Chapter Text
Spencer was having a great morning.
His one year anniversary with Aaron was coming up, having tied the knot in a small ceremony with all of their closest family and friends. Marriage was better than either of them could have dreamed. Their love blossomed deeply, and something in them both slotted right into place once that commitment was there.
Coffee was brewing in the kitchen when he woke up. Spencer could smell it strong and rich, exactly what he needed. By the counter, he was greeted by a soft smile and Aaron’s messy bedhead, his short black hair sticking up in the back. “Good morning.”
“Yes, it is.” Spencer slid right into Aaron’s body and kissed him, slow like all morning kisses should be. “You taste good. Like coffee.”
Aaron chuckled. “And you taste like toothpaste.”
Spencer stepped back from Aaron’s alluring body heat with a smile and poured himself a steaming mug. As much as he'd like to stay in Aaron’s muscular arms all morning, he needed his coffee to survive.
In two weeks, Spencer would surprise Aaron with a small getaway to the Poconos for their one year. He would watch Aaron go down the slopes while he hung back in the lodge with a good book and a hot coco. He loved the pink tinge of Aaron’s cheeks from the cold and the way the tips of his hair frosted over.
And the ski gear, wow. How Aaron made puffy coats and overalls look so good, Spencer had no clue, but he wanted to rip them right off his broad shoulders. He might even let Aaron drag him to the bunny slopes if it meant getting back to the privacy of their room quicker.
Spencer asked while pointing at the newspaper in Aaron’s hand, now completely ignored. “Anything good?” Aaron was reading the business section, probably pouring over the stocks. He had some investments he liked to keep updated on, even if it was the type of portfolio you let sit and marinate.
“Not much. NASDAQ went up 1.5%,” Aaron said before he took a sip of coffee. “I was thinking we could go out today since the weather is beautiful. We could take a walk to the park?”
“That sounds really nice.” Exercise didn’t sound so bad when it was with his husband, and he knew Aaron would let him talk his ear off the entire way.
But they never made it outside. Aaron looped his arm around Spencer's waist, first pulling him flush against his chest, then turning him around and pushing him up against the counter.
He felt Aaron’s finger dig into his thighs and lifted him onto the countertop in one swoop. “Oh!” Flustered and out of breath, Spencer moaned as Aaron’s teeth scraped against the hollow of his neck. “Aaron, please…”
“Spread those legs for me, baby,” Aaron whispered, and he didn’t wait before parting them himself and slotting in between.
“I need you, I need you,” Spencer cried. “Take me to the bedroom. I want your tongue in my ass, Aaron. Get me nice and ready for your cock.”
The heat in Aaron’s eyes when he said something dirty was Spencer’s favorite thing; it sent electricity up his spine. He never felt as wanted as he did when Aaron was looking at him like he wanted to devour him and nothing could hold him back.
“Keep talking like that and I’ll never let you leave that bed.” He grinned. Without so much a heavy breath, Aaron carried Spencer to their bedroom with his legs wrapped right around his waist, and their erections rubbing against each other through thin pajamas.
Aaron tossed Spencer down onto the bed in a flurry of white sheets and pillows and pounced right on top. Spencer laughed but his lip; Aaron was looming over him with his broad chest and muscular biceps looking breathtaking.
“You look so handsome, sweetheart,” Aaron murmured and leaned down to kiss him.
He didn’t. He had messy curls and bags under his eyes, but Aaron never lied. He blushed.
“How much longer are you going to make me wait?” Spencer whined.
“Be patient, baby. I’ll take care of you. I’ve got you.”
And Aaron moved slowly as he slipped his hands under Spencer’s briefs and grabbed his throbbing erection. He was kissing down Spencer’s throat, hot and wet, making him flush down to his navel with wanting heat. “Please, please!”
Aaron grinned in response and slipped Spencer’s briefs down to his ankles, Spencer felt his knees go to his chest and Aaron pushed them up, and then, oh, wet, hot tongue lapping between his cheeks
“You’re always so tight, baby.” Aaron plunged his tongue in. Spencer gasped and gripped the sheets at his sides. “I love how you stretch for me.”
“Yes, Yes, oh, Aaron, please, more, please–”
Without wasting another second, Aaron got to his knees and came flush between Spencer’s wet thighs, ready to take him. Spencer closed his eyes as he felt Aaron’s tip pushing inside him and stretching him open.
“Take me deep, baby,” Aaron groaned.
And then the phone rang. Aaron’s cell was buzzing on the side table. It cut through the heavy, sexual fog, a cold splash of reality on their lazy Sunday morning. Aaron leaned over, his cock slipped out, and he answered.
Spencer looked on with disinterest because his cock was leaking with precum and his hole was suddenly so empty he was ready to beg for it. But the call didn’t last long. Aaron hung up after a few short words and turned to him solemnly. “We have a case.”
. . .
They were on the jet within thirty minutes due to the nature of the case. It was a kidnapping of a child which meant time was of the essence. Garcia briefed them via video call, and Morgan went over the initial profiling of the situation. Prentiss and JJ chimed in with some pertinent knowledge, and Spencer himself worked quietly on the geographic profile spread out across the table. Everyone let him work in silence, with his occasional mumbling of a fact or two and drawing lines across the map. By the time they touched down, Hotch gave a brief overview of everything they learned, including Spencer’s explanation of his profile.
