Archive of Our Own ^beta

Aaron scowls at the engine of the SUV as the wind and rain whips around.  Of course they would break down on the way to interview a witness.  Emily is sitting in the SUV trying to see if she can get a tow truck while Aaron tries to see if he’s able to fix the vehicle.  Unfortunately, he has a feeling the fuel pump went out, and there’s nothing he can do about it here.  The wind and rain starts calming down and he looks up at another vehicle honking.  A turquoise mid 1980s Chevy pickup pulls up and stops next to him, the driver leaning over and rolling down the window.

“The hell are you doing out here?” The driver asks.  He has long-ish brown hair, glasses, and is wearing a plaid shirt over a t-shirt and jeans.  He looks toward the sky and then his rearview.  “Tornado warnings went out about five minutes ago and you’re right in the middle of the warning zone.”

“Our SUV broke down.  We’ve been trying to get it fixed or get a tow for the last ten,” Aaron says.

The man shakes his head.  “You’re not going to get a tow right now.  No one’s going to be heading out until the weather’s passed.”  He glances in his rearview again and mutters under his breath before reaching toward a CB on the dash.  “County road 482 a little west of the Wilkerson’s place.  Got a funnel.”

Aaron frowns and lowers the hood slightly, staring up at the sky.  He has no idea what he’s looking for, but having never been in a tornado before, he’d rather keep that record going if he can.

More swearing sounds from the pickup.  “Get your friend or whoever and get in.  There’s a cellar at the Wilkerson’s house.”

Slamming the hood, Aaron steps around and opens the passenger door.  “Come on Emily, tornado on the way.  A local is taking us to a cellar.”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Emily says as she turns slightly pale.

The wind starts up again as they climb into the man’s truck.  Aaron barely has the door shut before the gas is pressed and they fishtail in the mud.  Whoever this man is, it’s obvious he knows the area well and has plenty of practice driving on dirt and gravel roads.  A couple of turns would have likely caused even Derek issues, but the man—Aaron can’t quite tell the man’s age, just knows he’s younger than Aaron is—seems almost bored.  Glancing out the back window, Aaron feels his breath catch at the sight behind them.  Even though it’s thin, it seems ominous as the tornado follows them.

“Looks like an EF2, maybe a three but I doubt it,” the young man says, glancing in the rearview.  “Lucky for us, or we’d be screwed.”

“What do you mean?” Emily asks.

The young man glances at them before refocusing on the road.  “Any more powerful and we probably wouldn’t be able to keep pace with it.”

“Keep pace?  I thought we were outrunning it,” Emily mutters.

“You don’t outrun tornadoes.  You hide or get out of the way.”  The man turns abruptly and the truck skids a bit as it turns into a driveway.  A moment later and he slams on the brakes.  “Come on, we have to move now.”

Emily and Aaron follow him out of the cab and toward a cellar entrance against the house.  The man pulls open the door and holds it open as they climb in.  Once Aaron and Emily are inside, he climbs in and fights against the sudden wind to get the door closed.  Aaron rushes up and pulls along with him.  Roaring sounds in his ears and he can feel them pop as though he’s on a plane.  The sound of things hitting the house above them starts up as they get the door to the cellar shut and the man slides a thick metal bar across and into a hole in the cement wall.

Light shines from the bottom of the stairs as Emily illuminates the steps with a flashlight.  Aaron and the other man hurry down the stairs and toward the back of the cellar.  Leaning against the wall, Aaron sighs.  Even with the slight muffling from the door, the chaos reigning outside is cacophonous.

“Were are the people who live here?” Emily asks, shouting a bit to be heard.

“Orlando,” the man shouts.  “They take vacation around this time every year, but always leave their cellar unlocked, just in case.”

“Thank goodness they do,” Aaron mutters, not caring if either of his companions hear him.

Less than a minute later and the sounds from outside start to fade.  Pain in his ears makes him pop them before Aaron turns to Emily.  “You alright?”

“A little scared and a lot more respectful of mother nature, but yeah, I’m good,” Emily says.

Aaron nods and turns to the other man.  “Are you alright?”

The man hums and turns to him with slightly raised eyebrows.  “Oh, yeah, I’m good.  You?”

“Alright thanks to you,” Aaron says.

“What are you doing out here anyway?  You’re not from around here and not many people come out this far from the city,” the man says.

There’s a half a second where Aaron debates telling the man what they do, but from what he can tell the man doesn’t fit the preliminary profile they have for the unsub.  And since they’re clearly not going to make it to their interview, might as well talk with a local and see if they can get any leads that way.  “We’re with the FBI and are in town to build a profile and help the local police to catch the person who’s been murdering young women around here.”

“Oh, wow, did not expect that,” the man mutters, eyebrows raised.  A moment later and his eyebrows furrow together.  “Build a profile?  Are you with the BAU?”

Suspicion creeps in.  It’s not often they meet someone who knows what the BAU is, and frequently it’s either someone who’s unhealthily obsessed with the work they do or it’s someone who they need to pay attention to.

“I’m surprised you’ve heard of the unit,” Emily says.  “Not many people outside of law enforcement have.”

The man shrugs.  “I attended a lecture by Jason Gideon when I was in college.  I thought about changing majors and the man seemed fairly interested in recruiting me, but I had already been to a couple of Skilling’s seminars at Fermilab and just couldn’t shake the interest in severe weather, tornadoes in particular.”

Just like that, all of the suspicion in Aaron leaves.  He remembers Gideon being upset that someone he’d been interested in recruiting hadn’t joined the bureau.  Digging through his memories, he raises an eyebrow as he remembers the name.  If this is who he thinks it is, he’s somewhat glad that Gideon hadn’t succeeded in recruiting the young man.  “You wouldn’t happen to be Spencer Reid, would you?”

“I am.”  This time Reid seems suspicious.  “Might I ask how you knew that?”

“I worked with Jason Gideon for quite a while and remember him being upset that he’d been unsuccessful in recruiting you,” Aaron says.  He smirks, though quickly pulls it back.  “I’d been confused for the longest time why he insisted on badmouthing a random meteorologist in Chicago.”

Reid chuckles.  “I think I remember Skilling mentioning something about having irritated an old friend.”

“Wait, so what were you doing out here?  Seems like someone who knows about severe weather would do their best to avoid it,” Emilly says.

“You’d think so, but most of my work tends to put me right along the path of severe weather,” Reid says.  “I work with a group of people from various universities, programs, and agencies trying to study and gain more information about weather, what causes certain severe weather events, and trying to find ways to predict it.”

“You’re a storm chaser?” Emily asks.

Reid chuckles.  “Sometimes.  Mostly I teach classes.”

“You’re a teacher?” Emily’s eyebrows raise.  “Did you just finish your degree?  You’ve got to be—what?  Like, twenty-three?”

“Uh, twenty-eight, and I have three PhDs.  Meteorology, Mathematics, and Physics.  I also have a masters in Engineering and a handful of undergraduate degrees,” Reid says, looking to the side and scratching the back of his head.  He shrugs.

Floored is an understatement.  Aaron blinks and tries to put that much education into perspective.  He’s no slouch, he’d earned his JD in three years, and half of that was while interning with the local prosecutors office.  For Reid to have that many degrees that quickly, he has to be a genius.  Glancing at Emily, he can see that she’s a little thrown as well.  Aaron clears his throat.  “That’s impressive.”

“Certifiable genius able to read twenty thousand words a minute with an eidetic memory,” Reid says before giving another shrug.  “I do alright.”

“It’s still impressive.  I can only imagine how much work and dedication that took,” Aaron says.  He glances at the ceiling of the cellar.  “Think we’d be alright to head outside?”

Reid glances at his watch and mutters what sounds like random numbers under his breath before nodding.  “Should be fine.  Either the tornado has left the area or it’s dissipated.”

The three of them clamber back up the stairs and it takes both Reid and Aaron to push open the cellar door.  When they finally get it open, there’s the end of a large tree branch in front of the door.  If it had landed any differently, they would’ve been blocked in.  As Aaron looks around, he’s caught by shock and a strange awe of how different the area looks.  The shed that he’d barely caught a glimpse of as they drove in is completely demolished and there’s significant damage to the house.  Trees have either been moved or their branches have been torn.  There’s a definitive shallow gouge in the earth where the tornado passed.  Aaron glances at Reid, who’s looking around with slightly raised eyebrows as though he’s impressed.

“Is it always like this?” Aaron asks.

Reid glances at him and shakes his head.  “No.  Honestly, this isn’t too bad.  I’ve seen much worse.”

“Worse?  I…I can’t imagine what it would be like coming out of something worse,” Emily says.

“Those are always an all hands on deck situation,” Reid says.  “Everyone’s focus changes to helping out their neighbors and making sure everyone made it through alright.  If they didn’t, it’s about finding their bodies so they can be laid to rest.  Then comes clean up.  I guarantee it’ll be only a few minutes before the Bradford boys are out here sorting this out for the Wilkersons.”

“Bradford?” Aaron turns to Emily.  “Weren’t the Bradfords who we were going to interview?”

Emily nods.  “James and Ira Bradford.”

“If you’re looking for James and Ira, they might show up.  More likely to be Colton, Ryan, and Tommy,” Reid says.  “James and Ira are probably going to check that the O’Malley’s cows didn’t get hurt or let loose.”

A high pitched honking sounds from the road and three teenagers on dirt bikes pull into the yard.  The shortest of them—though he’s still only slightly shorter than Aaron—approaches while the other two start grabbing tree branches and pulling them toward one section of the yard.

“Doc, we knew it was going to be an eventful day when Tammie said she saw your truck,” the young man says.

Reid snorts.  “Good to know my truck is being used as a warning sign.  Your family doing alright, Colton?”

“Yeah, mama yelled at pops for standing on the porch as the tornado went down the road, but that’s pretty normal,” Colton says.  He glances at Aaron and Emily.  “Hey, I’m Colton.”

Before Aaron can say anything, his cell phone starts ringing.  He glances at the caller ID before saying, “Excuse me, I need to get this.”

The other three nod and he steps away, accepting the call as he does.

“I swear, if you tell me you’re in Oz, I am leaving you there,” Dave says.

“Both Emily and I are fine, Dave.  Don’t know about the SUV, though.  Pretty sure the fuel pump went out on it and we were stranded.  Luckily a gentleman stopped and took us to safety,” Aaron says.  “Is everyone there alright?”

“Yes, yes, we’re all fine.  None of us had a tornado drop on top of us,” Dave says.

Aaron hums.  “It didn’t drop on top of us.  More like a quarter of a mile away.”

“Because that’s so much better.”  Dave sighs.  “Take your time getting back most everyone has diverted to a nearby town to help them out with the aftermath.  We’ll stay here and keep working with the information we have.”

Hanging up, Aaron remembers one of the few things he knows about tornadoes and frowns.  It seems odd that it traveled east to west as he’s pretty sure they only travel west to east.  He figures if there’s an expert, he might as well ask.

“Reid, question for you,” Aaron says.

“Answer for you,” Reid says, seemingly without thinking since he blinks and gives a slight shake of his head.  “What’s your question?”

“Don’t tornadoes only travel from west to east?” Aaron asks.

Reid grins.  “Most people think so, but no.  They can travel in any direction, though some directions are rarer than others.  The typical path for tornados is going to be in the same direction the storm is travelling, which is toward the cooler atmosphere.  Still, east to west is exceptionally rare.”  Reid turns slightly somber.  “In 1997, an EF5 tornado traveled from north of Jarrell, Texas, moved south-southwest and then finally dissipated southwest of the town.  It killed twenty-six people.  I don’t think today’s tornado was as bad, but it seemed like it was headed toward the next town.  I just hope the sirens were turned on in time.”

“They got warnings off in time, Doc,” Colton says.  “I was on the phone with my friend Juan when the sirens in his town started going off.  Received a message from him about five minutes later that the tornado had passed.”

