous glint in her eyes. He wished he had known what she was up to. “And, who knows, perhaps you could also learn something you don’t know. I mean, you can’t possibly know everything.”
Well, to be completely frank, he’d had many things that had interested him growing up and many things that interested him those days, and he was such a fast reader he had been accused of pretending by his fellow students, always a lot of paces behind him.
He did know a lot of things, certainly, in various and diverse fields of study, from literature to mathematics to physics and everything of the sort, but he certainly didn’t claim to know everything. Wouldn’t have been possible even for him.
He understood everything there was to understand about sports, but he’d never known why people seemed to enjoy watching them as much as they did. He actually didn’t know as much as he wished he could’ve about computers and technology. He didn’t understand half of the pop-culture references the team made. He mostly didn’t know when he was speaking out of line or saying something he shouldn’t have said. He didn’t always understand the way he felt about certain situations, and didn’t exactly know how to read his own emotions. He didn’t know how to talk to people, he didn’t know how not to feel like he occupied too much space and he didn’t know how not to be awkward. He didn’t know how to flirt and—
“I don’t know how to kiss,” and he didn’t know why he’d said that out loud. He didn’t know what had taken control of his mind that could’ve possibly led him to say that out of the things he’d been thinking. Speaking of mortifying and awkward experiences. Not that it wasn’t true; he certainly couldn’t be expected to know how to kiss someone when he’d never had, when no one had looked at him twice. It did seem something everyone seemed to be socially forced to know or understand, but it simply didn’t make any sense to him. It was like expecting to know the result of an experiment without even starting.
He suppressed the sudden urge to hide his face into his hands, knowing it was definitely going to make things even worse, if it was even possible, after such an admission out of the blue. Certainly, it’d been in line with that Elle had been saying, but it was still the worst thing he could’ve blurted out.
And it seemed to have had an effect, as her eyes had slightly widened, and her mouth had fallen slightly agape, like she was trying to force words out of her lips but couldn’t. She was smiling, like she found the whole ordeal rather hilarious. Glad someone was having fun at least. When she finally seemed to have gotten her voice back, he could perceive the chuckle in her tone.
“Who would’ve guessed, of all the things Doctor Reid might’ve not known—” she was teasing him, and he didn’t like it, not after he’d accidentally been open with her about something he certainly didn’t like to know about himself. He turned away once more, but she stopped him in the exact same way, bringing his eyes back on her.
She was close. Much closer than she’d been the first time. It made his mouth go dry. He didn’t know why. Many things he didn’t know the reason of were happening, and he didn’t like when the situation got that much out of his control. He actually didn’t like not knowing something. He knew he couldn’t look away from her, but he wished he knew the reason.
Because he knew for a fact he didn’t—he’d never felt a pull towards her before. She wasn’t exactly what he’d look for, he’d never felt for her differently than he’d feel for a friend. Not to say she wasn’t beautiful, or attractive. There was not a doubt in his mind that she was, because he indeed wasn’t blind. And he wasn’t blind to everything else she was, to her courage and her willingness to throw herself into action when needed. She was above him in everything, and she’d always been. He wasn’t quite sure whether that was the reason why he’d never looked at her twice before; because he knew well, she would’ve never looked at him twice.
But she was nothing more than his friend. He shouldn’t have felt such way in her presence, he shouldn’t have seen every sign he was feeling in that moment, having her so close: palms sweating, breath shortening, mouth drying, heart pounding and head spinning.
He didn’t understand why any of that was happening, and he didn’t know why she was acting the way she was, either. The only explanation he could find was that she was teasing him, as so usual of her, even with her wordless actions. Perhaps, she truly was a siren, and she was trying to drown him. He did feel it more than ever when she continued talking, and he could sense her breath on his lips, voice even lower than before, if that was possible, almost reduced to a small growl, almost like she was ready to pounce him.
“Show me what you’ve got, then,” it took a moment to register the words she’d said, as he found himself rather more distracted than he would’ve wanted to be. When they did hit him, he found himself far beyond perplexed.
She couldn’t possibly mean that she wanted him to—kiss her?
He wouldn’t have seen the reason of doing such a thing, and he didn’t see why she would’ve wanted him to do so. Maybe, simply to prove that he was indeed terrible at it, so she could tease him for the rest of his life. Maybe, she’d truly lost her mind, and barely even knew she’d said that.
There was no way she wanted him to kiss her. If that had been the case, he doubted she would’ve had any problem making the first move herself, with all the confidence she always seemed to have. For a second, neither of them said anything, and Spencer felt himself rather frozen in the moment, mind suddenly feeling like a broken record, unable to think about anything that wasn’t her.
Elle with her hands on his face, Elle looking at him from behind her eyelashes, Elle a breeze away from his lips, Elle asking him to show her what he’d got. No. She hadn’t asked. She’d demanded he did that, and he wasn’t sure whether he could refuse her. Or whether he wanted to.
But he’d actually never kissed anyone before, that was how much he didn’t know. He didn’t know what to do; that whole situation was stressing him out way more than he should’ve had, and he was overthinking it and—his train of thoughts was abruptly brought to a halt when she slightly pushed herself forward and pressed her lips on his, wordlessly asking him the same exact question.
It was awkward, he knew it. Like everything else he did, after all. He’d told her he didn’t know how, but he’d never actually known what he didn’t know, considering it was something he’d never done before. He would’ve maybe looked at it from a more scientific point of view, had he not been a little lost in her scent. There was a lot of clashing of teeth, in a rather painful manner, and he had no idea what to do with his hands, or his head, or his tongue.
Elle pulled back after barely a second, scoffing out a laugh, certainly not making him feel less like she was making fun of him. He supposed she had to be happy with what she had proven, and that was about it. The whole point had been that. Had she made a bet with Morgan or something? It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility, knowing the two of them, but he preferred to think they cared about him a little more than that.
He felt the sudden need to disappear, truly feeling like he was occupying too much space. They might’ve told him he was a genius, but he was starting to feel that perhaps, there was no bigger idiot.
At least until Elle took hold of his face, still half-laughing, speaking softly. It was softer than before; it wasn’t the low growl it’d been. She sounded more sincere, as well.
“Oh, you really are bad,” he could’ve pretended that comment didn’t bruise a little, but it would’ve been a lie.
Certainly, he didn’t have much time to think about that injury, as she kissed him once more. And he found himself falling into her once more.
This time, she was guiding him a lot more than before. Hands angling his head in the right direction, lips moving his in a way that made sense, tongue pushing his teeth away. It certainly was good practice and she seemed to be a great kisser. He wouldn’t have known: he didn’t have any frame of reference.
He still didn’t know what to do with his hands, which he was nonsensically half-holding up in the air, close to her arms. But he did feel himself gaining more confidence as they kept kissing, slowly starting to figure out how the mechanics worked; seemed he was a fast learner even when it came to that.
Their kissing had started out as rather light, but he’d gotten a little faster and almost a little frenetic with time. He still had no idea why it was happening in the first place. Not that it seemed to matter, at the moment.
Maybe, he didn’t need to know everything.