Empty Beds

Spencer and Lydia went their separate ways for a few days after that, their careers taking over and invading the already limited time they had for a social life. So for a week there were no phone calls or text messages between them, no impromptu visits to the library or early morning run-ins at the café.

But despite seven days void of any contact, neither were anxious in the slightest. Lydia knew that Spencer would be busy on a case; Spencer knew that it was the end of the semester and Lydia would be busier than ever with exams.

So it was seven days surrounded by books for Lydia and seven days in California’s blistering heat for Spencer. As much as they enjoyed the other’s company, their preexisting responsibilities came first and foremost. They were both workaholics, (the term was an understatement actually) and both knew that any relationship that may form would have to work itself around their busy schedules. So it goes.

But both could only stay away for so long, it was just a matter of time until the chaos finally passed. But by the end of the week Lydia’s exams were finished, meaning that from then on it would be her behind the desk giving lectures and grading exams. Conveniently, Spencer had arrived home from California just a few hours earlier that day. They both had nothing planned for the weekend so far but had a pretty good idea about who they’d like to spend it with. So when Lydia found a familiar man wandering through the nonfiction section ten minutes before the library closed, she smiled so hard it almost hurt.

Spencer returned her smile sheepishly, unsure of how to greet her. She looked tired, exhausted almost, but happy all the same. “I figured it was just a matter of time before I found you here,” and as she predicted, a pile of books ready to be checked were at his feet. “I’m a man of habit.”

“I like the haircut, by the way. A lot, actually.” She really did. She loved his long hair, wasn’t all that into the last haircut, but this was something new entirely. He wasn’t just handsome anymore; there was something downright sexy about him now. Spencer didn’t know how he felt about it yet, on one hand he was relieved to finally get rid of the bangs, but he couldn’t remember the last time his hair was this short. Still, now he wouldn’t have to constantly be tucking the loose strands behind his ears, he supposed that was another upside to it. He was glad she liked it though; he’d admittedly been a bit worried about that factor too.

“I have to admit, I wasn’t all that into the idea of kissing the long lost Jonas brother.” He scowled, knowing at least enough about pop culture to get the reference. “Very funny: Hotch already made that joke, actually.”

“Wow, you’re cheating on me with your boss of all people? You could have at least picked someone pretty, I think my self-esteem just hit the negatives.” Spencer’s face went bright red immediately when he realized how his words could have been, and were, taken. Meanwhile, Lydia was clutching the shelf in an attempt to keep herself from collapsing onto the floor in a fit of laughter. “The look on your face was priceless,” she gasped out, clutching her stomach when she finally could stand up straight.

“Very funny.” He scowled, but even he had to admit, he’d set himself up for that one. “Oh come on, it was only a joke. If it makes you feel better, I’m sure Hotch is very pretty.” She immediately started laughing at her own joke, even Spencer couldn’t help but laugh slightly at the use of ‘Hotch’ and ‘pretty’ in the same sentence.

“Okay, okay, I’m done.” She leaned forward to kiss him then, cursing herself for not wearing heels to work now. It was soft and short but just what they both needed after a stressful week. Spencer sighed as Lydia pulled away, a somewhat dopey smile on his face. She started to laugh again, only stopping when he rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Sorry,” but she wasn’t, not at all. Lydia liked to laugh and she especially liked the little things he’d do that would make her laugh.

“Come on, I need to check those out before Stacey shuts down the computers.” Spencer nodded, quickly leaning down to grab the books but immediately getting distracted. First, he was distracted by her legs, he can admit to that, but his attention was mostly caught by her shoes.

“Are those… are those Star Wars shoes?”

“Impressed?”

“Very.”

-

At eleven o’clock the next morning Lydia was scrambling around the apartment, looking like an absolute fool with curlers in her hair, a toothbrush hanging from her mouth, and dressed in only her underwear. She was supposed to be meeting Spencer at eleven thirty for lunch but had overslept, which left her in a current state of panic. It took twenty five minutes to get to the museum but it would take her at least another ten to look semi presentable.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” she mumbled subconsciously, attempting to pull on a pair of stockings but just ended up toppling over onto the floor. After letting out a brief howl of pain Lydia ripped off the stockings and marched back to her closet, desperate to find something semi-decent to wear. She knew that she probably should have planned this out last night as she found herself in this situation far more often than she’d like to admit. Finally she ended up finding a light blue and white polka dot dress, deciding that it would just have to do.

Ten minutes later she was literally running out the door - in incredibly high heels, no less. She’d decided that she could finish her makeup on the subway, despite how many stares she’d get in the process. It was only until she was about to step outside her apartment building lobby that Lydia realized she still had her curlers in.

