✓ | sick of losing soulmates [SPENCER REID]

epilogue.

epilogue
( the occasion. )

☆ ★ ☆

"I know you're not into the whole big, romantic gesture thing, but, you know, considering the occasion..."

"Spencer..."

"Happy anniversary, Iris," he says. "Thank you for the best five years of my life."

And she laughs, mostly in disbelief.

And Spencer just stands there, smiling, in that perfect, innocent-yet-somehow-simultaneously-hot way he always does, watching her step into the building as the light from the flickering candles dances across her slackened face.

They're back in Beachwood, back in her home, in the place they met: the Sheriff Station. Iris' home from so long ago — or, at least, what's left of it. Now, it's half-demolished, with a main area cleared but only crumbling brick walls and small piles of rubble surrounding them. It would have been quite an unattractive place, except Spencer's been decorating.

Now, dozens — more — baskets of red roses are positioned around them, balanced on the stones, hanging from wherever he has access. And there's candles, so many candles...

I think I might've inhaled you. I can feel you behind my eyes.

And now she hears it. The song she first danced with Spencer to, so many years ago. He found it? Remembered it? To use it all these years later?

Oh, this boy. He's wonderful. She loves him so much.

"This has to be a fire-hazard," is the first thing Iris says, her voice so quiet it's almost invisible. It's a stupid thing to say, and yet again, for around the tenth time in their relationship, she's undoubtedly ruining the moment, but she has no choice simply because any other words aren't even making it out of her throat.

But Spencer laughs: a cute, short, nervous little exhale from his nose; his head bows a little, toward the roses he holds in his hands. He's wearing a suit — black-and-white because he knows Iris loves it when he wears that, even though he thinks it's looks like he's going to a funeral — and, God, he looks good. So good. It should be illegal to look like that.

She doesn't know how he's gotten away with this. They'd been visiting some of her old friends and a few family members still living in Beachwood — an escapism kind of thing, a break from the mundanity and struggle of life back in Virginia (in their shared apartment, after Spencer moved in with her three years prior) — and during their trip, sure, she'd noticed him sneaking off, but not like this. This, she hadn't thought he'd be capable of.

Yet, here he stands.

She's only here too because he called her claiming he was in trouble and gave her the address, which she hastily scribbled down before racing out of their motel to find him. Frankly, she's quite mad, beneath the shock; she'd thought it had been something serious, like he was genuinely in danger. But no, he's just trying to be romantic.