Reid sighs.  “Good.  I’m glad to hear it.  You and your brothers going to be alright handling things here?”

Colton nods.  “Yeah, we got this, Doc.  Pops and grandpops were just checking on the O’Mallley’s cows before they come over here with the chain saws.  They also said they were going to keep an eye out for a couple of feds?  Apparently pops was expecting them to show up back home, but they were late and then the tornado happened, so pops is hoping they weren’t caught in it.”

“Ah.”  Reid grins and glances at Aaron.  “I don’t know, what do you think, Agent?  Get caught in a tornado recently?”

Aaron snorts.  “It’s the closest to a tornado that I ever want to be, and I’ll be happy to never repeat the experience.”

“You’re a fed?”  Colton asks.  He glances at Aaron and nods.  “Makes sense, I can see it.”

“She’s a fed too,” Aaron says.

Colton turns to Emily and nods before shaking his head.  “Nope, that doesn’t make sense.  Way too pretty.”

Emily chuckles.  “Thanks.”  She turns to Aaron.  “Think we should see if the SUV survived?”

“Might as well, though at this point, I think the bureau is going to start limiting us to the vehicles they’re getting ready to demolish,” Aaron says.  “Doctor Reid, think we could get a lift back to where you found us?”

“Of course.  Luckily, my truck wasn’t damaged,” Reid says.  He turns to the other two teens.  “Hey, Ryan!  Tommy!  Think you can clear out from behind my truck?  I need to get these two back into town.”

“On it Doc!” one of the teens shouts and they both hurry to clear out the driveway behind the turquoise Chevy.

Reid nudges Colton.  “You too, Colton.  Don’t make your brothers do all the work.”

Colton sighs and gives a lopsided grin.  “Sure thing, Doc.”

It doesn’t take long for the Bradford teens to clear out the driveway.  Reid, Emily, and Aaron all climb into Reid’s truck—luckily Emily is able to smoosh herself into the middle seat or else one of them would have had to sit in the bed—and head back to where Reid had found Emily and Aaron.  When they get there, the SUV has a large fence post through the windshield.

“Well, if it wasn’t already dead, it certainly is now,” Emily says.  She grins.  “If it were a vampire, do you think that would’ve killed it, or would it have needed to go through the engine block?”

Aaron snorts, but doesn’t respond.  He can hear Emily and Reid chatting as he manages to get one of the doors open and pulls out papers and files that they need.  He double checks that there aren’t any supplies or items which need to be removed from the vehicle before returning to the pickup.

“Think we could get a ride to where James and Ira Bradford are?  See if we can reschedule our interview with them?” Aaron asks.

Reid shrugs.  “Sure.”

The drive to the O’Malley’s pasture takes slightly longer than the trip from the Wilkerson’s property, but they manage to catch James and Ira Bradford and reschedule the interview.  Reid then brings them back to town and the police station.  As Aaron is getting out of Reid’s truck, he has a thought and lets Emily out before pulling out one of his business cards, flipping it over and writing down his personal cell phone number and email address as well.

“I have no idea how long we’ll be in town, or whether or not you’ll be in town still, but here,” Aaron says, passing over the card.  “I get the feeling that if you hadn’t stopped, Emily and I would be in much worse shape than we ended up being in.  If you need anything or are ever on the east coast, let me know and I’ll do what I can.”

“Anything?” Reid asks with a smirk.

“Legally,” Aaron says, doing his best to hide his own grin.  He doesn’t think he’s too successful from the delight that crops up in Reid’s gaze.

“Right, of course.”  Reid opens up the glove box of his truck and pulls out a notepad and pen, scribbles on it, and rips out the page.  He passes over the page.  “And if you need to contact me for any reason.  Might not always answer texts right away, but I always pick up a phone call.  It was good meeting you—Aaron?  Hotchner?  Agent?  Which do you prefer?”

Aaron huffs.  “Aaron is fine, Doc.”

“Spencer, please.”  Spencer raises an eyebrow as his cell phone starts ringing and he glances at the caller ID before rolling his eyes and flipping it open.  “Give me a moment, Rusty.”  He covers the receiver of the phone and grins at Aaron.  “Good luck on your case, Aaron.  I hope you get them.”

“So do I.  And good luck on your storm chasing, don’t get caught,” Aaron says, slipping from the truck and shutting the door and taking a few steps away.

“That’s the plan.”  Spencer uncovers the receiver and puts the phone on speaker as he shifts into drive.  “Rusty, you need to quit worrying, you’re already gray so the only thing you can do from here is start losing your hair.”

Aaron watches the turquoise truck head off before going into the precinct.  He has an unsub to catch.

~*Two days later*~

They finally caught their unsub.  After non-stop running, they finally caught him.  As the team shuffles onto the jet, Aaron does his usual observation of everyone to make sure they’re all doing alright.  They’ve had worse endings before, but it never feels good when the unsub is able to get one last victim before they catch them.  Still, it seems as though the team is handling it fairly well, so he settles into a seat at the back table and pulls out his laptop to check emails one last time before take off.  An email in his personal inbox catches his attention as the subject is just ‘Interesting Photos’.  A glance at the sender shows it’s from s.reid.wthr from gmail.  It takes a moment longer than it probably should for Aaron to realize it’s from Spencer.  He opens the email.

Hello Aaron,

Hope you and your team are doing well.  Heard through the grapevine that you caught your unsub.  Congratulations?  Is that a congratulations sort of thing?  I don’t know, but it feels like it.  I’m sure the town is glad you all were able to catch the guy.  I was able to convince one of my coworkers to let me send you a few of her photos.  She takes amazing pictures and I think you’d appreciate them.  Anyway, hope you’re able to get some rest before your next case.

Sincerely,

Spencer

Aaron opens the attachment and clicks through the photos.  Spencer is right, his coworker is really good.  While quite a few of the photos are of tornadoes, there are also photos of various cloud formations, sunset or sunrise photos, and even a photo of a field with a couple of cows in the foreground, a tree and pond midground, and some very dark and ominous clouds and rainbow in the background.  He clicks back to one of the sunset photos and stares at it for a few moments before saving it as the new background for his laptop.  Pulling up his professional email, he starts trudging through that, hoping that if he gets enough of it done that he’ll be able to spend some more time with Jack.

~*One Month Later*~

The clicking of Maisie taking photos has long since faded to background noise as Spencer looks over the doppler information.  While half of the team he usually travels with had gone off to chase after what they thought was going to turn into a supercell, he’d stayed in Kansas.  Even though many of them had worked with him for years, they still sometimes doubt when he says a storm isn’t going to turn into a supercell.  Sure enough, it had started dissipating as he’d thought it would.  Overall, it looks like it’s going to be an uneventful rest of the day.  He’s grateful for it.  They’ve been running quite a bit this year, and if the rest of tornado season is less active, he’ll consider it a good thing.

“What do you think, Doc?  Time to get a motel for the night?” Maisie asks.

Spencer hums before looking up.  “Probably.  Robbie and Debbie wander off?”

“They said they were going to grab some food,” Maisie says.  “I think Sam fell asleep about thirty minutes ago.”

“He feeling any better?” Spencer asks.

Maisie shrugs.  “He stopped upchucking, so that’s probably good.”

“Yeah, we should still get some sports drinks or pedialyte for him though,” Spencer says.  He walks to the back of his truck bed and hops down.  The travel van is parked in the shade and is running so the AC can stay on.  Spencer peeks inside and finds Sam curled up on his side in one of the rear seats.  The young man looks less pale than he had earlier today, but Spencer still wants to get him somewhere where he can properly rest.  Sam had been insistent that they keep working, and Spencer regrets not putting his foot down.  Spencer turns back to Maisie.  “Alright, let’s go find a motel and get a few rooms.  Make sure to let Robbie and Debbie know that we’re heading into town so that they don’t pass us.”

“As if any of us could miss your truck,” Maisie says, nudging Spencer’s shoulder as she passes.  “Lead the way, Doc.”

Ten minutes later, the sun has fully set and they have three rooms at the local motel.  As Maisie starts to unload some of their bags, Spencer wrangles Sam into one of the rooms and into a bed.  The young man barely kicks his shoes off before he’s climbing into bed and going back to sleep.  He helps Maisie set everyone up, calls Rusty and lightly prods at the man for chasing something that didn’t need to be chased and reminds him to just find a place to stay the night in Oklahoma, and then stops at a convenience store for crackers and Gatorade for Sam.  When he returns to the motel, Robbie and Debbie are there and hand him a sub sandwich before they abscond into the room Maisie is staying in.  He hopes they remember that they need to keep it down.  The last thing they need is to be kicked out of yet another motel for being too noisy.  Rousing Sam enough for the young man to drink some of the sports drink and eat a couple of crackers, Spencer keeps watch as he eats his food.  He pulls out his laptop—even though he still prefers handwritten letters, the convenience is one he can’t avoid—and opens his emails.  He should be receiving a request from a professor at Fort Hays State University regarding some data at any point now and Spencer would rather not miss it.  There isn’t the email that he’s expecting, but he does find one titled ‘Questions if you have time’ from amhotchner at AOL.  Raising his eyebrows, Spencer opens the email.

Spencer,

Glad to know you’re staying safe.  Please let Maisie know her latest photos are absolutely beautiful.  My son, Jack, saw a couple of them and had some questions.  I answered what I could, but I’ll admit that weather phenomena is not something I’m well read on.  If you have time, would you be willing to answer even a few of his questions?  Fair warning, he has a ton of questions (which I’ll admit, I definitely encourage) and will likely have more based on your answers.  My team and I just returned from Colorado, and I think if I can ever manage to convince myself to use my vacation time for something other than catching up on chores, I might go back.  Have you ever been?  It seems like a state you’d enjoy.  Anyway, I’ve written the questions from Jack below.  If you can’t get to all of them, don’t worry about it as I’ve already told him that you might not have a chance to answer.  Hope you and your team are doing well.

Aaron

Spencer blinks and rereads the message.  He’s been emailing with Aaron sporadically over the summer, mostly sending photos from Maisie to the gentleman since she’s always a little nervous about trying to get her photos published and Spencer figures that having someone not on the team tell her that she takes good photos might help her relax a bit.  It seems to be working since she’s been debating sending a few to National Geographic.  Still, there’s never been a mention of Aaron having a kid.  It makes sense.  Aaron’s a good man and Spencer had figured the man was married even though there wasn’t any sign of a ring on his finger.  Shaking his head a bit, Spencer glances at the questions from Jack and grins.  The questions are all really good and he wonders how old the kid is because some of these questions are—though simplistic in their wording—on par with what he’d expect from some of the middle school kids whenever he gives a seminar at the local schools.

It doesn’t take long for Spencer to send the answers off to Aaron, along with an open invitation for any further questions to be sent back.  About ten minutes later, his cell phone starts ringing and he looks at the caller ID.  Though the number isn’t saved into his contacts, he recognizes it as belonging to Aaron.

Spencer answers the call.  “I’m surprised you’re awake, isn’t it near midnight where you are?”

“It is, I was just getting ready to leave the office when your reply popped up,” Aaron says.  “Where are you today?”

“Winfield, Kansas.  It’s a small town around thirty minutes north of the state line from Oklahoma,” Spencer says.

Aaron hums.  “Haven’t been there yet.  Hopefully never have to go.”

“Considering your job, I hope you don’t as well.  My team is only passing through.”  Spencer glances at Sam and leaves the motel room so as not to disturb the sleeping young man.  “What grade is Jack in?  Some of his questions are really good considering that—I expect—he’s not yet in middle school.”

“Oh, he’s in kindergarten,” Aaron says.  “He was able to start school early.”

Spencer raises his eyebrows as he lowers the tailgate of his truck and sits on it.  “Impressive!  You and your wife must be really proud of him.”

