Empty Beds

Instead of going out and enjoying his time off like any other twenty-seven year old male in their right mind would do, Spencer frequented the library practically every day he wasn’t at work. He was always looking for something new to learn, information that may turn out to be highly relevant (or only slightly relevant, as Spencer found himself always explaining it no matter what importance it held to the case to be honest), but really, reading and taking in new information was just how he preferred to keep himself occupied. Morgan had the gym and women, Hotch had Jack, Garcia had computers and Kevin, and so on and so forth: Reid had books.

It just so happens that as Lydia and Spencer lived within the same twenty mile radius, they both frequented the same library as well as the same café. Lydia had even recently become employed at the library, just working there for a little over two weeks so far but already a favorite among the older librarians: they liked her manners and humor. Spencer was also well liked among the librarians, as he had been visiting the library ever since he’d moved to D.C. to join the FBI when he was twenty-one.

Spencer made himself comfortable at a table hidden in the depths of the immense non-fiction section with a pile of at least ten books beside him. Meanwhile, Lydia was cataloging the shelves, finding herself without the luxury of peace and quiet.

“So do you want to go out with me Friday night or what?” Lydia could only roll her eyes, choosing to ignore her annoyingly relentless coworkers. She had been in the middle of cataloging books when he’d wandered over and asked her out for what must be the fifth time in the past two days.

“Come on, it’s not like you have anything better to do.” She ignored him once again, simply pushing the ladder along the shelves and continuing her work. But he didn’t quit, no he asked another three times, growing increasingly more annoying with each plea, before she finally snapped.

“James, I would rather attend a funeral, in fact: I’d rather attend my own funeral than go to a frat-party with you only so that you can attempt to get me drunk off my face and take me home with you. But sadly for you, even if I was drunk off my face, I still wouldn’t consider sleeping with you: even my intoxicated state of mind has better taste than that. So, is that a clear enough ‘no’ for you?” Maybe it was a bit harsh, okay really harsh, but at this point she was really beyond the point of caring. His face dropped for a moment, quickly replaced by a sneer. “Whatever, no one wants to party with an uptight bitch anyways: I bet you aren’t even good.

“Is that so? You know, James, it’s funny you say that because I clearly remember you asking me to party with you nearly ten times in the past two days: so what does that make you?” She sent him a mocking frown before going back to work, laughing quietly to herself as he walked away calling her every insult he could think of, loud enough for everyone in earshot to hear. What a prick.

She moved on to the next row after that, or at least was planning to until she saw a familiar man seated at a table toward the other end of the row. Despite his haircut (which she had to admit, she wasn’t quite fond of: she’d really liked how he’d constantly tuck the long waves behind his ears), he was unmistakable. She decided that the cart could wait a few minutes and approached him quietly. As she got closer she noticed how fast he was flipping through the pages, almost as if it were a simple picture book. The books piled around him on the table were all unknown to her, not sounding familiar in even the slightest sense.

He would scan the page for less than even five seconds, one finger running down the paper as he did so, then move onto the next, going through that just as fast. It hit her suddenly that he was actually reading that fast. Without second thought she pulled out the chair opposite him and took a seat, staring with a mixture of awe and bewilderment.

He finished the page within a second of her sitting down, his eyes widening as he realized who’d taken a seat in front of him. She looked much different than usual, he noticed, as her usual leather jacket and dress were replaced by a button-up white blouse and black skirt: he was disappointed to see her cherry-red lipstick was missing as well. She looked too professional, something that just didn’t seem to fit with her personality. But even still, she was stunning, and once again he found his mouth going a bit dry.

“Oh, hello.” He’d thought her heard her voice a few minutes ago, but he’d convinced himself that he was just imagining it; he was simply hearing who he wanted to hear. Honestly, he’d really had been hoping it was her; her response to the obnoxious boy had made him laugh quietly to himself. She just laughed once, choosing to gloss over her coworkers rather creepy crush and address what had brought her over to him in the first place.

“Okay, please tell me you cannot actually read that fast.”

“I cannot actually read this fast?” She couldn’t help but laugh, despite the faux-annoyance she had been going for just a moment before. He smiled shyly back, the familiar feeling of restlessness starting up again in the pit of his stomach.

“How is that even possible?” He liked that she was interested in him, he really liked it actually, but it was almost strange at the same time. It was new for him to have a woman’s attention completely zeroed in on him like this, especially a beautiful woman. Usually the only women who ever seemed interested in what he had to say were the women on team, and that’s not to say that they weren’t beautiful, but even their focus was mainly just because of what he could add to the case, not out of pure interest.

“Well, the conscious mind can process sixteen bits of information per second. The unconscious, however, can process eleven million per second.” She narrowed her eyes at him slightly but failed to hide her amusement, he could see the corners of her mouth tug upward just slightly. “So is that the typical genius answer for ‘yes’?” He laughed lightly, looking down at his hands in embarrassment as he nodded.

