"I've got to go, he's here," my fingers tighten on my phone as I look up at the doorway.

Before a response comes, I hang up and shove the Blackberry in my pocket. My face twists into a smile as I glance up at Spencer. He offers a small wave, crossing the floor. It seems I was too late though, since when Spencer slides in the booth across from me, he already has an eyebrow quirked.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your call," he says.

I shrug, "it's just Rachel."

He seems satisfied by this. When the gala happened again this year, Reid and I were excluded from the draw. Rachel Kwak had my number, but I wasn't expecting her to reach out. Apparently, she's been transferred to the bureau as of last week. We are trying to find time to meet sometime before the end of November, but our schedules don't align. I barely have time to see Spencer between working as a research assistant and touring more flats with Estelle.

Which is why I felt like it was appropriate to meet Spencer this morning before work, in a café much closer to our office than makes me comfortable.

After removing his jacket, Spencer takes a sip of his coffee. By now, I'm used to placing an order for him, but I am always surprised he manages to drink it. Having watched the barista scoop in the sugar curdled my stomach. I grab my cup, the warmth radiating between my fingers.

"Has she found a place?" he asks.

I nod, even though I'm not actually sure. Last Rachel mentioned, she was going to sign this week if she hadn't found anywhere better. So, probably.

"She's going to come out with Estelle and me when we get the time," I furrow my brow. "I'm not all that pleased about it. You know how Estelle gets."

Spencer smiles. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, flashing it at me, "yeah. She's texting me about your birthday."

I roll my eyes. At the very least, Spencer is not as conspiratorial as my brother.

If I weren't a twin, I wouldn't be celebrating it at all this year. My twenty-nineth birthday feels a little old to be celebrating. Since I started officially seeing Spencer, I've only gone out drinking twice with the team and once with Estelle, and I've managed to hold my liquor every time. I'm just not as interested in parties and shots and glory days as Estelle. My siblings and I are going camping this year, once again for Stéphane's sake.

"Tell her you're celebrating it with my family," I shrug.

"You want me to lie to Estelle?" his eyes widen.

As he suggests it, I realize how idiotic of a suggestion it is. All I do is shrug.

"I hope you're not taking it personally," I sip my coffee, trying to warm myself up as the door opens. "Cletus isn't coming, which is a rarity. Stéphane isn't even bringing his mystery girlfriend."

I'm beginning to think there is something wrong with her. The woman Stéphane's been seeing. Last time I saw him, he showed me a picture of her. She looks pleasant enough, straight teeth and bright eyes. Estelle has told him to bring her over, and he gets strangely evasive. Both Spencer and Estelle think my inability to push the issue is a bit odd. Estelle is the more aggressive one about it, but I get it. Reasons.

"No, of course not," Spencer says.

"We aren't even doing gifts this year," I tell him. "Cletus and Caro are saving for a house and-"

"I get it," Reid reaches across the table, squeezing my hand.

His phone rings. With one hand still on mine, Reid takes the call. The way his face drops, I know it's a call out. They've been basically nonstop this past month. I pull my hand out, checking my phone. I actually do have a text from Rachel. She didn't get the place. Estelle wants to go for a tour this week after work. She's sent me an email with photo attachments of the place. It's a shithole, and she wants us to do renovations. The market is crashing and it's a terrible time to invest. My head hurts.

"Yeah, I'll be right there," Spencer hangs up the phone. He looks at me, grimacing. "Sorry."

"Flying out?" I ask.

He nods standing up. One arm is in the sleeve of his peacoat when he looks at me, "you probably won't see us. We're debriefing on the plane."

"That urgent?" I ask, furrowing my brow.

Spencer nods. He leans across the table, bending down to kiss me on the cheek. My hand flies up to my face, pressing the spot as he rockets out the door, narrowly not spilling his coffee on the way out.

