Summary: based on the song “this is how you fall in love” by jeremy zucker and a cute tiktok i watched of a first look at a couple’s wedding.
A/N: i haven’t written in a while, so i’ve given you a small blurb to kind of rekick my motivation. also i wrote this almost entirely for my pal who has a thing for marriage.
Couple: Spencer Reid/Reader
Category: SFW fluff.
Content Warning: None!
Word Count: 547
The aisle in front of me is littered in crushed and fluttering petals, the little girl responsible for them skipping towards the altar. I see myself in her, watch my childlike innocence and perception of love make my path down the aisle. When you’re little, love just means, ‘who will hold my hand on the playground when we play tag?’ and I can’t help but think that’s not much different from what love means to me now. It’s less playground and more life, but I know now all I want is someone to be there. Whether it’s during the formation of love or the expression of it, Spencer is the one I want by my side. I can’t make myself look up though, not yet, gaze fixated on my shoes. Will Spencer be excited, grinning from ear to ear? Did someone fix his hair, or is it curling over his collar? Will he cry? Oh, I hope he doesn’t cry. If he cries, I’ll cry and both of us will look ridiculous.
When he asked me to marry him, we were in his living room. He had been fidgety all day, keeping his hands in his pockets the whole day. We had laid out a blanket and pillows to have a movie night, my one request for our date night.
He couldn’t get comfortable, and finally I turned and asked, “What is up with you today?” and when I turned, there was a little back velvet box in his hand.
“Is that…?” I had asked.
He nodded, tears welling up. “Will you marry me?” Of course I said yes, and now here we are, my hands fiddling with my engagement ring around my bouquet, and I get the nerve to look up at him.
He’s not crying now, at least from what I can see at the beginning of the aisle, but when he meets my eyes, I feel everything from the last few years in his eyes. Clutching my arm, Hotch gives me a look that says, Are you ready? I nod as we start to walk down the aisle to him, and I mouth “I love you” to him, and he says it out loud, over the music and our family and friends burst out into joyous laughter. I remember then that Spencer and I are not alone, and grin sheepishly up at Hotch.
“It’s okay.” He whispers. “This is about you, not us.” I settle back down, meeting Spencer’s eyes yet again. He’s starting to mist up, and I shake my head and mouth, Don’t cry! and he laughs. I see the smile crinkle the skin beside his eyes, and I feel tears coming to mine too.
We reach the end of the aisle, and Spencer reaches out a hand for me. We’ve never been one for tradition. Hotch smiles, and hands me away, and I take my place in front of Spencer.
“Hi.” He whispers.
“Hi.” I giggle back, seeing stars and life and love and everything in the eyes of the man before me. I squeeze his hands not once, but three times. I love you.
And that is how you fell in love, and this is how you fall in love, and this will be how we fall in love forever.
Relationship: Sugar Daddy! Spencer Reid x GN!AFAB! Reader
Warnings: Mentions/Fears of Death, Thigh Riding, Mentions of Casework, Penetrative Sex
A/N: When I wrote this chapter, I was struggling with not only continuing to write but also if writing a GN reader was for me. Oftentimes I would just find myself making Bee more NB than GN and then othertimes, I felt like people would only read this and get the feeling like Bee is a girl. In reality, I write Bee as someone who just exists and that’s cool. You can see them however you want :]
“Idiot!” Y/N hissed at Spencer. They were livid. Y/N’s face was bright red and their hands were balled into fists at their side. “Do you know what I thought when I got the call from you and then you just stopped responding to the paramedics? I thought you were dead!”
Spencer sighed, raising a hand to press against Y/N’s cheek. They leaned into his palm. “I’m sorry,” Spencer said softly.
Y/N’s hand pressed against his. “I know you are. It’s not your fault. You just gotta be a hero, huh?”
Spencer nodded with a soft smile on his lips. Y/N’s rolled their eyes and flicked Spencer’s forehead; Spencer fake winced. “Well, next time don’t end up with bruised ribs, burns and ear damage, okay? My face is too pretty to be marred by stress from worrying about you!”
“You forgot a concussion.” Y/N glared at him like hellfire. “Alright, alright. I’ll be more careful. Now, I would really like a kiss, please.”
They pouted at him and shifted closer till Spencer could press a kiss against their lips. Spencer’s hands trailed down their shoulders to wrap tightly around their waist. Y/N sighed into the kiss as Spencer pulled them into his lap.
The two were now at Spencer’s apartment, with Spencer sitting on his bed while Y/N stood between his thighs. Y/N had shown up as fast as they could after work.
“Spencer,” Y/N sighed contentedly as his lips pressed warm kisses to the column of their throat, “You’re hurt.”
“I don’t care,” Spencer stated while dancing his fingers under Y/N’s shirt to pull it over their head. Spencer noticed something as his hands trail down their form; yes, he had spotted the scar before, but he hadn’t realized how obvious it was. He didn’t pay any attention to it, there was no reason to ask and make them feel uncomfortable.
Y/N’s eyes fluttered to a close as they gave in to the brush of Spencer’s lips against their neck and his hands palming down their thighs. Their fingers laced into his hair before they huffed out a sigh, pulling away. “You’re hurt,” they mumble.
Spencer hummed. He buried his head into the crook of Y/N’s neck, “I want to be close to you, pain is manageable.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course, pleasure is commonly known to cancel out pain.”
Y/N cheekily smiled at him. “Let’s get rid of your pain then, yeah?”
Spencer pulled them from their feet, not into his lap, but onto his thigh. He placed a kiss to their lips: deep, but gentle and soft.
Someone, not privy to what their relationship was, might have called it a loving kiss.
Y/N broke from the kiss to press their lips against Spencer’s neck. Licking and sucking, they nibbled against his jaw. As if they could try to make Spencer ignore the way their legs and hips slowly shifted on his thigh.
His hands stoked through Y/N’s hair before tapping on the upside of their thigh, “What are you doing?”
They pulled away to look at him and Spencer smiled as he watched them internally panic. “I- I’m just kissing you.”
“Are you sure?” his fingers moved up their thigh as if they were walking. Y/N quickly nodded, eliciting Spencer to laugh. “If you want to ride my thigh, you just have to ask.”
Y/N swallowed before looking up at Spencer through their lashes. His breath caught in his throat at how doe eyed and innocent they looked.
“May I please ride your thigh, daddy?”
Spencer smiled sweetly at them, lust running through his veins like burning lava, “Of course, I just have one little question first. Okay, angel?” Y/N nodded and Spencer continued. “I was wondering how you’d feel about being called something gendered, like, princess?”
When Y/N tensed and Spencer knew he’d asked the wrong question.
“Shit. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. It wasn’t my intention, I-”
“Spencer,” Y/N interrupted all sugary and soft, cutting him off as they gently placed their hands on his cheeks, “I freeze when I think, sometimes. It’s okay, take a deep breath for me?”
He nodded and followed Y/N in a few exaggerated breaths. “You were in a traumatizing event, it’s okay if you need some time. Tell me, what do you need?”
“Actually, other people have been in worse situations. I have been in worse situations. Really, I’m fine.”
“SSA Doctor Spencer Reid, look at me.” Y/N’s voice was on the verge of frustration as they lightly tapped Spencer’s cheeks with the pads of their fingers. “Your hurt is real, don’t brush it off. You’re not fine and that’s okay. On Sunday, you took care of me, no questions asked. Please, let me help you. You can’t be the only one with a hero complex, you know?”
Spencer laughed at that, knowing that there were tears on the edge of his eyes. “First, you didn’t have to use my full title. Second, I do not have a hero complex.”
“If you say so, babe. Now. You still haven’t answered my question.”
“You haven’t answered mine!” Spencer shot back. His hands rested on Y/N’s waist and rubbed circles into their skin.
“Ok. No, I would not mind being called princess. That’s it though. Anything else gendered would make me uncomfy.” Y/N’s pinkies ran underneath Spencer’s jawline and their thumbs traced the curve of his cheek. Their hands were only a little cold, but still left Spencer’s face and cheeks warm.
“Plenty of people like to be called princess. One of my guy friends told me that they used to like being called princess. It doesn’t feel like being misgendered, despite its feminine suffix,” Y/N continued. “Thank you for asking me if I would be comfortable, it means a lot.”
Spencer leaned back, using his grip on Y/N’s waist to pull them with him. They both flopped on the bed with Y/N’s head moving to lay on his chest. His hands and arms wrapped tighter around their waist. “This. I need this.”
Y/N rolled off of Spencer. He watched as they kicked off their shoes and shucked off their pants onto the floor. Instead of moving back to their place on Spencer’s chest, they moved to the top of the bed and slid under the cover.
They tapped their hands on the space beside them and Spencer wasted no time clambering next to Y/N. They pulled at each other till they were chest to chest and their noses were brushing.
Spencer pushed forward, his hands moving to their hair as he kissed them. Y/N hummed into the kiss as they tried to move closer, hands inching along to glide across Spencer’s back and sides. It was not frantic, like it was before - if that could even be called frantic - but it was different. It was softer and something intangible had shifted, but not changed. No. Everything was still the same.
Somehow, Spencer found himself wishing something had changed. That the murmurs of words that he pressed into Y/N were more than just a sound, frequency or vibration. His hands were pulling off Y/N’s pants and he was wondering if it would be easier to end the two of them right now or let himself succumb to an emotion that was notwelcomed,despite how much he wanted it to be, and get hurt in the long run.
He made his decision by pulling Y/N impossibly closer with his hands. Spencer pressed his thigh up as Y/N ground down on it, their hips shifting as they chased their pleasure. He nuzzled his head into the place where their shoulder met their neck, he nipped and kissed at the skin there, listening to the sounds flowing from Y/N’s lips.
Spencer sucked at the base of their neck while Y/N rode his thigh faster. Their breathing was harsher and Spencer could tell they were on the verge of release.
“Look at you, you’re being so good for daddy right now.”
Thus, with his praising words, Y/N’s eyes fell shut and their mouth opened in a soundless moan as they came, hips stilling on Spencer’s leg. Spencer then used his leg to pry their thighs open enough to slide his hand into the front of their underwear, using two fingers between their folds to gather some of their wetness. He brought the fingers to his mouth and sucked on them, muttering softly, “Delicious.”
Y/N watched him with parted lips and hazy eyes. Spencer pressed a quick kiss to the tip of Y/N’s nose and then their lips, before shifting the two of them so that his back was against the wall and Y/N’s legs were on either side of him. He pushed his hands from the side of Y/N’s leg by their knee all the way to their hips to pull down their underwear.
“Not fair,” Y/N pouted while messing with the buttons on Spencer’s shirt. “I’m all naked and you’re completely dressed.”
He hummed offhandedly, “Do you want to undress me?”
Y/N nodded, “Yes please, daddy.”
“Okay baby, go ahead.”
Y/N’s fingers nimbly unbuttoned his shirt to place their hands on his chest, then pushed his shirt off of his shoulders. He did the rest by pulling it off his arms and tossing it to the side; Y/N used that time to pull down his pants, not all the way though, they both now had the urgency to get back to being close together.
Y/N ground softly onto Spencer’s dick as he ran the head of it through their folds, gathering the wetness that had accumulated there. Y/N’s arms wrapped around his neck to hold his hair as Spencer slowly buried himself into Y/N. Their chests were pressed together, bringing them closer, both physically and emotionally.
It felt so good to be cared for, Spencer noted. Even if the person caring for you didn’t feel the same way. For Spencer, being with Y/N was enough: holding them, kissing them, taking them on lavish dates. That reminded him, he should take them somewhere tonight if it was not too late, of course. It was only a fleeting thought, before he didn’t really think anymore.
If he did think, beyond praises for Y/N, it would be a choir and echo of ‘I think love you.’
“So good for me, princess,” he breathed out as his pace picked up, Spencer’s hands practically slamming Y/N down onto him. ‘I love you, I love you, I love you. I kind of wish I didn’t, it would be so much easier to not.’
Spencer couldn’t bear to hear Y/N’s voice, not when a fake version of it in his mind was saying that they loved him too. So, he took two of his fingers and tapped them against Y/N’s lips.
“Suck,” Spencer ordered, groaning when they opened their mouth to do so greedily.
Spencer’s index and middle fingers drew in and out of their mouth while the others wrapped around the hollow of their cheek and their chin. It was much easier to make the sight of Y/N so erotic than to let this, whatever this was, be an almost romantic memory.
He pulled his fingers from their mouth to rub their clit, not stopping his almost, if not only mentally, loving pace. They weren’t fucking, but they weren’t making love either, it was a mix between the two that Spencer liked more than he’d ever admit.
Y/N was looking at him with such glistening eyes and he felt his heart flutter. Spencer’s only intent was to make them feel good, so he thrusted up into Y/N a little bit faster, while bringing their hips down a little harsher.
Y/N couldn’t help but release a few moans, throwing their head back as their pleasure grew unbearably strongly.
“Come for me, baby.”
Y/N’s body obeyed and came a few seconds before Spencer did, but he ignored his own pleasure to the best of his ability to help Y/N ride their wave. Their body went limp on Spencer and he pressed a kiss near their hairline. Y/N came back to life with an airy and carefree giggle; it was so sweet that Spencer almost forgot his woes.
“Mmm,” Y/N hummed as their cheek pressed against Spencer’s shoulder, “I forgot it could be like that.”
Spencer crooked his neck the best he could to look at them. “Like what?”
They shrugged flippantly; Spencer could tell that there was something they were not saying, but let it slide. After all, he wouldn’t want them to question him about anything.
“Hey,” Spencer said softly after a few minutes of cuddling like they were, him still buried inside of Y/N. “Let’s go out to eat.”
Y/N pulled back to look at him with a confused expression. “It’s too late to get a reservation and I’m not in the mood for fast food or delivery.”
“I know someone who can get us a reservation at say…” Spencer paused to look at his bedside clock; it was currently six fifty-six, “… Ten?”
“That’s enough time for me to get home and get all dolled up,” Y/N noted.
Spencer nodded, “Enough time for me to call in my favor and get us our reservation, too.”
Y/N smiled widely, “I should move and clean up then.”
He shook his head. Spencer would never make someone clean themselves up after sex, it was in the general moral conduct not to! “Please,” he whispered, placing a soft kiss on Y/N’s forehead, “Let me.”
“Anything for you,” Y/N sighed dramatically.
ណ
“Hey, Pen.” Spencer said as the phone picked up.
“Hello, hello, my love. To what do I owe this call from my favorite G-Man?” Garcia replied, as bubbly as ever.
“I’d like to cash in a favor, if possible.”
“Honey, I’m a miracle worker. With me, anything is possible. Now, spit it out! Full story or whatever you want is no bueno.”
Spencer sighed into the phone receiver. “I told you about the person I’m in a relationship with, right? Well, I’m taking them to dinner tonight and was wondering if you could hack into a restaurant and out my last name down for a reservation at ten?”
“Pshhh, easy peasy lemon squeezy, babe. First. I want every detail. Momma doesn’t work for free, you know?” Penelope knew how to get her way and Spencer could never lie to someone who had worked around profilers. She wasn’t a trained one, but needed a good eye on the computers to decide if a guy fit the profile or not.
His free hand moved around his shirts in his wardrobe to find the right one. “They happen to be the first responder I called on Tuesday. That doesn’t matter though, they’re more than some random person that texted me or someone that I’ve gone on a few dates with. I’m in love with them and it’s fucking scary.”
Penelope hummed on the line, “Tell them how you feel, it’ll hurt you if you get rejected, but in the long run…”
“No!” he interrupted, “I can’t. I don’t care that it hurts me that Y/N could never feel the same way, I want to make us last, so that I can love them longer.”
“It seems as though I can’t help you with advice then. I can get you your reservation, though.”
“Thanks Garcia, I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”
ណ
Y/N decided that they wanted to drive themself to the restaurant and back, instead of Spencer picking them up and dropping them off. That was fine with Spencer because he was planning on using the metro anyway.
Except for that when he was just about to enter the subway he paused and turned around. Guess his subconscious wanted him to drive, then.
Spencer showed up first, having already left for the subway early just in case. Luckily his hacked reservation went through and he was able to get seated, hassle free. When the hostess tried to seat him at a table where Y/N would be across from him, he politely asked to be seated at a booth, which led him to be met with a raised eyebrow and a ‘Follow me, then, sir.’
After that he could do nothing but wait till Y/N were to show up. He took that time to scan over the menu, two times - if two was the equivalent of thirty, of course.
Eventually, Y/N was being led by the hostess to the table, who then said that the waiter would be there soon.
“Hey, hey,” Y/N grinned while sliding in next to Spencer. Their hands quickly laced together as Spencer took a moment to admire what they were wearing. Their hair was styled perfectly and they were dressed to the nines. The light glinting off of their nails showed that they had put on shiny clear nail polish with the pinkies being a dark, wine red that matched their outfit.
“Red looks nice on you,” he mused in lieu of a greeting.
Y/N grinned at him with a soft ‘thank you’ before looking at their menu. They glanced through it, tongue between their lips as they decided. Spencer was waiting for them to choose what they wanted to eat before picking the wine, that way it would fit with whatever they both decided on.
When the waiter came over, Spencer asked Y/N what they were having. Their dish paired best with a white wine, which was lucky considering that was what Spencer’s also best paired with.
Just as the two were getting ready to place their main dishes, Spencer’s work phone rang in his pocket. He pulled it out and was rewarded with a call from Emily, likely about an emergency case or so. The phone was brought to his ear and he listened to Emily, shooting a look to Y/N that screamed “sorry.”
Y/N deflated as Spencer pulled the phone away. “Guess we’ll have to postpone?”
Spencer nodded, “I’m so sorry, you can still stay here and eat, I—”
“No! Only sad weirdos have their dates leave them and then eat alone,” Y/N pouts, arms crossing their chest. “We’ll both leave at the same time, make it look like it was our idea?”
His brows furrowed, “Our idea?” Y/N moved closer to Spencer and slid their legs over Spencer’s lap, their hands traveled across his chest and shoulders. “Oh,” Spencer breathed.
Their lips connected in a hasty kiss that was not entirely for show. Spencer chuckled, “You’re insatiable!”
Spencer and Y/N walked out of the restraint with Spencer’s arm curled around Y/N’s waist, pulling them close. The two ignored the baffled states of the staff.
They parted for their own vehicles with a kiss, Spencer opting to drive to Quantico.
Emily had briefly talked about the case. Six victims, evolving MO, with nothing but victim and crime scene profiling for evidence.
Apparently, the only reason they weren’t connected beforehand was the different victims. One would be a pair of women, differing ages, both white. While the next pair would be a non-binary individual and a man, different in both race and age.
The only thing making them done by the same unsub was the single black feather left behind by the perp.
It was, to say the least, peculiar.
Even more so once there was digging done behind the pairs.
To Spencer, this all seemed too familiar.
—————
[check my request guidelines to send in blurb requests]
Please consider liking, reblogging, or commenting on the fic if you are on the taglist. Otherwise, you are essentially asking me to take an extra step to include you while offering me absolutely NOTHING in exchange, which is a pretty shitty feeling. (the lovely pom from @/imagining-in-the-margins let me steal this btt from her, but it still counts!!)
Your eyes open and immediately fall on Spencer’s sleeping form. His left hand holds onto yours tightly. The shining silver ring on his ring finger pulls your eyes towards it. You placed it there last night, in front of your family and friends while you vowed to love each other through the good and the bad.
Spencer Reid is your husband. It still seems so surreal. A smile breaks out and you’re about to laugh out loud from the happiness you feel inside. Luckily, you have some restraint left and are able to stop yourself so you don’t wake Spencer.
Spencer’s hair is so messy and yours, no doubt, looks like a bird nest. You’ve woken up next to each other numerous times, but this morning it’s different. You’re husband and wife.
Your right hand is itching to touch the man you love. Itching to follow the sharp line of his jawline before nestling itself behind his neck to pull him in for a kiss he won’t forget.
Before you get swept up in the feeling, Spencer opens his eyes slowly.
A lazy smile paints his lips as his eyes fall on your hands, holding each other tightly and his wedding ring shining in the ray of sunlight. He turns your left hand so he can look at the ring that’s adoring your finger. A tiny kiss finds its way onto your ring before he moves his eyes to meet yours and whispers: “Good morning, my wife.”
A giddy giggle leaves your lips while you answer him: “Good morning, my husband.”
You didn’t know it was possible, but the smile on his lips gets even bigger.
“It’ll take time to get used to hear that, but it feels so right,” he says while he pulls you closer.
His right arm winds itself around your waist while his left hand caresses your cheek before pulling you into a passionate kiss.
“So. Damn. Right,” you answer him between pecks.
Spencer repositions himself on his back and like a magnet you’re pulled into his side and you rest your head on his chest. His arms circle themselves around you and he holds you tight.
Request: A blind date spencer x reader? Pen is their mutual friend or something and sets them up?
A/N: I wasn’t expecting this to be this long but here we are! Enjoy flustered Spencer on a date with an underwear model Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Fluff Content Warning: Blind date, Reader is an underwear model, discussions of lingerie, insecurity, white lies Word Count: 4.5k
Penelope had known that I would feel comfortable in a cafe. Even one as pretentious as this. I tried not to take offense to the fact that the pompous nature of it was probably part of why she’d picked it for me. Because I had to admit that she had been right. The warm, mellow jazz music and the distinct lack of children, while slightly solemn, also meant that there would be few distractions from what had been meant to be the focus of my attention.
The one I was waiting for. Whoever she was.
‘It’s a blind date, Spencer,’ Penelope had balked when I’d asked, ‘I can’t tell you what she’s like!’
Summary: It’s valentine’s day, but the team just got back from a though case were Aaron’s daughter got kidnapped. Spencer tries his best to help her feel better during the day of love.
Category: little angsty, fluff.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (Hotchner’s daughter)
Word Count: 3.2K
Warnings: age gabe between consenting adults (24/32), mentions of kidnapping and bruises, talks about drug abuse, short mentions of death and previous unsub (canon), kissing, use of nicknames (plum cake, pretty boy and junior), confession of love.
February 14th. Valentine’s Day. The day of love. A day that was celebrated by couples and friends around the world. It was supposed to be a romantic day but for you, Spencer and the rest of the BAU team, today was anything but romantic. Or happy for that matter.
You and the team had just wrapped up a hard case, involving you getting kidnapped, both Derek and your dad, Aaron, fought to get you back safely. Spencer did too, but everyone wanted him to focus on how to get through to the unsub so they could save you.
Luckily they found you and the unsub in a basement of an abandoned house together with two dead bodies. Now the team was on the jet on your way home to Quantico. It was dead silent except for the faint music from Derek’s headphones and some snores.
“How does she do it?” Emily asked Aaron who looked out at the window where the sun was rising from the horizon.
“Who does what?” he asked back, looking at Emily.
“Your daughter. How can she pretend she’s fine after all she’s been through?”
“She claims she’s not pretending but I and everyone else knows how much she’s struggling.” he said with a sad broken tone in his voice.
“Does she have someone to talk to about this?” Emily asked, looking concerned.
“She talks a lot with Morgan and Reid about all of it but she needs to talk to a professional about it.”
Emily nodded and looked out of the window. She didn’t know what to respond with. It was a hard subject to talk about, even when you are an experienced agent and profiler.
You and Spencer were sitting beside each other sleeping deeply. Your head was resting against his chest, while his arm was around your shoulders tugging you closer in his light sleep.
Spencer’s free hand had found one of yours and he held it tightly. Anyone could see your intertwined hands and fingers when they passed by the seats you were sitting in.
“She’s a fighter. But she doesn’t get enough credit for it.” Aaron said out of the blue to Emily.
“I believe she knows. Everyone on the team praises her for her amazing skills and work.” Emily said and drank some of the tea she just had maked. “But Hotch, do you tell her how well she’s doing on this job?”
Hotch became silent. He didn’t really praise you for your hard work, meaning that you didn’t feel praised enough for your work. It bothered you a lot but you didn’t have the nerve to tell him the truth.
—
Spencer was the one driving you home. Your dad had asked him to keep an eye out on you, just to make sure you would be okay.
In the car there was a comfortable silence. Normally you and Spencer would talk both of your ears off, but due to the trauma you just had gotten through, you didn’t talk.
“I know you like the silence but do you feel okay?” Spencer asked and kept his eyes on the road.
“It’s… hard to explain…” you said and looked out of the window.
“Well, try. To start off a conversation like this, I’ve been through a drug addiction and it took me some time to get clean.” Spencer said as he took a left turn.
“What were you addicted to?” You asked with a low voice and looked down at your hands that still had some skin damage to them.
“Dilaudid. A painkiller drug that creates the same high as heroin does. But I’m good now and can say I’m proud to be clean.”
“I heard that you actually died but the unsub, Tobias, revived you.” You said quietly.
“And I’m thankful that he did. Otherwise I wouldn’t have met you.” He said with a smile and looked over at you.
Spencer immediately noticed you didn’t smile or react to his words. He figured something like that must have happened to you, since you were so quiet about it but he decided not to ask further about it.
When you and Spencer arrived back at his apartment, you looked confused at him.
“I thought you drove me back to my own apartment.” you said and looked at him with a confused expression on your face.
“It was my plan but I figured my place would be better.” Spencer explained and opened his door to get out. He went over to your side and opened the door to help you out of the car.
He pulled out his hand for you to take. You placed your right bruised one in his soft left hand. When you stepped out of the car and down at the ground you felt your legs getting wobbly.
Spencer was quick to grab you. “You alright?”
You just nodded and grabbed his shoulders for balance. As you and Spencer walked up to his apartment, Spencer could feel that you wanted to ask him something
“What’s on your mind?” he asked calmly and got out his keys for
“It’s weird that today is the day of love and we just got home from a very bad case where I got abducted and we talk about trauma, when we were supposed to celebrate our love for each other.” you said with a chuckle and looked down at your bruised hands.
“Can you do me a favor and close your eyes?” Spencer asked and unlocked his front door.
You did as he said and closed your eyes. “I hope it’s something exciting.” you added.
“I promise you’re going to love it.” Spencer said and opened his door. He then walked behind you and placed his large hands over your eyes to make sure you wouldn’t peek.
He led you inside of his apartment and into his bedroom. On the way he made sure to close and lock his front door and open his bedroom door.
When you stood in the doorway to his bedroom you felt his hands getting placed on your shoulders, as your eyes were closed still.
“You may now open your eyes.” Spencer whispers in your ear and squeezed your shoulders.
When you opened your eyes, Spencer’s bed was filled with pillows, blankets, boxes with chocolate, rose petals and a bouquet of white lilies and red roses.
“Spencer. Wow..” you said as you took a step forward to look at it properly.
“Since we are coming close to an anniversary I thought you would like a romantic night when we got home from the case, so I prepared and I asked Garcia to help me.” He blabbered and went over to the bed to sit down.
“It’s amazing. Thank you.” You said with a small smile.
