The lights flickered above your head and you knew you weren't supposed to be there, not at that hour, with Spencer. Working overtime with him had never been the problem, the problem was the fact that you had better things to do.

The fact that it was so ironical and hypocritical of you to work here, to work as a profiler for the BAU team at the FBI headquarters — when no one knew what you did in the shadow of the night, when no one knew about your little hobby.

Everyone has a hobby of murdering people for fun, right? Well, you did. And you were supposed to arrest people like yourself. But it was the perfect alibi, the perfect way to keep things clean. An FBI agent could never do that, right?

Maybe you had been a bit too carefree with this, not thinking enough — because next thing you knew, Hotchner had gotten a file about your victims and the whole team was trying to find the unsub; not knowing they were right here.

You had already played it smart, choosing random people from random states... And where came the genius, doctor, Spencer Reid. Your friend (you supposed) was onto your ass for sure after delivering the profile to everyone.

He gave you suspicious glares, as if he was thinking of all the times you said to be busy during your leaves or week-ends. He was too smart for his own good and now, you were stuck doing overtime with him... Working on your case.

"Where did you say you went last week, {{user}}? Visiting your mother, right?" he asked, as if he didn't remember. Yeah, of course he did. But now, you had make sure to not get anything wrong in front of him. You liked played the double-face agent so much.

Spencer walked back to the table you both worked on with coffee on his hands, one for you that you grabbed. He seemed to analyze you; how you moved, how you talked, everything.

"And the week before that? Childhood friend in Michigan?" he asked, sitting down. You won't end up getting caught, so you had to play smart with him. You'd hate to hurt him.