“Ex-wife, but yes, we are,” Aaron says.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn—”

Aaron cuts him off.  “You didn’t know, and it’s a reasonable assumption.  We divorced last year, and it was mostly an amicable divorce.  Funny enough, we seem to get along better now that we’re divorced.”

“It happens.  When the social stress of expectations from marriage status is removed, people can relax a bit and be more lenient toward their ex-partners,” Spencer says, eyes tracing the stars above.

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.  Your parents?” Aaron asks.

Spencer hums.  “My parents are technically still married.  And that’s a story for another time.”

They talk about various topics for thirty minutes before Spencer is able to remind Aaron that he needs to get home and get some sleep.  After hanging up, Spencer settles more firmly in the bed of his truck and continues tracing the constellations, his thoughts bouncing around and often returning to the puzzle of the man he thinks he can call a friend.

~*The Next Morning*~

Aaron mentally admits that Spencer had been right to chastise him for not going to bed at a decent hour as he trudges to the breakroom for another cup of coffee.  He’s not going to tell the other man that, though.  While he doesn’t think Spencer is the kind of person to hold it over someone’s head that he was right in serious matters, going to bed at a decent time seems like just the thing Spencer would tease someone about.  Before he can make it back into his office, he’s stopped by Morgan and JJ about some questions on a consult and gives them pointers on the best place where they can look up that information.  Why they need to know about bungee jumping in Montana when they’re looking into an arson case, he has no idea and he doesn’t plan to pry.  When he finally settles at his desk, he finds a new email in his personal inbox.  The sender isn’t Spencer.  It’s from maisie_photography.  Aaron grins slightly as he opens the email.

Agent Hotchner,

I know Doc usually sends you my photos to look at, and I just wanted to thank you for your kind words.  I’m planning on submitting a few to National Geographic, so keep your fingers crossed for me!  I also wanted to send you a few photos that Doc hasn’t seen, mostly because I figured you’d appreciate them.  Hope you have a good day!

Sincerely,

Maisie

Opening the attachment, Aaron clicks through the photos.  They’re definitely different from the photos he usually gets, though he expects that has more to do with Maisie showing Spencer photos that relate to work more than anything.  The last photo makes him pause.  It shows Spencer sitting in the bed of his truck, staring off at something in the distance, and bathed in the golden light of a setting sun.  It’s just as good as the previous photos, but Aaron can’t help but think that this is one of his favorites.  Probably because the subject of the photo is a good friend.  Aaron sends Maisie a quick reply letting her know that he appreciates the photos and that he thinks she’ll do well with National Geographic.  As he returns his focus to work, he makes a mental note to save the photo of Spencer on his computer at home.

~*Three Months Later*~

Aaron’s phone interrupts him as he stares at an evidence board.  The case his team is on has been dragging on for the better part of the last two weeks and all of them are starting to get a little tired and annoyed with each other and with the lack of progress.  Fishing the ringing device from his pocket, Aaron doesn’t even glance at the caller ID as he accepts the call.  “Hotchner.”

“Oof, I can tell by that tone that I’m interrupting you on a case,” Spencer says.  “I wasn’t calling about anything important, I can call you—or you can call me—later.”

“No, no, please, stay on the line.”  Aaron steps away from the evidence boards and presses the heel of his palm into his eye, hoping to relieve some of the pressure.  “We’ve been on this case for two weeks and if I don’t step away from it, I’m going to start being useless at keeping my team going.  Did you need something?”

Spencer hums a negative.  “Just calling to check on you, to be honest.  Your last email seemed a bit tense and I wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

“I’ll be alright once we catch this unsub,” Aaron says.  He runs a hand through his hair and stares out of the window of the room he’s in.  “It doesn’t help that none of us can figure out the clues that the unsub is leaving behind.”

“Wait, people do that?  Why?  It seems so risky,” Spencer says.

“To taunt, usually.  It can be risky, but it’s less so when no one can figure out what the messages mean.”  Aaron steps back over to the evidence board and looks over the writing from the unsub.

Spencer hums slightly.  “Are they communicating in another language?”

Aaron chuckles.  “Might as well be.  No, it’s in English, and it appears to be pulled from something else, but none of us can figure out where.”

“Like the unsub is quoting literature?” Spencer asks.

“Exactly.”  Aaron’s eyes alight upon a particularly annoying text.  “For instance, ‘It was not altogether his fault that it had happened…instinct of the celibate warned him to hold back. But the sin was there…’ and then a different quote states, ‘He had dismissed his wife so sincerely from his gallery of pleasures that he did not suspect…This union exalted him.’”

There’s silence from Spencer’s end of the line before he hums.  “Is there more?”

“Quite a few.  Let’s see…’He was old enough to suspect one reason for her politeness but young enough in spirit to turn the moment to account.  The warmth, fragrance, and color of her body appealed to his senses.’ was found near another body,” Aaron says. 

“That confirms it.  Your unsub is quoting Dubliners by James Joyce,” Spencer says.  “They’re a series of short stories published by Joyce after he left Dublin for the last time in 1912.  Honestly, it’s a pity that the unsub is tying those stories to their actions as the stories themselves are rather interesting snapshots into the lives of people living within Dublin during the twentieth century.”

Aaron can’t help but laugh a bit.  “We’ve been ramming our heads against the walls trying to figure out what the quotes are from.  Yet it took you less than a few minutes.”

“Eidetic memory, remember?  It also helps that my mom was a professor of medieval literature and instilled me with a love of reading at a young age.” Spencer huffs.  “Ask me what I know about Beowulf or Chaucer sometime.”

“Don’t think I won’t,” Aaron warns.  He glances over the information, jotting down the origin of the quotes on the whiteboard.  “So, we’re looking at an unsub with an above average intelligence…the concern is that these murders feel like there should be a sexual element to them, but there isn’t.”

Spencer hums again.  “Perhaps the unsub is working up toward it?  Most of the quotes you read are either in-context surrounding sexual situations or have been adapted to describe such.  If there hasn’t been any signs of a sexual element to the crimes yet, there may be some popping up soon.  Also, just based on the quotations, this may be a slightly older person, man I’d assume.  Probably in thirties, maybe in his forties, though the inclusion of the quotations from The Boarding House and A Painful Case lead me away from that thought.”

The thought that the unsub is a male in his mid thirties had already been in Aaron’s head for a while, but it’s interesting that Spencer came to the same conclusion.  He leans against the table and crosses an arm over his stomach to rest his other elbow on.  “What about those stories in particular makes you think that?”

“Within The Boarding House, the main male character is mid thirties, which is a point of slight contention as he starts having relations with the much younger daughter of the boardinghouse owner,” Spencer says.  “Whereas within A Painful Case, the main female character dies at forty-three, four years after having an affair with the main male character, who is approximately the age of her daughter.  While we’re never given an age for the male main character, all three characters are clearly adults within the work.  We can approximate the age of the male main character from the daughter’s age—whom he says he’s a few years older than—and a rough guess on how old her mother was when she gave birth.  Assuming the mother was between the ages of sixteen to twenty when she gave birth to her daughter, we can presume that the male main character is between the ages of twenty-one and twenty-five at the start of the story and between twenty-five and twenty-nine at the end.  Regardless, there’s a significant age difference between the characters.  The age difference is also at play within the third story, as the character that quote is about is significantly older than the young female character he’s speaking with at the time.  How old have the victims been?”

Aaron has to take a moment to switch his train of thought.  He’d been drawn into listening to Spencer talk about the stories and had forgotten for a moment why they’re going over this topic.  It makes him wonder what it would be like to listen in on one of Spencer’s lectures.  “They’re all younger.  The oldest was twenty-three and the youngest was sixteen.”

“Yikes, gross,” Spencer mutters.

“Agreed.”  Glancing from one photo of the victims to the next, Aaron frowns.  “I wonder….”

Spencer is quiet for a bit before saying, “Wonder what?”

“Wonder if there was a sexual aspect that we didn’t notice before,” Aaron says.  “All of the women were wearing white night gowns that none of them owned.  They were all posed in a way which was almost reverent.  Their hair was brushed, their hands were placed over their stomachs, their legs were crossed at the ankle.  There was no sign of their undergarments having been removed.  Only their outer garments were removed.  What if the unsub masturbated to their dead clothed bodies and removed the evidence of such activities when he changed their clothes?”

“It’s a possibility.  It would also fit better with the characters the unsub selected from the Dubliners stories, presuming that he might have selected those stories due to a personal connection to the male characters within.  Should you be telling me everything that you’ve been telling me?  Isn’t there some sort of…I dunno, a rule or law or something that prevents you from talking about active cases with non-law enforcement personnel?” Spencer asks.

Aaron hums.  Apparently, it’s his turn.  “Exceptions are made when discussing the case with consultants.  Given that without you I would still be trying to figure out what the quotes are from, I’d say that you definitely count.”  Aaron hesitates.  “I hope that’s not a problem?”

“No, it’s not a problem.  I’m happy to help,” Spencer says, his tone light and slightly amused.  “Look at you, figuring out loopholes in the rules.”

Aaron snorts.  “I was a prosecutor before joining the FBI.  Finding loopholes in laws and knowing how the defendants were going to try and use those loopholes was my job.”

“That certainly makes a couple of things I’ve noticed make more sense.”  The sound of someone else talking on the other end of the line sounds.  “My next class is about to start and I have to go.  If you need anything, call or text, ok?  Even if you just want to talk.”

“Sounds good.  Good luck with your class,” Aaron says.  He waits for Spencer’s goodbye before hanging up.  A few of Spencer’s insights keep bouncing in his head and he scrolls through his contacts before hitting dial.  “Dave, pop back over to the precinct when you get a moment.  There are a couple of ideas I want to bounce back and forth with you.”

~*The next day*~

Spencer finishes outlining where the PhD student he’s mentoring needs to work on their dissertation a bit more when his phone starts ringing.  He glances at the caller ID and smiles.  “Alright, Sariah, I’ll see you next week.  Have a good weekend.”  He accepts the call as he starts making his way to his office.  “Aaron, how’s the case going?”

“Solved, thank goodness,” Aaron says.  “And thanks to you.”

“Eh, I just knew a bit of literature.  I’m sure a good google search would’ve revealed that to you,” Spencer says.  He enters his office and settles into the chair behind his desk, curling up with his legs off the floor and allowing the chair to spin how it wants.

“Maybe it would’ve given me the name of the text, but it wouldn’t have given me your literary analysis.  Nor would it have been able to make connections between character behavior and the behavior of our unsub,” Aaron says.  “That was all you.  And it made a difference.”

Spencer isn’t quite sure how to respond.  Doesn’t know how to say that he’d done all that to try and impress Aaron.  After all, the man is a freakin’ FBI agent and was a prosecutor before that.  Spencer’s just a professor.  He clears his throat.  “Glad that it was helpful.  You and your team going back to Virginia?”

“Probably the day after tomorrow,” Aaron says.  “We caught the unsub a bit late in the day and we have paperwork and other things that need to be completed before we can head out.  But, at the moment, I don’t want to even think about unsubs or murder or anything related.  How was your day?”

“Fairly good, all things considered,” Spencer says.  “We started a couple of new units in some classes and went over grades from the last exam in another.  Worked with my PhD student on her dissertation.  Nothing terribly exciting.”

Aaron huffs.  “Exciting can be overrated.”

“It can be.  Every once in a while it’s good.  Like when you’re driving along a dirt road and find two FBI agents at the side of it with a busted car during a tornado warning.” Spencer grins a bit.  “Honestly, I wasn’t sure to be angry or concerned for you when I turned the corner and saw your SUV.”

“As much as I was annoyed with the SUV at the time, I’m grateful now that it broke down,” Aaron says.  “Don’t think I would’ve met you otherwise.”

