Chapter Text
Y/N
A coffee spill, oddly reminiscent of Africa stains the crisp white shirt you picked out. “Shit”, you mutter. You head to quickly change your shirt as your phone rings, a reminder of your first day of work. You rush out the door, coffee long forgotten as you button up your blouse. Business casual, who could go wrong with that? Your palms sweat as you clutch your new ID badge. You’ve walked into drug dens and raids with less nerves than this, what the hell is wrong with you? Four years of undercover work ought to have made your shyness go away, but if anything it made it worse. Pretending to be someone else is hell of a lot easier than admitting to being yourself.
You pull up in front of Quantico, pulling out your phone to do a quick once over. You can do this. You walk out on steady legs, wiping your sweaty palms on the back of your pants. You head through security and are thankful for the privacy of the elevator, which you have to yourself. The doors open, and you walk out into an open bullpen, people rushing about, doing paperwork or grabbing their morning coffee. You spot Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner’s office and walk towards it. Taking a deep breath, you open the door.
“Hey pretty girl!” Morgan shouts from across the bullpen, holding numerous cups of coffee. “Is one of those for me?” You ask, smirking. “You treat me too well.” You push up on your heels giving Morgan a quick peck on the cheek before grabbing yours and Garcia’s coffees and heading over to her office.
“M’lady,” you sing-song. “Your faithful servant has brought you some delectable coffee, courtesy of Chocolate Thunder.” Garcia startles at your intrusion before laughing at your theatrics. Her eyes widen when you place down her coffee and she squeals a little before gulping down the burning hot liquid. “Geez, Garcia slow down a bit.” You laugh.
“Sorry, I haven’t slept in like for ages. I’m built entirely on caffeine at the moment. This is like my fifth cup.” She stumbles out, talking a million words a minute. “Been up all night rearranging our filing system.” You slowly back up, inching towards the door, knowing that getting involved when Garcia’s like this can lead into two things. One: getting yelled at for interrupting her “flow” or two: being dragged into it. You weren’t sure which was worse.
“Right, well good luck with that.” You say, backing out the door. You’re just about to turn when you collide face-first with the person outside the door. “Oh sorry,” you both say at the same time. You manage to get your bearings and look up to see just who you ran into. Spencer. Of all the people in this building you just had to run into Spencer? He seems to notice who you are at the same time, his wide eyes narrowing. “Watch where you’re going next time.” He says, his voice laced with boredom.
“What’s that? No hello, no good morning, just straight to being a jerk?” You ask, annoyance clear in your tone.
“My bad. Good morning, watch where you’re going before you become a hazard for yourself and others.” He replies, the sarcasm obvious. “Was that better?”
“Whatever,” you say, rolling your eyes and pushing past him. “By the way, I wouldn’t bother Garcia. She’s in one of her moods again. Next thing you know you’ll be helping her dissemble and reassemble a super computer.” Atleast you could try to be civil and professional, even if your coworker acted like a child.
Spencer mutters something in response but you’re gone before you can hear it. You have no clue what his problem with you is. You were never anything but nice to him when you got here. It’s been over eight months and he still acts like you’re his personal hell. You were polite and kind, even when he didn’t deserve it. He seemed perfectly normal with the rest of the team but when it came to you suddenly nothing you did was good enough.
It made your first few months horrible, but once you gave up being the bigger person and started treating him the same way he was treating you, it became sort of a fun game between the two of you. ‘Which person could ruin the others day the most?’ The game usually ended with conversations in Hotch’s office, but since he was unwilling to let either of you go, you just got told to stay away from each other. Which is hard when your desks are directly across from each others.
With a sigh, you drop your bag on the floor, while removing your jacket. You slump into your chair, Spencer was in a mood today and you could already tell you’d be in for it. No observation gone unchallenged, no remark left unscoffed. You sink further into your chair and begin chipping away at your ever growing pile of paperwork.