I sigh, digging my phone out of my pocket. I thumb through the contacts until I find Caro. My fingers hesitate, hovering over the button. She wants me to call her today, and I know she has little issue calling me before work. She's an early riser, and her married life hasn't helped that much. I should ask her a house hunting question. Maybe I should pull out my computer and start looking up the cost of renovations.

From my work bag, I pull out my glasses. The headaches have grown so wretched I've been prescribed them for reading. I avoid wearing them. They don't make me look smart; they make me look like a square.

While I boot up my computer, I take one last sip of my coffee. The sugar hits, sickly sweet, and I gag. Only barely do I avoid spewing the liquid all over my computer. I look at the cup, spinning it around. Spencer's name's on it.

Shit.

My fingers fumble with my phone, hurrying to call him. It rings and rings and rings and he doesn't answer. I press my thumb against the bridge of my glasses, trying to breathe.

Surely, he'll notice. We're close enough to work that he's probably walking there. He'll take a sip and notice my name.

The thought that he might not rings as loud as the dial tone on the second call. I hear it ring twice on the third before swearing to myself, packing up my things. We're on a busy street, and it's rush hour, so I manage to hail a cab within a minute. I fiddle with my watch in the car, waiting for Spencer to call back.

They aren't debriefing, but he'll need to grab his go bag. Unless someone else already has, but he might be in the office. He only left a few minutes before me. Hopefully I can catch him before he calls the elevator, or before he shuffles inside, body pressed up with different agents, likely the one belonging to Morgan.

I get inside. Two years here and I fly through security, finally. I wasn't anxious to spend more time in the lobby. Of course, he isn't in the elevator. I could wait at the bottom, but I don't want to run into someone else from our office. Finally, the door dings and I hurry into the office, trying to keep my steps even and my head high. I stare at Spencer's desk, across from mine, and there is no coffee cup or Spencer.

On my desk, there are a bunch of sparkly streamers. My chair has three balloons sprouting off the top.

"Happy two years!" Morgan and Garcia shout from the slight raise platform.

The entire team is gathered there, including Spencer. He has no coffee cup, thankfully.

Unfortunately, I realize I have his. I look down at it gingerly, ensuring my fingers are wrapped over his name.

I guess it has been two years since I started here. Two years exactly.

"You refused a birthday celebration," JJ manages, before I even can comment on how odd of a celebration it is.

Since they've been so busy, JJ has had team-building activities added to her portfolio. Something something about devastation and morale and exhaustion or whatever. In September, is when it all began. We've gone bowling and celebrated the birthdays of Reid, Prentiss, Hotch, and one of the administrative assistants. There are too many birthdays in the fall, and mine is the last. JJ is correct. I did refuse a birthday celebration.

At least we didn't exhcange gifts for any birthdays. Just cake. I don't like the idea of looking at all the gifts they got for me, all of them watching for a reaction. Now I'm far enough into this job, and feeling well enough that I'm not worried about any of them reading my face and realizing what secret I'm hiding. Still, the relationship Spencer and I have looms overhead, and I worry about the face I'd make when he gave me a birthday gift.

I follow them all into the break room. It's too early in the morning for cake, but JJ brings one out of the fridge anyway. Rossi begins to cut slices. They offered it to me, but my grip is strangling the coffee cup.

"You're early," Morgan says. "We barely set up on time. Good thing Hotch sent down an administrative assistant to watch you."

I shrug, "is it weird to come in early?"

"It's weird when we sent Reid to distract you," Morgan raises an eyebrow.

I feel my shoulders deflate. I roll my eyes, "your efforts to annoy me were fruitless. And besides, he left his coffee. I wanted mine back. You know how gross his order is."

Morgan chuckles. He claps a hand on my shoulder, "new year, same old Bouchard, huh?"

I grit my teeth, scrunching my nose. He has no idea. Neither does Spencer.

~~~~~

We back baby! And we cooking really well. Any thoughts? Who was on the phone?