“If you tell my co-researcher, Debbie, that, I’m sure she’d say something about how certain people are fated to meet.  Not sure if I agree with her, but it’s a nice thought,” Spencer says.  He casts his mind for something to talk about, but without knowing how much Aaron’s looking for a conversation or if he’s just looking for someone to distract him from the case, he’s not exactly sure what to talk about.  “So, your job is off limits.  My job is one I’m just a bit talked out of at the moment, so also off limits.  Anything else we should steer clear of for the night, or anything you’d rather talk about?”

Aaron is quiet for a moment.  “You said you know a lot about Chaucer?”

Spencer grins.  “You sure you wanna open that can of worms?”

“Bring it on,” Aaron says.  There’s the sound of fabric shifting on his end of the line.

Grin turning into a smile, Spencer launches into the topic.

~*One Month Later*~

Aaron slips into the back of the lecture hall with a group of students in front of him and slides into the back row, finding an inconspicuous place to sit.  He’s wearing a polo and jeans rather than his usual suit—which had received raised eyebrows and gentle ribbing from his team as they claimed they didn’t know he had anything other than suits in his wardrobe—and figures that between the distance and clothes, his lack of materials will be less likely to be noticed from the lectern.  A few moments later, a door at the front of the room opens and a young woman with black hair and brown skin with a warm undertone wearing a hoodie emblazoned with the school emblem and jeans walks in ahead of Spencer.  It takes a moment for Aaron to correlate the appearance of Spencer here with the one he saw in person five months previously and the one he’s seen on their occasional video chat.  The Spencer he’s familiar with seems to favor t-shirts with an overshirt or button up shirts and a cardigan.  Very occasionally, a sweater or hoodie.  The Spencer in front of him is wearing a charcoal gray suit and waist coat, a dark purple button up shirt, and a dark colored tie.  Still looks like he’s wearing Converse, though it’s hard to tell from this distance.  A light at the front flickers as the projector turns on.

“Good afternoon, class!  Hope everyone was able to complete their readings for this class and that you’re preparing for your test on Friday,” Spencer says, the microphone at the front helping his voice travel.  The man seems to be glancing along the room and grins.  “Though judging by a few faces, likely not.  No matter, if you—” Spencer pauses very briefly, and clears his throat.  “If you focus on your notes today and do your readings, you should be prepared.  Of course, if anyone has any questions, please feel free to see me after class or during office hours.  If I’m unavailable, please speak with Sariah.”

Aaron wonders at the pause, especially since the remainder of the lesson goes by without a repeat.  It’s possible that the doctor may have just had a dry throat, but the lack of water to reduce the potential irritant and that Spencer had been looking in Aaron’s general direction gives him the impression that he was spotted fairly quickly.  Regardless, he’ll admit to anyone that the lesson is engaging and he can understand why such a large lecture hall seems packed beyond what it should fit—a handful of students are sitting in office chairs scattered at the front since all other seats in the room are full.  He has no idea when or where he’d use any of the information that he’s learned from sitting in on the single class, but has a feeling the knowledge will find a permanent home somewhere in his brain.  He doesn’t mind one bit.

A bell rings in the distance and Spencer grins.  “Alright, don’t forget to do your readings and study!  The test on Friday is worth a decent percentage of your grade, so you’ll want to receive the best marks you can.”

Most of the students exit the room, though a few of them filter down to the front and speak with Spencer and the woman who walked in with him that Aaron assumes is Sariah.  Aaron remains in the back row, waiting patiently for the students to finish talking with Spencer.  It doesn’t take too long for the rest of them to filter out and Spencer speaks with Sariah for a moment before she too leaves.  Spencer leans against the lectern, staring up at Aaron.

“Well, what did you think of my class, Agent?” Spencer calls out, projecting his voice rather than using the microphone.  “Think they learned something?”

Aaron grins as he stands and starts to approach the front of the lecture hall.  “I know I did, Professor.  Though, you have a couple of students who are lightly panicking over their grades and at least one student who’s probably going to try to cheat during the exam on Friday.”

“Ah, yeah, that would be Jimmy.  Believe it or not, he’s never actually cheated on an exam, but he does bring in the most ingenious devices that could be used for cheating.  Always fun to suss out what he’s chosen or thought up,” Spencer says.

“That’s…an interesting interaction,” Aaron says.  He shrugs slightly.  “Unfortunately, academic dishonesty is a bit out of my purview, so I’ll take your word that it’s not a problem.”

“While I’m thrilled to see you, I have to admit that I’m a little concerned as to what you’re doing in the area,” Spencer says as he finishes putting away his things and settles his messenger bag on his shoulder.  He motions for Aaron to follow him as he exits the room and walks through the building.

“No case on this trip,” Aaron says as he falls in step alongside Spencer.  “We’re scheduled to speak with the psychology and criminal justice schools here.”

Spencer’s eyebrows furrow together for a half a second before raising and he chuckles.  “I remember reading that email, but I don’t know why I didn’t realize that it would be your team coming by.  It’s scheduled for this evening, right?”

“Yes, in the student union.”

“Well, you snuck into my lecture, I might have to sneak into your presentation,” Spencer says.

Aaron grins.  “You don’t need to sneak in.”

“Need to?  No.  Want to?  Absolutely.  Seems like it would be fun to find out how long it takes for you to locate where I’m at,” Spencer says.

“Well, you have home field advantage, so don’t expect me to find you as quickly as you found me,” Aaron says.

Spencer shrugs.  “I’ll make it slightly easier on you and not wear a school hoodie or sweater.”

Aaron laughs.  “Alright, we’ll give it a go.  If I find you, I’ll tap out ‘hi’ in morse code on the podium or table or whatever they give us.”

“What makes you think I know morse code?” Spencer asks.

“Because it seems like the sort of thing you’d learn,” Aaron says.  “Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not, just wondering if I gave off some sort of ‘knows morse code’ subliminal message,” Spencer says.

They enter an office and Aaron can just tell that it’s Spencer’s.  From the numerous bookshelves filled top to bottom with texts to the small geek culture figurines scattered around the place—including a small TARDIS, that he only recognizes because of Garcia, in a peace lily.  He meanders about the space taking it in as Spencer puts his things away.  A trio of photos on one shelf catch his attention.  One photo is of a younger Spencer standing next to an older man.  They’re both wearing suits—though the suit Spencer’s wearing in the photo is clearly not as well tailored as the one he’s currently wearing—and glasses.  Spencer’s hair is longer and the man doesn’t have any.  From what Aaron remembers, it has to be Skilling.  The other photo is more recent and shows Spencer standing with what has to be his research team in a field.  While he hasn’t met any of these people, he knows enough stories and tid bits about them to pick out a couple of them.  Like Maisie being the shorter black woman on the right side of the group with the purple and blue dreadlocks.  That the gray haired hispanic man standing next to Spencer is Rusty while the young white man on the other side of Rusty with the curly blond hair has to be Sam.  He figures that the young white woman next to Sam is Debbie.  The final photo is of what looks like a pre-teen aged Spencer standing next to a woman.  Based on the physical similarities he can pick up between them, it has to be his mother.  He’s wearing a graduation gown while she’s wearing a dress and cardigan, her arms around him as she kisses his cheek.

“I have a decent chunk of time before my next class, did you want to get coffee and take a tour of campus?” Spencer asks.

Aaron turns from the photo and nods.  “Sounds good.”

~*~

Spencer walks into the main auditorium talking with a couple of his students.  The stage is currently empty, but many of the seats are already filled.  Despite the main audience for this presentation being the psychology and criminal justice majors, he has a feeling that just about every school is represented in the audience tonight.  He bids his students goodbye and finds a seat in the midsection of the left hand side of the room.  Normally, he’d sit on the right, but considering that Aaron’s left handed, he figured it’s worth testing to see if his theory about people not paying as much attention to the side on their dominant hand stands true.  Though, since Aaron’s an FBI agent, that may hamper the results.

A few minutes after he’s seated, the heads of the psychology and criminal justice departments step out and make introductions.  Six people walk out from backstage, Aaron at the back speaking with a man with black hair and slightly tanned skin a bit older than Aaron is.  Spencer narrows his eyes.  Something about that man looks familiar.  When he gets a better view of the man’s face, Spencer’s eyebrows raise.  He hadn’t realized that the Dave from Aaron’s stories—and the occasional complaint—is Dave Rossi.  The other man on the stage has to be Derek.  He instantly recognizes Emily, and he’s glad she seems relaxed and doesn’t seem to be injured from their last case.  Based on the very loudly hued but tasteful clothes one of the blonde women is wearing, she has to be Penelope.  Which makes the other blonde woman JJ.

Spencer refocuses on Aaron as he steps to the lectern at the front of the stage with Rossi and they begin introducing themselves and the team while outlining what they’re going to talk about.  It doesn’t take long for Aaron to tap out ‘hi’, and Spencer grins.  Just like he thought.  Though, he did make it easy on Aaron and didn’t change out of his suit.  The presentation is engaging and at several points he almost wishes that he could just sit and pick all of their brains for information.  Maybe some time in the future—if the opportunity presents itself—though he imagines they get as tired talking about their work as he does about his.

When the BAU finishes their presentation, the auditorium is filled with applause and hands instantly raising to ask questions.  Some of the questions are obviously based around curiosity and building further knowledge—“Is there a book or lecture you’d recommend to learn more about victimology?”—while some are more based on a for-shits-and-giggles type of curiosity—“What is the worst shoe to chase a criminal in?”—and all of them are answered with the same patience and care.  As the students filter out, many of them talking about the presentation, Spencer slips out and takes one of the side halls to a door and goes through that to the area where the university has rooms for speakers to relax.  He can hear the chatter of the BAU team from several rooms away and grins.  Leaning against the door to the mock green room, he watches and waits.  It doesn’t take long for him to be noticed.

“Doctor Reid!” Emily smiles and heads over.  “It’s so good to see you again!  How’re you?”

Spencer grins.  “I’m alright.  How have you been?  Avoided being around another tornado, right?”

“Yes.  That is one experience I don’t want to deal with ever again,” Emily says.

“I would hope so.  I’m glad to see that you’re alright.  Aaron shared a little of what happened during your last case and even though I knew you were safe, I was still concerned,” Spencer says.

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you.  Just needed a bit of time to rest.  Come on, let me introduce you to the rest of the team,” Emily says before moving toward where Derek, JJ, and Penelope are clustered.

“—original pocket doors!  I can’t believe someone would try and bury those under—oh, hello, who’s this?” Derek asks.

Emily motions to Spencer.  “This is Doctor Spencer Reid, he’s the storm chaser who made sure Hotch and I didn’t end up in Oz during that case in Oklahoma.  Doctor Reid, this is Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau, and Penelope Garcia.”

“Hello,” Spencer says as he waves.  “Aaron’s told me a bit about each of you, but it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

JJ perks up.  “You’re Spencer!  I’ve heard Hotch talking with you a time or two.  Good to meet you.”

“Who knew bossman’s friend would be such a fancy professor?” Penelope grins.  “Looking spiffy, my good sir.”

Derek chuckles.  “Yeah, who’d have thought the weather professor would be such a pretty boy?”

Not completely certain how to respond—Aaron had told him that they all tease each other quite a bit, but he’d figured that it was because they all worked together and knew each other quite well sort of thing—Spencer just chuckles a bit and slips his hands into his pockets.  “I’m sure you all want to relax, I just wanted to congratulate you for such a good presentation.  Is Aaron around?”

“He’s talking with one of the Deans of the university,” JJ says.  She leans forward in her seat.  “Are you the unnamed consultant that Hotch has been talking with on occasion?”

“Um, yeah, just a couple of times and usually if you all are really stuck,” Spencer says.  “I have a wide area of expertise.”

Penelope grins.  “Oh, no need to be so modest.  The good doctor here has three doctorates and could probably gain another couple rather easily.  Are you who’s been sending Hotch those beautiful photos that act as his screensaver?”

