He's fine in February. The shortest month of the year slips by, and May is getting closer and closer. Caro seems satiated when I say I found a date. She squeals into the phone when she tells me.

"Finally!" her shrieking finally turns into words. "You had me worried that you'd end up a spinster."

"I'm twenty-eight," I roll my eyes.

"Exactly!" she points out.

Twenty-eight. Nearly thirteen years. Such an unlucky number. Closer and closer to half my life ago.

"We aren't-" I hesitate. If I tell her the truth, she might jump back on the Luc train. Then, the news is certain to come out at her wedding, and I don't think I could cope with that. "Don't make this a whole thing."

"I can't help it!" she asks. "How long have you two been seeing each other? How did you meet?"

"He's my co-worker," I pull the phone in tighter, afraid that someone on the subway will somehow gather who I'm talking about, and exactly how I am deceiving my sister. My cheeks are red, and not from the heat of my coat nor all the bodies pressed into this room so tightly with one another. "If anyone asks, we're just friends. We're trying to keep things discreet."

She squeaks again and I lean my head against the metal bar in the subway.

"You are the worst, aren't you?" at least Caro is laughing. "Of course, you only start dating again because you have to keep it a secret. And it's someone you can't avoid either.. Forced proximity is a huge thing."

"Keep this up and I'm going to humiliate you during my speech at the wedding."

The line goes quiet for a second, "you wouldn't dare."

"Believe me, I would."

"If you try, Seb might laugh about it but he would kill you for me. I'm his favourite."

"Stéphane is everyone's favourite. Your threats are meaningless," I roll my eyes. I should have come up with lying to her sooner. This is the most pleasant conversation I've had with her in a long time. Perhaps since we moved back to New Hampshire.

It continues on as I get off the subway and walk into work. We talk about her job and how Cletus has agreed to live with her in New Hampshire for a year before they make any more long-term commitments to be near his family. That way, they can save up to buy a house. She has so many plans for decorating it.

"You should come help," Caro buzzes into the phone. "I hate to admit it, but you have a good eye for décor. And fashion, of course, but you already know that."

"Better me than Cletus," I mutter.

I get to the elevator just before the door closes. Someone else is on the phone inside here, so I don't feel so bad about continuing the conversation. Actually, maybe I don't want Caro to hang up.

"I'm letting him have his man cave," Caro pauses for a second. "I know you don't like him. You think he's kind of weird and his job means we aren't together a lot. You and Sebbie have made it clear what you think of him. Well, he's a good man. We both have the same values, like family and honesty. And we communicate so well. Maybe I'm afraid to share everything with him, but he makes me feel braver. He makes me laugh too. And I think most of all, he makes me a better person. He's so forgiving and patient. Clee says you and I don't get along because we are both hard-headed and stubborn. It's cheesy, but he makes me want to be the best I can be. Isn't that what you want for me?"

The elevator doors ding open as I reach my floor. I step out. In the bullpen, Reid stands behind his desk, a coffee in his hands. He isn't laughing at something, and I can't tell who said it.

Fuck.

"Cole?"

I step off the elevator just before the doors close. I look around the bullpen, avoiding the eyes of anyone who walks by.

"Yeah, it is sappy," I try not to wince. "Just, give it some time. If he's as great as you say, at some point the rest of us will come around to him. I promise."

She squeals again and I sigh, "I've got to go. I'm at work. I'll see you soon."

With that, I walk into work. I try to concentrate on the tasks I have planned for the day, but the world is a bit too much. My forearms feel cold pressed against the desk. I mess up my multi-factor authentication twice in a row, which I haven't done in at least a year. The coffee I drink feels so hot and bitter. I can hear Reid scratching notes on a document in his black pen. It doesn't glide smoothly. Every page that turns feels so loud.

I'm extremely fucked.

Even though I did my recertification for my gun in October, I tell Hotch that I'm going down to shoot it. At least, I hope it'll give me clarity. Just a room and a gun and a target. Once I'm in the basement, I have to wait in line because it is busier today. I finally get into a booth with my headphones on. The metal of the gun feels cold before I fire it. The air smells smoky, raw and heavy. I haven't been to a bonfire in a while, and maybe I can try to squeeze in a visit to Stéphane before the wedding where we can sit around one. And chat. I'd love to just chat with him. I'd love to do anything but this.

I fire a round of the gun, and then another. There are fingerprints on the protective glasses lenses that I have to clean, but I'm not good at it so I don't even bother. The streaks obscure my vision more. Things should be clearer. At least, I should try to clean up this mess. I shouldn't just live with it.

After the third round, I decide to clear out. I head back up to the bullpen. It smells in here too. The smoke from the gun doesn't linger on my clothes. Up here, the bitter smell of coffee and leather hangs in the air. I push through it.

Maybe I'm going to have a panic attack. Maybe that is why all of this feels so overwhelming.

Instead, I sit at my desk and boot up my computer to get started. My multi-factor authentication times out. Again. I close my eyes just for a second to breathe.

Paper ruffles. I boot up my computer and try not to listen to every single sound around me. I rub my eyes. Things are getting blurrier nowadays, and I don't want to go to the optometrist, mostly because I'm worried Reid is right. All of this eyestrain isn't helping out my current situation. Nothing seems to help. Caro is wrong, but she's also right. I'm twenty-eight. I've been living on my own for eleven years now. All of us Bouchard-Morel siblings didn't really get to have childhoods. I'm supposed to have it figured out by now.

Something lands on my desk. I look over to see a balled up paper note. I open it, reading over the words on it.

Hey Cole,

Are you feeling okay? I'm trying not to profile, but I wouldn't say you are being discreet. Do you want to grab lunch?

Kind regards,

Spencer

I fold up the note again and tuck it in my bag, slipping it into my wallet since no one will go in there. Then, I take a sticky note off my own desk and craft my reply.

Sure.

Then, I pass it back to him.

Lunch feels like it takes forever to arrive. I don't accomplish much before it anyway. When the time comes, I power down my computer and I slip out of the office, not waiting for Reid. He barely catches the elevator down when I'm inside it. Thankfully, no one else from the office joins him.

"I thought you knew when I asked if you wanted to grab lunch, I meant with me," he smiles just a bit. "I didn't think you'd try to sprint out of the bullpen without me."

Unfortunately, I cannot help myself either because I smile too.

"I told you, I can't let the people in the office know I'm fun," I lean back, watching the floors count down, one after the other. "I'm already not getting a lot of work done today."

Reid doesn't say anything. I feel the silence filled with all the questions he wants to ask but doesn't. The elevator itself may be loud, but at least the odour is less unpleasant. It's still smoky, I suppose, but less like tobacco and more like cedarwood. At least it's just us for now.

"It's just wedding preparation stuff," I tell him. "I've got to write a speech for Caro, but she's a real romantic and has pretty high standards."

"Do you want help?" he asks.

I look at him. He's not wearing his glasses, and the view to his eyes is unobstructed. They are warm and brown and bright. Cozy, even. Like a bonfire.

Finally, I blink, and look down, "what have we said about unsolicited advice, Dr. Reid?"

The elevator doors ding as they open. I step outside. He doesn't follow, and I turn around and look at him.

"You coming, doctor?"

His cheeks are bright red. I'm warm too, in the small elevator and our bulky winter coats. He's even got on a thick scarf too. Not hot though. Well, I'm not anyway. I'm just warm.

Reid blinks, "of course I am."

~~~~~

Happy holidays! I'm working on the next holiday banger right now. Did I mention that? Also, the next few chapters feel like my masterclass in tension urgh.

So far, what has been your favourite moment between them?