Everything was perfect. He really knew how to be romantic, with some help from Garcia.
“Come here.” Spencer said and reached out for you to come over to him.
You slowly walked over to him, still feeling weak, and grabbed his hands when you were close enough. Spencer placed your hands on his shoulders and placed his on your clothed covered waist.
“Do you feel okay?” He asked softly.
“Mhm.” You nodded and looked down at him. “Just tired. Mentally and physically.” You said and ran your fingers through his hair.
“So I’m guessing you just wanna relax and not have amazing take away dinner and kisses from your boyfriend?” Spencer asked with a mischievous smile on his face as his hands moved from your waist and down to your bum.
“I just said I was tired. I didn’t say we should cancel your plans. I’m just saying I’m really tired.” you said and looked into his dark chocolate brown eyes.
Spencer looked back into your clear eyes. “So how about you take a shower, I get dinner going and we just relax here?” he suggested and gave your bum a squeeze.
“Sounds like a good plan.. but can you do me a favor?” You asked with a quiet voice.
“Anything.”
“Help me shower…” you looked away from his gaze and tucked on his hair, getting a little nervous.
Spencer nodded looking up at you. “Anything for you to feel better.”
“Thank you.” You said and pulled away from the embrace.
Spencer stood up and went out to his bathroom to turn on the shower to get it nice and warm for you. While he did that you slowly opened the button and the zipper of your pants, slit them down and stepped out of them.
“I found this body scrub you left last time you visited and I figured you would like-“ Spencer stopped and looked at your half naked body.
There you stood. Only in a sweater that was too big for your body and in pink panties. Your makeup did you take off on the plane.
“What?” You asked nervously, looking down at your body to see if there was anything wrong, other than some bruises on your legs.
Spencer smiled and let out a chuckle. “You look amazing. Uhm,” he chuckled again. “I’m just amazed.”
You smiled softly at his words, getting a little shy.
“The… the shower is ready when you are.” Spencer stuttered and stepped closer to you.
“Can you help me get out of my sweater?” You asked, looking at him with pleading eyes.
He nodded once again. Spencer stepped closer to your body and placed his hands on your waist by the hem of your sweater.
You lifted your arms above your head so he could pull the sweater off. Spencer hesitated to do so. He just stood there and admired you, even though your left cheek had a bruise on it, he only saw beauty.
“Spence?”
“Hmm?”
“I can’t keep my arms up all day long.” You giggled and looked at him with begging eyes.
“Do you have a lot of bruises on your stomach?” He asked and slowly pulled the sweater up.
“I don’t know.” You admitted and looked away from his gaze.
Spencer pulled your sweater off, leaving you in only your panties and a bralette that just covered your chest. Your stomach was filled with dark marks and bruises that indicated that you’ve been hit and kicked, your arms had defense wounds that had been wrapped in some bindings and small cuts and your chest was covered in red and blue marks.
He also noticed that your arms had smaller poking holes where your veins were.
“What drug did he use?” Spencer asked and pulled down the strands of your bralette.
“He started with heroin, but then he moved onto meth, the liquid form. He also used some ordinary pain meds to help my body relax.” You said as he opened the bra clasp and let it fall to the ground.
“And you feel okay?” He asked and began to kiss your neck with sloppy kisses.
“Mhm. Just tired.” You said as your hands found his that were on your hips.
“Then let’s get you in the shower and wash away these memories.” He said as he kissed your shoulder.
“That sounds good.” You whimpered as his hands started to pull down your panties.
He kneeled down in front of you and pulled down your panties along your bruised legs. Spencer left small kisses along your stomach, hips and your thighs.
“Spence..” you whispered and grabbed some of his curls.
Spencer stood up and looked at you with cute loving eyes while his hands ran up and down your sides. Even though your body was covered in scratches and bruises, Spencer was so in love that he didn’t see the bruising. He saw beauty.
“Let’s get you into the shower.” He smiled and kissed your forehead.
—
You got woken up by the sun shining through Spencer’s sheer curtains. When you rolled over to Spencer’s side of the bed, it was empty, but his pillow was fluffed and he had made his bed as good as he could.
You saw a note laying on the bedside table. You sat up on the bed and leaned over to grab it. Spencer had written you a note. It was sometimes hard to read his handwriting when he was rushing but you managed to figure it out.
Your dad called and told me to get in. I told him you took a few days off.
Love you, S
“Such a cutie.” You smiled and put the note down.
You grabbed your phone to see what time it was. 11 a.m. your phone showed. It has been a while since you slept in so late. Normally on your days off you slept till around 9.30 a.m. maybe 10 if you needed, but never really longer than that.
You decided to get up and go to the headquarters in Quantico, even though Spencer had told your dad you were taking some days off to get better, you still had a lot of reports that needed to get done before deadlines.
You decided to put on some of your clean clothes you had in your go-bag. But you didn’t realize that you needed to pack a new one
“Jeans, socks and a t-shirt. It’s freezing out, I can’t wear this.” You said to yourself and looked around Spencer’s bedroom to see if there was something you could wear to stay warm during the day.
You noticed one of Spencer’s cardigans laying around. It was one of his purple ones that he really liked and it smelled freshly washed.
You decided to put it on together with your denim jeans, black t-shirt and your socks. Once you were dressed you put on some makeup to cover a few bruises you had on your neck and face.
When you arrived at the BAU people looked in your direction as you walked through the glass doors. The first thing you saw was a large bouquet with white lilies and roses on your desk. You walked over to your desk and saw a small box of your favorite candy with a note on it.
“Hello there plum cake.” You heard Derek say.
You turned around and saw Derek holding his mug with a smirk on his face.
“Hey, where are the others?” You asked and sat down to read the note.
“In the conference room. We just got a new case…” Derek said and drank some coffee. “Pretty boy told us you were taking some days off, so why are you here?”
“Uhm… reports. I’ve got some reports I need to finish before the deadlines.” You explained and read the note.
“What does it say?” Derek asked.
“To my beloved partner, lover and best friend. Happy late Valentine’s Day. Hope you like the flowers and the candy. Love, S” you said out loud while a blush came on your face.
“Let me guess. S is Spencer?” Derek chuckled and sat down on the edge of your desk.
“How’d you know?”
“Let me just say that you and pretty boy aren’t good at hiding each other’s feelings and I know a certain someone who can’t keep their mouth shut.” Derek said with a smirk and drank more of his coffee.
“Penelope. Wait.. yesterday he told me that she helped him get flowers and chocolate. Do you think she helped with this too?” You asked and smelled the flowers.
“Why don’t you ask him yourself, plum cake?” Derek asked and pointed towards Spencer who was walking in your direction.
You looked towards Spencer who had a large smile on his face. When he almost reached you, you stood up with a small smile on his face.
“Hi, Spence.” You smiled more widely.
Spencer didn’t say anything back, but he wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you off the ground a little bit in a large hug. You wrapped confusingly your arms around his shoulders and neck.
“What are you doing?” You asked once he put you down and pulled away from the hug.
“Happy late Valentine’s Day.” Spencer smiled widely.
“Ha-, happy valentines.” You stammered and looked around to find a distraction.
“I’ll leave you two alone.” Derek said and walked into the conference room.
“What did I say about keeping a low profile?” You almost whispered to Spencer.
“Want the exact words or?” He asked jokingly and went to grab your hand but decided not to do it.
“I don’t want to exact words but I thought we should keep our relationship private.” You said and stood a little closer to him.
“We were but I wanted to give you a gift and celebrate the day of love.” He said and leaned closer to you.
“I-, I understand that but my dad and-“ Spencer leaned down and captured your lips in a passionate kiss.
Spencer’s hands went down to your hips and gave them a tight squeeze while yours went up to his cheeks. When you parted you felt rather happy being in his arms. You could sense the fireworks between you and Spencer. It felt like you’ve fallen in love again.
“Did Penelope help you with this setup as well?” You smiled softly and ran your thumbs over his defined cheekbones.
“She did and I’m really grateful for that.” Spencer smiled and tucked you closer to his body.
“Reid?” You heard your dad say.
You quickly pushed Spencer away from you and bit your lip trying not to feel too embarrassed about what your dad might have seen.
“Yes, sir?” Spencer said with an innocent expression on his face.
“Come see me in the office. Same with you, junior.” You dad said and walked back to his office.
You let out a huge frustrated sigh and looked away from Spencer. You were the first one of the two of you to walk back to your dad’s office.
You were the first to sit down in one of your dad’s chairs. Spencer came in right after.
“Reid, close the door please.” You dad said when Spencer stepped inside.
Spencer did what he got asked to do and closed the door. When he sat down on the other empty chair a heavy awkward silence came to the small room.
“Care to explain the situation out there?” Your dad asked you and Spencer.
“Uhm..” you started. “Well the thing is..”
“Your daughter and I are dating.” Spencer said boldly.
“Well…” your dad started and looked between both you and Spencer. “Are you happy?”
You and Spencer nodded.
“Junior, does he make you feel protected?” He asked you.
“He- he does.” You stammered and kept your face low.
“And Reid, can I trust you to keep her protected?” Your dad asked.
“I’ll protect her with my life.” Spencer said with confidence.
“Then I’m happy. As long as you two are happy I can’t see why you shouldn’t be together. Also as long as you do your jobs, I can’t see why it shouldn’t work.” Your dad said with a small smile.
“Wait, you approve of our relationship?” You asked confusingly and looked at your dad then at Spencer.
“I do. Well I’ve been suspicious about it and when Garcia told me that Reid was getting flowers for you I figured it out. I’ve never been against it.”
“Garcia really needs to learn how to keep quiet.” Spencer said and looked at you.
“And when will I learn that profilers know everything?” You chuckled and looked out the windows.
Request: Yes / No hey could you do something with spencer x fem!reader? maybe she’s not part of the bau, but involved in some law type stuff which results in her being in a coma. @haarrrys
Requests are closed <3 Have a nice day/night
Spencer Reid x Fem!Non-Binary!Parkinson!Male!Reader
Word count: 1785
Warnings: Getting shot
Y/N: Your Name
Y/L/N: Your Last Name
PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!
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I met my lovely girlfriend while on a job, right at home. She works for the local police department and she’s amazing. She’s incredibly brave, caring, respectful, and devoted to keeping people safe. It was almost impossible to not fall for her. Now we’ve been together for two years.
It sucked that Y/N and I couldn’t see each other too often, with my busy schedule and her slightly less busy schedule. However, when we did see each other we turned our phones off and made sure our jobs had our land-line number. We just wanted to spend the time we had together and it worked for us.
I currently had a rare day off and unfortunately, Y/N was working. I decided to relax and hope that Y/N could get off early. I decided to keep my phone on, since I wasn’t with my girlfriend today, but as soon as she got home I would turn it off. I was watching some Doctor Who when I received a call. I sighed, expecting it to be Hotch or JJ telling me that we had a case, but it wasn’t. I didn’t recognize the number, but answered none the less.
“Hello?” I asked.
“Is this Spencer Reid?” A man on the other line asked, he sounded familiar, but I couldn’t pinpoint who it was.
“Yes, who is this?” I asked.
“This is Randy, Y/N’s partner. There’s been some trouble and Y/N’s been shot. She’s in surgery now, but I thought you should know.” He said and my eyes widened.
“What hospital?” I asked as I got up and grabbed my jacket.
“Green Hill.” He answered and I hung up. I rushed out and hailed a cab quickly.
“Green Hill Hospital, quickly please.” I said. I should have asked where she was shot. I should have asked how she’s doing. I should have gotten more information before I hung up, but I couldn’t think straight. My head was swimming with worry, something inside me was telling me that this was very serious. Y/N wouldn’t be alright, I could just feel it. I never relied on my gut feelings before, because they’re not facts, but this time felt different.
Once I arrived, I paid the cab driver and rushed inside. I spotted her partner and captain standing in the lobby and made my way over to them. Randy looked really worried, as did the captain, but he was doing a better job of hiding it.
“Is Y/N okay?” I asked, not bothering to hide my worry.
“Spencer, I’m glad Randy called you.” Allen, her captain, said.
“She’s still in surgery, but they said that they have hope for her.” He said.
“Where was she shot?” I asked and both men sighed.
“She was shot in the head, paramedics were already on the scene so we got her here quickly.” Allen answered and my eyes widened. There’s a 50% chance of her dying on the table…
“D-Did they say they can save her?” I asked.
“They said they’d do all they can…” Randy answered and I nodded, taking a seat.
“Hey, she’s a strong woman, she’ll pull through.” Allen said and I nodded, numbly.
We didn’t hear anything for five hours. I had called JJ and explained what was going on and she said she’d inform the rest of the team. They showed up it the two hour mark and agreed to stay with me and Randy. Allen wanted to stay, but he had to get back to the precinct. When the fifth hour came around, we all had a few cups of coffee in us.
“Y/N Y/L/N?” I looked up at the mention of her name and saw a Doctor looking around. I stood up and made my way to him.
“Is she alright?” I asked.
“The surgery went very well, however she hasn’t woken up yet.” He said and I gulped.
“I-Is she in a coma?” I asked.
“I’m afraid so, the likelihood of her waking up is slim.” He answered and I nodded.
“Can I see her?” I asked and he nodded with a sad smile.
“Of course, follow me.” He said. He led me to her room in silence and I was running through all the statistics in my head. The odds seemed to be against her… He opened the door to her room and I stepped in after him. I looked at my Y/N with wires, needles, and tubes sticking out of her. It broke my heart to see her like this. I took a seat next to her and gently grabbed her hand.
“If she does wake up she may have cognition, memory, speech, and or vision issues. She could possibly suffer from seizures for the rest of her life.” The doctor informed me and I nodded.
“I…I’ll leave you be.” He said and left the room. I stared at my poor girlfriend and prayed for the first time in my life. I never believed in God or any higher power, but I prayed to whoever would listen that my Y/N would come back to me.
*Four Months Later*
It’s been four months since Y/N was shot and I’ve visited her every day that I could. I stayed off of work for the first month, but I knew I couldn’t do that forever… no matter how understanding the team is. When I was on the job I did my absolute best to not think about Y/N. I know I probably shouldn’t but I couldn’t afford to be distracted by her state. Currently I was off the job and sitting right next to Y/N while reading her favorite book to her. The doctors honestly weren’t sure if she’d be able to hear me or not, but I tried anyway.
“Is that Handing in the Hotel?” I snapped my head up to find Y/N trying to sit up with a small smile on her face. I quickly shut the book and tossed it to the side. I leant forward and gently grasped her hand.
“Y/N?” I asked quietly.
“You know I love that book.” She whispered, hoarsely. I smiled and moved to kiss her. She giggled as I pulled away and I studied her face.
“You’re awake.” I said and she nodded.
“And thirsty.” She said and I quickly poured her some water the nurse had brought me. She gulped it down quickly and cleared her throat.
“That’s much better.” She said. Before I could say anything, the doctor walked in while looked at his charts.
“Hello Dr. Reid, I was told you-” He cut himself off when he looked up and found Y/N awake.
“Miss. Y/L/N… You’re awake.” He said in shock and she giggled.
“Seems to be shocking to everyone.” She said and he smiled slightly.
“Well, you were shot in the head and in a coma for four months.” He answered, walking closer to her bed.
“I remember being shot…” She said and looked down at her hands. I gently squeezed the one I was holding and she looked up at me.
“You’re alright now.” I smiled.
“I’m going to need to run some tests to make sure everything’s alright.” The doctor said and Y/N nodded.
“Go right ahead, I’d like to know myself.” She said and he smiled at her.
“You are very cheery for someone who just woke up.” He joked.
“What can I say, I’m a morning person.” She said and he laughed.
“I’ll send the nurse in to get started on the test, I’ll be back later.” He said and she nodded.
“So, four months huh?” She asked and I nodded.
“How were you holding up?” She asked and I smiled at her.
“It was hell, but you’re awake now.” I said and she smiled and pecked my lips.
“That I am.” She said.
They ran tests on her all day and by the time the doctor returned to give us the results it was dark out. Visiting hours were nearly over, but they had been making an exception for me. He walking in with Y/N’s charts and smiled.
“Well I have good news and bad news.” He said.
“What’s the good news?” Y/N asked.
“Your cognition, memory, speech, and or vision all seem to be perfectly normal.” He said and she smiled.
“What’s the bad news?” I asked.
“The bad news is that Y/N is going to have to take anti-epilepsy medication to deal with the seizures.” He said and she kept the smile on her face.
“Could be a lot worse.” She said.
“We’d like to keep you here for a few more days just to be safe and a hundred precent sure that everything’s alright, but after that you’re free to go home.” He said and she nodded.
“What about work? Will I still be able to be in the field?” She asked.
“I wouldn’t recommend it, but that would be something to discuss with your captain.” He said and she sighed.
“Well, thank you doctor.” She said and he smiled.
“Get some sleep, we’re going to run the test again tomorrow. Just to double check.” He said and she nodded. He left the room and Y/N looked at me with a slight frown.
“What if Allen won’t let me work anymore?” She asked.
“Then we’ll find you a new job, or you stay with the department, but not go out into the field.” I answered and she sighed again.
“I hope I don’t get stuck with a desk job…” She said and I chuckled.
“Y/N, you were just shot, they aren’t going to let you go out right away anyway.” I said and she groaned.
“It’s been four months!” She said and I chuckled.
“Four months where you were in a coma, you’re going to be stuck on desk duty for months.” I said and she groaned again. I chuckled at her childish behavior and kissed the top of her head.
“Just get some rest, I’ll call Allen in the morning to come see you.” I said and she nodded, her eyes fluttering shut. She moved over and patted to now empty space beside her.
“Come cuddle.” She said and I shook my head with a smile. I carefully got on the bed beside her and she rested her head on my chest.
“I love you, Spence. Thanks for reading to me for four months.” She mumbled and I kissed her head.
“Anything for you, Y/N.” I said and closed my eyes with a smile. For the first time in months I felt happy and at peace.
Laughter roared, and the day was waning. The clouds were travelling, and the smoke was rising. Life ruled in the gleaming eyes and alcohol, wine as sweet as honey together with whiskey painted the lips. The mood was exuberant and worries were forgotten for a moment, slipping into nothingness.
Y/N had not touched the food on the plates and the vegetables in the colourful bowls. It tasted good, was delicious, but she could no longer smell the odour she once liked much and grimaced nearly in disgust as the wind carried the scent in her direction. She sipped and emptied the glass full of water. The ice cubes remained at the bottom and slowly faded away in the rays of the sun.
The long dress covered her lovely body, making it impossible to spot the barely noticeable bulge she could hide from curious gazes. The sun shone down on her but Y/N avoided the drinks and the food she knew she wasn’t allowed to consume, had been reading books she had secretly bought, still unsure how to break the news to her boyfriend. Y/N was delighted, but every time her lips tried to form to the words of all words, the strength she had gathered in her heart disappeared, couldn’t look Spencer in the eyes and tell him what needed to be said. They had never talked about the subject of having children before, to have a family and it had never been necessary to speak of it, it was a subject not spoken of at the dinner table nor on long drives through the streets of the crowded city.
Doubts were clouding her mind. An icy shiver danced down her spine. Y/N had imagined it differently. She wanted to live in a small house and be a married woman, yet she had found the right partner for life long ago, but Y/N did not know how Spencer would react to the news.
Suddenly she felt a pair of eyes resting on her, studying her features closely. Y/N gave JJ a weak smile. She wanted to place her hands on her stomach in a protective gesture, a habit she loved too much, but before Y/N could do so, she curled her fingers into the flowing material of the dress she was wearing. Confusion spread through JJ´s eyes. She didn’t have to be a detective to notice that something was wrong with the young woman, who seemed exceptionally calm and deep in thoughts. JJ turned to her friend and took her gaze from the others gathered around the barbecue in the tranquil garden, laughing and chatting with each other and witnessed Spencer in a dark suit standing next to Hotch dressed in a pair of jeans and an old shirt.
“Is everything alright Y/N/N.”, “Of course, what should be wrong with me?” Y/N answered, forcing a smile.
JJ strolled towards Y/N and left the richly set table behind. She knew her friend well and knew something was wrong with her, that something troubled her greatly and even a blind man would see at first glance that Y/N was unwell. The façade shielding her features was well built but her eyes betrayed her, let know she was deeply troubled.
“I’ve known you for more than seven years Y/N/N, you can talk to me. Is it about Spencer? I’m worried about you, you’ve been acting unusual the last few days, the last few weeks to be accurate.” said JJ in a worried tone.
“I’m sorry you were worried about my wellbeing; I didn’t mean to worry you JJ. I’m fine.” Y/N laughed it off. “And Spencer is Spencer, he’s not capable of hurting me. I probably need a few days off. That’s all, you don’t need to worry. It’s just too much, the stress, the last cases and the lack of sleep.” added Y/N quickly and JJ nodded.
JJ halted next to Y/N, staring her straight in the eyes, trying to figure out what had happened, hoping she wasn’t lying to her, but the answer she gave sounded plausible and reasonable.
“If something was going on, would you let me know?” she huffed.
Y/N turned, faced her friend and flashed a faint smile. Her gaze was clouded and fear was evident.
“Of course, I would tell you, but there’s nothing I should tell you,” Y/N answered.
“Hotch has gone into the kitchen and you can ask him if you can get a day off, you work as much as Spencer and you deserve a day off more than any of us. You look really sickly and maybe you should ask for a week off instead of one day. Go to Hotch. I’m sure he’ll understand.” JJ said.
She gave Y/N´S shoulder a gentle squeeze. Y/N was about to protest but then nodded, knowing JJ was right and as Y/N imagined a day off she smiled peacefully, longing for a day when she could sit on the sofa and sleep or watch a movie with Spencer.
“Okay. You’re right, I’ll go and see him in a minute or should I rather go tomorrow?”, “Do it now.” she interjected and Y/N nodded.
No goodbyes escaped as Y/N turned her back on her friend, walking away, not noticing the questioning looks her boyfriend was giving her, paying no longer any attention to the conversation between Morgan and Rossi chatting about the food on the grill.
The cold tile floor made her shiver. Y/N leaned against the frame of the door and clasped her hands in front of her body, shielding the precious treasure which didn’t need protection. The air turned colder. Questioningly, the tall man turned around and immediately knew that Y/N had not come to talk about the nice weather.
“Is everything all right Y/N/N? Is there anything I can do for you?” Aaron asked, setting the jar he had filled with water down on the kitchen island.
Something incomprehensible came over her, didn’t know how to start. Confidence left her body. Y/N let her eyes wander around the kitchen, speechless, seeing the expression in the man’s eyes as he looked down at her kindly. To Hotch, Y/N was like a daughter and he felt his heart begin to ache and the worst thoughts try to overtake him as his thoughts travelled to the darkest corner of his mind.
Hotch took two steps and lowered his hands on her shoulders but he did not press her to his chest. Loving words assuring her that all was well again escaped him and when their eyes met the dams broke and the walls crumbled.
“What happened Y/N? You know you can tell me anything.”, “I’m sorry, I don’t know. It’s.” stuttered Y/N, unable to form a clear sentence.
Soothing tones Hotch uttered and gently his hands travelled down her spine, trying to understand what had happened to Y/N who was no longer his co-worker or employee but his daughter. His keen eyes travelled swiftly across her body but he could see no open wounds, no aching healed injuries gracing her skin. Suddenly tears clouded her vision.
“Y/N calm down, you can tell me everything. You are my child and if you have a problem, you can tell me, I will help you and I am convinced that all of us will help you, especially Spencer. We are your family.” Hotch said.
“I can’t,” Y/N spoke.
His hands rested on her shoulders and again he repeated the words he had said dozens of times. Urgently he looked into her eyes, trying to find the answer but nothing else but sadness and fear encountered him on his long journey. Slowly the walls she had built around herself began to crumble, no longer able to keep them alive as more warm tears travelled down her face, leaving marks she could no longer cover.
“You have to promise me you won’t tell anyone. I have told no one yet.”, “Of course, I’ll keep quiet,” Hotch replied, gladdened she was speaking.
“Not even Spence, especially him. I have to tell him myself,” Y/N whispered in a broken voice.
“I’m pregnant. I haven’t told him yet.” Y/N breathed boldly.
Suddenly she felt like an idiot.
“I know I should have told him a long time ago but I just can’t, I don’t know if he even wants kids. What if he doesn’t love me. You can’t imagine how many of my friends have to raise children without a partner. I don’t know how he will react to it. We’d have to find a new flat and I know I wouldn’t be concentrating on my work for the next few months, maybe years, but on our child and what if we are expecting twins?” she bubbled away, unable to stop, needing to get the words off her chest she had kept to herself over the days and weeks.
“I know I’m an idiot.”, “How long have you and Reid been together?” Hotch interrupted Y/N.
A gentle smile graced his lips, but Y/N didn’t witness the happiness in his gaze.
“Almost five years,” Y/N answered.
“How long do you live together?”, “Over three years,” Y/N whispered.
“Who took care of you when you were shot and on bedrest? Who washed you and took care of you?” Hotch huffed again, even though he knew the answer.
“Spencer. He washed me, cooked and even carried me around the flat. Doctors’ orders. I made fun of him for that, and I know he would take care of me if I would have to stay in bed. I know him, yet I fear his reaction.” Y/N cried quietly.
“My dove, you are overthinking. You have found the answer to your questions, you have answered it by yourself. Spencer loves you; he is always by your side and would never leave you. He will be delighted and will read all pregnancy related books he will get.” Hotch replied in a gentle tone.
Carefully, Hotch brushed away the tears before they could fall. Reassuring words escaped and the heavy burden disappeared from her heart and a faint smile graced her lips, already looking forward to the unknown future, praying Spencer would stay by her side as Hotch said.
“You should tell him today; he is not only the father of the child but also your boyfriend of more than seven years and we all know he loves you and would never leave you. You don’t have to worry about it,” he assured.
He witnessed the fear still rested in her gaze. Faintly, Y/N smiled. She shrugged her shoulders, unsure why she still hadn’t found the strength to tell Spencer, her boyfriend, the man she trusted more than herself.
Spencer Reid had read enough books to know what needed to be done, knew the local library like the back of his hand, but after receiving the golden message that his girlfriend is pregnant, he refreshed his knowledge of pregnancies.
Nervously, the tall man paced the flat. His face was troubled and sweat danced down his spine. He strode up and down. The stuffed bag was on the side of the door next to the prepared slippers for his girlfriend. Spencer had already slipped into his sneakers at five o'clock in the early morning, was ready and had not closed his eyes after he heard the hisses and curses escaping Y/N in low tones.
Spencer saw the sharp pain running through her body but Y/N waved him off, listened to him, but the pain wasn’t long lasting, only for a few moments, not even ten seconds. His trembling fingers ran through his unmade hair and kept looking towards his girlfriend, who was sitting calmly in a serene mood in the middle of the sofa, lovingly stroking her belly. Smiling, Y/N looked up and spotted Spencer standing by the door. Calmly with fear coating his face he was waiting for his girlfriend to finally understand that the pains coming and going in waves were no longer Braxton Hicks but contractions.