“Those were taken by a colleague of mine.  She’s been published in National Geographic a time or two, and sending her photos to Aaron is what gave her the courage to send her work in,” Spencer says.

“How long have you lived in the area?” Derek asks, leaning against a table and crossing his arms.

Spencer shrugs.  “Depends on what you mean by the area.  I grew up in Las Vegas, lived in California for a bit while I was in undergraduate and getting my first doctorate.  Moved to Chicago for my second and third doctorates and while I was interning with my mentor.  Moved here when I gained a teaching and research position and have been here for about six years.”

“What is your—”

“Would you stop interrogating Doctor Reid?” Aaron says, stopping JJ’s next question.  He steps alongside Spencer and raises an eyebrow at his team.  “Shouldn’t you all be getting ready to go?  We have to head back to the hotel so we can get some sleep.  The jet leaves early tomorrow.”

“Right, good point,” JJ says.  She turns to Derek and Penelope.  “Come on, let’s clean up our mess.  Louisa would be disappointed if we didn’t.”

While the others scatter about the room, Aaron catches Spencer’s eye and makes a small motion out of the room.  Spencer grins and nods.  They exit the room and go to a side door that deposits them outside.  Despite the door being only a few steps from the parking lot, Spencer’s aware that not many people tend to hang around here and that practically none of the students come by here.

Aaron sighs.  “Sorry about them, sometimes I think they don’t realize they don’t have to interrogate everyone.”

“No worries, I think they were just curious,” Spencer says.  He leans against the building and grins at Aaron.  “You all gave quite an interesting presentation.  I can see why you’re the team they send on the difficult cases.”

“I’m lucky to have such a good team,” Aaron says.  “I’m lucky to work with them.”

“They’re lucky to work with you too.  I saw how attentive you are to them.  It’s admirable.”  Spencer shifts slightly over as Aaron leans against the wall next to him.  “Though, I will admit, I’m a little sad you all can’t stay in town longer.”

Aaron sighs slightly.  “Me too.  We’ve been going almost non-stop for the last month.  They could use the break, and I would enjoy spending some more time in your company.”

Spencer hums, mentally flipping through the various conferences he knows are coming up that he’s supposed to speak at.  Most of them aren’t until spring for his field—naturally, when all the weather is kicking up—but maybe…he mentally shrugs.  Might as well suggest it.  “Well, there’s a conference in DC coming up in May that I’m slated to speak at.  Maybe if you’re not out of town on a case we can meet up.”

“That sounds like a plan.  Hopefully May isn’t as busy next year as it has been in previous years,” Aaron says.  He runs his thumb along his fingers.  “I know I’d—”

A scuffing of shoes along pavement makes him stop as both of them turn toward the sound.  Dave Rossi walks around the corner of the building, hands in his pockets and looking out toward the parking lot.  When he spots them, he grins.  “Apologies, I figured a leg stretch would be good before bed.  Who’s your friend, Aaron?”

“Dave, this is Spencer Reid.  Spencer, this is Dave Rossi,” Aaron says.  He raises an eyebrow at Dave, which causes the other man to chuckle.

“It’s good to meet you Spencer, I’ve heard a lot about you,” Dave says.

Spencer nods.  He smirks.  “And I you.  Though, I must admit that I’m slightly disappointed, Mr. Rossi.”

Dave turns to him with raised eyebrows, surprise etching the lines around his eyes.  “Oh?”

“Surely a profiler of your caliber would have determined that the culprit for sneaking grounds from your hidden coffee stash is the head of your maintenance crew?”  Spencer shakes his head, grinning.  “To not realize that…for shame.”

Dave stares at Spencer for several moments before laughing.  When he finally manages to get himself under control he turns to Aaron and points at Spencer.  “I like him.  Don’t screw up.”

Eyebrows furrowing, Spencer turns to Aaron—who seems just as confused—before turning back to Dave.  It’s not much help, though, as he’s continued his walk, whistling slightly.  Spencer clears his throat.  “What did he mean by ‘don’t screw up’?”

“I have no idea.”  Aaron shakes his head a bit.  “I’ve known Dave for over a decade and was trained by him.  I still don’t know what he’s thinking half the time.”

The door of the building opens and the rest of the BAU team exits, talking amongst themselves about what sounds like bar options.  Since he doesn’t recognize any of the names, he can only assume they’re bars in or around DC.  They wave and say their goodbyes to Spencer as they walk toward the two black SUVs in the parking lot.  Aaron sighs once they’re a good distance away.

“Well, I suppose I should follow them before Prentiss and Morgan start bickering over radio stations again,” Aaron says.  He turns slightly, a slight smile on his face.  “It was good seeing you, Spencer.”

Spencer smiles in response.  “It was good seeing you too.  Hopefully, we’ll be able to meet up in May.”

Aaron holds out a hand, and Spencer doesn’t hesitate to shake it.  “I know your research requires you to chase severe weather, but keep safe, Spencer.”

“Will do,” Spencer says.  “But only so long as you do as well.  Chasing criminals isn’t exactly low risk either.”

“Deal.”

~*Four months later*~

Aaron glances at the clock and frowns.  It’s eight thirty at night and he was expecting Spencer to call thirty minutes ago.  Checking his calendar in case he got the date wrong—nope, marked for March 24th—before texting Spencer.

Hey, is everything alright?

Less than a minute later, his phone rings and his heart calms a bit when he sees it’s Spencer calling.  He accepts the call.  “Spencer, you had me worried.”

“Ummm…sorry, not Doc,” Maisie says.

“Maisie?” Aaron’s eyebrows furrow as he leans forward in his seat.  “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry, sorry, nothing’s wrong.  Well, not nothing’s wrong, but nothing is seriously wrong.  Doc’s alright.  Mostly.  You actually might be able to help,” Maisie says.

“I’ll do what I can.  What happened?” Aaron asks.  He needs Maisie to explain what’s going on or he’s jumping on the next flight to whichever state they’re in.

“We were trying to get readings for a tornado and the vehicle Doc and Sam were in got hit by a piece of debris.  Doc is mostly alright, just broke an arm, but Sam’s been put into the ICU,” Maisie says.  “Doc isn’t taking it well and is driving everyone in the hospital nuts because he won’t settle down.  All of us have tried to get him to relax and maybe sleep, but nothing.  Think you could try talking him into it?”

He runs a hand down his face, sighing slightly as his heart has to calm back down.  “Yes, of course.”

“Ok, good.  Thank you,” Maisie says.  There’s the sound of a door opening and closing in the background and the steady beeping of a heart monitor.

“Maisie, did you take my phone again?” Spencer’s voice sounds in the background.  “You know I’ll just get it back when you’re distracted.”

“No need, Doc.  Here, Agent Hotchner’s on the line,” Maisie says, her voice further away than before.

The sounds of a phone being shuffled around echoes over the line before Spencer says, “Aaron?  Is everything alright?”

“You mean other than the heart palpitations from hearing you were struck by debris chasing a tornado?  I’m great,” Aaron says.  Relief at hearing the man’s voice floods his system and Aaron’s glad he’s sitting down or else he would have been swaying.  “I’m sorry to hear about Sam.  And I’m sorry to hear you’ve got a broken arm.  Does it hurt much?”

“Nah, the doctors gave me muscle relaxant and rotating acetaminophen and ibuprofen,” Spencer says.  “It keeps most of the pain manageable.  I’m more concerned about Sam.”

Aaron frowns.  “I’m surprised they didn’t give you something stronger.”

“Nah, can’t have opioids, I’m allergic,” Spencer says.

“Allergic?”

“Yeah, break out in addiction.”

He…doesn’t know what to do with that.  Out of everyone he’s known, Spencer’s the last person he would think of as ever having an addiction.  “I’m sorry…I didn’t know.”

“Eh, you wouldn’t have.  Happened ages ago.  Broke my leg pretty badly one summer when I was twenty-one and was given percocet for it.  Ended up addicted and did some not great things until I had some sense knocked into me by Rusty,” Spencer says.  “He found me a good rehab program and visited me twice a week until I got out.  Been clean ever since.”

“That’s fantastic.  Not that you had to go through that, but that you were able to overcome it,” Aaron says.  He makes a mental note to thank Rusty if he ever gets a chance.

“Thanks.”  Spencer is silent before muttering, “I keep going over what happened, and I can’t help but wonder what I could have done differently to prevent Sam from getting hurt.  I don’t care that I got injured…Sam’s who I’m worried about.”

It’s a feeling and thought pattern Aaron is all too familiar with.  Any time anyone from his unit gets injured, he runs through the same thoughts.  “While I don’t know the entire situation, I’m certain you did everything you could to keep him safe and that you got him help as quickly as you could.  You did everything you could, Spencer, and he’s going to make it through this.”

“What if he doesn’t?  What am I going to tell his family?” Spencer asks, his voice still low.

“He will.  I’m certain he will.  Even if the worst luck ever strikes and he doesn’t, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Aaron says.

“We?”

Aaron nods, even if Spencer can’t see it.  “Yes, we.  I might not be able to be there in person, but I will do whatever I can from here to help.  Even if that’s just to talk things out with you until you're able to break the news to his folks.”

“I…I—” Spencer cuts off with a slightly watery chuckle.  “Fuck, I don’t know why that got to me, but it did.  Thank you.  Hopefully we won’t need to deal with that, but thank you.”

“Anytime.”  He has no idea how to make sure that Spencer understands how much he means that.  Can only hope the doctor senses the emotion and certainty behind the word.

Spencer clears his throat.  “What’re you up to?  It’s gotta be after eight your time.”

“I got home about thirty…no, sorry, forty minutes ago.”  An idea pops into his head and he wonders if it’ll work.  “Tell you what, I need to vent a bit about the antics around the office and you seem like you could use a slight distraction.  Would you be alright listening to me rant for a bit?”

“Of course, rant away,” Spencer says.

Aaron grins as he launches into the prank war that Derek and Anderson have been having, his befuddlement at how neither of them have realized that Emily is pulling half the pranks on them, at the newest bout of reigning Dave in when it comes to picking at unsubs, of how he’s fairly certain Garcia has built a new computer virus and is trying it out on the local NCIS team—who also seem entirely too happy to go to ‘war’ with Garcia online.  He talks about the various gossip points that have made the rounds and how he’s pretty certain the archive department is behind the sudden decrease in manilla folders.  What they could want with them, he has no idea.

Throughout his rambling, he keeps close tabs on Spencer’s responses and his breathing.  When it becomes obvious that Spencer’s fallen asleep, he keeps talking, hoping it’ll help the man sleep longer.  Eventually, there’s the sound of the phone shifting hands again.

“Hey, Agent Hotchner, it’s Maisie again,” Maisie whispers.  “I don’t know how you managed it, but he’s asleep.  Thank you so much.”

“Of course, anytime,” Aaron says.  He grins a bit, remembering a conversation with Spencer about a month ago.  “Just as a heads up, whispers and syllabants tend to sound louder, so that might wake him up.”

Maisie huffs.  “Honestly, with how lightly he sleeps, I’m surprised I got this far.  I know it’s getting late by you and Spencer would be aghast if you were to lose any more sleep.  Get some rest, Agent, and thank you again.”

“I will.  Get some rest yourself, Maisie.  Let me know if anything happens,” Aaron says.  Maisie agrees and says her goodbyes before hanging up.  Staring at the now quiet phone in his hands, Aaron sighs and goes to get ready for bed, fighting against the instinct to book a flight to check on the man he’d just been on the phone with.

~*The next morning*~

Thank you for your kind words, as much as I’m glad to have heard them, I wish it could have been in person.

Delete the message.  Rewrite.

Sorry I fell asleep on you, though I suspect that was your intention.  It helped a lot

Backspace.  Start again.

I wish you were here, I miss you so

Absolutely not.  Start over.

