How awkward is the morning after? I mean seriously…have you ever had one too many drinks or one too many tears over the latest asshole, then suddenly woken up next to some other asshole and wondered for just a second where the hell you are, and just what in the hell you were thinking? No? Just me then…hmmm…ha ha ha…enjoy! (and review…I've become a review whore and I'm not too good to withhold chapters until I get enough cookies! j.k.) jen

Title: Afraid of the Dark ch.3

Pairing: Reid/J.J.

Rating: FRAO

Warnings: Contains spoilers for Revelations! Also, it is un-betaed, so read at your own risk. Good old smuts to get us through elicit drug use and violent flashbacks.

Legal shit: I own nothing but my two very spoiled dogs, so unless you want to keep them in the life they've become accustomed to, don't sue me.

He sat with his arms circling his knees, pulling them closer to his chest. He refused to close his eyes for the second time this night, but for completely different reasons than before. The shoulder of his sweater was still damp with her tears; he kept rubbing it against his skin to remind him that he was awake, that this was real. He had opened his eyes, and felt his eyelashes brush against her soft skin and felt a moment of panic. He had pulled himself gently from her sleeping form and recovered her without being noticed. He had always known she was a heavy sleeper from plane trips, but he had never known he could be so close to her and not wake her with his pounding heart. He had slid on his underwear and sweater and slipped into the lounger diagonal from the couch in order to gather his thoughts.

He rubbed his calves, folding in on himself as he attempted to sort through the odd chain of events that had lead him to this moment. He traced his memories back to the beginning; they had gone to check on a possible lead. In the car on the way to the house, she had made small talk, told jokes, and playfully slapped him three times. He always counted the number of times she touched him during the day, she seemed like a woman driven by physical contact.

At the house the man had seemed odd; he'd instantly suspected something and had attempted to get them entrance to his home. When the man refused he had followed his intuition and ended up stumbling upon the truth, the man was one of their unsubs. He had foolishly been caught spying, and had stupidly lead J.J. into danger with him chasing the man to the barn. He had left her, alone at the barn, and had followed the voices into a field. He heard her scream, she had called for him, and he had failed to come to her rescue. He had been certain at the time that she was dead, but his worry was turned to fear when he had been captured by a man, the man who he would come to find was much more than one of their unsubs.

He had been beaten, drugged, forced to face his death, but he was always sure that Gideon would find him. He had worried about what they might do when they found him, how they would punish him for losing J.J. How would he be able to live with himself after losing her? In the place of fear for his own destiny, he held regret over her suffering at all. He had resigned himself to any fate, anything was better than returning to work knowing that everyone knew he had lost her.

In the graveyard, they came as he knew they would. And behind Hotch, was the beautiful blonde, tears in her eyes, but with no visible injury. He had fallen into her arms prepared to beg for forgiveness, prepared to have her push him away. Instead, she had apologized, and she had held him so tight he had wondered if he was right in sensing that she had worried about him too. He was so confused that he could not respond, he was so tired that he had no energy left to fight for his due punishment. Weeks had passed, they had worked other cases, and everyone on the team seemed colder to her and warmer to him. The drugs called to him as the only moments in the last month that had made any sense at all. Then she was on his porch, her hands were on his face, her lips on his lips, he could feel her breasts rising and falling beneath him, he still felt the tingle of sensation from her touch on his entire body, he could still hear her whimpers echoing through his silent living room.

She was beautiful as she slept. Her eyes had been so sad earlier, now her long lashes seemed to rest upon her cheeks as she gently drew and dismissed breath. She slept perfectly still, only the slight crest and lull of her chest to show life. A strand of her blonde hair fell lightly against her face, and he reached instinctively to press it behind her ear the way she would if she were awake.

His fingers grazed her cheek, causing her eyes to flutter open. It startled him, but he could not pull his hand back, his fingers were determined to finish their mission. Her fingers met his own at her ear and tucked the hair into place. Then he pulled back, staring quietly into her eyes, waiting for anything. She pulled herself up into a seated position, her feet tucked neatly beneath her, and the blanket carefully covering her curves. The two seemed frozen in the moment, neither sure what to say or do.

She shivered, and the spell was broken. "Are you cold?" he asked, his voice wavering. "Yes," she whispered, even as he slipped from his chair and returned moments later with a heavier blanket. He carefully began wrapping it over her, her hand catching his at her shoulder. "Spencer?" she said, forcing his eyes to meet hers. "Yes?" he asked, before sitting next to her on the couch, unable to force his legs to move him farther from her. "Is this ok?" He paused, giving himself a moment to consider her meaning, studying her face for a clue at the correct answer. "Is..is what ok?" he stuttered. "This," she started, reaching for his hand and holding it against her leg. "You and me, and me naked on your couch, and me coming to you for forgiveness and taking emotional strength from you physically?" He blinked, what did she mean? Was she asking him if it was ok with him that she was naked? He had been lost at that word. "What?" he managed to ask out loud.

"Spencer," she started, taking a deep breath, "I had no right to come here last night and ask for anything from you. So, know that I have no expectations. I understand that you were emotional, and I took advantage of that, and…" "Wait," Spencer was beginning to understand her line of thought, "You think you took advantage of me?" J.J. didn't blink, refused to show her weakness, "I'm just saying I don't want you to feel bad about what happened, I don't want you to regret it or…" "J.J.!" he stopped her by raising her voice, he couldn't listen to any more. "J.J." he lowered his voice and softened his tone, "I will never regret having had a chance to be with you. I hope that you don't…" "No," she interrupted, a single tear sliding down her cheek.

As he wiped it away, she pressed her face against his hand. He slid his fingers around her neck and pulled her into his arms. She shifted her body so that her back rested against his chest, their arms locked together wrapped around her stomach. She leaned her head back against his shoulder and looked up at him, "I thought I lost you," she whispered, tears flowing freely onto his sweater. "I thought I lost you," He whispered back, burying his face in her hair, kissing her gently on the top of her head. She scoffed through tears and forced herself closer into him, allowing his warmth to soak into her. Noticing how damp her pillow was she quietly whined, "Sorry I got your sweater all wet."

Spencer thought about it for a moment and couldn't help but laugh out loud at her silly concern. How 'J.J.' to worry about his clothing, never mind that they had had sex, or were lying in each other's arms. She released a whiny moan, and then gently slapped his chest before joining him in laughter. The two sat for a long while, laughing together. They no longer looked like two FBI agents who had dealt with serious trauma; they looked like a pair of young lovers, laughing about nothing, enjoying one another's warmth. This thought crossed Spencer's mind, and for the first time in a long time, he felt like everything in the world might just be ok. "It's cold in here," she muttered through her laughter. He looked down and her, "No, it's just wet," he said, pressing against his sweater. "Hey!" she cried, and both broke into another bout of laughter.