“I’m taking you to the hospital now.” his firm voice broke the silence.
“They’re just Braxton Hicks. I still have two weeks, almost three, to go. It’s a false alarm. Little Reid here wants to have a little fun with us. He’s just testing you. Let’s have some breakfast and enjoy the morning.” Y/N responded calmly.
“You are in the early stages of labour, my love. You should eat a small snack and stay hydrated. No pancakes or a piece of cake with extra whipped cream.” Spencer recited what he had read, knowing exactly what was written in the book on the fifteenth page of the second chapter.
“Spence, I am hungry. I am starving. How can you be sure I’m already in labour? I’m fine. Little Reid is just kicking me a little too hard, but he will surely stop, and if he doesn’t, then you need to have a very serious talk with him. Spence, my love, come to me, caress my tummy and tell me it’s going to be okay. That’s all I need right now. I know you’re worried. I really understand, but please stop.” Y/N breathed exhausted.
Spencer laid his eyes on his girlfriend, saw the pain she was trying to hide, but Spencer saw it clearly. Y/N couldn’t hide anything from her boyfriend. The genius clasped the bag he had packed, placed it on the table and turned to the kitchen. Exhaling loudly, he took two chocolate bars with frozen strawberries followed by a pack of washed blueberries and walked with the snacks towards his girlfriend seated on the sofa with her aching legs resting on the table. Fatigue had settled on her face but she could no longer close her eyes.
“Spence, come to me and rest. Let’s watch a movie. You have been up for more than seven hours. It can’t be contractions and you’re making me nervous. We will wait a few hours and if it doesn’t get better then you can take me to the hospital.” Y/N exhaustedly breathed.
Y/N longed for a moment of peace, wanting to close her eyes and fall asleep. Spencer nodded as he strolled towards the sofa. He was aware he wasn’t able to get his very pregnant girlfriend into the vehicle he had prepared and take her to the nearest hospital to see a doctor.
“Agreed? Trust me, if it gets worse, I will let you know. You don’t have to fear Spence. Everything is okay.” Y/N laughed. “And then you will hold my hand and take me to the hospital.” Y/N continued.
No fear filled her as Y/N thought about the birth, but she didn’t take it lightly, knowing how painful the birth of a child was, having heard countless of stories from her friends, but the difference between them and her was that she had Spencer by her side who would keep the promises he had made, knew her boyfriend would be the best father under the sun.
"Do you have a name in mind, Y/N?” Spencer switched the subject.
Smiling, Spencer handed her the snacks and gratefully Y/N accepted them, opened the snack bar and took a big bite.
“No, still not. I’m sure that when we see our little Reid, we will know what his name will be. We’ll see him and we’ll both say a name at the same time. Spence, what do you want to say me? I understand you, but I’d rather sit here on the couch and watch a movie until my water breaks or the contractions start than in an overheated, bad-smelling hospital room.” Y/N said.
“That’s a good idea. And you don’t have to worry about that, I’ve booked us a private room. You’ll have your own fridge, TV and air conditioning. Don’t you want to at least get changed? My biggest fear is that you will give birth in the car.”, “But I’m sure you’d make a good obstetrician. I’m sure you would. I love you, so I’m going to change, you’re going to eat something and make yourself a cup of coffee in the meantime and enjoy a moment of peace.” Y/N interjected.
Spencer crossed his arms in front of his chest, hadn’t sat down by her side, was prepared, and even the car key was in his back pocket.
“Okay.” Spencer conceded afterwards.
Lovingly, his hands settled on her body and Spencer helped his girlfriend up, placing his hand on her back and leading her away from the sofa and escorting her to the kitchen. Lovely words escaped his words and Y/N smiled, forgetting the pain wandering across her body. A faint grin spread on his lips as he saw her gait reminding him of a penguin walking through high snow, he didn’t want to smile but he couldn’t help it. Spencer took a sip of the already cold liquid in the white cup before placing it on the kitchen island. His heart ached all at once. He looked up, almost tripping over his own feet, and ran through the short hallway swifter than the wind and jumped through the door.
“Y/N?” he nearly screamed.
Questioningly, Spencer glanced up at his girlfriend, but then he saw the wetness travelling down her bare legs. His lips were no longer touching. Her face was troubled, filled with pain.
“I think you were right after all Spence. They were contractions and they are getting a little worse. I’m sorry.” Y/N whispered.
“You have nothing to apologise for, my love. Nothing can happen to the baby now, but I think it would be better if your doctor will check on you and the baby, it may take a few more hours but if you say the pain is getting worse it would be better if we get on our way.” Spencer breathed lovingly.
The knowledge he had gained over long months returned, knowing exactly what to do.
“I’ll put a dress on you. After that, we will drive to the hospital. I’ve already packed your bag, and the car is ready too. You have to worry about nothing. I will hold your hand as promised. You will be a great mother Y/N.” no other words, telling her he was right after all didn’t escape the man.
Spencer came to a halt directly in front of his girlfriend. His eyes let her know she had nothing to be afraid of. Gently his hands rested on her body and breathed a loving kiss on her lips while his right hand rested on her stomach.
Hi my dear readers, I would like to thank you sincerely for the kind responses to my stories over the past couple of weeks.✨ Words cannot describe how overjoyed I am. Our enchanting family of lovers of different fandoms is growing and thriving like a meadow in early spring. I never expected so many dear people to enjoy my stories, to be excited and cry over them, and even request a fixed upload scheme.✨ I thank you all from the bottom of my heart and I hope you will enjoy my stories.
Summary: Spencer and reader enjoy their first date in a museum, discussing facts and feelings. (Soft-Prequel to World-Lines)
A/N: it’s been so long, I’m sorry! I’ve been so bogged down with uni I’ve struggled to find the time to sleep, let alone write! But I’m caught up now so will hopefully be a little more regular on here. I don’t think the paintings described here are displayed in America but let’s pretend. Let me know what you think!
The warm, ambient atmosphere of a museum had always been a comfort to you. The low orange lights, calming classical decor, and high ceilings creating a restrained, yet peaceful, atmosphere. Cavernous rooms allowed musing thoughts space to grow whilst hardwood floors sent your footsteps echoing throughout the halls. This delicate balance of ambient background noise and quiet reflection had been somewhat offset on this particular visit by your enthusiastic partner.
Whilst Spencer’s somehow endless spiel of information and factoids had changed the museum experience somewhat, you found yourself pleased with this change - invigorated almost. Listening to his, always expert, opinion in that comforting timbre of his was a much more enjoyable way to learn about the exhibits than their accompanying uninspired plaques; even if your brain was beginning to feel overful with new information. How he could keep so much stored in that brain of his was beyond you.
The pair of you had meandered to an intersection of sorts. The left, more well-lit, turn appeared to lead to a hall filled with more modern and minimalist sculptures. You could appreciate the form of modern artistry, however the pieces never seemed to quite strike you in the same way as more classical works. Looking up to Spencer beside you, you stepped closer and asked, “which way?”
He smiled down at you, appearing briefly distracted before his gaze swept over the two options. Unable to choose, it seemed, he returned the decision to you. “I’ll follow you,” he whispered, almost conspiratorially.
Ducking your head, in a poor attempt to hide the heat rising on your cheeks, you peered down the right hand corridor. Decision made in a sudden spur of decisiveness, you gripped his hand and pulled him down the right turn. He fumbled some strangled words and you felt his fingers flex beneath yours. As you came across the first painting of this particular exhibit, realisation struck you. Embarrassed, you quietly cursed and quickly dropped his hand. Wide eyed, you looked up to him. “Sorry,” you told him sincerely, “I completely forgot.”
Hand still outstretched where you had so suddenly dropped it, he shook his head with a faraway gaze indicative of deep thought. “I-“ eyebrows creasing together, he looked to you with a grin, “I don’t mind.” As if to prove this fact, he stepped towards you and softly took your hand back in his.
Voice dropping to a breathy tone, you squeezed his fingers and asked; “are you sure?”
He was swift with his assurance, “completely.”
Lost in the warmth of his gaze, you almost forget where you were. That was, until a disgruntled gentleman pointedly cleared his throat beside you. Jumping in surprise, you sent a wide eyed stare to the stranger before quickly stepping out of his way. “Sorry,” you mumbled to the man, garnering no response but an aggravated glance as he moved past you. Lips twisting, you glanced up to Spencer with a stifled giggle. “Oops.”
Heartily, he laughed alongside you before his gaze raised over your head and surveyed the room. Thumb stroking over the back of your hand, he stepped further into the centre of the expansive space. “Shall we?”
Following his lead, you looked over the paintings displayed against the pristine and light walls. A contemplative hum escaped you as you processed the almost disturbing images. “These are…” you trailed off, searching for a word that described the feeling that this morbid collection inspired, “intense.”
You looked to him to gauge his reaction and found that dissecting gaze of his looking over the array of artworks. Eyes still stuck on the paintings, he tilted his head towards you and launched into his awaited explanation. “You know, this particular set are supposedly some of the last paintings of Spanish artist Francisco Goya.” You nodded along to his words, pulling him closer to one particularly large and intense painting. “After his death these, so-called, ‘black paintings’ were found painted over the walls of his French home.”
Eyebrows raising, you clicked your tongue. “He had these on his walls?”
Spencer nodded the affirmative before providing extra detail. “This particular piece was found in his dining room.”
Dramatically, you gave a shiver; “imagine this guy staring at you while you ate.” Your lips twisted at the thought of it, “no, thank you.” He gave a chuckle.
There were other paintings to see, certainly, but something about this one was incredibly hard to look away from. “What-“ you stumbled over the question as you struggled to discern what you even wanted to ask, “what’s it even… about?” You could look to the accompanying plaque but you were sure Spencer’s explanation would surpass anything written.
Immediately, he provided your answer. “Actually, this particular black painting is called ‘Saturn devouring his son’.” He wiggled his free fingers dramatically as he provided the title, earning an amused giggle. “It depicts the Roman titan eating his child in a futile attempt to prevent his own overthrow.” He paused briefly in his explanation, before adding. “The painter had suffered through his share of failed revolution.”
You hummed absently as you listened, watching the painting with a renewed vigour in an attempt to discern why it made you feel so… well, that was the real question; what did it make you feel? Again, almost automatically, you looked to Spencer for an answer. “How does it make you feel?”
Unusually, his reply was not instantaneous. You allowed him a few moments but when his silence persisted past the minute mark, you looked up to find a pinched, thoughtful, expression had overtaken him. Lightly, you tugged on his hand as you softly called his name. “Spencer?”
He jerked slightly as he recovered himself. Looking down to you with wide eyes, he admitted almost sheepishly; “I’m not sure.”
“No?” You asked, surprised you had encountered a question that he did not know the answer to. “I’m not sure either,” you mused, turning back to the canvas, “there’s a desperation in his eyes,” you gave absently, “I think it’s tragic, in a way.” Eventually, you gathered your feelings. “Once you get past the intensity… it kinda makes me sad.”
“That’s…” he trailed off, the fingers interlaced with yours flexing as he sought words. “That’s an interesting assessment.
Huffing, you rolled your eyes. “Okay, Dr Genius, no need to make fun of me.” You smirked up to him in a reassuring show that you were merely joking.
“No,” he protested, turning fully to face you, “I mean it!” He looked so earnest, his free hand raising to take yours, as he spoke. “I’ve never thought of it like that.”
You still were not entirely convinced that you had somehow provided the genius doctor with a unique and fresh take on something so high brow, but you appreciated his attempt and so you merely nodded with a smile. With both hands now cradled by his substantially larger palms, alongside the bright and affectionate way in which he looked at you, you were unable to prevent the heat burning in your cheeks. Entirely sure that your face were shining a rosy red, you ducked your head and prompted. “Shall we move on?”
The receptionist had been incredibly helpful, directing you to your destination succinctly and perfectly. You had allowed yourself an extra ten minutes, wanting to be on time but doubting your own ability to navigate an unfamiliar environment. The building, at least the parts of it you saw on your journey to Spencer’s office, was grandiose in a strangely cosy kind of way. Although, you thought distantly, the patter of rain upon thick windows always inspired a cosy feeling.
The corridors were rapidly emptying as you wandered against the flow of quickly exiting students. Wistfully, you remembered these days; rushing from the building on a Friday night to ignore your impending assignments in favour of some disappointing party that ended in you throwing up in your dorm room. And now, here you were all these years later, on a Friday night rushing to meet your husband.
Time really is a funny thing.
Your existential musings paused as you reached his door. The sight of his name on the door made you smile as you tapped your knuckles against the door. Spencer answered quickly. An affection softened his gaze as he recognised you and quickly ushered you inside. Behind the privacy of a closed door you smoothed your hands over his chest and raised precariously onto your tiptoes to peck his lips.
“Hi,” he gave when you dropped down to your heels, his hands lightly placed over the curve of your hips.
“I missed you,” you responded with a smile.
It was true; you had missed him terribly. Now that his presence on a case was not an inevitability that you could count on, you struggled through each day away from him with nothing but his voice on the phone to keep you company. You honestly could not understand how JJ had managed all these years.
Spencer ducked his head to kiss you, confirmation enough that he had missed you too. “How was it?” He asked quietly.
You shrugged with a sigh. He knew as well as you that your cases were never able to be summarised in a selection of light-hearted footnotes. “It was…heavy.”
He nodded his understanding, lips pursing in concern as he sent a sweeping gaze over your figure. “But you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” you told him, because you were; despite the purple-green bruise flowering over your ribs that he could not see beneath your shirt.
The air felt heavy, your reunion weighed down by the still unshared details of this last case. You tried to lighten the mood, change the topic; the case and all it’s paperwork were not going anywhere and would still be awaiting you Monday morning. “Are you not gonna give me a tour, Professor?” You asked, a teasing smile leaving you, as you sent a brief gaze over your surroundings.
Spencer laughed with a nod, stepping back from you as he looked over the space. “Sure,” he prefaced, moving to gesture at his desk. “This is my desk,” he told you, obviously.
Hiding your giggle behind the back of your hand, you moved to the chair tucked behind the desk. With the most puzzled expression you could muster, you pointed to it and asked; “What isthis?”
Lips twisting, he played along. “That is a chair.”
Tutting, you gave the chair a light push and absently watched it spin. “Aren’t you supposed to stand up more at work or something? Sitting is the new smoking, right?”
“Actually,” you smiled to yourself as you looked up to watch the lengthy explanation you were sure to receive. “Despite numerous studies into that claim, no link between sitting at work and poor overall health have ever been made.” You nodded, watching and waiting for more as you dropped into his chair. “It’s actually widely considered to be socioeconomic factors linked to when, why and how often individuals-“
An almost timid knock upon his door interrupted his spiel of impressive, if not obscure, knowledge. A little disgruntled at this interruption, you peered at the door. “Sorry,” he told you, as though the interruption were somehow his fault, moving to open the door.
Just before the door clicked open, you gave a reassuring, “it’s okay.”
From your position seated at the desk you could not see who was standing on the other side of the threshold. You ignored their conservation, attention roving instead over the finer details of his office. Books were piled on almost every available flat surface, their spines pointed towards you with names you couldn’t hope to decipher. On his desk there was a picture of the pair of you; it was almost funny, in a sweet kind of way, that he even thought to include that. Could Spencer not merely close his eyes and conjure the perfect image of you?
You were in the middle of making a mental note to ask him about that when your ears caught upon the conversation still happening in the doorway.
Spencer, strangely, sounded confused. “From what I understand, your grades are perfectly fine.”
“But,” came an oddly lowered voice, “extra-credit couldn’t hurt, right?”
Your eyes widened and mouth dropped open as you wondered if this were really happening right now. Surely, you were placing intentions on the girl’s words that were not actually there. Surely.
If Spencer had come to the same conclusion as you, he very kindly pretended that he hadn’t and offered her a way out. “I don’t think you’re actually in my class.” The way he phrased it was strangely thoughtful. He most certainly would remember if she was in his class but his act of uncertainty may save her from embarrassment. Well, you thought wryly, more embarrassment.
She did not take the offered escape route. Voice dropping even lower, sounding now as though she had a substantial cough rather than the seduction she had likely hoped for, she pushed further. “Oh, but surely there’s something I can do for you?”
Something in the way she said it made it impossible to stifle your laughter. A cough escaped you as you struggled against your fit of giggles. Realising that the conversation at the door had entirely stalled in response to your laughter, you slapped a hand over your mouth - still quietly giggling.
The girl’s voice sounded again, significantly higher in pitch. “Who’s that?” You could almost imagine the deer in headlights expression overtaking her at the prospect of being discovered in her misguided attempts to seduce a professor.
“Oh,” Spencer gave, a lightness in the tone as his head turned to look at you. “It’s just my wife.” You had risen from the chair at this point, darting around the desk to catch sight of the poor girl and sending her an awkward wave as you did so.
She looked very nice, you had to admit; she had chosen a skirt, of course, but had paired it with such a nice shirt that you almost wanted to ask where she had bought it. “Nice to meet you,” you told her instead.
“You…I-“ she stuttered out, mortification overtaking her youthful visage. Quickly, she shot out, “thanks for the help,” before almost running away down the corridor.
Spencer lingered at the doorway briefly, expression indicating that his mind was busy trying to decipher a reasonable explanation for the interaction. When he closed the door you allowed yourself laugh more fully, secure in the knowledge that the poor girl would not hear you now.
Raising your eyebrows at his lack of response, you asked; “has that happened before?”
Looking back at the door, eyes crinkled in confusion, he shook his head. “I’m not even sure whathappened.”
You rolled your eyes at him. Stepping closer, you smoothed a hand over his arm in an attempt to reassure that you were not about to get mad about a student trying so hard to seduce him. “Oh, come on, sweetheart.” You pushed.
His confusion did not abate even with your prompting.
“Really?” You asked, disbelieving. “You, an experienced FBI profiler, cannot work out what just happened?”
Your insistence seemed only to confuse him more as he looked back at the closed door once more as though it held the answer. When, somehow, his brain remained without a solution you huffed another laugh.
“God,” you began, feeling a little awkward with no understanding as to why. “I don’t know how to explain this nicely. She was…” you pinched the bridge or your nose, “flirting with you.”
At your words, he looked utterly taken aback. “Why?”
Hands smoothing over his chest, dipping beneath his blazer, you cocked your head with a smirk. “Oh, I don’t know,” you murmured wryly, “why would anyone want to flirt with their handsome, smart, sweet Professor who explains things with his large hands as much as he does with his mouth?”
Eyebrows raised, he swallowed thickly at the seduction you sprinkled into the words. “I-uh-I don’t think that’s what she was doing?”
You knew him well enough to recognise that he really was being sincere. You felt a little stab of guilt as you looked at him. He had been definitively stuck in to minds over this partial reassignment, part of him almost excitable at the prospect of academia but another part anxious to be away from cases, the team, and - of course - you. You didn’t want to ruin this positivity by informing him that at least one student was more interested in sleeping with him than his syllabus. “Well,” you started diplomatically, “maybe your wife is a little biased.”
He seemed unconvinced by this change in your words. You weren’t entirely surprised, you had been so adamant earlier and were now trying to change your tune. You really didn’t feel like spelling it out for him but he was leaving you with little choice. You decided to play it coy; you could at least have some fun with this uncomfortable discussion.
Batting your eyelashes, you ducked your head to look up at him through fluttering lashes. “Oh Professor,” you gushed, leaning into him, “there must be something I can do.” Reaching up, you loosened his tie - fingertips lightly tapping against the thrumming pulse in his neck. “There’s really nothing I can do for you to get an A?”
Arching a brow at him, hoping you managed to get your point across, you smirked as he let out an almost laughing breath. “I-uh-think I get it.”
Pressing your lips to his cheek, skin tickled by his dusting of stubble, you giggled. “I always forget you went to college at like… four.”
He laughed properly at that, “I wasn’t four,” he all but scoffed.
“Close enough,” you muttered with a shrug, redoing his tie where you had loosened it. “I do like this professor look on you though.”
His warm hands squeezed your waist as he smiled at that. Brow suddenly furrowing in what you recognised as contemplation, he quickly asked; “wait, so did you… proposition your professors?”
You giggled freely at the question. “No,” you let out between laughter, just managing to tuck his tie back beneath his blazer. “I did ask for extra credit though.”
“You did?” He asked, watching you with great interest as you smoothed his collar and pushed back his hair.
You hummed your affirmative, before adding with a wry smirk; “I didn’t come to the tail end of their office hours in a mini-skirt and with hot red lips though.” After a quick, affectionate, swipe of your thumb over his cheek, you stepped away to collect his satchel from behind his desk. “I turned up in floods of tears, mascara tracking down my cheeks, basically on my knees begging them not to fail me.”
His lips quirked up. “That’s quite an image.”
“What, me crying and hyperventilating over my shitty grades?” You asked, winking at him. “Or me on my knees and begging?”
Head falling back slightly, hands lazily slung into his pockets, he looked over your figure with a delicious gaze. His smirk was answer enough. Lithely, you slunk back to stand before him. “I like the way you think, Professor.”
You reached him, fingers walking up his chest and doe eyes blinking up at him. “Your bag,” you offered, hanging the item from his shoulder.
Greedy hands pulled you closer, arms winding around your waist as his large palms pressed against your shoulder blades, keeping you flush against him. After all this time you would have thought that you would be used to kissing Spencer - but you weren’t. Butterflies still fluttered through your stomach, your heart still swooped, and your head still swam with an excited dizziness. Hands in his hair, forgetting where you were and where you were supposed to be, you opened your lips beneath his.
A sudden, unexpected vibration buzzed in the space between you and you pulled back with a breathy laugh. “And what is that, Professor?”
Reaching into his pocket, revealing his buzzing phone, he muttered an almost strained reply. “Please, stop calling me that.”
“I kinda think you like it,” you whispered as he answered the phone, “Professor,” you murmured into his other ear.
The way his eyes burned so passionately into yours told you that you would end up reaping the benefits of this game at some point in the near future. You pressed your lips softly against the hollow of his neck as he spoke into the phone.
“Uh- yeah,” he stuttered into the receiver, struggling against your ministrations. “We - uh- we’re on our way.”
He hung up quickly after that, the tinny voice on the phone getting cut off mid-sentence. “Sounds like we gotta go.”
“Unfortunately,” he eked out, sending a last set of kisses against your jaw.
“Stop distracting me, Professor,” you purred. “And let’s go.”
Summary: After the events of your birthday party, you and Spencer are forced to talk about the past.
A/N: This is incredibly long! I didn’t wanna split into 2 parts and keep you guys hanging though! Warning that this is 18+ and there are mentions of addiction and drug use. Please let me know what you think here!
The air outside felt just as oppressive as the crowded room. Yet at least here you were free from those stranger’s stares, watching you with a strange excitement as your distress spiralled.
Guess they’ll have something to gossip about tomorrow, you thought distantly.
You stopped a few steps from the door, your breathing out of control as you felt sharp panic overtake you; why did you run away? Why did Alex have to ask you in front of all those people? Why did he have to ask you at all?
And why, why, did you look at Spencer?
Of course, you knew the answer to that.
It was for that same reason you always stayed late at work until he was finished. The same reason you always sat beside him on the jet. The same reason you broke away from Alex’s parents just to dance with him tonight.
Guilt tore through you; Alex was far from perfect but he deserved better.
Your name rang out, a desperate plea in the cold air, and you wrapped your arms around yourself. Why was Spencer doing this now? Your thoughts and emotions were scattered and unsure. You couldn’t trust yourself to have this conversation right now.
You turned to watch him approach you, his steps hurried and clumsy enough to make you worry he would fall. You shook your head, tears clouding your vision as your breath hitched. “Spencer,” you barely got the two syllables of his name out between heavy breaths, “I-I-“ I can’t do this right now, you wanted to say, too little air in your lungs to form the words.
Gently, but with urgency, he pulled your hands from where they harshly gripped your elbows. Smoothing his hands over your bare arms, he warmed the goosebumps from your skin. Ducking down to match your gaze he delicately cradled your face between large palms; thumbs swiping over your cheekbones as he met your gaze. “Breathe with me, sweetheart.” He told you softly, warm words misting the air as they met the cold night.
Gripping his wrist, you nodded and tried to match the steady rhythm of his breaths. The tingling in your fingertips abated slowly, the dark spots blotting your vision replaced by the clarity of his chestnut eyes, and the all-consuming panic was replaced with a barrage of other emotions.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeatedly murmured. As the ringing of your ears quietened, you realised he had been whispering these reassurances to you from the moment he caught you.
It was toosweet,too perfect. He could read you like nobody else, calm you like nothing else, and right now that was an impossible revelation to contend with. You pulled back, stumbling back a few paces.
“Spencer, I need to-“
He cut you off.
“I love you.”
The words rushed from him, as though they had been fighting to leave him for longer than just tonight. Tears shone in his eyes, his voice rough as he fought through this welling of emotion, “I love you.” He repeated, the words hanging in the air between you impossibly.
You wiped at your eyes, aggressively pressing your palms against your brow. Your voice raised in pitch as you struggled against the multitude of things you wanted to scream, shout, cry, and whisper to him.“You-you can’t do this to me right now.”
Your name fell from him again, as he staggered half a step closer. Close enough to touch you once more. Both hands gripping one of yours, he pulled you yet nearer. “I know,” he told you, a sadness pulling down his voice, “I should’ve told you a long time ago.” One hand left yours, the fingertips of his left hand raising to push your hair from your eyes. The pads of his fingers brushed tenderly against your temple at the action and you couldn’t prevent the way you leaned into the sensation. Voice hoarse, breaking as his tears fell, he told you; “I never should’ve let you go.”
Pursing your lips against the sob that tried to leave you, you dropped your gaze. You couldn’t do this now, this was the worst time for this conversation, but he was making it so hard to walk away. You pulled back, a few trembling steps to put some distance between the pair of you; anything that might clear your mind enough to think straight. His gaze could only tempt you closer but it was impossible to ignore the pull of his touch.
The new space between you did nothing to help.
The sight of Spencer felt eternally frustrating; his honey-brown eyes sparkling with expression and hair almost drooping alongside his shoulders. “You- you ended things with me?” The words rasped out, almost becoming caught in the knot swelling in your throat. “What did you expect?”
“I know,” he implored, tears threatening to spill over as he gripped his own hands in the absence of yours. “I know this isn’t fair, but… please.” His feet fumbled closer to you, hands wrenching free of one another to cup your cheeks once again. His thumbs drew circles over your cheeks, swiping away the tears you hadn’t noticed falling. “Why did you look at me?” He finally asked.
