A/N - thanks to all who took a moment to review. I'm a little short on adult content this chapter but I couldn't keep Spencer focused, he kept getting distracted by the case!
I am quite desperate for a beta reader, please send me a PM if you'd be willing to beta for me.
He's avoiding them. Not avoiding Rossi, not avoiding Morgan; but avoiding Derek and David. If there is a Derek and David outside of his own fevered imaginings and wet dreams. Spencer has done more laundry in the last three weeks than he cares to quantify. His own feelings are a jumbled mix of desire, curiosity, and confusion. Most days the confusion overwhelms the rest of the equation.
Review and advise days are the worst. Days without active cases where they just read files and try to tell the locals how to catch killers and rapists that just aren't serious enough for a BAU team to tackle. Trapped together in the office, leaning over each others shoulders and making deals to trade off files after Emily loudly complains that she's going to light her desk on fire if she has to read another serial arson case today.
Reid's got a whole stack of autopsy photos spread over his desk when he notices the silence. The absence of shuffling papers and random questions being spouted to the room in general makes his skin crawl with dread - most commonly silence is a prelude to someone announcing they have a bad one that needs the entire team to analyze. Deliberately, he lifts his eyes to scan the bullpen.
Emily is typing softly, so unlike her usual forceful strikes, so softly that he knows she's giving some small-town sheriff the news that he's got a pyromaniac on his turf. Probably some local kid, one who grew up in town, a troubled teenager who's about to escalate to occupied buildings and taking lives.
JJ is just visible through the glass, out in the hall, talking with one of the agents from cybercrimes. Probably a pedophile case - cyber catches most of those cases now, and Spencer is glad his team is rarely called to assist them. He can't stand seeing Morgan suffer every time a sexual predator demands the BAU's attention.
Hotch's door is closed, which means Strauss is on the phone. It used to be that Hotch always kept the door closed, but since Haley left he keeps it open. Having lost one family by shutting them out, Spencer knows that Hotch won't risk putting this family at a distance. Even a distance so short as a closed door.
Morgan is nowhere to be seen, or heard. Most of the time Derek is the loudest profiler in the entire building, someone who just announces to the room at large, "What was the name of that detective in Arizona, on that case where the unsub was sodomizing hotel maids and ejaculating on their aprons?", like he's asking if there's any coffee left. Morgan is the reason JJ is doing a consult in the hallway, and maybe its deliberate action on Morgan's part to keep them all safe and insulated from the rest of the FBI.
And maybe, thinks Spencer, I do it too. Nothing says, 'stay away' quite like a half dozen color photos of victims spread out across his desk like a macabre welcome mat. The pictures grab his attention back, some pattern in the large caliber bullet wounds and facial bruising hovering just out of reach of his conscious mind. Unconsciously he traces his fingers along the edge of the closest image, trying to feel a pattern his eyes can't spot.
A dark voice freezes him in place, fingertips hovering in midair. Rossi's voice, warm and friendly with the dark undertone that always spikes directly into his groin, "What have you got, Reid?"
Rossi, directly behind him. So close that Spencer can sense the warmth of the body along his spine. So sudden that his compartmentalization fails utterly for a moment and he wonders how long he's been sitting here stroking evidence, completely immersed in chasing a half-formed hypothesis. So unexpected, that he can't even collect his own thoughts to respond.
Rossi, looming over him. Spencer jumps a little, startled, when Rossi's hands come to rest on his shoulders. He melts a little when he feels soft fingers graze along the edge of his collar as David leans forward examining the photo array on his desk.
It takes a cough and two stutters before Spencer can force words past the knot of sexual tension caught in his throat, "Akron, OH. In the last three months four men and two women shot execution style with large caliber handguns. Ballistics don't match but all have some degree of perimortem bruising to the head and face. Locals can't find any kind of a link between the victims."
"You're overthinking things, Reid. Stop thinking and just let it happen once in a while. Instincts are at the deepest core of who we are, and what we do." Rossi's advice hits him like a stage direction, one his cock would be more than happy to follow. Spencer shifts uncomfortably in his chair while he tries to convince his libido that David was talking about profiling, not fucking.
"You gave me the facts, which the locals already have. What have you got, Doctor Reid?", demands Rossi, drawing Spencer back to the case file. "The facts don't always tell us if its a serial, if it was about facts Garcia could write a program to identify BAU cases and we'd all be out of a job. What does your gut tell you about these victims?"
"It isn't a signature, its a style", mutters Spencer. "They look like professional contract kills, different weapons, bodies left where they fell, subdued with a blow to the head so each died from a single gunshot."
"Hitman develops a taste for his job, begins killing for pleasure instead of money?" Rossi responds, and now Spencer is losing all focus as those deceptively strong fingers dig in to the knot of tight muscle at the base of his neck. "Send it over to Carl Dennis in Organized crime. He'll know if the style matches a known operator. If it does, we'll take it to Hotch on Monday."
"Th..Th..Thanks Rossi." he stammers, and gathers the photos back in to the folder, his fingers sticky with nervous sweat. He hopes his discomfort has passed unnoticed but those hands are still working along his spine with maddening intensity and he's suddenly certain that David knows that he's hard as a rock under the cover of his desk.
The sudden absence of Rossi's warmth behind him makes Spencer stifle a whimper as the older profiler steps to the side of the desk, drawing Spencer's eyes up to meet that dazzling gaze. "Come out to my cabin this weekend. Agent Morgan and I were planning on getting away from civilization for a few days and you look like a man who could use a change of scenery." Rossi smiles, radiating heat that reaches inside Spencer in ways that make him wish he was anywhere but sitting in the middle of a room with glass walls and surrounded by a half-dozen trained observers.
He's almost too keyed up to answer, but the words just spill from his lips, "I think I might take you up on that."
"Don't think Spencer, just do" calls Rossi over his shoulder as he walks away.