-

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” Spencer’s head shot up at the sound, immediately laughing at Lydia’s expression as she came running up the museum steps. Spencer was left feeling slightly underdressed as he looked over Lydia’s dress and heels, he was simply dressed in a button down, cardigan, and slacks. He couldn’t help but feel a bit struck once again at the realization that a girl like her was interested in him: he didn’t miss the stares she attracted on a day to day basis, and he especially hadn’t missed the numerous heads turning as she ran past. He didn’t blame them for staring either though; Lydia looked even better than usual today with windswept curls and a dress that hugged every curve. In a dress like that he didn’t doubt that she could pick up any guy with ease, yet here she was smiling at him of all people. This was probably one of those things he shouldn’t question, Spencer knew that, but even still he just couldn’t help but wonder.

“I don’t mind,” he mumbled softly once she’d reached him, making her almost panicked expression change to a relieved smile. She’d gotten too used to boys who’d give her a passive aggressive shrug whenever she’d be late, offended that they’d kept her waiting. Spencer proved, as always, to be the breath of fresh air that she’d been waiting years for and she just couldn’t get enough of him.

“I still feel bad for making you wait out here, you must be dying.” Although he’d never admit it, he was feeling rather uncomfortable in the heat. He hadn’t thought twice about wearing a button down shirt and cardigan despite the fact that it was June – for a genius with an eidetic memory, it was pretty pathetic on his part to forget the fact that summer in the District was miserably hot. Still, he only shrugged in response.

“You um, you look great.” He managed to get out, giving her a sheepish grin afterward. “Why thank you. I almost forgot to take my curlers out this morning: can you believe my landlord looked right at me but didn’t say a word? I can’t tell if they were trying to be polite or if they really think I was planning on going out like that.” He could only smile as she ranted, unable to resist toying with her curls a bit. Her hair was surprisingly soft, he’d expected it to be dry from the heat but it slipped through his hands like silk.

Spencer tried to attract the least amount of attention to himself when out in public like this, but he decided that if kissing a pretty girl gained a few stares in the process, it was well worth it. While Lydia was never too fond of PDA, she couldn’t complain. It was a short and innocent kiss but still left them both smiling like fools when she pulled away.

“Come on, let’s go inside.” She slipped her hand into his then, reminding him yet again of how much he liked holding hands with her. They’d decided to go to the National Air and Space Museum today – or rather, Lydia had decided they would when she found out that Spencer had yet to visit. While Spencer thought he was successfully hiding his excitement, Lydia was well aware.

When they stepped in the doors Spencer looked like a little kid in a candy shop, although even as a kid Spencer always preferred book stores to candy stores. His eyes widened at the sight of all the machinery, completely awed but unsure of where to start. Lydia couldn’t help but laugh at his expression, even more so when he practically pulled her along toward the rockets.

They ended up spending hours in the museum, only leaving when Spencer was sure he’d read every panel and studied everything within view. Despite her aching feet, Lydia didn’t mind at all. While she didn’t find it all nearly as exciting as Spencer did, she found it interesting enough to stay focused – Spencer’s constant explanations (and somewhat endless ramblings) helped keep her interested too. She could never really get over just how intelligent he was; it was something she found both intimidating and awing at the same time. He couldn’t get over the fact that she’d listened to him through it all, never once complaining or seeming disengaged.

“Thank you,” He said once they’d stepped outside, catching her by surprise. “For what?” She asked, sincerely confused. “No one, um, no one really listens like you do. Everyone else just loses interest, but you actually care about what I’m saying – or at least pretend to, which is good enough for me.” She couldn’t help but laugh, despite the saddened edge to his tone. She kissed him again, and while it was still short like the last, it was reassuring. She didn’t need to say anything after that for him to understand loud and clear.

Despite being nearly five o’clock it was still hot as ever, prompting them to find a café for ice coffee and air-conditioning. “Do you want to come back to my apartment?” Lydia asked suddenly as they waited in line. Spencer’s cheeks immediately went red – he knew she didn’t mean it in that sense, but still, his thoughts wandered immediately. She blushed in response, seeming flustered for the first time since they’d met. “Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that! I just figured we could make dinner instead of going to a restaurant.” This just ended up making him blush even further though. In the end he just nodded, hoping that she understood that as a ‘yes, please’ because he didn’t trust himself to speak in fear of his voice cracking.

Still, despite their mutual embarrassment, Lydia slipped her hand back into his as they left the café a few minutes later with their coffees in hand. There was a comfortable silence between them as they walked through the city, only broken when Spencer would impulsively recite a fact every so often about a building or monument they were passing. Soon enough they were on the subway, forced to stand uncomfortably close by the post-workday rush.