How could you answer that with anything other than the truth? You tried your best to hold onto anger, annoyance, but your next words came out flat and disaffected. “You know… I could say yes to Alex… I could marry him, have a kid, a dog, a house, whatever.” You sniffed, eyes closing against the sight of Spencer’s distress. “And I could be fine.” You shook your head, the image your words had conjured in your mind dull compared to the sight of Spencer. “But-but… it wouldn’t be enough. I looked at you because I wanted you to give me a reason to say no.” You reopened your eyes, breathless as your emotion for this man overtook you. “I looked at you because I love you.”
A whine escaped him at that, forehead pressed against yours and you let him pull you closer still. His lips pressed against yours, tentatively at first but increasingly desperate when you reciprocated his desire by tangling your hands in his hair. Your mouth opened in a gasp as his arm wound possessively around your waist - pulling you chest to chest with him.
His name fell from your lips as your mouths were forced to part in a needful gasp for air. Almost magnetically, your lips met once more, no pause for words left between you.
You could feel the heavy weight of Spencer’s longing for you in each press of his lips, each grab of his hands, each moan he let slip into your mouth.
The door you had fled from clattered once more and you jolted from Spencer with a gasp of surprise. “Alex is…” JJ broke off, eyes widening as she took in the sight before her; you and Spencer still entirely wrapped in each other, looking wide eyed and guilty at the now opened door. She cleared her throat, delicately closing the door behind her and taking a step towards the pair of you. “Alex is looking for you.” She told you, almost sternly. “It might be for the best if he doesn’t find you like this?”
Entirely guilty, you nodded with downcast eyes. What were you doing? You pulled away from Spencer, ignoring lingering hands that tried to keep you, and nodded solemnly. “You’re right,” you agreed, chastened. “I-I can’t do this right now.”
He shook his head, a string of ‘no’ and ‘please’ escaping him as he reached for you.
You grabbed the palm that reached for you, “Spencer, this isn’t a no.” You squeezed his hand, the only reassurance you could give in this moment, before pushing it back towards his figure, “I- it’s just not… not right now. Just give me some time, please?”
He nodded, lips pursing as he swallowed back tears. “Anything,” he told you thickly.
Lowering your eyes from his, finding it impossible enough to leave even without the sight of him, you called to JJ. “Can you take me home?”
———————————————————————
Days had passed since that evening but the remnants of your touch remained embedded in Spencer’s skin. His lips still tingled where they had tasted yours and fingertips still burned hot where they had traced your flushed skin.
Days had passed since that evening; but he was yet to see you, yet to hear your voice, and yet to bathe in the brightness of your gaze.
You had asked for space, for time, and he was determined to give it to you. When the weight of his memories overwhelmed him, however, he would crack under the pressure. A text here, a call there, but nothing ever reciprocated.
He tried to distract himself with work, throw himself into case files and paperwork, but every day that he sat across from your empty desk reminded him that you were not there. Had he lost his chance with you? Had he chased you away with his late show of devotion?
These harassing questions were only silenced by one, unerring, memory of that evening. You had told him you loved him, you had reciprocated his great emotion for you; you lovedhim.
But, a scratching thought remained; after all the time that he had wasted, would that be enough?
His phone vibrated suddenly upon his desk, sliding a few inches as the screen lit up with your name. Dropping the paper that he had been mindlessly ripping into smaller and smaller pieces, he snatched the phone from the desk.
Can you come over after work?
His fingers worked over the keys almost faster than his brain could tell him what to write. Luckily, his reply was short; yes.
———————————————————————
Spencer lifted his hand to rap his knuckles against the mahogany of your door but, before contact could be made, he noticed the trembling of his fingers. Retracting his hand, using it to fiddle once more with the tie around his neck, he slowly let out a long breath.
A little more settled in himself, he knocked. Your light footsteps hurried to the door and he chose to interpret your rush as a positive sign.
The door fell inwards, revealing your face peering up at him. Whatever words he had planned to say caught in his throat, tangling there and making it impossible to speak.
You relieved him of the burden of speaking first, “hi, Spencer.”
Swallowing heavily, he returned your greeting with a voice strained by a barrage of competing emotion. “Hi,” he glanced down to his right hand, clutching a peace offering in the form of a bouquet, and presented it to you as though he had just recalled they were there. “I- these are for you.” He explained, pointlessly.
Your eyes brightened as you looked over them, both hands immediately reaching for the gift, and you beamed. Still looking down at them, you murmured “My favourite…”
Your smile eased him greatly. This gesture of his, so clearly appreciated by you, reminding him of how well he knew you. How perfect you were for each other.
You took a step to the side, holding the flowers almost reverently beside you, and gestured for him to enter. He moved into your apartment, finding a light on at the end of the hall and following it to the kitchen.
You entered the room behind him, crouching at the corner cupboard and emerging with a crystalline vase. Filling the vessel with water, you softly pulled the twine bow that held the flowers together, and carefully placed the stems in the vase. Once the display was completed you paused in your movements. Your fingertip delicately traced over one of the larger petals, your head tilting as you watched the flower shift beneath your musings.
He wished, so dearly, that he could hear your thoughts in this moment. Unable to help himself, he greedily asked; “what are you thinking about?”
You turned to face him, a sigh and a melancholy frown pulling at your lips. “You know my favourite flower,” he nodded eagerly, dissecting each subtle intonation in your words. “And it’s not just that you know it… it’s that you think to buy them for me, you think to make me smile.”
“Of course.” To Spencer it seemed so obvious, so simple. Why, then, were you telling him this with such wonder?
You looked down, the angle disguising your smirk but your gentle sigh still reached him. You echoed him in a whisper, “of course.”
You moved closer to him, leaning your weight against the counter across from him. “I’m sorry.”
Spencer couldn’t discern whether his heart began to race or if it stopped completely. What could you possibly be sorry for? He was sure his attentive gaze would not have missed a ring on your finger but his eyes still darted to where your hands were folded upon the counter. Settled by the emptiness of your ring finger, he asked; “what for?”
“I should have called, or… or something.” You were wringing your hands together as you spoke, words muted as your head bowed, hiding your eyes from him. “I just…” your words trailed off as you lifted your head, eyes softening as they found his.
“You asked for space.” He reassured you, leaning against the counter in some effort to be closer to you. “I-“ he huffed a sad little laugh at himself, at his own inability to follow your simple instruction, “I tried my best.”
Your nerves were clear in the set of your shoulders, obvious in the tightness of your voice, and the sight inspired his own nerves to triple.
Almost shyly, you peeked at him as you spoke next, “I broke up with Alex.” Spencer felt as though some great weight had been lifted from his chest, allowing him to breathe for what felt like the first time in years. His shoulders collapsed down and his eyes fell shut as a guilty smile painted his features. Spencer had never been particularly religious, but he was ready to fall to his knees and proclaim his everlasting thanks to whichever deity had looked so kindly upon him.
You watched this unschooled reaction with a sparkling interest in your eyes, dissecting his reaction intensely and waiting to speak once more. “Sorry,” he told you hoarsely, struggling to regain his composure after the relief that you had sent burning through his veins.
“Spencer, what do you want?”
Your words were clipped, wavering at the end of each syllable in a telling show of an emotion that you were trying desperately to chase away. Eyes narrowing at you, Spencer worked to discern this emotion. You lips were working oddly as you awaited his reply, twisting and pursing, and your hands were gripping one another almost desperately. You were scared, Spencer realised with a frown. “What?”
Eyes shining, you asked again. “What do you want?”
But,surely, you knew the answer to that. “You.” He told you, imploring. “I want you.”
You lifted your weight from the counter, increasing the distance between you as you hugged your arms. He chased you, this new distance scaring him, and leaned imperceptibly further over the counter between you.
You asked for further reassurance. “You do?” Eager to settle these fears of yours he pushed from the counter and moved to stand before you; no barrier left between you. You looked up at him, eyes shining with tears you were doing your best to hold back. “Even now that I’m-I’m available again?”
Eyebrows crunching together, hands smoothing over your arms, he answered with a voice strained by confusion. “You think I only wanted you because you were with someone else?” How could you think that?
Could you not feel the weight of his devotion for you? Could you not hear the way his thoughts spilled and spiralled into longing each time your eyes met? Could you not see the affection painting each subtle brush of his hand against yours?
Your hands were against his chest but he couldn’t discern whether the action were meant to keep him at bay or press affection into him. He hoped for the latter. “You never said anything, Spencer.” You told him, sending something in his heart twisting painfully. “Not until now.”
His eyes squeezed shut, emotion overwhelming him. Desperately, his grip tightened upon your arms; how could it still feel like you were slipping through his fingers? Eventually, he breathed out, “I know.”
“You keep saying that,” you almost whispered into the quiet air of your kitchen, “‘I know’” you parroted sadly. “I waited for you.” You admitted softly, one hand daring to frame his face. Sucking in a breath at the contact, your palm feeling electric against his skin, he opened his eyes to find your almost haunted gaze. “I waited for you to tell me that you- that all those things you said - that you didn’t mean them.”
Tears spilled from him now. The too perfect memories of the sharp words he had shot at you in some self-destructive haze of withdrawal playing tauntingly in his mind. In his minds eye he could still see your face crumpling, still hear your voice lowering into whispers, and still feel the sharp sting in his chest as he had turned from you. Afterwards, that night, he had indulged himself. Falling into a chemical high and chasing the feeling of increasingly fleeting serenity it had once afforded him; even then he was quickly realising that your absence was not something his habit could hide from him.
He had mostly sobered by the time Morgan had knocked on his door, sent to check on him at your request.
Shaking his head against the memories, having already agonised over them through enough sleepless nights, he tried to explain. To finally explain. “I couldn’t keep hurting you.” The words were cracked and frayed by the sadness dragging him down, but he continued through his tears. “I couldn’t stop and you were-you were getting dragged down with me.”
Thumb softly clearing the tears from his cheeks, you ignored your own pooling tears. “But you did so well. You’ve done so well.” Your second hand smoothed over his shoulder, fingertips grazing the stubbled skin of his neck. “I’m so proud of you,” you smiled sadly, “but even after you got clean… you didn’t say anything.” One of your hands left him, the skin of his cheek feeling cold and hollow at your absence, to instead rub over your streaming eyes.
“You know- we’ve got a pretty dangerous job,” you told him, with some kind of stuttered laugh as though you were attempting to lighten the heavy mood of the air but still struggling too much with your own sadness. “And- it’s so stupid- but every time I got hurt… Every time you hovered over me while I was getting patched up, all those times I would wake up in the hospital with you at my bedside… every single time I thought ‘this is it - he’ll tell me now - if he loves me he’ll tell me’.” You gave a light shake of your head, “and each time you said nothing. And, eventually , it didn’t matter what Morgan said, it didn’t matter what JJ said… because you didn’t say anything.”
The answering words struggled from him, his mouth dry as he just suddenly realised how his behaviour must have seemed to you. How could he blame you, for trying to move on, when he had left you with no proof of his devotion except heavy gazes and lingering touches? “I didn’t want to let you down,” you sighed as he spoke, head ducking as you sniffled, “I wanted to be sure and- and I wanted to tell you. I nearly did, but I was scared.” His words were tumbling into one another in his haste to get them out. “Fifty-eight percent of addicts relapse at least once in their recovery, I… I didn’t want to lose you forever.” Shaking his head, struggling to understand even his own logic looking back, he breathlessly finished with. “I thought I could keep waiting and making sure I that I wasn’t going to let you down. I was so sure we would just end up together somehow. And then - then you met someone else and… it was too late.”
“You could never lose me.” You reassured, eyes distant as they wandered over his shoulder. “I wish you had talked to me,” you told him solemnly, before returning an open gaze to him. “But I understand.”
Encouraged by these words, he softly placed his hands upon your waist - hoping you would allow him pull you closer. “I’ve loved you since our very first conversation.” Your hands slid around his neck, fingertips curling into the hair at his nape. “I loved you when we were together and I loved you for the entire year, nine months, and eleven days that I had to watch you with someone else.” His head ducked, forehead pressing against yours and gaze boring into yours. “I never stopped and I shouldn’t have waited this long to say it. I’m sorry.”
The words poured from him, a subtle whisper beneath the hammering of his heart. Please, he prayed to whoever would listen, please.
Tentatively, you tilted your face upwards. Lips parting, your eyes darted between both of his in a fearful search for deception or hesitation. Spencer knew that all you would find in his eyes was affection.
You kissed him. Your lips were slow against his, languid and perfect. The last time he had kissed you he had felt frenzied; it had been the first time he had been able to hold you in years and he hadn’t hidden the desperation that had filled him.
“I love you,” you murmured in the brief moment your lips were parted.
This kiss was different. This kiss could afford to be languid and slow; the promise of being together clarifying in the space between you.
Despite this allowance of steadiness, slowness, between you - neither one of you seemed able to ignore the rising need for more. One of your hands slipped from the back of his neck; lowering to tug meaningfully at his tie and the action sent a spiral of desire burning through him.
The guilty sinful memories of you had been ever-present in those lonely nights without you, but even they were nothing compared to the real thing. You had already freed him of his tie as his hands dipped beneath your shirt - the feel of your skin beneath his electrifying and leaving him desperate for more.
You pulled back suddenly, an unbearably salacious gasp pulling from you as he pulled you flush against him. “Spencer,” even his memory could not compare to the breathless way you whined his name, “I want you.”
The confirmation was all he needed, the enthusiasm within your words bolstering his confidence as he kissed you in reply. Spencer knew the layout of your apartment, knew how to steer the two of you to your bedroom using the shortest possible route, but he couldn’t wait that long. Your table, he knew, would likely withstand the weight of you.
Your hands upon his belt stalled completely as he pressed you against the table. Mouth still parted beneath his, you followed his silent instruction and perched upon the stained wood. Your legs fell open around him, the warmth of your body welcoming him to fill the space, and your hands returned clumsily to his belt.
Catching your hands, he stopped your attempt with a stern grip. As desperate as he was to fill you, to feel you stretched deliciously around him, he had to taste you first; taste one of the hardest sensations to recreate.
Still gripping one of your wrists he placed your palm flat against the table behind you, his mouth working down the column of your throat as you leaned back. Distractedly, you murmured; “is-is the table-“ you cut yourself off with a squeak as his hands smoothed under your skirt, fingertips tracing the silken skin of your inner thigh.
Pushing your skirt up, he dropped to his knees before you and answered. Although, you didn’t seem to concentrate on his answer as he pulled you to the edge of the table. “It’s fine,” his own voice was strained with desire, hoarse and barely recognisable as his own.
Despite the almost uncomfortable tightness of his slacks, he worked his mouth slowly down your thighs. Impatient whines poured from you but he was determined to re-write himself over every inch of you, determined to remind your body how he could make you feel.
When he finally tasted you, your hips jerked forwards as your back arched with a heady moan that Spencer could hear continually echoing in his mind. Hands now firmly clamped over your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wanted you, he worked on pulling more of those delicious sounds from you.
Your hands were tugging at his hair, nails scratching as his tongue flattened against you. The groan that escaped you reverberated sinfully in the air as your thighs tried to close around him. Easily, with the white knuckled grip he maintained on your thighs, he held them open.
You were shifting and twisting above him, desperate pleas leaving you breathless. Spencer knew he was teasing you; tongue lapping too lightly over your clit for any real progress to be made towards your orgasm, despite the jolting pleasure continually being sent through your figure.
Wickedly, he pressed his tongue flatly against your clit, providing the pressure you so desired, only to immediately return to his previous teasing. You gave a groan, a mix of pleasure and frustration infecting the sound, and tugged his hair more harshly. Mouth forced to leave you, he looked up at your hazy gaze and flushed cheeks. The smirk he gave at the sight of you, the sight of what he did to you, seemed only aggravate you more.
“Stop teasing me, Spencer.” He went to respond, mouth opening to claim innocence that he doubted he could really pull off with his head between your legs, but you cut him off sternly. “I know how fast you can make me cum, so do it.”
You loosened your grip on his hair and he complied immediately. Mouth dropping back down to your slick heat, he closed his lips around your clit whilst releasing your left thigh in favour of dipping a finger into you.
Soon a second, and then a third, finger slipped so easily inside of you; curling in an eager attempt to find that one spot inside of you that could make you fall apart. A long, low whine spilled from you as he found it. Mouth still working over your clit, he gave his own moan in response. The vibrato of the noise against your clit alongside his curling fingers sent you skittering over the edge.
Gripping your bucking hips with his free hand, he remained on his knees for you and worked over you as you rode out your high.
Even after your hips had stilled and your grip upon his hair had eased, he remained. The taste of you was unforgettable, irreplaceable, and he could ignore his own straining need if it meant he could taste more of you.
With some effort, you pulled him away. A haze had overtaken your gaze as he straightened before you and your lips were parted in the reverberations of your pleasure. You kissed him harshly, quickly, before sending your lips skittering and sucking down his neck. “Did that feel good?”
You nodded against him, giving a slurred “so good,” as you finally succeeded in removing his belt.
As you freed his erection, hand - slicked with your own juices - sliding over him and sending his head caving forwards, he managed to bite out. “No one else can make you feel this good.” The possessive twist of his words were surely not missed by you but, after all this time, you allowed him sink into his jealousy. “Only me.”
Second hand dropping to position him at your entrance, his own hands too busy tangled in your hair and gripping at your waist, you whispered huskily to him. “Nothing makes me feel like you do.” Your thighs squeezed over his hips, pulling him in, and your breath hitched as he entered you but still you whined out; “that’s why I belong to you.”
He had needed those words; this confirmation that you wanted to belong to him, wanted him to belong to you, and he surged forwards with a moan that spilled straight into your lips.
Your arm hooked around his neck whilst the other propped you up on the table behind you. Each slam of his hips against yours sent you forcefully backwards but his arm around your lower back kept pulling you back to meet him.
Part of him wanted to slow his movements, indulge himself entirely and take his time with you, but he couldn’t chase away the frenzied need to feel you and fill you and have you. All he could do was grip you harder, pull you closer, and selfishly keep you wrapped around him.
“Tell me how it feels.” He ordered, words strained by the moan that almost overtook them.
Your answering words came out almost staccato, stuttering out between whines and moans that you couldn’t suppress. “You feel,” a heavy whine interrupted the words, “god, Spencer, you make me feel so good. Don’t - ah - don’t stop.”
This desperate little plea of yours was entirely unnecessary, he really hadn’t planned to stop until you were an exhausted mess of pleasure beneath him.
As the building pressure of pleasure quickly approached crescendo, however, he vaguely reasoned that he had the entire night to send you spiralling into pleasure. He wanted to fuck you properly tonight, twisted in your bed sheets and with you squirming beneath his weight.
As his thrusts began to falter, he watched you fall apart all over again. Your mouth puckered and opened into a silent ‘oh’ and the hand holding you up all but failed. He caught you as you slumped into him, wrapping both arms around you and burying himself to the hilt as he met his own release.
You remained within the circle of his arms for a long moment, your heavy breaths heating the space between you, and he sent a distant, dazed hand stroking over your hair. You hummed into him, curling impossibly closer and his eyes fell shut. This was a moment he could bask in, this was a moment he had fantasised over for too long and now, finally, got to experience.
Your quiet words broke him from his peaceful reverie. “Will you stay tonight?”
Head turning, lips pressing against the sweat slicked skin of your temple, he answered. “I’m not going anywhere.”
——————————————————————
Morning washed lazily over the pair of you; the sunlight twinkling through hastily shut blinds and the distant sounds of traffic lulling him back into awareness.
A slight fear had overtaken him as he had fallen asleep; would you be here when he woke up? Would the events of this evening turn out to be nothing more than his ever hopeful mind playing out perfection for him in the guise of some hyper-realistic dream?
But, he could feel the comfortable weight you between his arms, smell the honeysuckle of your hair, hear the quiet murmur of your snore, and still almost taste the evidence of your repeated pleasure.
You turned lazily in his arms, sleepy eyes cracking open to find him. “Morning,” you croaked, settling heavily against your pillow.
“Morning,” he parroted you, smile obvious in his words.
Groaning, you pressed a hand against your eyes. “It’s way too early for you to be so cheerful.”
Smiling down at you, despite your closed eyes, he murmured, “I’ve wanted to wake up like this again for years,” you smiled into his words, nestling closer to him, but your eyes remained closed.
You nodded dreamily, humming some vague agreement before a light snore told him you were asleep once more.
Summary: After breaking up under difficult circumstances, you and Spencer have carved out a friendly relationship. When your boyfriend plans a birthday party, you and Spencer have to face your feelings.
A/N: A warning, this is longggg. I had this idea and just couldn’t stop writing! Please let me know what you think! ❤️
It was a rainy Tuesday, ordinary in a boring type of way, when Spencer was asked to the party. You had been stood by his desk, looking down to him as the pair of you chattered; your hair shining like a halo beneath the amber lights of the office. Such divinity suited you, he had thought.
The chirp of your phone distracted you, an almost imperceptible jump of your shoulders as you looked down in surprise. “Oh, Alex is here,” you explained, lips twisting awkwardly at this mention of your boyfriend. “He’s -uh - he wanted to pick me up.”
The explanation was unnecessary. If your boyfriend wanted to pick you up from work there was no real need for Spencer to know about it; despite the jealous coil that wound through his stomach at the revelation. The fact that you had thought to tell him at all, with that guilty glint in your eye, did give him some hope. Surely, your continued guilt could only be thought indicative of your remaining feelings for him. Surely.
Despite the best efforts of his logic, he harboured all these small hopes that you offered him. Clung to them as though they were a refuge and he supposed, in fact, they were.
You were awaiting a response. There was nothing for him to really say, no need for him to give any real response past an amicable nod of understanding. You, however, wanted words. Did you recognise, he often wondered, these small hopes you offered him? “I’ll walk you out,” he eventually eked out, voice strained beneath the words he could not say.
You were meant to be together, he was sure. Tales of four legged humanoids separated by unsettled gods and souls tied by the red strings of fate were mere portions of the expansive mythology of soulmates. And that, truly, objectively, was all soulmates really were; remnants of mythology. And yet, Spencer believed.
You nodded your acceptance with a grin. Shoulders sagging in relief as you watched him collect his things. As the pair of you meandered to the building’s exit Spencer talked, likely too much. He knew the subjects you enjoyed and basked in your wide-eyed grin as he doled out every piece of somewhat interesting information he could muster. He hoped, as he always hoped, that the conversation would linger in your mind and overshadow any attempts Alex could make.
All too soon, the front door approached. The yellow street lights shone brightly through the glass doors but were quickly dimmed by a tall figure waving at you through the glass. Surprise halted you for a moment before you gave a brief smile and continued forward. Unreasonable annoyance lanced through Spencer.
Spencer walked with you to the door every night after work. This was his time with you and Alex had chased away the last remaining seconds. Poorly, Spencer attempted to chasten himself; he had no right to lay such a claim over your time. He had given it all up in a haze of weakness and narcotics. A haze that, once he had pulled himself through, he realised had left him with nothing. When his sobriety became more trustworthy, he had wanted nothing more than to grovel his way back to you. But he couldn’t. What if he wasn’t ready? What if he let you down, fell off the horse and destroyed your relationship all over again?
He had waited too long, it sometimes seemed.
Spencer greeted Alex coolly. Not cold in his words but lacking any true warmth. The best that Spencer could manage. Strangely, the man turned quickly to you in an effort to usher you away; “honey,” Spencer wrinkled his nose at the pet-name, “you mind if I talk to Agent Reid a second.”
“It’s doctor,” the pair of you responded in tandem. Spencer’s words harsher than he intended whilst yours were almost distant as you blinked back surprise at this strange turn of events.
With too much confidence to even be amicably embarrassed, Alex turned his gave over to Spencer. “Sorry,” he gave half-heartedly before turning an insistent gaze back to you.
You floundered. A darting gaze seemed unsure who to focus on. Spencer understood the fear flashing in your eyes; as far as he was aware, you were yet to share the true nature of yours and Spencer’s past relationship with Alex. As much as some strange foreign part of him wanted Alex to know, he enjoyed this secret. Another thing Spencer knew that surely Alex did not.
After another round of insistence from Alex, alongside a quiet nod from Spencer, you relented and left them. Bracing himself, for whatever was about to happen, Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets and let his attention wander to his shoes.
“So, er…” Alex started, awkwardly. “It’s her birthday this weekend.”
Eyebrows raising, but gaze remaining on his feet, he bit out a reply. “I know.” Of course I know, he thought spitefully.
Encouraged, somehow, by Spencer’s stern agreement, Alex continued. “Well, anyway, I’m throwing a party for her on Saturday - It’s a surprise!” He quickly added the last part, emphasising it strangely as though Spencer had been on the cusp of running across the parking lot to tell you. Knee jerking as he stood and listened to this man, Spencer felt increasing agitation needle at him. “I- she’d love for you to be there.”
Finally, Spencer looked at the man before him, suspicious. “That’s short notice.”
Rubbing the back of his head, Alex ducked his head. “Well,” for once, Alex sounded sheepish, “I wasn’t sure if it might be awkward… you know…”
Spencer swallowed a lump in his throat. So, he did know. You had told him. Of course, you were more than within your rights to tell him, but… there had been hope in your attempt to keep him a secret.
Alex floundered before him, seemingly unsure how to rescue them from this awkwardness he had steered them into. Spencer, was not going to help.
Finally recovering from his stuttering, Alex began babbling mindlessly. “Well, you know, my family came down to visit so they’ll be there.” Nervously, Alex wrung his hands together. Somewhere, distantly in Spencer’s psyche an alarm bell rang out in warning. Before he could hope to process it, the chatter of Alex before him drowned it out. “And she thinks of you guys as family, so… it’s important.”
He couldn’t take it anymore, he cut the man off. “I’ll be there,” he told him, before sharply turning away.
As he journeyed home, as he prepared a dinner for one, as he brushed his teeth, and even as his tired mind refused to sleep, he replayed the conversation verbatim over and over in his mind. Turning the conversation over, he found no explanation for the instinctive dread pooling in his stomach.
Over the next days, every second up until the evening of your party, the dread remained.
He had agreed to take you, the pair of you bundled into his car as he meandered to the location. As far as you were aware Rossi had invited all of you to a soirée at some grand hall in the city; although, considering the way you were gnawing on your nails, Spencer was sure you knew that something was amiss. Admittedly, he had not been entirely engaged in keeping up the charade. You hated surprises, on your birthday even more so, and he had endeavoured to make it as obvious to you as Garcia would allow him.
“You okay?” He asked, stopping the car to allow a pedestrian cross.
You hummed a little, high pitched, noise of agreement before turning sharply in your seat. “Spencer,” you began, voice wavering with nerves, “you would tell me right? If this is a surprise party for me?” He didn’t say anything, he opened his mouth a few times but all that escaped him was a stutter. Sure, he wanted you to know, but Garcia would tear into him if he ruined this.
But, looking at you, he deflated. Your wide eyes were fixed on him, blinking up at him with such panic that he couldn’t bear to keep anything from you. Relenting, he confirmed. “It’s… a surprise party for you,” you rubbed tired hands over your eyes. “Alex,” he wondered if you caught the disdain that laced that word, “was adamant about it being a secret.”
