7.2

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7.2
( the rift. )

☆ ★ ☆

iris

"You danced with Reid! Romantic, I'm-in-love-with-you, slow-dance, dance! What the hell was that about?"

Emily, somehow, doesn't have a hangover the following day, unlike Iris. When she wakes up on Emily's sofa, she instantly downs a couple of aspirins and chugs some water, but it makes no difference, so Emily offers to take her out to grab the real hangover cure: McDonalds.

So here they sit, Iris with her eyes half closed and wearing her dress from the day before, except with a borrowed pair of converse, and Emily in her usual attire of varying shades of black, in the booth beside the window of the closest McDonalds, each eating a Big Mac.

"I don't know what it was," Iris confesses, feeling uncharacteristically in tune with her emotions. Maybe it's JJ being pregnant — she's been feeling extra touchy and hormonal for the last few weeks as the due date approaches. And she's not even the pregnant one.

"Do you have a crush on him?"

The reaction is instantaneous: Iris shakes her head as she chews, but as she swallows she rethinks her answer, shrugging. "I don't know. I don't think so."

Emily groans, tilting her head up briefly, before she takes a sip from her straw. "No offence, Remy," she says, swallowing, "but you're terrible at girl-talk, and you're even worse at having crushes."

"Okay, but you are not in the position to be judging my girl-talk."

"No, no, I am, and the fact that I am passing judgement is just a sign that you're being a moron."

Iris rolls her eyes, nudging Emily's leg under the table, and eats silently for a couple of seconds. "Fine," she grumbles eventually. "You want the Spencer Reid 101? He's cute, has the personality and the looks — "

"Good, good — so the problem?"

Iris sticks out a finger. "One: our jobs. No relationships allowed." She sticks out a second finger. "Two: I'll admit, he's good-looking, but do I want a boyfriend? Not particularly. And, do I want Spencer to be that boyfriend? I don't know." Another finger. "Three: Spencer has the emotional range of a teaspoon. Not exactly boyfriend material. Plus, there's the problem of unrequited feelings."

"Unrequited my ass!" is the first thing Emily says with a loud, open-mouthed, radiant laugh. "And have you realised what you just said? The problem isn't your lack of a crush, it's your situation. And, plus, he totally likes you back. I mean, he asked you to dance! And he kissed your cheek — "

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