“Sorry,” she laughed, trying to get through the awkwardness of having her chest pressed up against his. Meanwhile, Spencer was trying to ignore this all together and resist the urge to look down. “Oh, I get it.” He scowled at her teasing tone, still trying to focus his attention elsewhere. Truthfully, Lydia was swooning (just slightly) over the respect he showed her. She could never get enough of him, she decided, he was interesting, polite, awkward in the most endearing of way, and oh she could go on and on about him. She didn’t believe in soul mates, but she believed in finding ‘the one’. And okay, she knew it was way too early on to be thinking these things and that the idea was probably ridiculous - okay, it was really ridiculous, but even still, the idea persisted.

Five minutes later Spencer heaved a sigh of relief as they stepped off the train, causing Lydia to laugh again. “Am I really that bad?” He glanced over at her, taking in her red lips and tight dress. “Quite the opposite, actually.” He mumbled quietly, his cheeks flaring a moment later when he realized she’d heard his confession loud and clear. Lydia smirked but made no further comment. Within five minutes they were in the elevator, but both couldn’t help but feel that the silence wasn’t quite as comfortable this time: Spencer blamed himself, Lydia blamed herself.

“Well this is it,” Lydia said as she opened the door, a bit embarrassed now when she realized her apartment wasn’t exactly in the neatest state. That was an understatement really, as it was quite a mess, but Spencer didn’t mind. He let his gaze wander for a few minutes while she kicked off her heels and wandered into the kitchen to start preparing dinner.

While it was far from neat, the apartment seemed to suit her personality quite well. Piles of books were everywhere, clothing was draped over furniture, and school papers littered the coffee table. She didn’t have knickknacks or much artwork, he noticed, although one small section of the wall was dedicated to family photos. Most were from her childhood, photos of Lydia and a boy who Spencer assumed was her brother, Michael. The photos continued through her teenage years, but then abruptly cut off after that. Spencer assumed that the family photos came to an end when Lydia’s father died. He noticed that many of the photos were of her father, always either dressed in his uniform or in jeans, with two smiling children at his side. But there weren’t any photos of her mother and only one photo of the family all together. The resemblance was striking though – Lydia was almost a mirror image of the women in the photo, with the exception of her father’s blue eyes compared to her mother’s brown eyes. To an outsider they seemed to be the picturesque All-American-family, but the reality of it all made Spencer’s stomach twist uncomfortably.

The only thing that never ceased to bother Spencer about his job, or really just about life in general, was that the worst things happened all too often to people who least deserved it. No one deserved to be hurt, no matter what kind of person they were – that was Spencer’s firm belief, but it was particularly upsetting when good people, the people who would never think to hurt someone else, got hurt the worst. They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Spencer moved his attention elsewhere, desperate for a distraction from the depressing thoughts. He moved on to the record player in one corner of the room, flipping through her enormous record collection. While he recognized many of the titles by name, he was a bit lost when it came to modern music: Garcia would be impressed, he noted, but judging by the collection he could only conclude that she really loved the Bright Eyes and the Smiths. So he had a thing for classical music, she had a thing for lonely singers.

Spencer immediately turned around when he smelt smoke, frowning as he saw Lydia leaning against the kitchen doorway with a cigarette in hand. “Sorry,” and she truly was. He knew that too but could only nod in response, obviously displeased with the habit. “You don’t need to tell me with statistics, I already know it’s a disgusting and self-destructive habit. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve gotten down to only two or three a day.”

“Six minutes.” He finally said, breaking their silence and making her stare back at him in confusion. He wasn’t looking at her though; his eyes were set firmly on the floor, subconsciously counting the knots in the wood.

“I used to say that to my mom every time she’d have a cigarette. A cigarette takes six minutes off your life, so I’d say to my mother, ‘that’s six minutes less that I get to spend with you’ to try and convince her to quit smoking.” There was a sadness in his tone that struck her, immediately making her find the closest ashtray.

He was still staring at the floor when she returned from the kitchen, his hands burrowed deep into his pockets. His words had their effect on her, she realized, as now the taste of smoke in her mouth almost made her sick. She’d heard the statistics before, but never thought of it that way. While she hadn’t put much thought into having children, the possibility combined with his words put things into perspective.

“Did she quit?” He looked up at her then, both his brow and mouth pulled downward. He knew the question was coming but it upset him all the same. Or rather, the answer was what upset him: “Not until she didn’t have a choice.

“I didn’t understand it when I was a kid, I just didn’t get why she wouldn’t quit. I read all about addiction and withdrawals, and while it surely wouldn’t be a pleasant experience, I just couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t quit for me. I didn’t understand the power of addiction, but now I do.” He found himself continuing. He wasn’t sure what had driven him to tell her about this, the words seemed to form on their own accord.