You groaned into your palms, still covering your face as you rubbed at your temples. “I told him I hate big parties,” you moaned, peeking at him between your fingers.
You sighed, cast a wandering gaze from the window, and dropped your arms heavily into your lap. Hands now picking at the hem of your skirt, you timidly asked a question that sent that strange alarm ringing through his mind. “Did he mention anything else?”
Eyebrows scrunched together, he leaned closer - concerned but unsure why. “Like what?”
You worked your bottom lip. Normally the action would stall his mind, sending his entire attention rapt upon the temptations of your lips, but your intense emotion overshadowed any errant desire. “It’s just-“ you began, only to be immediately interrupted by a car horn blaring behind you.
The pedestrian had crossed the road, and disappeared from sight in the time the pair of you had been talking. Spencer was still stopped in the middle of the road, the car behind him clearly losing its patience.
Holding a hand up, a silent apology to the driver behind, he pressed the accelerator. As your destination neared, he watched you shrink further into your seat from the corner of his eye.
———————————————————————
Despite your nervousness, you gave an excellent performance of surprise. Spencer was sure even the profilers of the room would have been fooled by your faux excitement. As much as he had hoped to hold onto your attention a little longer you had been whisked away by your boyfriend and presented like a trophy to a pair of people he assumed were Alex’s parents.
Morgan patted him on the back, murmuring some kind of encouragement, and directed his sullen figure to the other agents in attendance. They cheered him up well enough, providing some relief in this crowd of unfamiliar people, but unease returned each time he caught sight of your figure.
Butwhat was it setting him so on edge? Why did the overelaborate decor feel like a warning? Why did the abundance of expensive champagne wash dread over him? And why were Morgan’s eyes fixed on him so closely?
“I feel like a show pony,” your arrival beside him distracted his thoughts. It was hopeless trying to concentrate with you beside him. “Everyone’s looking at me, it’s weird.”
“Cmon,” JJ reassured, an excitable tone to her voice as though you would mirror her emotion, “you’re the birthday girl! Everyone’s supposed to look at you.”
Sidling beside you, Garcia trilled with more enthusiastic excitement. “Plus you look smokin’ in that dress,” a rosy blush painted your cheeks at that, the brief ‘thanks’ that escaped you immediately drowned out by Garcia’s next words; “where’d you buy it? Do they take coupons?”
A pair of large hands gripped Garcia’s shoulders,
Tugging her back slightly from where she huddled closer to peer at the label, Morgan spoke. “Okay, okay. How bout we leave the birthday girl in tact, yeah?” Garcia huffed but immediately brightened at his next words. “Dance with me, hot stuff?” As she tugged him away he craned his neck back to the group with a whispered “you’re welcome,” that sent a lovely chuckle past your lips.
Will and JJ soon joined them, sharing a look and a laugh over making the most of a child free night before sweeping away. Rossi dramatically held out a hand for Emily, cocking a brow when she merely crossed her arms. It took surprisingly little needling to convince her, a roll of her eyes and a scoff before she joined him in a dance. As the final pair swept away, Rossi sent Spencer an obvious wink.
Hands firmly in his pocket, worried you’d say no but panicked to lose the chance, he looked to his feet again. “You’re not gonna dance with the birthday girl?” You asked lightly.
Stupidly, he avoided the question. “Did you know in Vietnam everyone celebrates their birthday on the same day?” You smiled at him, the sweet uplift of your lips you always offered that he could never hope to decipher. He barrelled on, “It doesn’t matter when you were actually born because-“
“Spencer,” you cut him off, a hand on his arm, “just dance with me?”
Shutting his mouth, keeping his obscure knowledge of east-Asian birthday traditions to himself, he took your hand and led you to the small square set aside for dancing.
You turned to face him, a nervous apprehension colouring each movement you made. Somehow, your nervousness made him feel better. At least you were both floundering under the gaze of the other. Your hand was warm in his, fingers soft as they laced through his own, and the curve of your waist fit perfectly beneath his palm.
The rigidity of your anxious figure softened beneath his hands, your feet effortlessly following his lead and your lips upturning in one of the few true smiles of the night. “How are you finding the party?” He asked quietly, using the guise of conversation as an excuse to press closer to you.
You followed his lead and pressed closer still. “Well,” your eyes darted about the lavish environment, “it’s… yeah it’s nice.”
Spencer gave a hushed laugh, that was the least convincing lie he had ever heard, and you laughed alongside him. Between your giggles you coyly chastened him; “Spencer, it’s not funny!” You were still laughing even as you said it, “it’s-it’s a nice gesture, at least.”
He nodded sternly, fixing his features into an over dramatic stoicism that was reminiscent of Hotch. A few seconds were all the expression was given before his face broke into amusement at your answering giggle.
After a few small circles of the dance floor, your shared laughter had subsided enough for conversation to continue. “I don’t know,” you murmured listlessly, “it’s just not for me, I guess.”
Humming in agreement, thumb absently swiping over the hand that he held, Spencer replied. “I know,” he said lowly. And he really did know, the moment he had learned of the party he had known you wouldn’t enjoy it. You would grit your teeth throughout the evening and lie to protect the feelings of a boyfriend who should really know better. “You’d like breakfast in bed and scary movies and popcorn for dinner.” Just like that last birthday when we were together.
Your eyes widened as they met his gaze and he could understand this show of surprise. This was the first time either of you had dared make mention of the time you had been a couple. Spencer likely hadn’t picked the best occasion to remind you of your days with him but he felt a strange anxious gnawing in his stomach that time was slipping through his fingers.
You blinked a few times, your hand in his gripping more tightly, before you nodded and spoke in a melancholy kind of way. “Yeah,” you swallowed thickly, “something like that.”
The pair of you continued to carve a small circle into the dance floor, continued to gaze at the other, but it was a long while before you spoke again.
“Spencer, do you still-“
Your voice was cut off by another. “Hey, mind if I cut in?”
Spencer had half a mind to tell Alex that yes, he really did mind. His hand on your waist was now clutching you in a way he wouldn’t be able to explain away if you asked. You squeezed his hand and forced him to let you go by stepping back and telling him; “I’ll call you later, okay?”
Even Alex had the decency to seem a little threatened by that promise, looking at you with a mix of confusion and agitation. Spencer nodded, seeing the emotion still welled in your eyes, and let out a raspy “okay.”
He wandered back to where he had stood before, finding the others stood there as the dance floor cleared. “Deep breaths, man.” Morgan told him, voice careful as though he were speaking to a caged animal.
Unsure what Morgan was even referring to, Spencer asked with a crinkled brow; “what?”
Morgan gave no further indication of what he meant, eyes moving respectfully to where Alex was making some kind of speech. Beside Alex, you almost shrunk into yourself. Eyes wide, arms crossed over your front, and gaze avoiding everyone. Spencer didn’t need to be a profiler to know you were incredibly uncomfortable.
As much as Spencer tried to listen, give Alex at least this subtle politeness, all he could hear was the question you had been about to ask. What had it been? Was he overanalysing it? Was it something simple and filled with banality? Or would it change everything?
As Alex, rather gracelessly, dropped down to one knee his attention snapped back to the present. No, no, no, became his internal monologue. He must have made some kind of physical reaction as Morgan’s hand was now tightly gripping his shoulder. “Keep it together,”he distantly warned.
You were looking down at Alex, mouth opening and closing as what he severely hoped was panic overtook you. “I-I…” you stuttered and stumbled as a discontented murmur spread through the crowd.
You squeezed your eyes shut and forced a breath through your nose. Panic was still evident on your features as you reopened your eyes, but your gaze eventually settled. Your gaze settled on Spencer.
Some silent question shone in your eyes. Spencer felt the tears threatening to spill over as he shook his head at you, as subtly as he could muster. As his gaze poured over you he repeated an internal mantra that he hoped you could somehow hear; please say no, please say no, please say no.
You didn’t say no.
But, in some small relief, you didn’t say yes either.
Instead your gaze broke from Spencer, sending nausea swirling through him in dreadful anticipation, looking down to the man on his knee before you. You backed away slowly, hoarsely proclaiming that you needed some air. With a hand pressing against your stomach, you looked to the left and darted to the fire exit. The crowd parted eagerly for you, everyone hoping to see the distress upon your features as you fled the scene, and you left the door clattering behind you.
Spencer moved immediately, instinctively following you. Morgan harshly pulled him back, gripping him tightly and murmuring “give it a second.”
Morgan, thinking much clearer than Spencer feasibly could in this moment, was right. A second later and the crowd had burst into an excitable rabble and chatter. A group had descended on Alex, surrounding him with reassurance, whilst the rest moved about the room almost wildly. Now, at least, Spencer’s desperate clamour to follow you would be less obvious.
“I hope you know what you’re gonna say, kid.” Morgan told him, stern as an older brother, before releasing his hold.
Spencer took no time to reply, darting through the rabble of the crowd and to the still clattering fire exit.
Summary: It’s your birthday and Spencer has a special gift for you. Despite multiple attempts, he struggles to find the perfect time to present it to you.
A/N: Slight warning for very slight mentions of blood - just a smallish cut. Let me know what you think!
Your birthday was often a strange event, as were those of the entire BAU you supposed. Last year you and the team had been chasing an unsub with a penchant for collecting fingernails around Seattle and the year before had been spent liaising with the LAPD to catch a serial arsonist. It was safe to say, that this year your expectations were a little low; you were hoping for a fun drink or two with your colleagues but little else other than a full night’s sleep.
It was surprising, then, and really quite nice that you were not miles from home; for once, there had been no invitations from far away states and you and the team were merely completing paperwork. It wasn’t the most exciting thing you could be doing for your birthday, that was for sure, but you were too used to the wrong kind of excitement to care.
The clack of wheels drew your attention from the wordy document you were currently poring over. “Hey,” you greeted, a warm smile gracing your lips as you looked at Spencer. “You come to help out?” You asked, lifting your pile of yet unfinished paperwork into his eye-line.
Almost shyly, his eyes averted from yours - darting first to his wringing hands before landing on the closed door of Hotch’s office. “I’m kidding,” you gave him, cutting him off before he could awkwardly tell you that it was against some kind of rule.
Relieved he nodded with a chuckle. Spencer, in general, seemed a nervous individual. Although you always considered skittish a better word for him. His social confidence had more than improved over the years, but there were plenty of things - just like anyone else, you supposed - that still melted him back into nervousness. His show of nervousness now, therefore, was nothing particularly new. Why he was so nervous in this very moment, however, you couldn’t quite pin down.
Eyes darting down to his hands, gripping a neat parcel in his lap, you raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
Own eyes jumping down to it, he stammered over a response but never quite got the words out. Garcia interrupted him before he could muster a full sentence, announcing her sudden presence with a stream of glitter and confetti pooled upon your desk. “Oh wow,” you tried to enthusiastically exclaim as she also tossed some confetti in a way that ensured it landed in your hair.
“Happy birthday!” She all but squealed as you shook your hair out.
A wry smile overtaking you, appreciating the thoughtfulness if not the gesture itself, you nodded up at her. “Er Thanks, Garcia.”
You and Spencer both leaned back as a large bouquet of flowers was heavily placed on your desk. The smell, while pleasant, was a little overwhelming. As Spencer tried to subtly cough beside you, you grinned at the flowers. There was no question that Garcia had chosen them herself; the petals were a wonderfully soft pink but the most obvious clue was the somewhat garish addition of roses that had been sprayed with gold glitter.
Moving the large vase to the corner of your desk, the flowers still overtaking the majority of the space, you thanked her. “They’re really… something.”
She beamed, not catching the amused glance you shared with Spencer, and waved a hand. “Oh it’s nothing,” leaning in to sniff one of the pink flowers, she continued. “I know you’re not a big birthday kinda person but you absolutely cannot expect me to ignore such a big day!”
Placating her enthusiasm, you stood to make a show of smelling the pungent floral fragrance. “They’re lovely, really, thank you.”
She somehow beamed a little brighter and, gripping your hand and tottering in her heels slightly with excitement, she pulled you alongside her. “There’s more!”
Gracelessly falling after her, you turned your head to shoot a wide eyed grin to Spencer who returned the gesture with a warm gaze of his own.
———————————————————————
Fingers tapping against the carefully wrapped parcel in his lap, Spencer watched you go. A little wave of disappointment crested over him but was overshadowed by what he knew would be short-lived relief. There was both an excitement and fear tied with the gift he was hoping to give you; his ever busy mind harassing him with constant questions of whether he had interpreted your behaviour objectively enough, of whether he was about to ruin your friendship forever, and more importantly whether you would understand the meaning of the gift regardless.
Somehow, he had managed to cut through that whitenoise of uncertainty and follow Morgan’s advice; “they’re being awfully patient with you but I’m telling you now, thats not gonna last forever. You better make a move sometime this century.”
The gift would be his quiet, subdued confession; one more than overdue but still nerve wracking. He loved you and in his own, perhaps cowardly, way he would tell you with this gift. That is, if he were able to ever actually give it to you.
Watching you go had therefore been disappointing but the feeling had been immediately salved as you looked back at him. The look felt like a secret, a glance shared between the two of you like whispered gossip; your thoughts conveyed perfectly only to him with such a simple gesture.
With markedly less enthusiasm, he wheeled his chair back to his own desk, deposited the gift back into his drawer, and stood to join the party now happening in the round table room.
———————————————————————
An hour and a half later, the expanse of time that Hotch was willing and able to put aside for non-work related activity, the party was reaching its close. Spencer admittedly had not been to a great many parties, but he was sure their impromptu gathering could not be accurately defined as one. Still, you seemed to enjoy it; laughing animatedly with JJ as she made some joke he couldn’t quite understand and happily licking the butter icing from the top of your birthday cupcake. The latter action sent an almost audibly sputtered breath from him as his eyes caught sight of your lapping tongue. Things only worsened when Morgan pointed out the icing smeared over your lips. In a single swipe you collected all the icing on the tip of your pointer finger and proceeded to salaciously suck the finger clean. Although, he was certain he were the only one in the room deriving such guilty pleasure from the objectively normal action. When it came to you his thoughts often derailed into either hopeless romance or crimson desire.
Normal work set in quite quickly after that. The usual routine of the office a little lighter after the celebration but the tasks still menial despite the ease Spencer found in them. Even as he flipped through the pages of his last folder, eyes zipping down the last page, he couldn’t prevent a small portion of his attention sticking fast to the gift he was yet to give you. Time was ticking by and he felt that if he didn’t do it today, he would never work up the courage again.
You were at your desk, your hunched figure almost framed by the dramatic floral arrangement still upon your desk. Hand resting upon the gift, as though the item would somehow bestow him confidence, Spencer methodically formulated a plan. He wondered if maybe he should approach under some other guise, add some forced casualness into the giving of his gift, but he couldn’t conceive of a viable option.
He considered making you a coffee, a splash of milk and one and a half sugars just as you liked, but it was past four pm. You never drank coffee after two pm, even when you were miles from home on a case filled with late nights. It was some unspoken rule of yours that he had never seen you break.
He considered bringing a file over to you and asking for help. That ruse would be see through, however. He had never asked you for help before and the mere prospect that he wouldn’t have finished by now would certainly either cause you great suspicion that he was up to something or inspire concern in you that something had happened to his brain.
His lips twitched and fingers drummed against his desk as he considered his options. It seemed, much to his chagrin, that he would simply have to approach you guiseless.
Something Spencer’s wandering mind had somehow not noticed, however, is that in all the time he had been considering his options his eyes had been fixed on you. It was little surprise, really, his gaze found you so often it was likely his eyes naturally rested upon you at this point. Unfortunately, the passive attention had not gone unnoticed. Your lips forming his forename pricked his ears and his eyebrows rose in surprise.
Focusing more intently on you, he leaned towards your desk with a question. “Sorry, what was that?”
You didn’t answer immediately, eyes wandering over his figure in some kind of assessment of his faculties. Eyebrows crinkling together when you rematched his gaze, you stood and moved closer to him. “You okay?” He nodded quietly, swallowing thickly as you stood over him. “You seem a little… lost in thought.”
Gaze dropping from you momentarily, he looked to the gift still beneath his palm. It truly was now or never. He opened his mouth to speak, lifted his hand to offer the parcel to you, but was cut off by a loud and sudden yowl from the kitchenette. The pair of you turned your heads in tandem, the yell so full of anguish it was impossible to resist, the gift hovering between you yet to be accepted.
The source of the yell was Morgan. The man was cradling his right hand as he leaned heavily against the sideboard, pain apparent on his features and continued groans escaping him.
Neither of you moved right away, assessing the situation as best you could from afar but when crimson began leaking from his clenched hand you took off with a muttered curse. Depositing the gift back upon his desk, Spencer quickly sprang from his desk to follow you.
———————————————————————
“Morgan, what happened?!” You asked, voice high pitched and frantic, as you pried his clenched fist open. A large cut was sliced across his palm and as the pressure of his fingers lifted the gory mess worsened dramatically. “Reid, hand me that paper towel.”
“Got it,” came Spencer’s reply beside you. You raised a grateful glance to him as you took the paper towel before concentrating on your task. Pressing the towel over the cut, you encouraged Morgan to use his other hand to apply significant pressure.
“Look in the sink,” Morgan gave eventually, by way of explanation. Peering into the murky depths of the overfilled sink you raised an eyebrow.
Spencer voiced the question on your mind. “I don’t see anything?”
With a huff, Morgan nodded, “exactly.” Nodding to the sink, he continued; “someone,” he stressed the word as though he knew exactly who that someone was, “left a knife in there despite me telling her every week how dangerous it is.”
Spencer grimaced at the sight of blood seeping through the paper towel and leaned closer with crinkled eyebrows. “Let me see,” he requested, frown deepening as he inspected the wound. “You’re going to need stitches,” he asserted, much to Morgan’s clear disappointment.
Morgan looked to you as though in search of a second opinion, you merely shrugged. “I’m not gonna argue with the doctor.”
Spencer gave you a little smirk. A few months ago he might have reminded you that he wasn’t actually a medical doctor but it seemed he knew you well enough by now to recognise the joke.
“I’ll take you,” you offered Morgan with a sigh, already fishing for your keys in your jacket pocket.
Spencer’s voice stilled you. “I can do it,” looking to him, you raised your eyebrows in silent question at this strangely sweet gesture. “It’s your birthday,” he pointed out needlessly, “and there’s only seventeen minutes left to work; you’re going out for drinks tonight,” you nodded in a confirmation of this fact that he didn’t really need. “enjoy your birthday, you don’t get to very often.”
A smile lifted your lips even as you felt guilt wash over you at the prospect of letting Spencer deal with this. Considering, you chewed your lip. Your lengthy consideration, however, seemed to take a little too much time for Morgan. “I’m about to bleed out over here,” you rolled your eyes dramatically at him.
“Are you sure?” You asked, attention back on Spencer, shifting in your heels in premature excitement.
“Absolutely,” he told you, resolute.
You squealed with excitement and, overcome with gratitude, sprang forward to hug the man. He responded with a surprised “oh” alongside an almost nervous chuckle.
“Sorry,” you muttered, pulling back but still smiling up at him. The pair of you remained like that, smiling dumbly at each other, for perhaps a moment too long.
Morgan straightened and interrupted the moment with a clear of his throat. When he had gained your attention, he told you with a smile; “happy birthday, really, but my hand is gonna fall off if we don’t go soon.”
“That’s highly doubtful,” Spencer began, almost looking affronted by the outlandish suggestion, “for your hand to ‘fall off’ it would be necessary to cut through several layers of skin and muscle. Plus-“
“Reid, let’s go.”
Remembering himself, Spencer blinked rapidly a few times before nodding like a bobble head, wishing you a last farewell, and rushing off after Morgan.
Watching the pair disappear you sighed, hands wrapping around your elbows. A strange disappointment that you couldn’t quite place had overtaken you as they had left. Pulling yourself together, wanting to feel nothing but positive on your birthday, you turned your attention to the kitchen.
You cleaned up as best you could, wiping down the surfaces and carefully extracting the offending knife from the sink before draining the ruby tinged water. Within ten minutes the kitchen looked as though nothing untoward had occurred; a miracle really, considering the surprising amount of blood Morgan had produced.
With little time left until you were free to enjoy your birthday to the max, you meandered back to your desk. On the way, the forgotten parcel upon Spencer’s desk caught your attention. Changing trajectory, you stopped at his desk and delicately fiddled with the tag of the gift. Your name was scrawled upon it in Spencer’s familiar, somewhat scruffy, handwriting.
Would it be considered rude for you to take the gift and open it? After all it was clearly meant for you and he had already attempted to deliver the gift himself.
This ‘consideration’ was merely surface level; the gift was in fact already sitting upon your own desk being less than delicately unwrapped by your impatient fingers.
Slowly, a book was revealed. As you turned the tome over a gorgeous floral illustration met your gaze. Running your fingers over the somewhat raised golden lettering, you read the title; “The Secret Language of Florists.”
A few months ago you had been entirely floored to learn the secret messages that could be sent using nothing but a well designed floral bouquet. You could hardly remember what had been the catalyst for the conversation, perhaps one of the BAU’s many unusual cases, but you had been strangely fascinated by the entire concept. A sprig of purple heather to wish the recipient good luck, for example. And, your personal favourite, the inclusion of a single white daisy as a silent vow to keep a secret.
There were so many more that Spencer had entertained you with, but they had fallen from your mind amongst the plethora of white noise that daily life forced upon you.
Excited by this gift, you turned to the first page. Between the cover and the first page, a pressed flower delicately sat; it’s rich red petals striking against the ivory white of the page. As you lifted the flower, wishing to admire its preserved beauty, you inadvertently revealed more of Spencer’s scrawled handwriting upon the page.
A message from me to you.
You grinned widely to yourself, shifting so excitably in your seat that anyone watching would think you were attempting some strange dance. So, the flower was a message - one the book could help you decipher the meaning of. Feeling like a spy deciphering this secret encoded message, you looked to the flower.
Even in its flattened state the flower was clearly a chrysanthemum. Taking care not to tear any pages in your excitement, you found the double page spread devoted to the flower. An illustrated yellow chrysanthemum decorated the middle of the page, providing confirmation that you had been correct in your initial assessment, and you skimmed through the surrounding words.
White chrysanthemums were symbols of truth, apparently, but you skipped past the rest of the explanation to find the meaning behind your red chrysanthemum. As you read the words, you brought the flower close to your chest. Your lips broadened into a giddy grin and your heart felt as though it may burst with sudden fullness.
A red chrysanthemum, very simply, means ‘I love you’.
Summary: After attending a party full of intellectuals with Spencer, you start to worry that you’re not smart enough to be with him. Filled with determination, you decide to try and do something about it.
A/N: Sorry it’s a bit later this week! Recently I hit 100 followers so thank you so much for that; made me very happy :) Let me know what you think!
The party was more an intellectual soirée than an all out rager. Whilst your college days were far behind you, you would have rathered the latter. You were a successful professional, a career in the FBI spanning years at this point, but somehow all these dusty professors surrounding you made you feel small. You knew you weren’t stupid, there were plenty of things you particularly excelled at, but you certainly weren’t a genius.
A few of the attendees had struck up conversation with you, seeming nice enough until it became clear you were not an academic; most of them left fairly quickly, finding more stimulating conversation elsewhere. Some, however, stuck around.
Somehow, they managed to annoy you even more. They were fascinated by your relationship with Spencer, entirely confounded that the pair of you ever managed to find anything to talk about considering the grand difference between your respective IQs and asking probing questions into how you had even met. Of course, they all punctuated these personal questions with assurances that it was “all in good fun” and attempted to placate you with the knowledge that they were “sure you must be very happy together”.
It all felt entirely passive aggressive but you doubted these intellectuals even realised it was offensive.
Eventually, you took to hiding in a darkened corner and nursing your second glass of red. As you swirled the velvety liquid around the glass, watching the legs cling to the surface, you wondered whether all these strangers really had a point. Spencer wasn’t just smart, he was a bonafide genius. Why was he with you?
You couldn’t add any information to his life that he didn’t already know. You couldn’t provide a fresh take on classic Russian literature. You couldn’t even understand most of his jokes well enough to laugh. You knew Spencer loved you, his actions and words both speaking loud enough, but surely that wouldn’t stop him from getting bored eventually.
You watched him across the room, chatting animatedly with someone you hadn’t had the pleasure of being spoken down to by, and felt an anxiety coil in your chest. Surely it was only a matter of time.
Quickly finishing off your wine, nabbing another glass from a passing waiter, you tried to think of some solution. How could you connect with him intellectually?
As half-baked plans tumbled through your mind your gaze unfocused into the middle distance, leaving you entirely vulnerable to an unnoticed visitor. “Do you like the wine?”
The unidentified warm hand lightly gripping your arm caused you to jerk suddenly. The wine sloshing dangerously around the glass, the contents somehow remaining contained. Hand over your chest, heartbeat trilling rapidly beneath it, you looked to Spencer with wide eyes. “Don’t sneak up on me,” you breathed out as your heart rate slowly resettled.
Amusement danced in his eyes and the sight softened your previous anxiety somewhat. Palms raised in surrender, he relented. He gestured vaguely to a generally disapproving older gentleman conversing quite animatedly with a younger colleague. “Riemann told me that he tried to convince the organisers not to allow alcohol tonight,” you screwed up your face in response and earned a husky chuckle as you took a rebellious sip of wine. “He gave me an entire speech about the ‘stimulation of conversation being inebriation enough’.”
You giggled in response, leaning closer to Spencer even as you hid your face behind the wine. “He sounds like fun,” you commented, around another sip of wine. Eyes darting to the man you were busy gossiping about you found his attention flickering to the pair of you. “Spencer,” you exclaimed pointlessly, his attention was already upon you, “he’s looking this way!” Holding the glass out to him, you asked with a wicked smirk; “You want some?”
A full grin pulled your features as he took the offered glass and, with a last little laugh, took a large gulp. Eyes quickly darting back to Riemann, giggling at the disapproval now being glared at the pair of you, you murmured lowly to Spencer. “We’re such trouble makers.”
Handing you back the now half emptied glass he smiled down at you - seemingly not daring to look at your disgruntled audience. Instead he was focusing on you in that intense way he sometimes did; his warm eyes somehow lit up, his lips twitching upwards as though he simply couldn’t help himself, and his focus fell entirely upon you. You never felt more loved than you did when he looked at you like this.
Your previous worries were forgotten, for now at least, as you matched his gaze with wide eyes. “Are you having fun?” You asked, almost shyly diverting his intensity.
He nodded quickly, stepping closer to you as a waiter struggled to get past him, and proceeded to give you an in depth run down of some of the evenings more interesting conversations.
As the evening itself drew to a close, Spencer spent most of his time by your side. Hovering close, a hand splayed over your back, even as people ambled over to speak to him.
