3 AM. Some little backwater motel in the depths of Maine. Spencer Reid was exhausted, overworked, and frustrated. Really, it wasn’t that much different than any other Wednesday night on a case, save for location and décor of the motel room. Oh, and the fact that sitting across from him on the bed, scribbling away was a witch.
A real witch.
A real witch that had, Spencer couldn’t help but remember, kissed him just hours ago. Awkwardly and in the motel parking lot, and she’d blushed and apologized and he’d blushed and apologized and he wondered if she was wondering why they were apologizing, too.
The coffee was done. Spencer sighed and got up, standing in front of it and eying it with little enthusiasm.
“Hermione, you know, maybe we should just call it a night? Or, morning, technically, but we haven’t gotten any closer to this guy than we were this morning…”
“Oh, I suppose you’re right.” She sat back, frowning. “I’m sorry I kept you up so late, but…”
“No, don’t apologize. This is what we do!” He was quick to move to help her gather up her papers and the strange little knick-knacks she’d brought with her. And he managed to not knock any off the bed by accident.
“I’ll just…” She nodded to the door, arms full of books and files.
“Let me get the door!” Spencer hurried to the door, pulling it open and almost crashing into her. They laughed, nervously, and Spencer wet his lips and leaned down. She was standing right there, and he thought it would be nice to kiss her goodnight. If she wanted it. He went slow, so she could turn away if she wanted to.
But she didn’t. She tilted her head up and their lips met and Spencer let go of the door and put his arms around her.
The books and files and pens and everything else in her arms dropped to the floor, and the door closed, and Spencer wondered if this was okay. They were working together. And when the case was over, Hermione would go back to England and… well, a whole other world. But Hermione was holding on to him tightly and they were leaning against the door and this was much, much more than just a ‘kiss goodnight’.
“Did you know,” Spencer said, in between frantic kisses. “That 65% of couples say that intimacy in a location that isn’t the home is more romantic?”
“I…did,” Hermione responded, her hands sliding under his shirt along his back. “And that 30% of people would rather have an encounter in a hotel room, due to anonymity?”
“And…and 47% of all threesomes take place in hotel rooms!”
Spencer’s hands were tangled in Hermione’s hair. Her hands were tugging at his vest now, and they were both sort of sliding down the door. But Hermione’s sweater was riding up and her stomach was pressed against his and he was flushed and panting as he kissed her loudly and hungrily, because now all he was thinking about was hotel room sex and the pretty girl that was making out with him…
But they had slid too far down, and he grabbed at Hermione, and now he could feel her breasts against him and he wished he could give that sensation more attention, but…
“Um…” Spencer tried to get a word in edgewise, mumbling awkwardly against the corner of Hermione’s mouth. “Falling…falling…” he managed. He braced a hand against the door, knees bent, angled over Hermione who was decidedly slumped against the door.
But she looked pretty, her hair mussed and her sweater bunched up….
“Oh!” She straightened up and adjusted her sweater and Spencer ran a hand through his hair.
“Um. We should…I mean… oh, you dropped your…”
“Just leave them,” Hermione said, matter-of-factly. “I’ll only drop them again.”
“I could carry some….”
“You’d drop them as well. Oh, unless….?”
“Um?”
“I thought we were….?” She glanced over at the bed, and back to Spencer.
“Oh? OH!” Oh. He cleared his throat. So she was thinking about hotel sex, too. And not just in general. “Right. Um. Right. Let's...here!” He bent to try and sweep her into his arms, but all he could do was stagger a bit and set her down while she told him not to worry about it. And he thought she was going to fix her sweater again, but this time she pulled it up and off....
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A real witch.
A real witch that had, Spencer couldn’t help but remember, kissed him just hours ago. Awkwardly and in the motel parking lot, and she’d blushed and apologized and he’d blushed and apologized and he wondered if she was wondering why they were apologizing, too.
The coffee was done. Spencer sighed and got up, standing in front of it and eying it with little enthusiasm.
“Hermione, you know, maybe we should just call it a night? Or, morning, technically, but we haven’t gotten any closer to this guy than we were this morning…”
“Oh, I suppose you’re right.” She sat back, frowning. “I’m sorry I kept you up so late, but…”
“No, don’t apologize. This is what we do!” He was quick to move to help her gather up her papers and the strange little knick-knacks she’d brought with her. And he managed to not knock any off the bed by accident.
“I’ll just…” She nodded to the door, arms full of books and files.
“Let me get the door!” Spencer hurried to the door, pulling it open and almost crashing into her. They laughed, nervously, and Spencer wet his lips and leaned down. She was standing right there, and he thought it would be nice to kiss her goodnight. If she wanted it. He went slow, so she could turn away if she wanted to.
But she didn’t. She tilted her head up and their lips met and Spencer let go of the door and put his arms around her.
The books and files and pens and everything else in her arms dropped to the floor, and the door closed, and Spencer wondered if this was okay. They were working together. And when the case was over, Hermione would go back to England and… well, a whole other world. But Hermione was holding on to him tightly and they were leaning against the door and this was much, much more than just a ‘kiss goodnight’.
“Did you know,” Spencer said, in between frantic kisses. “That 65% of couples say that intimacy in a location that isn’t the home is more romantic?”
“I…did,” Hermione responded, her hands sliding under his shirt along his back. “And that 30% of people would rather have an encounter in a hotel room, due to anonymity?”
“And…and 47% of all threesomes take place in hotel rooms!”
Spencer’s hands were tangled in Hermione’s hair. Her hands were tugging at his vest now, and they were both sort of sliding down the door. But Hermione’s sweater was riding up and her stomach was pressed against his and he was flushed and panting as he kissed her loudly and hungrily, because now all he was thinking about was hotel room sex and the pretty girl that was making out with him…
But they had slid too far down, and he grabbed at Hermione, and now he could feel her breasts against him and he wished he could give that sensation more attention, but…
“Um…” Spencer tried to get a word in edgewise, mumbling awkwardly against the corner of Hermione’s mouth. “Falling…falling…” he managed. He braced a hand against the door, knees bent, angled over Hermione who was decidedly slumped against the door.
But she looked pretty, her hair mussed and her sweater bunched up….
“Oh!” She straightened up and adjusted her sweater and Spencer ran a hand through his hair.
“Um. We should…I mean… oh, you dropped your…”
“Just leave them,” Hermione said, matter-of-factly. “I’ll only drop them again.”
“I could carry some….”
“You’d drop them as well. Oh, unless….?”
“Um?”
“I thought we were….?” She glanced over at the bed, and back to Spencer.
“Oh? OH!” Oh. He cleared his throat. So she was thinking about hotel sex, too. And not just in general. “Right. Um. Right. Let's...here!” He bent to try and sweep her into his arms, but all he could do was stagger a bit and set her down while she told him not to worry about it. And he thought she was going to fix her sweater again, but this time she pulled it up and off....
Definitely much more than just a kiss goodnight.