“So my guess is ten thousand words a minute?” He glanced up again, getting a bit flustered when he met her eyes directly: it was almost unnerving. Funny, he could talk down an un-sub armed with a knife or shotgun, but when it came to talking to a beautiful woman he found himself stuttering and jittery.

“Um, twenty thousand words per minute actually.” She let out a low whistle, causing him to blush yet again. “And I suppose there’s also a photographic memory as well?” He shrugged, “Eidetic,” he corrected as modestly as he could, she rolled her eyes but her smile remained.

“Would you care to explain an eidetic memory to me, Mr. Boy Wonder?” Her tone was lightly teasing, making him blush just the slightest bit again. “It’s popularly defined as the ability to recall images, sounds, or objects in memory with extreme precision and in abundant volume. While sound is not exactly ‘my forte’, I can recall and repeat practically anything I’ve read or seen.”

“So tell me, what’s your profession? It must be pretty interesting if it keeps your wonder brain occupied and necessitates carrying around photos of corpses.”

So for the next forty minutes he explained to her about the BAU, how exactly profiling worked, and about various cases they’d worked over the years. He liked talking to her; he liked the way she seemed interesting in every word, never losing interest midway through like everyone else seemed to. He liked the questions she’d ask, she was intelligent and it showed. She liked hearing him talk; she liked the way he could go on and on but always would pause as if he were afraid she’d lost interest, only to return with a renewed excitement and glint in his eye when he realized he still had her undivided attention. He was easily the smartest man she’d ever met but easily the most modest as well. He had a strange nerdy charm to him that had her smiling and hanging from his every word.

But forty minutes later James found her again, taking in Spencer with narrowed eyes and another sneer. Truthfully, he’d been watching from across the room the entire time, still bitterly cursing her under his breath but found himself unable to contain his annoyance any longer. Lydia simply rolled her eyes as he began prattling on about how she hadn’t finished her and how he should report her, despite the fact that they both knew he never would. Still, she waved him off and returned to the cart. She had a job to do and while she’d so much rather be talking to Spencer instead, she knew which took priority.

But even still she made sure to flip James off as he walked away, muttering something unintelligent under her breath. She glanced over only to realize that Spencer was still staring at her in a mixture of curiosity and amusement, making her cheeks flush slightly in embarrassment. “He seems pleasant,” Spencer commented, immediately gaining a reaction of disgust from Lydia. “Oh god, he’s such a pig. I don’t know how much you overheard earlier, but I think it’s pretty obvious why he’s being such a prat tonight.”

“I’ll make sure to remember never to invite you to any parties.” She laughed in response, a sound that made Spencer’s stomach twist a bit tighter. She returned to her work as he returned to his book, it was quiet between them for the next half hour, but comfortably so. He could faintly smell her perfume, Channel Number Five, mixed with the smell of cigarette smoke as she passed behind him. While the smell of cigarettes always reminded him of his mother, he couldn’t help but enjoy the scent just the slightest bit, but perhaps that’s simply because it was a beautiful woman carrying the scent on her.

A half hour later she was finished with her work, he was nearly finished with the textbook, and the library was due to close in five minutes. “Sorry to interrupt, wonder boy, but it’s my turn to close up and I’ve got a thesis at home that needs to be finished.” He looked up to find her leaning casually on one of the shelves, her smirk widening as his cheeks flushed. A moment later he was following her toward the front desk, at least six books piled in his arms.

She made no comment as she rung up all the books, only smiled. He did the same, not knowing what to say when she finished and slid the pile back across the desk to her. Finally he managed to get out a quiet thank you and goodbye, hardly even waiting for her reply before he was out the door.

While on one hand he was almost reluctant to go, but he could find no valid reason or excuse to stay any longer. So he continued on, not looking back once during his walk towards the closest Metro station. Five minutes later after she was sure all the lights were off, all the doors locked, and the alarm was set, Lydia was walking toward the same location.

Spencer was already seated on his train as she made it down the steps, not even noticing his gaze following her as she walked the other side of the platform, waiting for a train to take her in the opposite direction. His train departed as hers pulled in, and with that they went their separate ways again.

Spencer spent the rest of the night discouraging any wandering thoughts of her, reminding himself that it’s for the best if they don’t get involved, it’ll be best for both of them. Even if they became friends, which would be pleasant enough, Spencer knew that he’d always want more. No, it’s best to just stay casual acquaintances, he decided.

Lydia had similar thoughts, discouraged by how little regard he showed for her by the end of the night. She felt a bit embarrassed by how ridiculous she’d been acting, practically drooling over him all night, too blind to realize he didn’t want anything to do with her. Usually it was the other way around, she realized, and it was something that really threw her. Maybe it’s for the best, she decided, she shouldn’t get hung up on a man who clearly wasn’t interested. So she went to bed alone again that night, running through the conversation in her head, desperate to find where she went wrong, looking for the first sign that he wasn’t interested. She couldn’t find it, but her resolve never changed.