Is it weird that I dreamt of you last night?  Thanks for

Even worse. Discard.

Thank you.  Sam’s doing better and he woke up earlier this morning.  Hopefully we’re out of here soon.  I think I might be falling in love with you.  See you in May.

After deleting the fourth sentence, he sends the text and sighs.  Fuck.

~*Two months later*~

“—how you can stand being on one of those tin cans,” Rusty says.  “And don’t give me that garbage about how safe flying is, I’ve heard it before and I still think flying is foolish.”

Spencer rolls his eyes as he weaves through the crowds of the airport.  “Do we have to have this conversation every time I need to fly out for a conference?”

“Yes, because one of these days I’ll be able to say ‘I told you so’ and I want to make sure you can’t argue against that fact,” Rusty says.

“You do remember I have an eidetic memory, right?  Even if it’s better for written word rather than spoken word, I’ve heard your complaints about flying often enough that I think I could repeat them in my sleep,” Spencer says.  He diverts from the crowd going toward the escalator for the stairs.  After being surrounded by so many people for so long, he wants some space.  He’s just glad he doesn’t have a checked bag to pick up.

Rusty scoffs.  “Yet you refuse to listen to me.”

“While I respect your fears, I don’t share them,” Spencer says.  As the exit for the airport comes into view, he scans the crowd out of habit and almost stops when he spots Aaron leaning against a pillar.  He’s wearing a blue sweater with jeans and is in the middle of pulling his sleeves to his elbows when he spots Spencer and grins.  Spencer smiles in response and his steps are a little faster than they were before.  “I don’t force you onto a plane, so please don’t try to force me to drive from one end of the country to the other.”

“What’s happened?  You sound significantly happier than you did literally a few seconds ago,” Rusty says.

“Bye, Rusty.”  Spencer hangs up.  He approaches Aaron, still smiling.  “Either this is the weirdest coincidence ever and you’re waiting for someone else, or you planned this with one of my team members.”

Aaron shrugs.  “Maisie and I might have talked.”

“I should’ve figured it would be Maisie,” Spencer says.

“Do you need to grab a suitcase?” Aaron asks.

Spencer shakes his head slightly.  “Nope.  I pack light.”

“Alright.”  Aaron stands fully and motions toward the exit.  “Fair warning, my team wants to invite you to dinner one of the nights you’re in town.  Apparently, the initial interrogation and what information they’ve been able to find about you isn’t enough and they want to interrogate you again.”

“Oh no, a good meal and good company, how horrible,” Spencer says.  He smirks when Aaron glances at him from the corner of his eye with a raised eyebrow.

“Why do I get the feeling that they’re about to find out how devious you are?” Aaron asks.

“I’m not devious,” Spencer argues.  “I just like to subvert expectations.  Besides, it’s not like you can talk.  Weren’t you telling me just a day or two ago how Dave has been complaining about how his office feels odd, not realizing that you’ve been slowly shifting the furniture over the past couple of months?”

Aaron chuckles.  “I’m testing his spatial recognition and situational awareness.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

They approach a black SUV—Spencer is absolutely going to tease Aaron for following stereotypes later—and before long they’re heading toward Spencer’s hotel.

~*~

Aaron waits off to the side as Spencer talks to the receptionist.  While he’s given enough space to not eavesdrop, he can’t help but notice that Spencer’s body language becomes tense while the receptionist seems apologetic.  Clearly, there’s some sort of problem with the hotel room.  After a few more minutes, Spencer shrugs and nods to the woman before turning around and walking toward Aaron.  The flip from a pleasant and understanding expression to a scowl indicates that whatever the issue is, it wasn’t solved.  Spencer nods toward the door and Aaron falls in step with him as they leave the hotel lobby.  Once far enough from the door, Spencer runs a hand through his hair and sighs.

“You wouldn’t happen to know of another hotel near here that might have room?” Spencer asks.  “Because, apparently, they overbooked the rooms here and since the other person slated for my room checked in first, they got it.”

Aaron frowns.  “Unfortunately, many of the hotels around here are likely fully booked.  There are quite a few conventions going on this weekend, including the one you’re speaking at.  The only ones I can think of that might have room are very out of the way.”

“Great.”  Spencer groans.  “Alright, guess I’ll need to rent a car.”

“Or, you could just stay with me,” Aaron says without thinking.

Surprise flashes across Spencer’s face as his eyebrows raise.  “What?”

Even though he spoke without thinking it over, Aaron can’t help but think it’s the right move.  Disregarding his own desire to spend more time around the doctor, it’ll make it easier for Spencer.  “Stay with me.  My townhouse isn’t far from here and it’s actually closer to where your conference is being held than this hotel is.  Plus, it’s quieter.  No worries about people running up and down the hall in the middle of the night, though I make no promises that you won’t hear snoring.”

Spencer huffs in amusement, the surprise still lingering.  “Are you sure?  I don’t want to impose.”

“I’m the one who suggested it,” Aaron says.  “You can’t impose when I’m the one who offered.”

“Ok,” Spencer says, a gentle smile forming on his face.  “Thank you.”

He’s struck by the way the light plays across Spencer’s face and seems to make his smile more ethereal.  How it highlights the slight variations in color in the doctor’s hazel eyes.  Nodding, Aaron says, “No need to thank me, Spencer, you’re always welcome in my home.  Besides, you may rethink that after tasting my cooking.”

Spencer laughs.  “Oh, I don’t know, I doubt you’re that bad.  I’ve had some truly bad food, so there’s a very high bar for you to beat for that.”

They return to Aaron’s SUV and he uses the slight break in line of sight to settle himself.  It’s one thing to enjoy Spencer’s company.  It’s another to let his heart run wild.  Though, he has a feeling it might be a little late to reign it in.  No one on the team has said anything about him being obvious about the budding feelings, but based on the looks Dave has been giving him, he’s becoming obvious.  Not that he could stop it.  He can obfuscate any emotion he’s feeling, except when it concerns people he has romantic feelings for.  Then it’s as though he’s waving a flag bearing his heart in the air.  Hopefully, it’s not so obvious that Spencer notices.  Aaron doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

Before shifting the vehicle into gear, Aaron turns to Spencer.  “Do you want to get something to eat?”

“Sure.  Surprise me,” Spencer says.

“I know just the place,” Aaron says.  He shifts gears and starts driving toward one of his favorite restaurants.  “You’re going to love it.”

Spencer hums.  “I have no doubt.”

~*~

Aaron was right, the restaurant was wonderful and Spencer is glad they went to the little family owned place.  The woman who started the restaurant—an older woman with wrinkles in her wrinkles, long steel gray hair, and a very heavy accent—had been surprised when Spencer had spoken with her in Polish and had spent a long few minutes talking about her childhood and immigrating to the US and the recipes used in the restaurant.  She had then surprised Spencer when she nudged him and grinned.

“How long have you and your partner been together?” She asked.

Spencer couldn’t help but glance at Aaron, who seemed to sense the conversation had shifted but still couldn’t understand it.  “I’m sorry, we’re not together like that.”

The woman scoffed.  “Bullshit.  I’ve seen the way you two look at each other.  I know I’m from the old country, but that doesn’t mean I follow any of the hogwash that some people my age do.”

“It’s not that,” Spencer said.  “Really, we’re just…not together.  He lives here and I’m across the country, I’m just in town for a conference.  Besides, I doubt that he actually feels anything like that for me.  He’s just excited to see me again.”

“Little cabbage, listen to me.”  The woman cupped the side of Spencer’s face.  “You have feelings for him, yes?”

Spencer stared with slightly wide eyes and nodded, partially thrown by the conversation and partially thrown by that he doesn’t mind her touching him.

The woman nodded.  “He has feelings for you too.  No matter the obstacles, if you two want to be together, you will be.  It’ll take work and time, but it’ll be worth it.”

“Spencer, are you alright?”

Startling from his thoughts, he turns to Aaron.  “Yeah, sorry, just going over my presentation.”

Aaron is quiet for a moment before nodding.  “Alright.  If you want someone to practice with, I’m happy to listen.”

“You just want to hear it before everyone else,” Spencer teases.

“That would be a plus,” Aaron says.  “At any rate, we’re here.  Please, don’t mind the mess.”

Looking out of the windshield, he takes in the townhouse.  The building is a dark blue with white shutter and trim.  Aaron is on the end of the row and the small yard has several low plants in varying garden spaces.  On the porch is a child’s bike and small collection of toys.

He climbs out of the vehicle and grabs his carry on and messenger bag before following Aaron to the front door.  Glancing at the door mat, Spencer can’t help but snort at the ‘come back with a warrant’ emblazoned on the mat.

“A little ironic, don’t you think?” Spencer asks, pointing toward the mat when Aaron furrows his eyebrows.

“Ah, I honestly forgot that was there.  It was a bit of a joke housewarming gift from my ex-sister-in-law,” Aaron says.  “Her and my ex-wife enjoy poking at my career choices now that they’re not having to contend with the repercussions of it as directly.”

“Sounds like you all are still close,” Spencer says.

The door opens and Aaron ushers Spencer in first.  “Hailey and I still get along rather well, which is good for Jack.  Her sister, Jessica, likes to remind me that she still considers herself my sister regardless and that we’ve known each other longer than not.  They’re good people.”

Spencer glances around the entrance of the home.  It’s an open space with a living room off to the left, stairs leading to the upper floors on the right.  A combination coat rack, shoe cubby, and bench sits to the side of the door along with a small table with a bowl.  The keys are tossed into the bowl as Aaron toes off his shoes and waits off to the side.  Spencer follows suit, still observing the space.  Even though the paint on the walls is a light coffee color, there are bits of color everywhere.  From the light blue curtains to the darker blue couch and armchairs to the small basket of blankets in the corner.  Pictures dot the walls, most of them showing a young blond boy though there are several that include a blonde woman and a few that show the various BAU members.  He follows Aaron to the kitchen and finds just as many touches of personality and home with that space as well.  The longer that Spencer is quiet, the more tense Aaron seems to get.  That won’t do at all.

Leaning against the island, Spencer looks around with a slight exaggeration of puzzlement.  He finally turns to Aaron and raises an eyebrow.  “When you said not to mind the mess, I was expecting there to be a mess.”

Aaron blinks in surprise.  “I…I think I may have spoken from an old buried habit my parents gave me.”

“I get it,” Spencer says.  “Your home is lovely, Aaron.  Seriously, thank you for allowing me to stay with you.  I don’t know what I would have done otherwise.”

~*~

Aaron is pulled from his musings as the cushion next to where he’s sitting sinks.  He doesn’t even need to look to know it’s Spencer.  After spending a few days in close proximity to the man, he’s come to recognize his scent.  Lavender, coffee, and bergamot.  Still, he glances at the man.  Spencer is slightly dressed down from giving his presentation today.  His tie was left in Aaron’s SUV, the top few buttons of his shirt undone, the sleeves rolled up, His suit jacket left inside the house, and his waist coat a bit looser than it was earlier.  Light brown hair has broken away from the styling he had it in and the usual slightly chaotic waves that Aaron’s more familiar with frame his face.  The contacts had been removed almost as soon as Spencer had arrived at Dave’s house, the doctor saying he would have removed them sooner, but hadn’t wanted to chance poking his eye out in the SUV.  He’d pulled a pair of glasses from his messenger bag and when Spencer had asked if something was wrong—Aaron had been staring for a fair bit of time, he’s surprised it had taken as long as it did for Spencer to notice—Aaron had internally panicked and asked if Spencer was pushing the professor stereotype a bit far.  Luckily, Spencer had laughed and said he, ironically, does have a suitcoat with elbow patches back home.

“You keep staring and Dave’s going to get ideas,” Spencer mutters, not moving his gaze from the fire.

Dave already has ideas.  Ones that are mostly correct, unfortunately.  “Trust me, it wouldn’t stop him.”