“I was um; I was kidnapped during a case. It was years ago, but I, I still have nightmares about it sometimes: Tobias Hankel, the un-sub, had split personalities – one side of him, his father’s personality, would torture me, telling me to ‘confess my sins.’ But then Tobias would drug me to try and dull the pain, as an apology I suppose. It worked too. I’d, I’d never felt so good – it made me forget all the memories, it let me find the peace I’d been searching years for.

“But even when Tobias was dead and I was away from it all, I just couldn’t face reality. I couldn’t forget it: I couldn’t get the memories out of my head; I kept waking up at night thinking I was on the verge of death again. I’d wake up screaming, begging for it to end. So I kept using, I kept trying to find that peace but even I knew if I kept using I’d destroy everything I’d worked so hard to get. I knew I had to quit, so I did – it was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do, but I’ve been clean for two years, one month, and fifteen days now. So I understand, I understand wanting a way to rid the stress, but substance isn’t the way to do it.”

“Then help me quit,” she said finally, walking across the room and grasping his hands in hers. “Help keep those six minutes.”

At that point Spencer decided ‘fuck it’ and kissed her with all he had, immediately gaining a similar reaction from Lydia. Her hands clutched his hair, his hands clutched her face, and unlike before it wasn’t short and surely wasn’t innocent. Lydia didn’t know where this was all coming from and decided not to dwell on it; instead she just prayed that her mouth didn’t taste too bitter from the smoke. Spencer even didn’t mind it all that much because, to be honest, he was focused on other things.

Soon enough they found themselves on the couch, soon after that they were tripping and fumbling toward her bedroom, still attached at the mouth. It took a few attempts to get the door handle open but finally Lydia managed, pulling Spencer along with her. However, in her rush that morning she hadn’t bothered to clean up her room, resulting in layers of clothes to be coating the small bedroom’s floor. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, but as their attention was focused elsewhere it was just a matter of time until someone tripped or slipped. Lydia was in the midst of pulling off Spencer’s shirt when her foot happened across some sort of silky fabric. As previously mentioned, neither of the two were particularly graceful, so it shouldn’t have been all that surprising when they found themselves tripping backwards and awkwardly crashing back onto the mattress. Spencer’s elbows ended up digging into Lydia’s stomach, immediately knocking the breath out of her.

“I can’t breathe,” Lydia managed to gasp out from underneath Spencer a few seconds later, sending him scrambling back to his feet. After taking a few deep breaths Lydia found herself breaking out into hysterical laughter, finding the situation utterly hilarious despite any previous mood that had been going on between them only a minute prior. Spencer was just stunned, stuck trying to process how he went from retelling his kidnapping story to being half naked in her bedroom.

“Sorry, it just, I don’t know why it’s so funny to me,” Spencer used the time waiting for her to calm down by studying her bedroom: the bed lacked a frame, simply a mattress on the floor, and he couldn’t help but smile when he noticed that underneath all the clothes were Star Wars bed sheets. The rest of the room was similarly disorganized, filled with books, papers, and clothes all in random piles. Instead of a desk, Lydia was using an overturned box to rest her laptop and lamp on. It wasn’t what he expected, but when it came down to it, the room suited her personality more than anything else he’d imagined.

Lydia climbed up from the bed a moment later, immediately discarding her dress in favor of a pair of shorts and loose tank top. Spencer looked away just a moment too late, his thoughts immediately getting caught up on the brief glimpse of black lace. “Sorry,” she said upon seeing Spencer’s bright red face: she hadn’t even thought twice but now felt similarly embarrassed. Spencer shrugged, just trying to keep his thoughts in check now that he’d calmed down a bit. “I think it’s best that we wait anyways,” he said finally as they walked back out to the kitchen.

“I think so too. Oh shit,” Spencer’s attention snapped back to her, immediately realizing what was wrong. Lydia had originally planned on making homemade stir fry, and so had started to cook rice to go along with it, only to get ‘distracted’. Luckily the water hadn’t boiled over, but the rice itself was now overcooked beyond any means of revival.

“I guess we’re ordering Chinese then.”

So forty minutes they found themselves taking a seat at Lydia’s couch, food in hand and Signs in the DVD player. They were close together, mainly because of the couch’s limited space, but not uncomfortably so. Spencer glanced up when Lydia suddenly hopped up from the couch, wordlessly disappearing into the kitchen for a moment. She returned holding two forks, as if she somehow knew that Spencer was basically incapable of using chopsticks.

“Chopsticks just aren’t my thing,” she muttered, immediately laughing when she looked up and saw his expression. Spencer was a bit baffled, to say the least. Everyone else he ever dined with (although, admittedly, that list was limited to his team) always gave him a bit of grief whenever he’d request a fork over chopsticks. She wasn’t perfect, he decided, but it was what others would consider imperfections that he liked so much about her: she was real.