Kidnapped from his home at approximately four in the morning, a five year old boy wasn’t discovered missing until seven by his parents, and the FBI didn’t get the call until ten when the local police handed it over. That meant there were six hours on the clock already.
Hotch spared no pleasantries for the locals and delivered the profile with practiced efficiency. White male, late thirties, average height, strong build, trade worker, and high school education.
The family gave a list of every company that did work on their house within that last year, and Garcia cross checked each employee's name with criminal records, flagging a long list of forty names.
Meanwhile, Prentiss spent time further profiling what trade the unsub could be based on the timing and aftermath of the crime scene. The room was ransacked with broken glass and scratch marks on the wall which indicated a violent, emotionally driven unsub.
Morgan sifted through the forty suspects, separating the likely candidates from the presumed innocent, and narrowed down the pool to twenty five.
Time was running out fast. They were now eight hours from the time of abduction and the family was beginning to fall apart.
The team only worked harder. Worked with more efficiency. JJ didn’t leave the family’s side, and Hotch diligently assigned tasks to each of the team members, working like a well oiled machine.
By the time another half hour passed, Garcia was running Prentiss and Morgan’s new parameters with Reid’s geographical profile as a limit, and the screen beeped with results. “Guys, we have him!”
Hotch stood on his feet. “Name?” he demanded.
“Franklin Albright, thirty four, a construction worker for Illinois Building LLC.”
“Where does he live, Garcia?”
The team watched with rapt intensity as they got the information they so desperately needed.
“5582 Brayfield Lane, Mullen, Illinois,” she said. “But I pulled up camera footage from a store right down the road, and it caught his pickup leaving at 3 a.m., with no return. He didn’t bring the boy there.”
“Right,” Hotch hummed. “Get a list of projects where he recently worked.”
“Way ahead of you, boss! Sending over that list as we speak, the first two are within Reid’s profile distance, and number one looks like our most likely, as it’s still empty and under construction. Number two is now a completed project. Sending all the information I could get on him now.”
“Thank you, Garcia. Alright, team. Let’s head out.” Hotch rose quickly from the conference room with Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid on his tail.
Spencer was so wrapped up in the case he couldn’t afford a single stray thought about how incredibly sexy he found his husband in boss mode. Okay, a single thought, but only because there’d been a positive break in the case.
He hopped into the SUV and they sped down the highway toward the oil plant.
The unsub was spotted in an abandoned control room with the light on in the dark property, something once completely insignificant to any passerby now a beacon to the police. Local forces and the team surrounded the control building with practiced stealth, and Hotch banged on the locked door.
“Mr. Albright, open the door, this is the FBI.”
There was rustling inside, the sound of broken glass, and swearing, but no answer.
“Mr. Albright, we’re going to give you to the count of ten to open this door or we will be using force.”
Finally, the unsub screamed from inside the small building with frenzied terror in his voice. “Don’t! Don’t you dare! I’ll slice him to shreds!”
Reid froze. He knew all too well how a hostage situation could devolve within seconds and that little boy in there was defenseless. Scared. He needed help.
“Franklin, we want to help!” he shouted. With only a door between them and the dead silence of the empty night, Spencer dropped his voice. “We know you’re scared. We know about the family you lost four months ago. Your wife, your son…”
“Stop it!”
“I’m so sorry,” Spencer continued. It was something the unsub needed to hear, as painful as it was. “You lost them both, but this won’t bring them back. That boy won’t bring your son back. Hurting him will only cause more pain.”
“You.. you don’t know shit!”
“Reid, stand down,” Hotch said beside him. Close enough to touch. Years ago, Spencer might have stormed inside the building unarmed, talking Franklin off the edge. He still had half a mind as to if it meant saving that boy. But he wasn’t the reckless man he used to be. He understood what safety on the field was and why they followed protocol. And most of all, he had a family to get home to at the end of the day. A loving husband close enough to touch that needed him to come home. So he stood down.
“Come to the door unarmed, Mr. Albright. No one has to get hurt. Let’s not make this any worse than it has to be for you.”
“He-he can’t live,” the unsubs voice caught and broke.
From a small stained window on the east of the building, Prentiss alerted Hotch that Albright was crossing the room away from the boy. She didn’t have enough line of sight for a shot, and he was headed towards the door.
Hotch had his service weapon pointed at the door. It cracked open. They could all eat the soft cries of the five year old boy inside and Albright’s shoes scuffling just behind the door. Reid’s heart hammered in his chest.
“Drop your weapon and put your hands up!” Hotch ordered.
The sound of a knife clattered to the floor and the door opened fully showing Albright's silhouette in the doorway. The LEOs lowered their weapons, Hotch downed his slightly, and Morgan came from the side with a pair of cuffs. Spencer breathed a sigh of relief. It was over. The boy would be okay.
No one expected the Glock hidden in the waistband of Albright’s dirty jeans or the efficiency of his quick shot.
And Spencer fell.
He didn’t have a flash of memories before his eyes. He didn’t see anyone he loved. He didn’t even face any of his regrets.
He heard the deafening discharge of a gun and a blinding flash of light, and then darkness.
So, so much darkness.
But there was no pain, and soon there wasn’t anything at all.