Spencer hums.  “You have a good group of people here.  Very protective, too.”

“Protective?” Aaron’s eyebrows furrow.  What would they be protective over?

“Yup.”  Spencer turns to Aaron, his lips twitching in a smile for a moment as he raises an eyebrow.  “Apparently, each of them felt it was necessary to let me know that if I have ill intentions toward you that they will hunt me down and ensure nothing is left identifiable to even the best forensic experts.”

Aaron frowns, glancing around at his team.  “I’m sorry, I have no idea why they did that.”

“Don’t be sorry.  It’s good they care so much.  Though, I have to apologize for possibly grossing Derrick and Emily out by pointing out that pigs—while excellent for getting rid of a body—won’t eat teeth and hair, so they’d need to figure out a way to dispose of those bits,” Spencer says.

“Ah, yeah, we had a not so great case not too long ago that involved a pig farm,” Aaron says.

They fall into silence, and it’s far more relaxing than it has any right to be.  Aaron turns back to the fire and he gazes into the heart of it, allowing his thoughts to drift as they want.  He hates that Spencer has to leave tomorrow.  The few days the man has been in town have been wonderful and he’s grown entirely too accustomed to his presence within his home in such a short time.  The varying books and papers that end up scattered on flat surfaces just to disappear within a few minutes.  The scent of coffee and tea being near perpetual within the air.  Quiet muttering as Spencer works, talking to himself without seeming to realize it.  Having someone he cares about near.  At first, Aaron had wondered if it was just loneliness causing him to latch onto Spencer, but after thinking about it, he doesn’t feel the same urge to be that close to anyone else.

A slight weight settles against Aaron’s arm and he glances over.  Spencer has fallen asleep, his glasses pressing to the side of his head as he leans against Aaron, his breaths slow and even.  Warm contentment settles in Aaron’s chest and he returns to gazing into the fire.  He’ll let the doctor sleep for a little bit before rousing him just enough for them to go home.

~*One Month Later*~

The clouds overhead are dark and if Aaron remembers correctly, the meteorologist was predicting severe storms during the afternoon.  While being nowhere near as proficient as Spencer or other meteorologists in reading the reports given out by the National Weather Service, he has learned a thing or two from listening to Spencer and when he’d looked at the reports, he’d noticed a few things that make him a little concerned they might be fighting the weather and the unsub.  They’re in the middle of south central Kansas, in a town so small it barely constitutes as a town.  Still, they have a case, they’re going to see it through.

“Hey, Hotch, a county sheriff called in a minute ago saying they think they found something that relates to our case,” Derek says as he approaches from the direction of the small meeting room they’d taken over in the town hall.  “Want me to go check it out?”

Glancing at the sky and feeling a thread of warning ringing in the back of his mind, Aaron shakes his head.  “No, stay here and keep working with Dave on the timeline and going through those journals.  I’ll head out and call if it’s worth anyone else leaving as well.”

Derek nods.  “Sounds good.”

The rumble of thunder greets Aaron as he leaves the town hall.  A slight wind blows toward the storm, and Aaron hopes this won’t get as bad as he thinks it will.  Hopes that he’s just being a bit paranoid.  Driving out to the site isn’t too bad for the most part.  Most of the roads are paved and well maintained by the county and state, but when he hits the gravel roads, he’s glad he’s in an SUV rather than a car.  He can easily imagine the sort of damage the undercarriage of a sedan might have traveling down these roads repeatedly.  When he pulls into the lot where the county sheriff is waiting, he can’t help but look toward the sky and frown.

“You must be Agent Hotchner,” the county sheriff says.  “Grow up in the midwest?”

Aaron shakes his head.  “No, Virginia.  Why?”

“Huh.  The way you were inspecting the sky, I thought you might’ve been from the area,” the sheriff says.

“No, I’m friends with a meteorologist who does a lot of research on severe storms and have learned a thing or two from him,” Aaron says.  “You wouldn’t have happened to hear about a turquoise eighties Chevy truck in the area?”

The sheriff grins.  “Nope.  Doc Reid isn’t in the area as far as I know.  He has a pretty distinctive truck, so we all keep a look out for it during tornado season and try to determine if he’s sticking around or just passing through if he’s around.”

“As much as I wouldn’t mind seeing him, I’m going to say it’s a good thing he’s likely chasing in another area,” Aaron says.  He glances to the sky one last time before refocusing on the sheriff.  “What caught your attention?”

The sheriff shows Aaron a shed hidden a bit of the way into the woods.  Despite the building appearing to have been in place for a while, no one had noticed it before.  Probably would have remained hidden if some teens who’d been goofing around hadn’t stumbled upon it and peered inside.  When he looks in the building, Aaron hopes the parents of the teens take them to therapy.  They’re going to need it.  The sheriff looks a little green as he looks around the very bloody and gore filled shed.

Aaron pulls out his cell phone and frowns when he notices there’s no coverage.  Of course there’s no signal out here.  One of the bad things about working in the middle of nowhere.  Right before Aaron asks the sheriff about where he can go to make a call go through, he notices what he’s been hearing.  Rather, what he hasn’t been hearing.  Everything has gone eerily silent.  The air has gone still.  An odd scent hangs in the air, and the hairs on his neck stand on end.

“Come on, let’s get out of here and see where we can call my team and CSI to come by,” Aaron says.

The sheriff nods and they start heading out of the woods the way they came.  As they walk, the lighting changes and grows dark.  Rain starts to pelt them and they walk a little faster.  Soon, it’s pouring so hard they can hardly see in front of them and they manage to make it onto the tiny porch of the abandoned house on the property.

The sheriff sighs.  “Well, we’re not going anywhere for a minute.”

As rain and then hail pelt the roof above them, Aaron can’t help but feel as though they should leave.  Maybe he’s becoming paranoid with age, maybe he’s spent too much time thinking of worst case scenarios.  Before he can say anything, he hears what sounds like a quiet roar in the distance.  Turning to face that direction, he peers through the rain, trying to see what’s making the sound.  Only rain and an increasingly loud roar greet him.  He remembers Spencer talking about varying types of tornadoes and feels his heart climb into his throat.  

“We need to get inside.  Now,” Aaron says to the sheriff before turning to the door and checking the handle.  Locked.  Before the sheriff can say anything, Aaron takes a step back before kicking in the door.

“Well, shit, no wonder why you're the boss,” the sheriff mutters, following Aaron inside the building.  “What’s wrong?”

“I think there might be a rain wrapped tornado out there, and I’d rather not have to explain to Spencer why I just stood around and let it get me,” Aaron says, glancing around before going toward the hallway.  “Do you know of any basement to this property?”

The sheriff shrugs.  “No idea.  I don’t usually patrol this area and most of the state sheriffs stayed away when the owner was alive because Mr. Frederick was a crotchety ol’ bastard who threatened anyone who came near his property.”

The roaring has grown louder and Aaron can hear things hitting the building.  Giving up on the basement idea, he finds a small closet near the center of the house and directs the sheriff into it while getting inside as well.  It’s a tight fit, but it works.  Soon, the walls are shaking and the sound of debris pelting the house becomes louder.  Aaron slides to the ground and pulls out his cell phone.  He might not be able to call anyone, but he’s going to try and ensure that the information about the shed makes it to his team, even if he doesn’t.  A text message is drafted for Derek and set up to send as soon as there's a signal.  Before he can put his phone away, another thought catches him.  Spencer.  Opening up their text thread, Aaron stares at the blinking cursor for a moment before just deciding to write.  If he’s gonna die, might as well die honest.

Spencer, I’m hoping that this message won’t be necessary and I’ll be able to tell you myself in person, but this is for just in case.  And I have to apologize because this is the most selfish thing I’ve done.  I think I’m falling in love with you.  Have been for a while.  I haven’t wanted to say anything because there’s no way that someone like you would ever feel the same way about someone like me.  Even ignoring the age difference, you’re so bright and have a hunger for life and I don’t want to ruin it.  But, it’s funny how a tornado bearing down on a person makes them reevaluate things.  Hopefully, I make it out of this and can talk to you in person.  Just…even if you don’t feel the same, which is what I’m expecting, please don’t stop being my friend.  Of everything, that’s what I value.  I can work past the amorous feelings, but I would hate losing you.

Hitting send, Aaron closes his eyes and leans his head against his folded hands, listening to the destruction taking place outside.

~*~

“We’re about ten miles south of Anthony, Kansas.  How’s the radar looking, Reid?” Rusty asks over the CB.

Spencer glances at the laptop in his passenger seat and frowns.  He gets on the radio.  “I’m really not liking the look of this cell.  You absolutely need gas?”

“Sorry, Doc, someone isn’t as good at paying attention to the gauge as Sam is,” Debbie says.  The ‘Hey!’ from Robbie is cut off as she stops broadcasting.

Sighing, he rolls his eyes.  “Alright.  We’ll make a quick stop to refuel then keep going.”

“Doc, are you alright?  You sound a bit tense,” Maisie says.

“Yeah, just concerned with what I’m seeing,” Spencer says.  He’s absolutely not alright.  Everything he’s seeing is indicating this is going to be bad, and he knows a couple of the towns and homesteads out here don’t have warning systems and that cell service is spotty.  Granted, emergency warnings should still push through, but not everyone has a cell phone.

Leading the rest of his team to a gas station when they pull into town, Spencer tops his truck up before moving from the pump to wait for the rest of his team. Drumming his fingers along the steering wheel, he grabs his cell phone again and calls Aaron.  If he remembers correctly, the BAU team is supposed to be somewhere around here right now, and Spencer wants to make sure they’re all being safe.  The call immediately goes to voicemail.  Frowning, Spencer dials Emily.  She picks up on the third ring.

“Doc, you are a bright spot in this dull field of geographical profiling,” Emily says in greeting.  “What’s up?”

“Whereabouts is your team?  I remember Aaron saying you were going to be in southern Kansas,” Spencer says.

“A tiny ass town a little north of a larger, but still tiny, town called Anthony,” Emily says.  “Why?”

Spencer groans.  “Alright, do me a favor, and get everyone into a secure place wherever you’re at.  There’s severe weather in the area and from what I can see, it doesn’t look good at all.  Is Aaron nearby?”

“No, he went out to check on a lead.  If you couldn’t get through to him, he probably doesn’t have service.  It’s been a major problem on this case,” Emily says.  A moment later and she’s swearing in Russian.  “Yeah, that doesn’t look good at all.”  She moves the receiver away from her mouth as she shouts, “Hey, kids, get in here, now!”

“Where was Aaron going?” Spencer asks.

Emily hums.  “I think one of the locals referred to it as Mr. Frederick’s place.”

“Right, thanks Emily.  Stay safe.”  Spencer opens his door and leans out far enough to spot Robbie.  “Robbie!  You grew up near here, right?”

Robbie looks over and shrugs.  “Near enough.  Tiny ass town in the middle of nowhere north of here.  Why?”

“You ever heard or knew of a man called Mr. Frederick?” Spencer asks.

“That crotchety ol’ bastard?” Robbie asks.  “Yeah, everyone around here knows about him.  Last I knew he died a few years ago.  Why?”

“What was his address?” While it would probably be good to explain what’s going on, something keeps telling him he has to move now.  When Robbie shouts the address, Spencer turns back to his computer and starts swearing.  There’s visible rotation on radar, and if he had to place a bet, he’d wager it’s right in the middle of the precipitation.  He searches for the address and starts swearing even more.

“Woah, what’s got you riled up?” Rusty asks.

“Aaron and his team are nearby on a case.  I called to let them know about the weather, couldn’t get a hold of Aaron, so called Emily.  She told me where Aaron is, and it’s right in the path of what I’m pretty sure is a rain wrapped tornado,” Spencer says.  He glances at his team.  He can’t ask them to follow him.  Not when he’s about to do something monumentally stupid.  “Rusty, take the rest of the team to the town where Robbie grew up, have him navigate you, and make sure the people there are alright.  I have to see if I can find Aaron.”