His presence made you feel much better, the quiet support he always offered you soothing you immensely. In fact, your anxious feelings did not return until he was snoring beside you.
In the quiet of the night you found ample time to worry over the longevity of your relationship. At around three thirty am you came to the groggy conclusion that you really had to do something about it; starting tomorrow of course.
Over the next few weeks you carefully carved out time for yourself wherever you could, whenever you thought Spencer might not notice. An extra hour or so at the gym, staying a little later at work with a promise to meet Spencer at home after you had finished your paperwork, and even purposefully sitting away from him on the jet home.
To begin with you had tried to read one of his favourite books but quickly gave up when you spent more time staring blankly at the pages than actually reading. You had found an English translation but the archaic sentence structure meant that the words still seemed foreign. Eventually you found a niche that made you feel as though you were getting somewhere; a pithy podcast so helpfully titled ‘physics for dummies’. It was surprisingly easy to follow and whilst you still couldn’t hope to follow Spencer’s long-winded science ramblings you could at least pick out a few words that you actually understood.
Spencer wasn’t aware of your extra curricular activity and you were hoping to keep it that way, at least for now.
This particular plan of yours was scuppered, however, during a challenging case involving an erotomaniac with an obsession for a high school physics teacher. After hitting several roadblocks in the investigation you and the rest of the team were crowded around a table working through the mountainous pile of letters your unsub had sent the object of his desire.
So far this had yielded little, but when Luke read out an excerpt your ears immediately picked out a familiar word. “‘And in that moment where our world-lines collide, you’ll know without doubt that we were meant to be….’” Luke huffed, slapping the paper back on the desk beside his empty coffee cup, and leaned back with a curse and a groan. “What does that even mean?”
Spencer went to reply but you got there first, your own focus still upon the letter in your hand. “World-lines describe the paths that particles take in space, encapsulating every event they have and will experience. It kinda sounds like he’s trying to say that their paths are fated to cross?”
A beat of quiet met your almost flippant response and your gaze flickered up to find surprise pointed at you. “Alright, Dr Reid,” JJ commented with a well humoured sarcasm. Spencer himself, said nothing.
Peeking at Spencer, you were expecting surprise certainly but you were entirely unprepared for how upset he suddenly looked. His eyes were fixed unseeingly upon his left hand, idly scratching at the grooves of the table, and he didn’t even look up at you.
Your shoulders bunched around you as you felt embarrassment heat your cheeks. “Sorry,” you squeaked out, hoping he would look at you; he didn’t.
The others made no mention of Spencer’s strange lack of response, sensing his strange agitation and attempting to move on quickly with a discussion about the case itself.
You didn’t get your answers until the case had been successfully closed. Despite your impatience to work out what was picking at him, you knew it was likely more professional to wait until the pair of you were off the clock. Whilst you knew that, it didn’t make his avoidance of you any easier to handle.
With the unsub in custody, the rest of the team were busily making evening plans - a night at a local bar seemed to be winning the vote at the moment - but Spencer had other plans. Sidling up to you whilst the others were busy with their excitement, he murmured a question to you in a strangely husky tone; his voice rough as though he were greatly upset. “Can we talk?”
Nodding softly, you followed him silently as he led the pair of you into an unoccupied interview room. His eyes couldn’t meet yours, falling instead just below your searching gaze, and you squirmed under this sudden strangeness. His hands were pushed into his pockets, a sign of forced casualness that was more telling of how uncertain he was.
Taking a step forwards, you broached the heavy silence with a soft question. “Spencer, what’s wrong?”
Swallowing thickly, he cleared his throat. When he finally met your gaze you were forced to stop yourself from reaching out to him. The shine in his eyes curled a concern into you that was hard to tamp down, but you knew he needed space to articulate whatever was eating at him.
Finally, he formed the words he seemed to have been thinking very hard about. “Are you seeing someone else?”
The question floored you entirely. Surely you had misheard. “Wait, what?” Sniffing, he dropped his head but didn’t repeat himself. After a silence that stretched for far too long, your brain finally caught up with his question and you rushed to reassure him. “No! God no, Spencer!” Raising his head, his eyes worked slowly over your features in a search for deception. “How could you even ask me that?!”
Lips twisting, he looked away and carded a hand through his hair. “You’ve been spending so much time away; last month you spent an average of four hours a week at the gym. This month it’s increased to eight.”
You tried to shrug this point off, stomach twisting as you realised he had clearly misread your admittedly odd behaviour this past month. “I’ve been working out more.” Even you could hear the lie in your words.
Your poor response seemed to upset him even more, face crumbling as he struggled to keep a hold of his emotions in the face of an obvious lie. “No, you’re not.” You had no answer for that, he seemed so certain and you didn’t want to lie again. “You… you’re staying later at work but I know you haven’t gotten any outstanding paperwork to do.” Considering the emotion welled in his words you realised how much he must have thought about all of this. “And now you know what world-lines are, something I know we haven’t spoken about!” He heaved a last sigh, face falling as he noted your answering silence. “If - if there’s someone else,” he swallowed thickly then, struggling against the tears still within his eyes, “can you just tell me what’s going on? Please.”
“There isn’t anyone else,” you reassured imploringly. A step forward brought you before him and you pressed a hand to his cheek. “I- I’ll tell you what’s going on but… promise not to laugh at me?”
That seemed to settle him a little and he allowed himself to lean into your affection. At his answering nod, you took a centring breath before explaining.
“So, that party thing we went to a few weeks ago…”
Eyebrows pulling together, he nodded slowly. “I remember.” He confirmed.
“Yeah, of course you do.” You tried to laugh, to encourage him to, but the noise became caught in your throat. Shaking your head, realising he wasn’t quite in the mood to laugh with you just yet, you continued. “Anyway, erm, a bunch of people came to talk to me. I guess they kinda assumed that since you’re with me that I must be super smart too. But obviously… I’m not.”
You felt some relief when he brought his hands to your arms, the warmth of them reassuring you that he was here and he was open to listen. “But why have you been avoiding me?”
Dropping your hand to his chest, you averted your gaze. “Well, they were all just so surprised that you would be with someone who was… I don’t know, average.” You tried to look back at him, your own awkwardness making this confession difficult. “And it kinda got me thinking that I don’t really know why you’re with me.” Immediately, he went to cut you off but you barrelled past his attempted reassurance. “And I started to panic that yknow you’d get bored of me one day so I started listening to this stupid podcast every chance I got to try and learn something that would make me more interesting.”
He said nothing to begin with. Eyes downcast but you felt immediately disgruntled when a quiet laughter peeled from him. It was certainly better than the sight of his emotional distress but it still irked you. Lightly slapping his chest, you pulled away but he quickly tightened his grip upon you. “No, I’m sorry - I’m sorry…” he calmed you, but a strange little smile was still pulling at his lips, “it’s just that, you tried to learn about physics just to be closer to me.”
“Well, yeah.” You told him, as though it were the the most obvious thing in the world. “I love you.”
His tears had entirely disappeared, replaced with an obvious wave of relief. “When we first started dating, do you remember we went to an art gallery?” You nodded, remembering the shyness of Spencer back then and smiling into the memory. “I talked way too much,” you chuckled and shook your head wryly, “I told you the year that everything had been painted, the medium used, the artistic style… I told you everything i could think of.”
Quirking a brow, you made a lightly teasing joke. “I remember thinking you were gonna give me a pop quiz at the end of the night.”
Ducking his head, he gave a laugh as he squeezed your arms. Some of his past shyness returning briefly before he looked back at you. “The point is, you eventually interrupted me to ask me what I thought of the painting I was talking about.” He paused, a reminiscence shining in his eyes. “And I didn’t have an answer, I had to stop and think about it.” He told you this like it was some great revelation, but you couldn’t work out what he was trying to tell you. Sensing that you hadn’t quite captured his meaning, he explained further. “I will never get bored of you,” he told you with so much certainty it was impossible not to believe him, “you make me see the world in ways I didn’t think possible.”
Wrapping your arms around his neck, you teetered on your tiptoes to peck his lips. “Especially now,” you teased, “now with my newfound expertise in all things space physics.”
Eyes narrowing slightly, he hummed in an affectionate kind of humour hands slipping to the small of your back. “You mean astrophysics.”
With a dramatic roll of your eyes, you teetered forwards once more to kiss him, murmuring “whatever” in the space between you.
A languid kiss later and his gaze shifted past you and to the door. “Should we try to catch up with the others?”
Twisting your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, you pouted and shook your head. “Why don’t we go back to the hotel?”
He laughed lightly as he fell forwards to rest his forehead against yours. “Let’s go.”
There were often days, weeks, or months where the world felt rallied against you. It was a certainty, you were absolutely sure, that everyone experienced such targeted difficulty. Today, however, the world seemed so unfair and built up against you that it was hard to take comfort in that knowledge.
Your shoes scraped against every step as you clambered up the stairs to your boyfriend’s apartment, feet feeling so heavy it was hard to fully lift them between steps. Your hand slid along the railing, gripping the solid wood in an attempt to pull yourself up the mountain of stairs. It took an age, but eventually you reached the top step.
Heaving a deep breath, attempting to quell the storm of negativity within, you plastered a smile onto your lips. Shoulders set, expression schooled, you moved to his door and rapped your knuckles against the wood. You heard him yell through the door, indicating he was coming, and the excitement in his tone pulled a peal of happiness from you. If anything could make you feel better today, it was definitely going to be Spencer.
The door opened quickly and you were greeted with an almost goofy grin as he struggled with his over-large coat. “You ready to go?”
Trying to mirror his enthusiasm, but likely failing spectacularly, you nodded quickly even as your eyes darted to the floor. Had you been looking up to him you would have noticed the crinkle between his eyebrows as he looked over you; the gaze that swept over everything from your slumped shoulders to your wringing hands. You would have seen the stilling of his hands as a deep concern etched upon his features.
His voice pulled your gaze back to his, “I - uh - I just need to grab something,” he gestured back into his apartment with his thumb and stepped aside to allow you pass, “do you want to come in?”
“Sure,” you assented, moving past him and into the familiar space. His apartment was so cozy, comforting. Everything about it was so familiar, so very Spencer, that a small relief warmed through you.
“Is everything okay?” You started at his sudden question, having thought he had disappeared to locate whatever he had needed to grab.
“Uh-“ your mouth hung open as you looked at him in slow surprise. Blinking rapidly, you finally nodded; “yeah.” The word was so obviously a lie that it was doubtful your profiler of a partner would miss it.
Kindly, instead of calling you out on the clear mistruth, he stepped closer and lowered his tone. “It’s just, usually you aren’t on time.” A small upturn of your lips met that, an action that encouraged him continue. “On average you tend to be seven minutes and thirteen seconds late. Your lateness is always because you stopped to get coffee from your favourite shop, but you’re both on time and you didn’t stop for coffee?”
You kicked your feet against his floor, a rueful expression overtaking you. “Guess I can’t hide anything from a profiler, huh?”
Your careless response did not appear to appease his concern. He gave you a smile, one that didn’t quite crinkle his eyes, and stepped closer. Wringing his hands together, he paused for a considering moment before asking another question. “You’re not feeling great?”
It was less a question, more a statement. Spencer, of course, knew the stresses that had been piling upon you recently; he had been your shoulder to cry on through it all. So far, however, you had managed to hold it together pretty well. But, today, the line between coping and crying felt just a bit too thin.
Giving up on any pretence of pretending everything was fine, you took the few steps separating the pair of you and wrapped your arms around him. Not only was it pointless to hide your feelings from your boyfriend who literally studied behaviour for a living, you also didn’t want to. When you were young you had thought sharing your feelings of stress and difficulty a sign of weakness. Now, wrapped up in Spencer, you knew that there was no weakness in relying on someone. Especially when that someone loved you like he did.
You only noticed your tears when you tried to speak - the hoarseness of your throat warning you of the wetness of your cheeks. “It’s all catching up with me.” You croaked out.
A hand was smoothing soothing circles over your back whilst he leant his cheek upon your temple. “It’s okay,” he told you quietly, letting the warmth of his arms calm you before he gave you words that sent relief coursing through you. “We can stay in tonight?”
That sounded perfect to you, but a guilt still crept over you. “Spencer, you’ve wanted to go to this place for like… forever.” It was true, he had given you more information about this particular planetarium over the last two months than you thought possible and you couldn’t take away his chance to go.
Pulling back to look down at you, warm hands rubbing over your arms, he laughed. “It’ll be open next week, we can go then.” The sincerity and sweetness of this gesture overwhelmed you and your lip trembled as you held back fresh tears. Apparently recognising this latest emotion bomb, he quickly made you laugh with an attempted joke that wasn’t really funny at all. “If we stay in and- and look out the window,” he began gesturing vaguely to the window in question, “it’ll be like we’re in a terrarium instead.”
It wasn’t funny, not even slightly, and you could tell he didn’t think so either. But, you smiled through quiet tears and responded in kind; “the opposite of a planetarium.”
Lips quirking up, he squeezed your arms once before steering you onto his sofa. Melting into the soft upholstery, you hummed at the relief of changed plans. You loved exploring new places with Spencer, he was like your own personal tour guide wherever you ventured, but an evening in the familiar confines of his home was often unbeatable.
Spencer didn’t join you right away, moving to his kitchen and clanging about as you settled into comfort. Eyes dropping shut, you let your head fall back against the pillows and tried your best to relax the tense set of your shoulders. Spencer’s softer footsteps, his shoes now discarded likely beside the door, alerted you to his reappearance. Cracking a single eye open you broke into a smile as he handed you a mug. Steam rolled from the mug in curling waves, the vapour filling your nose with the pleasant sweetness of cocoa and you thanked him immediately. “How is it you always know how to make me feel better?”
Smiling warmly down to you, he quipped an answer that did raise a chuckle from your downturned lips. “Simple mathematics.” He paired the statement with wiggling fingers as though he had just finished some spectacular magic trick; the motion warmed you almost as much as the mug you clutched.
Patting the spot next to you, you sidled closer to him as he took direction and settled beside you. Sending a slow, cooling breath over the scalding contents of the mug, you quirked a brow at him. “Math? How does that work?”
Cupping his own mug between his hands, the small ceramic surface almost entirely disappearing beneath his grip, he settled back as he explained. “Well, over the time that we’ve known each other I’ve gathered ‘data’ about your likes and dislikes.” You twisted in your seat as he explained, letting your back rest against the arm of his sofa to allow you watch him entirely. “Over time I’ve noticed what makes you happy when you’re feeling down - it’s different depending on what’s upset you.” He lowered one hand to rest warmly over your ankle as you stretched your feet onto his lap. “Today, I knew you were feeling overwhelmed so it was a reasonable estimate that you would want to stay home.”
You sunk further into the sofa and nodded. Your returning words were caught in your throat at the fact that he had referred to his apartment as your home; a pleasant flutter of your heart meeting the sentiment. Home. it felt right. When you untangled your tongue, the giddiness still tinged your words. “In short,” you started, daring to sip the still steaming liquid before you finished, “you pay attention.”
Squeezing your ankle, he gave a hearty laugh and a sheepish nod in response. A comfortable silence settled over the pair of you then, only the cautious slurping sips of hot chocolate punctuated the pleasant companionship of quiet.
When you had drained your mug, the drink spreading a pleasant warmth through your chest, you shifted position again. Carefully, you moved your feet - aware his mug was still half full - and shifted to lean into his chest. Subtly, he shifted his own position to provide you with greater comfort. Head now leant against his chest, you smiled at the steady rhythm of his heart. “Spencer?” you asked, enjoying the way your voice seemed almost muted in the still air.
“Yeah?” His hand dropped lightly onto your hair, smoothing over it before his fingertips rubbed light circles over your temples.
“Tell me something.” You murmured, eyes falling closed against his ministrations. “Something fascinating like you always do.“
Fingertips not stalling against your request, his mind too quick to stutter, he quickly responded. “You know,” he began musingly, tone suggestive of a wandering mind, “the English language lacks quite a few adjectives.”
“Like what?” You asked, gaze settled on his features as your fingertips toyed with his shirt.
His gaze roamed over the window, the rain now battering the pane of glass more dramatically, and his lips quirked up at the edges. Looking down at you, eyes warm upon you, he murmured an unfamiliar word in the space between you. “Gluggavedur,” you raised your eyebrows in silent question, “it’s the comfort of watching bad weather from a window.”
You smiled and turned your gaze to the window. Under your breath you repeated the word, your pronunciation shaky at best, and nodded in some kind of agreement. “I like that,” you told him, tone low to match his. “Do you know any more?”
An arm curled around you, pulling you closer and you buried yourself further into his side. “Gezellig,” he told you, the word unusual to your ears but sounding sweet in his timbre.
You waited in the warm silence for him to elaborate but he seemed almost shy to. Eventually, curiosity pushed you to ask, “what does that mean?”
Head tilting, his cheek coming to rest against the crown of your head, he breathed a slow sigh before responding. “It’s the comfort of coziness with someone you love.”
The words registered in your mind, a cozy warmth spreading from your chest to the very tips of your toes. You had never considered that specific type of comfort before. He was right, unsurprisingly, there was a specific type of comfort that curled around you when you were with someone you loved. When you were with him.
Your eyes drifted back from the window to his features. His head shifted at your movement and caramel eyes met yours. Hand delicately tracing from his chest to his cheek, you moved up to softly press your lips against his. The kiss was hoped to press your gratitude into him. You pulled away, only very slightly, and whispered a response. “I like that one the most.”
He smiled down at you, a relief washing over his features as he watched the stress melt from you. “Thank you,” you murmured to him in the cozy air between you.
“For what?” He asked, genuinely unsure. How could he not know how grateful you were for every little thing he did for you?
Shaking your head lightly at his question, at the confused crinkle between his eyebrows, you kissed him again. Your stresses still existed, some problems couldn’t be solved in a day, but in this sweet moment with him the burden seemed a little less heavy
Summary: When you and Spencer share a room, you wonder over how inevitable the actions of the next hours are.
A/N: I feel like this is super long and I know for a fact it’s super self-indulgent. Not to spoil what we all knew was coming but this is also 18+. Let me know what you think!
“So, uh-“ Spencer’s voice cut off prematurely as the door swung open to reveal the small room the two of you were about to share. Clearing his throat, voice cracking with dryness as he spoke once more, he ducked his head. “This is it.”
Your eyes darted frenetically between his downcast gaze and the cosy room before you. “Nice,” you said stupidly. Silence stretched between you, your single word seeming to cement the tension in the air rather than dispelling it as you had hoped. Realising that one of you needed to take the leap and actually step into the room, you squared your shoulders and took that step forward. It felt as though you were hurling yourself into the sun considering the way the heat burned through you as he stepped in behind you and clicked the door closed.
Steeling yourself, you dropped your bag and turned to face him. As much as you had planned to say something witty and charming, something that would fully break the tension between the two of you, the moment your eyes met his you realised any attempt would be fruitless. The last few days of playful teasing had created a heat between you that wasn’t going to dissipate with a few well selected words.
You had a feeling that there was only one way the tension between you would be relieved.
Eyes darting around, clearly looking for something to distract his suddenly fidgeting hands, he saw your discarded bag and rushed forward. Hefting it into his hands, he bundled past you and towards the bed closest to the window.
Dropping your bag beside the neatly made bed, he nodded his head once to himself before turning back to you. “You – uh – you can take this bed.” He explained, only a light stutter tarring the words.
Casting a gaze over the bed and the space around it, you raised an eyebrow with a realisation. The bed was perfectly made, the other bed seeming messy in comparison, and the bedside table held a stack of three heavy hardbacks that Morgan would never look twice at, let alone read. “This is your bed?”
He looked from the bed to you and back again, seeming to realise what it sounded like he was implying. “Oh – um,” his features scrunched and he looked as though he were thinking very hard about something. “It’s just this bed is the furthest from the door so in the case of an intruder you would be the second target giving you ample time to escape or call for help or-or…” he stuttered and stalled entirely as you approached him.
Grasping the wrist of the hand that was half raised in some kind of gesture, you looked down to his hands even as your thumb swiped over his wrist. “You expecting an intruder?”
His hand turned under yours, palm flipping up to allow his fingers grip your palm. Unlike yours, his eyes did not shift up to meet yours, they remained fixed on your hand in his. “It’s just a precaution.” He still refused to look up at you, second hand coming up to nervously straighten the cuff of your shirt sleeve. “The electrical locking system of most hotels is actually much less secure than their more classical analogue counterpart. Picking a barrel lock requires much more skill than-“He paused when you slipped your hand free and moved towards the door before he powered through the hesitation. “Than – um – digital locks becau-“ He completely stalled as you gripped the table beside the door and hefted it over the door. “What are you doing?”
Grinning at him as you finished placing the table, you snatched a dusty glass vase from the sideboard. “Learnt this trick from Emily,” you told him, balancing the vase on the very edge of the table, “if someone comes in the vase will fall and smash, waking us both up.”
He mirrored your bright smile with a particularly subdued one of his own. “It’s doubtful the vase would smash, the carpeted floor would provide enough of a cushion to keep it in tact.”
“Right,” you muttered in response, wondering how you could shift this conversation away from the hypothetical intruder the two of you were supposedly going to face. Inspiration struck you quickly and a devilish smile twisted your lips; “hey Reid?”
The glint in your eye clearly sent alarm bells ringing through his head if the bobbing of his adam’s apple were any indication.
“Yeah?” He asked, hoarsely.
Slowly, you sidled back towards him. “What d’you reckon Morgan did to his back?”
Brown eyes narrowed on you, gaze flicking between both your eyes as he tried to calculate where you were going with this. You couldn’t blame him for his confusion, you were taking a very roundabout route to your destination but you were hoping it would prove worthwhile.
“I’m not sure,” Spencer told you plainly. You briefly wondered if he housed the same suspicions as you concerning Morgan’s sudden inability to share a room.
Reaching him once more, you watched the way he quickly shoved his hands into his pockets and smiled up at him. The movement was casual enough that you could dismiss it but the way he subtly rocked back and forth on his heels told you that the motion was more a nervous one.
“You could’ve helped him with that, couldn’t you, doc?”
And then, he fell right into your trap.
“I’m not actually a medical doctor,” he told you, as if you didn’t know. “Although, if the problem is muscular rather than skeletal he would probably require a good masseuse.” You couldn’t help but smile as he led the conversation right where you had hoped he would.
“One of your PHDs isn’t in massage then?”
Apprehension overtook him. “Ah – no.”
You shrugged, undoing his tie with nimble fingers and pulling it free. As you pulled the fabric from him it pulled him ever so slightly closer to you and he hardly made an effort to prevent the motion. You could feel his staggered breath spill warmth over your lips and you fumbled slightly with his tie as you worked up the courage for your next move.
“Well, I could teach you?” Your suggestion was met with a gaze that swept over your figure and neither of you paid much attention to where you threw his tie.
The hoarseness of his voice caused a dryness of your own throat, anticipation tasting sweet in your mouth. “You don’t have to do that.”
Shrugging, left hand smoothing over his chest where the tie had been, you gave a response. “You tried to teach me to speed read a few days ago,” you heavily emphasised the word tried, earning a laugh from the man before you, “consider this payback?”
Lips darting out to wet his lips, he nodded softly.
Beaming in response, your plan falling into place so perfectly around you, you patted his chest pointedly. “Sit down, doc.”
Nervousness practically poured from him but he followed your instruction; perching on the edge of the bed so precariously you were surprised he didn’t fall off.
Spencer’s gaze followed your movement until you disappeared behind him, at which point his hands clenched together in his lap. You clambered onto the bed behind him, your own more subtle nerves making the movement clumsier than you would have liked, and knelt behind him.
The tense set of his shoulders was the opposite effect that you had been hoping to have. Beneath the first touch of your hands they somehow stiffened even more. Lightly working your thumbs into the surprisingly substantial knots of his upper back, you leaned forward to murmur close to his ear. “Spencer, relax.”
He let out an extended breath that shook with a mix of laughter and something more promising. The laughter did soften his shoulders beneath your ministrations. “What?” You questioned softly.
Beginning to melt into you, his head fell back just enough for you to watch his eyes fall closed. “You just-“ he cut himself off as he hummed with satisfaction; the noise sending your tongue sweeping over your lips. “You don’t use my name that often.”
He didn’t seem to notice how much he had just given away; the possibilities that pooled in your mind at the power he had unknowingly just handed you. You gave no verbal reply but your hands became more insistent in their attempt at drawing more hums of pleasure from him.
“Does that feel good?” You asked lowly, raising on your knees slightly to gain a height advantage.
Almost unconsciously, his head fell back farther: resting against you now and you smiled down at his closed eyes. “Yeah,” he told you, the word becoming breathy almost immediately, before he mumbled out more confirmation “feels good.”
In all the time you had known him, you had never seen him so unrestrained, so relaxed. You almost didn’t want to ruin it by pushing this further but when his now blown eyes opened to find you, you changed your mind. The gaze that had found you, however briefly, was filled with a dark promise you had never expected to find.
You let one hand trail upwards from the back of his neck, fingers working through his hair and nails lightly scratching his scalp. The noise of satisfaction that one simple action pulled from him bolstered your confidence enough to let your other hand slip softly down his chest.
As you undid his second top button, letting your fingertips tease the skin of his chest, you gave an obvious excuse for your actions. “Massages are more effective without a shirt in the way,” he swallowed thickly at your words, “do you mind?”
To begin with, he shook his head that he didn’t mind, eyes squeezing shut. But, as you undid the next button and let your entire hand slip beneath his shirt, his hands stopped you.
Pausing immediately, you looked questioningly down to him. His fingers were flexing where they held your wrist, eyes squeezing shut before opening to settle on you with scrunched eyebrows. All clear signs of hesitation.
You were making your desire for him more than obvious at this point, you supposed that some of your actions over the previous days could be explained away with enough mental gymnastics, but with your hand under his shirt it was impossible to ignore. So, what was making him hesitate so much?
After a moment apparently warring with himself, he gave your wrist a final squeeze and forced some words out. “The best way to learn a new skill is…” he looked down at your wrist caught in his hand briefly before daring to meet your eye once more, “practice.”
Now, that was promising. Realising that, for his sake, you were going to have to give up some of your control of this situation - you pulled your hands back. Unable to completely retract from him without attempting to send his thoughts into a spiral, you leaned close to his ear one last time.
“Where do you want me?”
He remained for a brief pause, shifting in his seat while his eyes darted back and forth over the thoughts in his head. Eventually, he stood and you almost pouted at the cool air he left behind.
Sitting back on your heels, leaving your palms resting on your knees, you blinked innocently up at him. Considering the way his eyes widened at the sight of you kneeling before him, it was a wonder you kept a victorious smirk from breaking your show of faux innocence.
Recovering himself, Spencer vaguely gestured for you to turn around. Following instruction without daring to tease him further, you turned and shuffled backwards until your back was flush to the edge of the bed.