Rusty is quiet for a moment.  “You really love him, don’t you?”

Heart in his throat, he croaks out, “I do.”

“Alright,” Rusty says, nodding.  “Go check on him.  Keep yourself safe, Spencer.  Make sure Agent Hotchner comes back in one piece.  I need to make sure he’s whole when I threaten his life if he hurts you.”

“Keep them safe.  I’ll see you on the other side,” Spencer says.  He shifts his truck into drive.

“See you on the other side.”

Tires squealing, Spencer peels out of the parking lot and onto the county road.  The sky grows impossibly darker as he heads further into the storm.  He rolls his window up a minute before he hits the rain curtain, flicking on his windshield wipers  and headlights as he does.  The number of other drivers on the road drops to zero.  Wind howls and rain and hail pelts the ground.  Turning from the paved county road onto a gravel road, he fishtails a bit but manages to keep it controlled and keeps going.  As the ground races past, it starts becoming evident that a tornado was definitely in the area.  Strong one too.  Even this far out, there are branches and trees down.  The strength of the wind picks up and he has to fight to keep the truck on the road.  Another turn onto a different gravel road, though it’s less of a turn and more of a slide.  Still on the road, though, so that’s a win in his book.  He glances at radar and refreshes the page.  The webpage can’t connect.  Nothing like driving toward a possible tornado blind.

A crash sounds behind him, he ignores it.  Lightning flashes in the sky.  Still, the only thing he can think of is to get to Aaron.  Whatever else is going on, it doesn’t matter.  Getting to Aaron does.  Movement from the corner of his vision makes him floor it and he watches in the mirror as a tree falls into the road behind him.  He takes a breath that he doesn’t really feel.  The sky is starting to lighten, the rain starting to slow, and he finally spots where Aaron’s supposed to be.  Gravel flies as he skids into the driveway and his heart leaps into his throat.  There’s not much left of the building that had been there.  A police cruiser is pinned under a large tree and a black SUV is on its side in the yard.  Spencer barely comes to a stop before leaping from the truck.

“AARON!” Spencer shouts.  “AARON!”

~*~

It feels as though the world has shrunk down to this tiny closet.  If he’d thought the sound from the last tornado was bad, this is a thousand times worse.  It feels as though it lasts forever.  Eventually, the roar starts to fade and the sound of the rain and hail starts to slow.  Aaron lifts his head and looks up when he feels water on his head.  The roof is gone.  He glances at the county sheriff and nudges the man.

The sheriff lifts his head.  He looks paler than before, his eyes wide.  “Nothing like mother nature herself reminding you to pray, huh?”

“First time in a tornado?” Aaron asks.

The sheriff nods.

“Well, hopefully it’s your last.”  The sound of gravel moving catches his attention and Aaron frowns.  “Did that sound like a car to you?”

The sheriff doesn’t have time to respond before they both hear a car door creak open.

“AARON!  AARON!”

Aaron’s eyes widen and he scrambles to his feet.  When he tries opening the closet, the door doesn’t budge.  He glances at the sheriff.  “Might want to cover your ears.”

The sheriff nods and covers them.

He takes a deep breath.  “HERE!  IN HERE!”

“Fuck, you’ve got a set of lungs on ya,” the sheriff mutters.

“I coach my son’s soccer team,” Aaron says.  “You learn how to project your voice if you’re having to get the attention of a bunch of six year olds on the other side of a soccer field.”  The shifting of debris catches his attention and Aaron pounds on the door of the closet.  “In here!”

“Holy fuck!  Aaron!  Thank fuck you’re alive,” Spencer says.  “Alright, I’m gonna need a few minutes to get you out.  You alright in there?”

“A little wet, but otherwise fine,” Aaron says.  “I have a county sheriff in here with me too.”

“Oh, cool.  I was wondering who owned the pancaked cruiser out front,” Spencer says.

The sheriff groans.  “Great, my boss is gonna be pissed.”

“Blame the tornado,” Aaron and Spencer say.  There’s a pause before Spencer and Aaron laugh.  Relief at being alive making the simultaneously spoken comment funnier than normal.

The sound of wood and other pieces of debris moving makes any conversation difficult for a few minutes.  Aaron can hear Spencer occasionally swear under his breath and hopes the other man is being careful.  He steps back when the handle of the closet turns and the door swings out.  Soaked from head to toe, hazel eyes wide, Spencer stands in the doorway.  Aaron feels his heart leap into his chest and has to work harder than normal to keep what would likely be a very dopey expression off his face.

“You’re a wonderful sight for sore eyes,” Aaron says.

Spencer smiles slightly, though he glances around the closet and in the hall beyond.  “That’s great, let’s take this reunion outside of the structurally unstable rubble, shall we?”

The three of them pick their way from the ruins of the house that once stood and into the yard.  Aaron internally winces at the sight of the SUV.  Hopefully it was just knocked onto its side and it still runs.

“Alright, I might be skinny, but not all of us are going to fit in the cab.  Someone’s going to have to either stay here, or ride in the bed,” Spencer says.

The sheriff nods.  “I’ll ride in the bed.  You’ll be less likely to be pulled over if my coworkers see that it’s me.”

“There might be some stuff in the back that’s shifted, just shove it to the side,” Spencer says.  “We’re going to the local town hall.  Both of our teams should be there and it’s a good place for one of the other county sheriffs to pick you up from.”

They all climb into the truck and it starts with a rumble.  About ten minutes after they leave the old Fredrick property, Spencer’s phone dings, but he ignores it.  They’re all quiet on the drive back into town and about a half mile out, they get one of the other county sheriffs following them.

“Harper, you know you’re supposed to be in the vehicle, right?” The county sheriff in the SUV following them asks using the intercom system.

Sheriff Harper flips them off.

When Spencer parks in front of the town hall, Harper lightly taps the side of the truck.  “Thanks for the ride, Doc.  As nice as you seem, I hope I don’t see you again.”

Spencer shrugs.  “That’s fair.”

“Same goes to you, Agent Hotchner,” Harper says before hopping from the vehicle and beelining for his coworker’s vehicle.

When the silence extends beyond what he would expect it to, Aaron turns to Spencer and finds him reading something on his phone.  He’s about to ask about it when Spencer looks up, an undecipherable expression on his face.

“Did you mean it?” Spencer asks, his voice low.

It hits Aaron what he was reading.  The text.  Oh, fuck, he completely forgot that he’d sent that.

Spencer leans forward a bit, wiggling his phone slightly.  “Did you mean it?”

He can only nod in response, heart caught in his chest.  He finally manages to croak out, “I did.  I do.  I—I understand if you’re uncom—”

Lips are on his and it takes a very long moment for Aaron to kick his brain into gear and kiss back.  One of Spencer’s hands is gripping the front of Aaron’s shirt and his tie while the other holds his shoulder.  Aaron’s eyes flutter closed and he tilts his head a bit, his hands settling on Spencer’s waist.  He wants to wrap this moment in softness and light.  Wants to keep it perfectly clear in his mind and shout for joy.  When Spencer pulls back slightly, Aaron feels slightly disappointed.

“Good.  Cause I’ve been falling in love with you for a while now too,” Spencer whispers.  “As much as I want to keep you to myself, I have a feeling my team explained what’s going on to your team, and I’d be very surprised if we don’t have an audience at the moment.”

Aaron blinks and notes the small crowd at the door of the town hall in his peripheral.  He hums.  “Yup.  I say we blame Dave, Rusty, and Maisie.”

“Sounds good to me.”  Spencer pulls away slightly and catches Aaron’s eye.  “Let’s make a deal.  You chase the criminals, I chase the tornadoes, and we do our best to avoid chasing after each other’s specialty.”

“Hey, I’m all for it.  If I don’t see another tornado ever again, it’ll be too soon,” Aaron says.

“Ready to face the crowd?” Spencer asks.

Aaron hums.  “Almost.  Just need one more thing.”  He leans forward and catches Spencer’s lips with his.  Despite wanting to deepen the kiss, he keeps it soft and chaste.  He’d never thought this would happen.  Had never considered that his feelings would be shared.  When he pulls back, he watches as Spencer blinks a few times, his tongue darting out slightly between his lips.  The urge to kiss him again is strong, but he beats it back.  They have their teams to talk to.  “There.  Now, I’m ready.”

“Alright, yeah,” Spencer says, sounding a little breathless.  He clears his throat and opens the door and climbs out.

Aaron follows suit on his side, and it doesn’t take long for them to be surrounded by both of their teams.  Voices from both groups intermingle and cut one another off.  Questions and exclamations fly through the air.  Throughout it all, Aaron sticks at Spencer’s side.

~*Six Months later*~

Aaron unlocks the front door and taps his shoes against the wall to the side to knock the snow off before stepping into the house.  A wave of warmth hits him and he quickly closes the front door to keep the cold out.  His keys go into the usual bowl and his suitcase is set on the bench so he can take off his coat, scarf, and shoes.  The air smells like varying spices and cooked meat, likely from the roast in the crock pot.  He glances at the clock as he passes through the living room and into the back half of the house.  There’s about an hour until he has to pick Jack up from school—Hailey and Jessica are both on work trips this week and it’s been nice having Jack home for a longer stretch of time—but that should be enough time for him to pull together a couple of sides for dinner.  As he approaches the back half of the house, gentle music becomes audible and he smiles.  Peeking into the office, he takes note of the minor changes from this morning and leans against the door frame to watch.  Spencer is curled up in the large armchair near the fireplace, eyes darting across the page and a red pen behind his ear.  A green pen hovers over the page before he circles something on the paper he’s reading and writes a note.

Moving as quietly as he can, Aaron sets his briefcase on the side table and walks up to the back of the armchair.  He reads over a small section of the essay and hums slightly.  “I will never understand how you have the patience to read through some of these essays.”

“Practice,” Spencer says, not moving his eyes from the paper.  “Just like how you have patience to read through the reports by your agents.  Though, at least with my students, I know they haven’t been doing this sort of work for very long and understand when they get concepts wrong.”

“Can’t say the same for some of my agents.  Some of them have been there for years and I wonder whether or not they’ve even seen some of the forms they’re supposed to fill out,” Aaron says.  He places a quick kiss on Spencer's cheek.  “Shouldn’t you be done with grading?”

Spencer finally turns to him and gives a slight smile.  “For the regular semester, yes.  This is for the students crazy enough to take a class over the winter break.”

“Ah.  I can’t say anything, I was one of those students,” Aaron says.  “Anything in particular you want for sides tonight?”

“I’ll take care of them while you’re picking up Jack,” Spencer says.

“Ok, if you’re sure,” Aaron says.  It’s taken some getting used to, having Spencer around.  They’re doing a trial run of living together while Spencer’s school is on winter break to see how it goes.  If everything goes well, Spencer will move into Aaron’s house—he’d moved from the town house to a single family home in a good neighborhood, partially to try and further entice Spencer into moving and partially because as Jack gets older they need just a bit more space—over the summer.  Aaron has faith Spencer will be moving in.

Spencer nods.  “I’m sure.  Might as well see if you and Jack like my cooking before it becomes an issue.”

“Oh, we’ll like it just fine, I’m sure,” Aaron says.  He places another light kiss on Spencer’s cheek before straightening up and heading toward the door to change out of his work clothes.

“Hey, get back here,” Spencer says.

Aaron turns around with a raised eyebrow, but returns to Spencer’s side when the other man crooks a finger at him and motions him over.  Spencer gently pulls Aaron down as he leans up and kisses him.  When their lips separate, Aaron just knows he has a dopey smile on his face to match the gentle grin on Spencer’s face.

“Much better,” Spencer mutters.  “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”