Now that you couldn’t see him, anticipation killed you. He didn’t move to you immediately but you could hear him shifting behind you. Without seeing his face you couldn’t tell whether he was purposefully dragging this out to make you squirm or if his nerves were getting the better of him.
The anticipation made your skin tingle and when he finally touched you you felt as though you might explode. Immediately, you sank into his touch with a contented sigh. This small sound he pulled from you seemed to bolster his confidence and his hands became firmer.
You weren’t sure if he genuinely was just a quick study, although that wouldn’t surprise you, or if he had lied about not knowing how to do this. His hands, that you had been so drawn to for the last few days, genuinely seemed magic. Your shoulders dropped and your back relaxed as he worked your muscles perfectly, the warmth of his hands pushing comfort into you. You practically melted beneath him.
You let out a mewl of contentment that stalled his hands, sending them gripping you with an urgency that he couldn’t hope to hide. The breath he heaved out ruffled your hair and you suddenly realised how close he had become to you.
Daring to lean back slightly, trusting him to not let you fall, you sighed as his hands began to move once more. As much as you were enjoying melting beneath his ministrations, you were hoping he would dare to push this further.
Impatience picked at you however, your body unwilling to wait now that you knew how well his hands could work you, and you took action. Nerves did try to halt you; what you were about to do would either push this interaction to where you really wanted it to go or would stop it entirely.
Throwing caution to the wind, reassuring yourself with the memories of how he had looked at you earlier, you tilted your head back. Head resting against him, you let your eyes fall shut and hoped he was looking down at your expression.
Biting your lip you let a muffled moan slip free. The noise wasn’t a complete lie, you did feel incredible right now, but it was a definite exaggeration. Then, using the weapon he had so carelessly given you earlier, you let a few breathy words escape you. “Oh, Spencer, that feels so good.”
What sounded like a high whine got caught in his throat but instead of falling into you like you had hoped he would, he fell away from you. It took you a moment to right yourself, considering how heavily you had been leaning against him you almost fell off the bed entirely, and by the time you turned to face him he had sat on the bed opposite you.
His elbows rested against his knees as his body fell forward and his hands rubbed harshly against his eyes. Guilt tore through you, he looked so uncomfortable.
Pulling your knees into your chest, you hugged yourself to try and forestall the discomfort now pulling at you. “Sorry,” you told him so quickly the word came out almost unintelligible. “I’m just y’know overstressed and- and like everything else you - you’re really good at that-“
Luckily, he cut off your words before they could devolve even further into rambling insanity. “You-“ he started awkwardly, lips pressed together as he tried to force his words out. “You’ve been flirting with me?” he finished quietly, eyes never quite reaching yours.
Why he phrased that as a question you weren’t sure. Had he not been paying attention the last few days? It was obvious. You didn’t bother denying it; “yeah, I- I have been,” you told him, nodding slowly as you tried to figure out what had gone so wrong.
Finally, he managed to catch your gaze. His eyes weren’t guarded as you had feared, they were still warm and open - never closing to you. “Is it…” Spencer was struggling so much getting these words out that you wished you could just read his mind and save him from the stress. Alas, you could not work out what was happening in that brain of his. “It’s just…” he wrung his hands together. “Are you just curious?” He rushed out eventually, words jumbling together in his rush. “Just for-for a night or do you…”
He really was struggling to force this out but, luckily for him, you had worked out where his meandering words were headed. “Spencer,” you breathed out, his shoulders dropping as he realised he was no longer expected to keep talking. Standing from your spot on the bed, you took a few steps to stand in the space before him. “You wanna date me.”
You didn’t need to ask and so you gave it as a statement. His hesitance and uncertainty now made perfect sense; his attraction to you was more than skin deep and he didn’t want to misread the situation.
He held your gaze, pressed his lips together, and nodded silently.
Finally gaining this confirmation, you smiled brightly down at him. You bounced the last step to him, hands framing his face to keep him looking up at you as you let a gleeful laugh free. At your expression, he finally smiled.
Bending at the hip, you brought your face close to his. Your lips brushed his as you murmured a single word. “Good,” you punctuated the word with your lips, a soft kiss that quickly became more as a large hand gripped you and pulled you closer.
Your noise of surprise was swallowed by his lips as his second hand curled snugly around your waist. His previous nerves and uncertainty had disappeared entirely; replaced with a casual confidence that was evident in the way he pulled you into his lap.
From your new perch straddling the doctor you quickly realised why he had sat bent so awkwardly forwards earlier. Giggling into his kiss, you gave a whine when he responded by pulling his lips away. They didn’t stray far, one hand tugged through your hair to tilt your head back while his lips worked down your neck.
When you had started this venture with Spencer you had expected him to be nervous, almost clumsy, but it seemed that the moment you confirmed your long term interest in him he let go of any anxiety. The way he let his hands roam your figure while he worked on marking your neck thrilled you.
You worked the remainder of his buttons free whilst your brain still functioned well enough not to fumble. At the feel of your palms against his chest his own hands started pulling greedily at your shirt.
“I’ve wanted to get you out of this all day,” he all but growled out, the stubbornness of your buttons clearly frustrating his usually perfect dexterity.
“You don’t like it?” Pressing against him, making the task ahead of him a little more difficult, you shifted your hips as though you didn’t know the effect it would have on him. “I wore it just for you.”
Hands leaving your shirt, the buttons very much still done up, he squeezed your thighs meaningfully. “Oh, I know.” The words were almost drowned out by your yelp of surprise as he hefted you upwards. Locking your legs around his torso, you let one of your hands grip his hair as you pulled his lips back to yours.
A gasp was pulled from you as your back hit a mattress with such force you bounced a few times. Shuffling up to rest on your elbows, you marvelled at the imposing way he was looking down at you. His large height was no surprise to you but the way he looked over you now was intimidating in the best way. “Much better,” he commented - smugness dripping from his tone.
Excitement tingled through you at this bold Spencer you had never encountered before. He dropped on top of you, arms caging you in as a more skilled hand pulled your buttons free.
It was interesting; when he was in a position of control over you he seemed much more confident in his every ministration but flip the scenario and he became a fumbling mess beneath you.
The possibilities were endless for the future trysts that were to hopefully come, but your mind was thrown back into the moment at the feel of his rough palms against your bare stomach. “You’ve been teasing me with this all day,” he murmured against your collarbone, lithe finger hooking underneath the middle band of your bra.
“Mhm,” you hummed, wiggling beneath him in an attempt to push him to touch you in one of the places begging for his attention. “Didn’t think you noticed.” That was an obvious lie.
From the smirk he shot up at you from his new position over your abdomen, it was clear he caught the mistruth too. “No?” He questioned, the warm breath that spilt over your stomach sending a pleasant shiver through your figure. “You haven’t been thinking about this?” He punctuated the question with fingertips dragging over your stomach, a deliberate delicacy in the action that sent you writhing beneath him. Your reaction did nothing but embolden him further. “You weren’t wondering how good my hands would feel?” Your tongue couldn’t quite form words of affirmation around your shallow breaths.
If you had known it would be like this you would have pounced on him sooner.
His fingers skirted beneath the waistband of your pants but immediately returned to your stomach despite your whining protest. Spencer had the audacity to laugh down at you, taking a moment to watch you mewl beneath him and likely saving the image to remember perfectly until the very end of time.
“Spencer,” you complained when his hands stilled upon you entirely.
He jerked back into action, having seemingly forgotten himself as he had watched you, and tugged more insistently at your pants.
Lifting your legs, impatience begging you to help him undress you, you almost shivered as the cool air kissed the skin of your legs. You did shiver when his hands warmed your thighs, his insistent grip tugging you closer. Unwilling to let him take complete control of the situation, keeping the playfulness of the previous days alive even in this heated exchange, you pulled your legs free.
Caging him in with your thighs slung over his hips you used his figure as leverage to pull yourself up. Hands slipping over his shoulders you pushed his shirt from him. Nails lightly marking over his shoulders you pulled his lips to yours. You teased him - cutting off the kiss just as he was falling entirely into it by pulling back as your hands worked his belt; his bottom lip trapped beneath your teeth until you decided to release it.
Just as your hand dipped beneath the waistband of his slacks, he harshly gripped at your arms halting you. A challenging gaze met yours, one eyebrow quirking at you even as his lips couldn’t keep from raising in a smirk.
Slowly, he leaned into you. Eyes dropping to your lips, gaze lingering there as his low voice murmured hoarsely to you. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time,” the phrase was punctuated with your gasp as he pushed you heavily back. Still knelt over you, his hands washed over your thighs - dragging slowly over the supple skin but lingering longer as he spoke darkly. “So, this is gonna go exactly,” as he spoke his fingers slipped beneath the thin fabric of your underwear and you could practically see his ego inflate at the wetness already pooled there, “how I want it to go.”
You tried to squirm but it merely worked to slow his swirling fingers. He had been right earlier; you had spent the past days entirely distracted with thoughts of how his hands would feel on you but nothing in your wildest fantasies could have lived up to the way his fingers worked you. “Did you hear me?” You heard his voice through the haze of your own pleasure but were only able to give a response when his hands purposefully stilled.
“M’kay,” you whined, tugging at his wrist in a pathetic attempt to get him to move.
The ministrations continued, the sensations overwhelming but he never pushed you close enough to that precipice you were quickly becoming desperate to fall from. From the smugness overtaking him you could tell he was fully aware of how unfair he was being. “What was that?” He pushed.
It was shocking, really, how powerless he had so swiftly made you. You enjoyed this shift in the power dynamic between you, however, and considering how he was already making you feel you were more than willing to let him take the reigns. In fact, you couldn’t stop the words that spilled so desperately from your lips. “Ah- Spencer- please!”
Just as you were on the precipice of collapsing into yourself, he stopped again. His free hand moved up to grip your chin, turning you to face him, and two lithe fingers tapped your cheek in silent instruction to open the eyes you had not noticed falling closed. When he held your desired gaze, he spoke slowly to you; “please, what?”
“Spencer…” you whined again, hoping his name alone would earn you your release. Pointedly, he swiped his slicked fingers over your clit once, but only once. You bucked at the movement but quickly gave in to his request. Locking a determined gaze on him, you begged him with as much authority as the words could allow. “Spencer, please let me cum.”
You couldn’t decipher whether it was victory or desire that splashed a new darkness into his caramel eyes, but you couldn’t think to care when his ministrations restarted in force. “Do you really think you deserve to?” The finger that slipped inside of you certainly didn’t match up with his question but you nodded into the sensation regardless.
“Y-yes, I do.” You managed between gasping breaths as a second finger joined the first. If he kept going with the relentless pace he had set it soon wouldn’t matter whether you really deserved to cum or not.
If he noticed the rapid approach of your orgasm he did nothing to prevent it. If anything he sent you careening to it more quickly when his thumb stretched up to circle your clit whilst his fingers curled deliciously inside you. “Is this what you imagined?”
The tone of the question demanded an answer and you nodded up at him. The hand that had gripped your chin relented only for his thumb to swipe over your lips as he demanded verbalisation; “use your words.”
“No,” you told him honestly, his answering hesitation quickly abated by your next gasping words, “this is better.”
He rewarded your honesty by redoubling his efforts. The hand on your face trailed down to harshly pull the fabric of your bra out of his way. The delicious combination of his hand roughly kneading your breasts, blunted nails leaving half-moons in the tender flesh, alongside his fingers curling inside of you finally sent you over the edge.
Both hands tightly gripped his arm as you came. You felt so awash with the crest of pleasure you had crashed into that you needed to anchor yourself to him just to stay present. The feeling was so intense you couldn’t be sure if any noise managed to leave you, you knew your mouth had opened as though to moan wantonly but the blood rushing through your ears and the euphoria washing over your thoughts made it hard to tell.
Eventually, the tides of pleasure slowed to ebbing waves. They were present, obvious in the way you would twitch every so often, but the world slowly came back into focus. Unsurprisingly, the first thing your gaze settled upon was Spencer.
Satisfaction was written clearly over his features as he looked over the mess he had already managed to make of you. You jolted visibly as he withdraw his fingers from you and swallowed thickly as you watched him lick them clean. Considering the stratospheric orgasm you had just returned from it was unfair how quickly that single salacious action made you needy for more. You were almost certain that Spencer would be the death of you.
You barely cared if he knew it at this point.
Gripping his wrist, you forced the fingers from his mouth and pulled him closer to you. “Spencer, I need you to fuck me right now.”
He pulled back despite your protests but you settled your complaints when he pulled your underwear entirely off. The noise of his clinking belt provided a kind of musical backdrop for the low timbre of his voice as he spoke next. “You’re not satisfied?”
It was clear in his tone that he more than knew the answer to this question and that your honest answer would hand him any power you had managed to hold onto this far. But you simply did not care.
“I don’t think I could ever get enough of you.” You told him, your earnestness unexpected but entirely honest in this moment.
He leant into you, a lingering kiss pressed to your lips as a hand swept the hair from you face. The moment was slower than those that had preceded it, a sweetness pervading the entire exchange, but it didn’t seem to alter the flow of your intimacy. If anything, it ramped up the heat between you even further; considering the warm ache quickly forming between your thighs it was hard to believe that you had justorgasmed.
His lips distracted you entirely; too wrapped up in him, as you were, to notice that he had freed himself from his slacks. You broke from his lips with a more than audible gasp when you felt him enter you, but he stopped his progress immediately when you squeezed your eyes shut. “No, look at me.”
With great effort, you forced a steady gaze on him. He had barely breached you but you could hardly keep still as he pushed deeper. Considering the heated days that had led up to this moment his self control was impressive; every millimetre he inched forward was slow, measured. His eyes roaming your features, finding every slight reaction you gave him and savouring the sight.
You had had enough. Using the only slight leverage he had allowed you, you rocked your hips purposefully to meet him. Grip tightening on your thighs his head caved into your neck as he choked on a groan.
Now, with him bottomed out inside you, you realised why he had been so torturously slow. His large hands had always made your mind wander, however inappropriately, and consider the size of him. With your walls now deliciously stretched around him, you had your answer. Despite your rush to experience him, you were glad for his patience, your body needed time to relax around his size.
Spencer aided this adjustment with a finger swiping purposefully over your clit and his mouth moving over yours. Melting into him, body quickly becoming pliable to him, you shifted your hips in a quiet indication that you were ready and waiting.
When he shifted it was only slightly but it still drew a throaty whine from you. Spencer’s own low voice joined your unintelligible noise, a delicious curse falling from his lips; “fuck.”
Your memory was hardly faultless like his, but you were sure you had never heard him swear before. There was no doubt you would remember hearing such dirty words in his familiar timbre. After all, the way he said just that one word was already ingrained in your mind after a single iteration.
“Why does that sound so good when you say it?” His reply was non-verbal but seemed to somehow answer your question regardless. He pulled back, almost entirely leaving you, before slamming forwards in a sudden, sharp movement that filled you entirely. Your back arched into him, your arms gripping him instinctively - desperate to pull him somehow closer still.
The forceful pace he set was indicative of the slow but burning heat that had built and built and built over the past days. One of his large hands pushed your left hip, keeping you from squirming beneath him, whilst the other framed your features as his mouth dropped to your neck.
Sloppily, his lips and tongue worked over your hammering pulse. The delicacy of his actions disappearing alongside the harshness of his thrusts. You could feel the peak of pleasure building inside you once again, the friction of his action pushing you closer and closer but never close enough. You let your hand wander down the small space between your bodies, fingers quickly finding your clit and working yourself desperately to the edge.
His head raised from your neck, molten eyes meeting yours before darting down to where your fingers worked circles over your clit. His own hand shot down, smacking yours carelessly out of the way, and worked over you. Something about his fingers, his calloused fingertips upon you, was more addictive than any pleasure you could bring yourself.
“Oh god…” was the only warning you could give before you dove headfirst into another toe curling orgasm. You knew well enough by now that he would want your eyes on him as you rode through your high and so you let his warm eyes overtake your vision.
Your walls clenched around him, pulling him in further and you could tell he wasn’t far behind you. When your name repeatedly spilled from him like a nonsensical prayer, he collapsed forward and pressed his lips harshly to yours. He came with a shudder and a groan against you before he slowed his movements entirely.
The air of the room was then bathed in a subtle quiet, punctuated only by the slowing puffs of breath as the pair of you basked in your shared afterglow. Your hands skittered up and down his back, one of them moving higher to press softly into his hair and you smiled as he hummed with appreciation.
Eventually, even the satisfaction he had just brought you could do nothing to ease the growing heaviness of him on top of you. “Spencer,” you murmured, lips grazing his temple as you turned to face him, “you’re heavy.”
He lifted his head, a smirk shot at you before his lips grazed your temple, then your cheek, then your lips, and finally your forehead. The action was so saccharine after the intensity that you had just shared that you couldn’t help but giggle at the pleasant juxtaposition.
You shuddered as he pulled himself from you. When he left you the relief of his weight leaving you was quickly overwhelmed with disappointment as he left the bed entirely. You pouted. Seeming to sense your gaze upon him, he turned back to you even as he continued into the bathroom. “I’m coming back!” He reassured, the words almost tinny as they bounced to you from the tiled bathroom.
The faucet ran briefly, the struggle of the water evident in the creaking of copper pipes, before he reappeared. Something warm wormed it’s way into your chest as you spotted the flannel clutched in his hand and you sank into the bed as he approached. His weight shifted the bed and you looked up at him with a shyness that didn’t suit the situation.
Lightly he lifted one leg. Kissing your calf he lightly dragged the flannel down the inside of your thigh.
How and why such shyness was overtaking you at this point you weren’t sure. It was just… cleaning you up after having made such a mess of you seemed almost more intimate than what you had shared before.
“Are you gonna sleep next to me?” You were almost afraid to ask; the question seemed ridiculous but you just wanted to be sure.
His ministrations paused, the flannel discarded somewhere out of sight as he let soft hands wander over your smooth skin. “If you’ll let me.”
You laughed, relief washing through you. “Spencer,” you began coyly, “I just let you fuck me into the mattress, there’s not much I wouldn’t let you do.”
Grinning down at you, excitement sparkling in his eyes, he moved to stretch out beside you. “C’mere,” he murmured, hands pulling you into him as sleepy eyes fluttered shut.
————————————
You had bounced into the hotel restaurant the next morning, a quickly cooling coffee now sitting before you that you didn’t feel any need to drink. Spencer had waited upstairs before joining you; you had decided it would be too suspicious for the pair of you to arrive at breakfast together despite the fact that there was no reason for such a trivial action to rouse suspicion. If anything, your avoidance of arriving together would be moretelling.
And so, he was still struggling against the coffee machine whilst you sat happily at a table with Morgan and JJ.
“How was your night?” The question jolted you, head jerking to face Morgan before you spluttered out a reply.
“Uh- yeah - fine.” You tried to dismiss your obvious fluster with a wave of your hand.
Morgan nodded thoughtfully before tilting his head to face JJ, an expectant eyebrow raised. Ignoring his gaze, the woman looked at you closely. Eyes sweeping over your features, giving no answer to the questioning gaze you shot her, she deflated.
Leaning to her left she hefted her heavy bag into her lap and began digging through it. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you,” she told you, confusing you even more so, “but I hate it when Morgan’s right.”
As she spoke she pulled a twenty dollar bill free from her bag and handed it unhappily to Morgan.
“Thank you,” he gave her smugly, pinching the cash from her fingers.
Mouth dropping open, you realised exactly what they had bet on and dropped your gaze to examine yourself. You had been so careful; covering any marks he may have left on you with long sleeves and perfectly taming your mess of hair. What had given you away?!
JJ didn’t need to be asked for an answer. “I’ve never seen you this happy in the morning, not ever.” She stressed the last word as though you weren’t aware of this fact. “And before your coffee too? It’s obvious.”
You opened your mouth to come up with some vague mistruth that could save you but Spencer’s voice cut you off.
“What’s going on?” He asked, cluelessly, as he moved to sit beside you.
Summary: You and Spencer continue your subtle back and forth over a few days. The weather, of all things, brings the tension between you to a boiling point. Trying to keep your flirtations quiet from a team of profilers is not as simple as you had hoped.
A/N: I think there will be a part 3 of this so please let me know if you’re interested! I can’t reply to comments because this is not my primary account (tumblr is weird) but I read them all, hence this part 2!
The weather had finally broken. A humidity remained but the rain barrelling against the windows of the car cooled the environment well enough. The downside of this sudden torrential downpour, however, was that you had just arrived back at the police station and you needed to head inside. The parking directly outside of the station was seemingly reserved for low-level deputies and you had been forced to park across the street. Peering out into the street through the fogged window, you grit your teeth. There seemed to be a river between you and your destination.
“I love my job,” you grumbled to yourself as you clicked the door open. The roar of the rain became almost overwhelming as you opened the door against it. Before you had even taken a step down onto the pavement you could feel your clothes sticking fast to your slicked skin, soaking through every layer in a matter of moments. The sound of your rushed steps towards the station were entirely drowned out by the hammering of the rain and you couldn’t even hear your own voice cursing against the stubbornness of the heavy front door.
The door swung shut behind you, allowing the more subtle sound of your soaked clothes drip-drip dripping against the linoleum floor to invade your ears. The noise an unnecessary reminder of how soaked through you were. You took a few steps into the building and cringed against the sound of your horribly squeaking shoes. Even your leather boots had not endured the downpour, wet toes wiggling in sodden socks.
You stopped mid-step and took a second to feel entirely sorry for yourself.
Frowning down at your, likely ruined, shoes you bent to unzip them. The combination of the wet floor, that you had so carelessly been the cause of, and your general lack of anything resembling balance became a deadly combination. You tottered to the side almost immediately, left arm shooting up in a fruitless attempt to correct yourself and you grimaced as you felt yourself begin to tip entirely to the side.
“Woah,” a pair of hands narrowly kept you from whacking your head on the side of a desk. As you let the hands right you, you sighed a grateful thanks before looking up to identify your saviour. Warm eyes met yours, in sharp contrast to the stinging chill of the rain that clung to you, and Spencer took care to not remove his hands. As much as the warmth of them did prevent you from shivering, the already thin fabric of your shirt seemed to provide no barrier between his large hand and your bare skin. The feeling inspired a need within you to find out what his hands would feel like touching you somewhere else, everywhere else.
You shivered visibly. Spencer, thankfully, seemed to attribute this motion to your current condition but truthfully you felt so suddenly warm that you barely noticed the cold press of your clothes. “Are you okay?” He asked hastily, full of an earnest concern that sent your lips twitching upwards. “You’re-“ he cut himself off instantly as his eyes dropped to your figure. Tongue swiping over his lips, he hurried out a word that likely hadn’t been his original intention; “wet.” His voice had dropped an octave from one word to the next, a raspy nature to his tone that you had never had the pleasure of hearing before, and his gaze jumped back up to yours almost guiltily.
The white shirt you had worn had, in fact, originally been for his benefit. Pairing it with a lacy black bra that you had hoped would provide him with distraction whenever you happened to be in the right lighting had been your more modest plan of action. It had worked, delectably well, and you were certain he knew that it had been purposeful.
After the third instance of catching his eyes on your figure, lips parted ever so slightly in an almost awestruck manner, he had started an assault of his own. A large palm on the small of your back as he moved past you, beckoning you over to him with a pair of crooked fingers, and even licking his thumb and forefinger before leafing through papers. Matching your gaze in silent challenge each time, of course.
But, now, the rain had seemingly decided the subtlety of the last few days should come to an end. The fabric of your shirt was now almost entirely see through, the fabric clinging to your figure in a way that Spencer clearly appreciated if the tightening of his hands upon your arms was any indication.
The frustration he had built in you over the past few days injected a boldness into your next actions. Dropping your chin slightly, you looked up at him through batting lashes, and murmured your response. “Mhm,” you assented, “I’m wet all over.”
A noise caught in his throat at your obvious implication, hand clenching and unclenching on your arm as his lips fumbled and struggled over a response he never managed to give. Before his lips could form the words he had worked so hard to find, his eyes left you completely and followed the movement of someone else.
Recognising that one of the few things that could pull his attention so entirely from you was somebody else looking at you the same way hehad been, you followed his gaze with an aggravated curiosity. Sure enough, an officer you had not even been introduced to had more than noticed the nature of your shirt. Quickly, he shrunk beneath yours and the doctor’s less than impressed attention and hurried off chastened.
Standing up straighter, Spencer moved closer to you and his eyes darted over the room to ensure that hiswas the only rapt attention upon you. You almost had to take a step back at how close he got to you, trying desperately to stifle the giggle that filled you as you realised he was trying to somehow hide you from sight with his own body. Looking down at you, expression lightening as he noted the breathless chuckle you didn’t manage to quash, he quickly asked; “do you have a change of clothes?”
Shaking your head no, you watched as he stepped back and fiddled with the hem of his sweater. Realising immediately what he was planning to do, and doubting entirely that you could physically handle being engulfed by the warmth of an item of his clothing, you immediately put your hands over his to halt him. “Reid, I’ll be fine, you don’t have to do that.”
Caramel eyes darting over your head in another sweeping check of the room, he shook his head and continued his pursuit of undressing. “It’s fine really,” the next words were muffled as the garment caught awkwardly over his head, “I don’t want you to get cold.”
You let your eyes sweep appraisingly over his lithe figure, watching him shift and move with an almost rapt fascination as he struggled, knowing those eyes stood no chance of catching you. Eventually, you moved forward to help him with gentle hands. “Let me help.”
The pair of you, working together, managed to free him. The garment was bundled in one of his large hands and he held it out for you to take. “Really it’s fine, my clothes will dry.” You half-heartedly rejected his offer, wondering if you could get him to admit the main reason he wanted to swaddle you in his sweater.
As much as you were usually able to fluster the words straight out of Spencer’s mind, this time he was surprisingly apt at holding it together. A testament to how much he wanted to ensure his welcomed gaze was the onlyone you received. “Actually, the wetness of your clothes can drop your body temperature as much as three degrees.” There was something so charming about his tone of voice when he fell into an explanation like this. Something so charming, in fact, that you took the sweater from his hand. “That might not seem like much but even the drop of a single degree can cause your body severe distress. You know most people don’t even realise it but it only takes an internal temperature drop of two degrees to cause hypothermia.”
“Huh, I didn’t know that.” Came your equally intelligent reply, your statement half muffled as you pulled the garment over your head. “You’ve convinced me, doc.”
In all of your attempts to fluster the man, all of your flirtatious looks and touches, you could never have predicted the incredible effect that the mere sight of you in his clothes would produce. There was something different in his response to you now though, instead of an intense heat behind his eyes there was something pure and joyful in his gaze. A true smile pulled his lips up, not like the smirks and grins you had earned before, his eyes crinkling in the corners with the motion.
Feeling suddenly self-conscious under this new type of gaze, you pulled your hands beneath the overlong sleeves of his sweater. “Better?” You asked, sudden shyness casting your eyes to your shifting feet before you forced them back up.
Unfortunately, his likely charming response was cut off by JJ’s approaching voice. “Hey, Spence,” she started, dragging your attention from each other as she came to a stop beside the pair of you, “Hotch wanted…” she trailed off as she noticed your state of dress. Eyebrows raising as she surveyed you, she could barely fight the smirk from her face. “What happened here?”
For the life of you, you couldn’t come up with the reasonable version of the events that had led to this. It wasall perfectly reasonable in reality, but somehow it still felt too salacious to share with someone else, and you stuttered through your reply.
Ever your hero, Spencer saved you from having to answer. “What did Hotch want?” He less than subtly redirected.
Flashing him the most grateful expression you could subtly muster, you pulled the collar of his sweater over your chin as you ducked your head. JJ didn’t seem to notice your expression, separating a stack of papers from the pile in her hands, but Spencer did. Again, there was a crinkle in the corner of his eyes as he smiled down at you – the papers JJ was trying to press into his hands ignored to the point that they almost fluttered to the floor in a messy pile. JJ caught them at the last minute, sending a huffing glance to the man as she pushed them more securely into his hands.
“Sorry,” he muttered, before looking to the papers with increasing interest. “I- uh- I’m gonna take a look at this?” He almost asked, looking at you as though for permission before rushing off as you nodded with a shrug,
You watched him go, nearly running into a detective as he kept his eyes on the paper, with a smile softening your features before JJ stepped into your line of sight. A smirk pulled her lips up as she looked over you with arched brows, “I need to know the story behind this.” Alongside her request, she pointedly waved her hands over your figure.
Judging by the knowing look in her eye, it seemed clear that your denial would do nothing but amuse her further. “I was cold,” you told her, hopelessly.
“Right,” she answered, over enunciating the single word to showcase her amusement.
——
The case wrapped up in a similar frenzy to the weather. Getting increasingly intense with every tick of the clock until, eventually, the unsub was in your custody. The local pd had taken over interrogation of the suspect, leaving the team to pack up and head home.
Except, the weather had other plans.
Instead of calming it continued to become erratic and unpredictable; rain beating against the windows as wind whistled through the gaps in the bottom of the door. According to Hotch’s phone, the weather was set to settle mid-morning tomorrow but the jet would be unable to take off until then.
The fast food Hotch had bought you all had softened the blow significantly. You had nearly finished, after the long day you had almost inhaled your food and were now sipping on a soda across from Reid. You had been forced to return his sweater, quite unhappily, to instead place a bulletproof vest over your chest. The vest itself had long since been removed, but it had felt too telling to ask for the sweater back.
The scraping sound of Morgan’s chair drew you from your thoughts and you watched as the man muttered a quick “be right back,” before marching over to Hotch who had just entered the room.
“What’s he up to?” You asked, curious gaze turned on the women beside you. JJ shrugged carelessly but shared a less than subtle conspiratorial glance with Prentiss; something very fishy was going on here. You became immediately distracted from their strange interaction when you shifted in your seat, legs just happening to knock against those belonging to the man across from you. It wasn’t that unlikely, you supposed, his long legs barely fit under the table as it was and they had been encroaching on your space for the entire meal.
Immediately, you jumped on the opportunity. Turning to JJ you struck up a conversation, asking her about Henry and letting her run with the topic, whilst your left foot softly ran along the inside of the doctor’s calf. A stifled cough emanated from him as his leg twitched beneath your touch but he didn’t move away. You could feel his eyes burning into you, their intensity in your periphery earning him a cursory glance and nothing more.
Eyes fixed on JJ, nodding along to her words despite not listening to a single syllable, you allowed your foot to venture higher. As your toes roamed above his knee and towards his thigh his fingers fumbled with the sauce packet he had been struggling to open – leaving it tumbling to the carpeted floor underneath the table.
JJ trailed off as she noticed the fumbling action. Spencer’s eyes flashed over the other women as he mumbled a quick “I’ll just pick that up,” but then his eyes moved to you. The glint within them as he ducked underneath the table tensed your muscles as you realised the dropped item had been premeditated.
You held your breath as he disappeared from view, unsure what really to expect from the man now under the table. You pulled your leg back towards yourself, a nervous manoeuvre that he immediately halted with a warm hand on your ankle. “There it is,” he announced, leaning forwards to grab the dropped item. You couldn’t see him but you knew he leant forwards for it. It was obvious in the way his body shifted towards your leg, hand slowly working from your ankle to your knee in a languid sweeping motion. Your leg jerked upwards at feel of his fingers just grazing your inner thigh. The noise that caught in your throat was subtle compared to the way your knee bashed into the table and sent the whole thing jerking upwards.
Stifled laughter sent your glare towards Prentiss but her gaze quickly raised to Morgan’s returning figure. “Everything alright?”
Nodding rapidly, he turned to the freshly reappeared Reid. With a hand gripping his shoulder, rooting the doctor’s attention to him, he quickly explained his previous exit. “Reid, I-uh- just spoke to Hotch.” He began, eyes darting to the other women at the table before fixing back on Spencer, “hauling that unsub up the stairs tore my back up. I need a room to myself tonight.” Then, gaze shifting between you and the doctor, he sealed your fate. “You two alright to share for tonight?”
The two of you immediately locked eyes. Spencer’s mouth dropped open but no sound managed to escape whilst your lips remained shut but a strange stutter fought to be heard.
Pulling yourself together, with a shake of your head and by forcing your stare from Spencer, you looked up to Morgan dubiously. “You’re taking my room?” You sputtered out. It wasn’t often the team were forced to double up, but on the occasions you were you took turns to have the room to yourself. This time it had been your turn, much earned after sharing with JJ and listening to her not quite whispering down the phone to Will at 2am, and you had relished all the extra space in the previous warm weather.
The twitching of Morgan’s lips informed you that he was fighting back a laugh. “If that’s okay with you?”
Raising an eyebrow, sensing the plot behind this sudden development, you huffed out a question you already knew the answer to. “Do I have a choice?”
Hand on his chest, Morgan stepped back with an exaggerated look of faux hurt. “You want me to suffer?”
Grimacing, you fished in your jacket pocket for the cool metal of your room key. Pulling the key out by the comically large numbered keyring, you tossed it to Morgan. “Just let me get my bag,” you told him, defeated.
Summary: After a reading lesson with your favourite colleague, you become entirely distracted with his hands. To begin with, it doesn’t seem like he’s noticed but things aren’t always what they seem.
A/N: I wasn’t kidding when I said multi-fandom! I’ve been binging Criminal Minds and couldn’t resist.
It had all started so innocently.
It had been a quiet few days, strangely so for the BAU, but unfortunately for you that also meant that paperwork had become the top priority.
Weighed down by the compact text you were trying your best to skim through, you quickly gave up and slapped the heavy file onto your already cluttered desk. Groaning, you rubbed the heels of your hands over your tired eyes.
“You okay?” Came a familiar voice from your left.
Swinging your chair to face Spencer, you gave him a lazy smile – the kind you knew made his eyes dart down to your lips, as much as he always clearly tried to stop himself. Smile widening into a full grin as he did exactly as you anticipated, you decided to take pity on him with a distraction.
Pushing the discarded file further from yourself on the desk, you looked to his uncluttered workspace and felt an envy burn through you. “How come you don’t have any paperwork?” Your whined question had been paired with a childish pout of your lips, something that had pulled his eyes straight back to them. Looking down to your hands, you wryly considered the fact that you weren’t doing a particularly fantastic job of distracting his easily diverted attention.
When he recovered himself, attention finally seeming to focus on the question you had posed, he shook his head as though to clear it before answering. Tapping his pen against the desk in an almost nervous manoeuvre, he twisted his lips with the words; “well, about eighty percent of all paperwork is simply reading. So, it doesn’t take me that long and…” He trailed off at the squeaking sound of your chair’s wheels shifting – eyes darting to you as you stood and moved to his desk.
“Teach me,” you requested playfully.
As was often the case, the doctor was unsure how exactly to respond to your playfulness. This time he settled into a serious response – seemingly taken aback by your request, he looked at you with a crinkled brow. “It’s not something you can learn in ten minutes,” he tried to reason.
One hand on the back of his chair, you peered over his shoulder. “C’mon,” you murmured close to his ear, “indulge me, doc.”
As you had anticipated, he obliged you quickly.
To begin with, he had simply talked you through how it worked. You were surprised by how much verbal explanation was apparently required but you had always been happy to listen to him ramble on about anything and everything. After the stress that had bunched your shoulders due to your excessive paperwork, it was relaxing to listen to his voice.
Eventually, he moved onto a practical demonstration. And that was when disaster struck.
It had always been fairly obvious to you that you found Spencer attractive. Your eyes would often linger a little too often, albeit more subtly than his, and your heart often fluttered when you looked at him. The way that he often looked at you, unable to stop himself despite the obvious heaviness in his gaze, never bothered you. If some small town local detective ever looked at you with that same, subtle longing, you would immediately make it clear you were not interested. Those kind of looks felt uncomfortable because you didn’t want them. But with Spencer, it was entirely different. You almost revelled in how hard he clearly found it to keep his eyes off you.
You had always felt as though you held the power in your not-quite-relationship with him, able to pull his gaze to you whenever you craved it but always in control of your own reactions to him.
Until this fateful afternoon, at least.
The lithe finger that slid down the page took entirely too much of your attention, your mind wandering over all the possibilities attached to his large hands. Tongue darting out to wet suddenly dry lips, you felt the hand gripping the back of his chair tightening as your mind wandered a little too far from the very professional workplace you were currently occupying.
Of course, he noticed the change in your demeanour. “Are you okay?”
Delayed, your brain struggled over a response. “Uh…” you let out dumbly before forming a more coherent response that was still filled with stuttered pauses. “Yeah, I’m fine… J-just trying to – uh – keep up.”
Confusion crimpled his features briefly before he nodded offhandedly and continued his instruction; once again drawing your eyes to his fingers and sending your thoughts scattering in a salacious direction once again. How you were supposed to keep your composure, in this situation you had placed yourself in no less, you weren’t sure.
Luckily for you, your job very rarely allowed long periods of relaxation and the pair of you were quickly interrupted by Garcia’s clacking heels. “We’ve got a case, kids!” Her voice whizzed past the two of you, almost trailing behind her as she tottered past you.
Strangely, instead of jumping into action as you normally would, the pair of you paused. Eyes catching one another, a moment of silence stretched between the two of you. Eyes ducking shyly from yours after only a more extended gaze, he closed the book slowly and placed the heavy tome back on his desk. “We should get going,” the words were less than enthusiastic and he made no immediate attempt to move away from you.
Although, neither did you. Instead, you met his gaze once more.
You were forced to move, however, when Morgan appeared behind the two of you. “You two not hear the woman?” he asked, a grip on your shoulder grounding you into reality. “Let’s go,” he encouraged, a hand gesturing for you to move.
Spencer very quickly came to his senses and jumped up from his chair, sending it skittering backwards on its wheels in his haste to escape. He spared you a final glance before rushing away entirely.
Your thoughts threatened to spiral over his hands once more but Morgan unknowingly pulled you back. “He alright?”
Too quickly, you responded with an aggressive nod. “Think so,” you muttered before rushing to the meeting room.
——————————————————————————
As days went by, your ability to concentrate around Spencer diminished at an alarming pace.
The first time it happened again, the pair of you were discussing case details in the cramped spare office of a police station in rural Louisiana. The room was hot, to put it mildly. You had popped loose the top few buttons of your shirt, your modesty mostly covered by a black camisole you wore underneath but even that barely allowed you relief. It was almost hard to look at Reid, with all his layers of clothing still firmly in place, the mere appearance of his sweater vest almost infuriating in this heat. How could he still be wearing that?
The air conditioning unit stuttered uselessly in the corner as you fanned yourself with a crudely folded paper fan. He faltered in his words, mouth opening as if to say something else but clicking back shut when he thought better. “What?” You asked, suddenly impatient.
Clearing his throat awkwardly, he shifted in his seat, eyes darting back up to your eyes when he noticed your gaze. You felt some relief when you wondered over where exactly those eyes had darted up from. Although that thought sent an entirely new heat stifling through the room.
“Well,” he started slowly, before launching into a very in character explanation. “Fanning yourself is only going to make you warmer.” Immediately believing him, even without the imminent explanation, you tossed your poorly made fan back onto the table. “The contraction of your muscle actually creates heat in your body and therefore actually warms the air around you even more-so.”
You grumbled incoherently in response.
“Sorry,” he gave you, sheepish.
Perplexed, you leaned further over the table. “Why? You’re stopping me from overheating.” He nodded, eyes returning unseeingly to the papers before him. “Although,” you injected enough playfulness into your tone that he immediately looked back up with that perfect mix of excitement and trepidation. “You could fan me, huh? Then I wouldn’t get too hot.” You gave him an obvious wink, letting him know you weren’t really expecting him to perform such a service for you.
Still, in a pedantic show of dramatics, you slid the fan over the table towards him. You were gifted a lopsided grin as he leaned forward to take the outstretched object from you. Just briefly, the pads of his fingers brushed against yours before he pinched the folded paper from your grip.
Too obviously, you sucked in a heavy breath at the contact but he seemed too distracted by the dimensions of your fan to notice. “You know if you wanted to make this more effective you should actually fold it more like this.” Slender fingers turned the paper over, creasing it multiple times and presenting the finished product to you with a grin. “See?”
You would have replied, surely, were you not so distracted. His hands worked so quickly, effectively – every movement almost exactly calculated to complete his task. It was almost impossible not to consider other tasks he could complete with similar dexterity and efficiency.
You weren’t entirely sure what was wrong with you. It wasn’t like you to get so stuck on something so simple, but it was beginning to severely impact your ability to think around the man.
The second time it happened was immediately afterwards, except there were far too many witnesses for you to come away unscathed.
The rest of the team rapidly bundled into the small room, their body heat causing you to almost melt into your chair but you kept your groan of aggravation to yourself. Prentiss almost collapsed into the chair beside you; the pair of you sharing an overheated look of similar distress.
Quickly, Hotch directed the group to summarise what details had been gathered about the case. Morgan and Prentiss quickly confirmed they had found nothing of particular interest from the victim’s home; Rossi explained that the crime scene indicated high levels of aggression; and JJ gave a rundown of her conversation with the wife.
When it was time to talk through the geographical profile, you were more than happy to let Reid jump up and explain your work to the team. It seemed far easier than peeling yourself out of the chair and sweating through an explanation that Spencer would enjoy delivering far more than you. Although your plan failed almost immediately.
Spencer had always been expressive with his hands, but you swore there was something different about how he used them in this explanation. His fingertips slid over the circles he had marked onto the map as he described… something… to the team. You reassured yourself that it didn’t really matter if you didn’t listen; you had worked up this profile with him so you could afford a little distraction.
In resistance to biting your bottom lip, you chewed on the end of your pencil in a mock show of thoughtfulness. But then, something strange happened. With his fingers still running along the lines of the map and his mouth still working to explain his train of thought, his honey eyes flickered over to yours. It was a quick little look, something strange sparkling in his eyes, but he didn’t stumble in his words as he usually would and he looked away so quickly you could forgive yourself for considering it a mere glance.
That was until he looked back at you. It was subtle enough that no one else seemed to notice, and his lips quirked up slightly before he looked away and continued with his explanation. He tapped one particular spot on the map with a pair of fingers before circling them around the spot once and moving on to do the same with two other locations. By the time his fingers had moved off the board entirely your eyes narrowed as you stared him down. He couldn’t know what he was doing to you, surely he couldn’t.
Hotch’s voice quickly commanded the attention of the room. Well, all except for yours and the doctor’s. Boldly, Spencer caught your gaze again and at the sight of your intensity trained on him he was forced to stifle a gleeful yet breathy laugh. Internally, you cursed him.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
Luckily, you managed to tune back into the conversation in time to hear Hotch’s orders. Thankfully, you weren’t expected to move from this room. Unfortunately neither was Spencer. The two of you tasked instead with narrowing down the location even further.
Your pencil was still caught between your teeth, eyes refusing to leave the back of Spencer’s head. He had turned to look at the board again, leaving himself free from your dissecting gaze as the others quickly left the room.
“Looks like the heat’s getting to you, huh?” The unexpected voice beside you pulled a yelp from you and sent the abused pencil clattering against the table.
Eyes darting to face him, narrowing in a glare this time, you scolded him. “Jeez, Morgan, you scared the shit outta me.”
“Not my fault you’re so distracted,” he told you. The wickedly amused smirk he paired with the words made you sink several centimetres in your chair. Of course Morgan noticed your obvious distraction at the hands of Reid.
Embarrassment flooded your cheeks as you sent him a half-hearted glare. “Bite me,” you bit out, grumbling as he chuckled and left the room.
Eyes following Morgan from the room, Spencer quickly approached you as the door clicked closed. Instead of taking the chair he had previously occupied, he dropped into the one directly beside yours. Raising an eyebrow at him, you tried to follow his example and concentrate on the board in front of you. That clearly was not where he desired your attention, however, as he quickly began thrumming his fingers against the desk.
They caught your eye, as he had likely calculated they would, but you resolutely decided it was time to take control of this situation. He had enjoyed this for far too long.
You stood up quickly. With a single, huffed iteration of his name you managed to gain all of his attention. He gave a curious hum in response, eyes darting to you and immediately shining with that addictive mix of excited trepidation at your approach. You turned his chair for him, leaving him looking up at you and you revelled in the way his Adam’s apple visibly bobbed as he craned his neck.
“It’s like a thousand degrees in here, Reid.” You began, softly untucking his tie from his vest. You moved slowly, ensuring he knew he could pull away if that’s what he really wanted. If anything he shifted imperceptibly towards your hands. “Let’s loosen this tie a little, hm?”
“Uh-“ he struggled, squirming as your fingers brushed his neck, “sure.”
Loosening the already wonky tie was too quick, you wanted him to suffer a little longer. Tucking the loosened tie back into his vest you tapped his chest lightly as you wondered over what your next move should be. His top button was rarely done up and today was no exception but the button below it was tightly secured.
Slowly, you walked your fingers up his chest and towards this button. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as your fingers stopped over your target. You looked up to his eyes as though to ask permission and he tilted his head to the side, eyes trained so steadily on yours. You felt his hand close over your wrist, two fingers swiping over your hammering pulse. At the sensation, he shot you a smirk filled with pride.
Maybe he was still winning in this strange game of yours. It didn’t really matter, you were enjoying yourself too much to continue keeping score.
With one hand, you skilfully undid the button. Hooking one finger beneath the fabric, allowing your knuckle to brush against the skin you had just revealed, you pulled the fabric open by mere millimetres. It was doubtful anyone else in this situation would find such a small reveal so intensely satisfying, but the idea that he was letting you do this in only a semi-private space sent your heart pounding just a little more. Something he clearly noticed, given the widening of his grin as his fingers pressed slightly over your pulse.
Distantly recalling that the pair of you were actually at work right now, you flattened your palm against his chest and pushed him back slightly in his chair. “Much better,” you lamented, softly pulling your wrist free and turning back to your own chair.
“Shall we get back to work?” You asked, as you dropped into the chair, the playful tone never quite escaping your voice.
A/N:I did a thing. It became this thing because of @eideticmemory. I am in no way shape or form half the writer she is but I had to do this. Inspired by this anon.
Summary:Spencer losing his virginity. That’s it. That’s the plot
Spencer Reid did not party. He did not go to bars or get drunk. He rarely had more than one drink when he did go out with his coworkers, or more, was forced to. Don’t get it wrong, he loved them. They were more like a family to him than work buddies but in his line of work, he rarely had a day off. So when he did, he would prefer to spend it his way- curled up on his leather sofa with a good book, or ten. And no one could change his mind.
Now Derek Morgan, Spencer’s best friend and one of his aforementioned coworkers- although some might say they’re more akin to brothers than either of those labels- he liked to party. He loved going out with his friends, doing shots and drunkenly destroying open mic night. And he always, without fail, dragged Spencer out with him.
What? He was concerned for his friend. His best friend. Spencer never talked about what happened while on the job but Derek knew it got to him. It got to them all something that came with the territory. And recently he had been extra stressed and tense and Derek knew just what he needed.
A night out on the town where, hopefully, he could help pretty boy get laid.
Spencer didn’t want this. He begged, literally begged Derek to let him stay in but ultimately lost the fight. Because in the end, Spencer did enjoy hanging out with him he just wasn’t always too happy about the location. Or getting stranded at whatever bar and/or club they stumbled into after Derek, without fail, went home with a girl. Sometimes two.
Trilly’s was a local bar, often frequented by cops meaning it wasn’t too heavily trafficked and even when it was a busy night, it’s numbers didn’t compare to the bar Spence knew Derek would drag him to.
Which is why when Spencer agreed to go out, “Just for an hour, tops,” his one condition was that they go there. While his best friend may enjoy hitting on an entire group of girls at once, Spencer much preferred to sit in a corner and observe.
Flirting was not his forte and he had little to no desire to make it one. Sure, he’d been on a few dates before. Kissed one or two girls in college but dating just wasn’t really his thing. Really, it wasn’t. It’s not like he didn’t have game or anything. That totally wasn’t the reason.
As bad as it was, Trilly’s very rarely saw females. Spencer knew the statistics, and with under thirty percent of law enforcement being female, the odds were in his favor. He could go out, have a drink with his friend and avoid any awkward confrontations when Derek would inevitably try to be his wingman. It would be a fun, easy night.
After almost a month of detective work, Y/N had finally caught the son of a bitch who had been ransacking local, small businesses over the past two months in Alexandria. She was exhausted. Twenty-seven days of non-stop work, late nights and early mornings that sometimes bled into each other. She hadn’t taken a single day off.
Many of the businesses the culprit hit had to shut down because they didn’t have the means to stay open. Citizens didn’t want to shop at a store that had been burglarized by a man in the wind, worried he’d come back for more than just a few valuables. So Y/N put all her effort into finding him with some sliver of hope that it could save the business that hadn’t gone under already.
John Willis was pulled over for his taillight being out and the cop that apprehended him noticed several of the missing items that had been reported laying in his backseat. Y/N wondered how, after evading law enforcement for two months, he was caught so easily.
She didn’t let it weigh on her mind for long though. Willis was locked up and she finally got a night off.
She wouldn’t call herself a party girl, but she was known to get a little mischievous at the local cop bar, Trilly’s, every now and then. And tonight, she planned on having some fun.
Y/N dragged her best friend and crime-fighting partner, Jasmine, out with her. Jasmine had reluctantly agreed, having just gone through a pretty rough break-up. Y/N reminded her that he was trash and she would find someone better. “Or at the very least a very hot cop to have rebound sex with.”
Jasmine rolled her eyes. “I will do no such thing.” But she agreed to come out anyway.
When Y/N got to Jasmine’s apartment to pick her up, Jas was already waiting outside, dressed in a low cut deep blue dress that hugged her curvy figure. “Damn girl, I’d take you home in that outfit.” Y/N quipped as Jasmine got into the car.
Jasmine looked her best friend, who wore a similar dress that was red, up and down with a smirk. “Right back at you, sexy.”
Trilly’s was unusually busy for a Wednesday night. When Y/N and Jasmine finally made it through the door, the place was pretty packed. The music was turned up louder than normal and a large group of people had made the middle of the room into a makeshift dance floor. Or grind floor would be more accurate, as that’s the only dance move these people evidently knew how to do.
They squeezed their way past sweaty bodies to the bar, hailing the attention of the bartender almost immediately. Y/N ordered them a round of shots.
“Starting the night off strong, are we?” Jasmine popped one eyebrow up as she leaned against the slightly sticky bar littered with peanut shells and drops of missed alcohol.
Y/N nodded. “Only way to do it!” She partially yelled over all the commotion around her. The bartender set down two shots in front of them. “To rebound sex.”
Jasmine laughed, a barely noticeable blush dotting her cheekbones. “Mmhmm, sure.” She raised her glass but Y/N stopped her before she could down the liquid.
“Nuh-uh,” She tutted. “Say it back or else it won’t work.” With reluctance, Jasmine just barely whispered the cheer back but it was enough to satiate Y/N. “Much better.” She chimed. They clinked their glasses together and downed them simultaneously, placing them upside down on the bar after.
Spencer was already uncomfortable. Derek and him had literally just stepped foot in the bar and he was already regretting his decision to go out tonight. It being a Wednesday, he never thought in a million years it’d be this busy.
People pushed past each other in front of him. A group of at least twenty people were grinding against each other in the middle of the room where they’d deemed it the dance floor for the night. The floor was sticky as was the booth and table the two men eventually found themselves seated in. Spencer grimaced, his phobia of germs eating at his mind.
“Breathe pretty boy.” Derek smiled, slapping Spencer’s arm across the table. Spencer inhaled slowly, looking around at all the people bustling around him. This was clearly not his scene.
“I didn’t expect it to be this crowded.” Spencer yelled over the noise.
Derek laughed, “Where’s the fun in an empty bar?” Spencer held back the glare that was fighting to make itself known. When he didn’t respond, Derek slapped his hands on the table. “I’m going to go get us drinks.”
Y/N scanned the crowd for Jasmine who had said twenty minutes ago that she was going to slip out to the bathroom.
After a few minutes of searching, she spotted her friend practically sitting in the lap of some stranger at a booth across the room. She laughed to herself, setting some cash down on the bar for their drinks before making her way through the crowd.
When she gets to the booth, Jasmine looks up at her. “Y/N, you found me.” Her words are a little slurred. Y/N forgot how much of a lightweight her friend is. “This is Derek. He’s an FBI agent.” She whispered the last bit, or thought she did but the men at the booth laughed.
Which is when she noticed the guy sitting opposite them. She made eye contact with him and smiled. She could feel her face get hot but she passed it off on the alcohol coursing through her veins.
He was cute. Y/N studied his face for a second, hoping he wouldn’t notice her blatantly checking him out. He looked pretty young. Obviously he was old enough to be an FBI agent but had she not known that, she would have guessed him to be fresh out of college.
His hair was longer but it suited him and he had really kind eyes that Y/N was drawn to. Even though he sitting, she could tell he was tall. His shoulders slumped slightly as if trying to fold in on himself, something she knew all too well being quite tall herself.
“Y/N.” She introduced herself, snapping out of her dazed state and returning her attention to Derek, who was the exact opposite of the guy she was just looking at. “Nice to meet you. Sorry, about my friend.” She joked.
Derek shook his head, a wide smile on his face. “Nothing to be sorry about.” Any other guy and she would have been pulling Jasmine away but there was something about Derek that was non-threatening. She somehow knew her friend was in good hands.
Literally, he had great hands. His muscled arm was wrapped tightly round Jasmine’s waist as she leaned into his side. Y/N would be lying if she didn’t admit to his obvious allure.
Y/N looked back over to the other guy, who she now noticed had been staring at her the whole time. Upon them locking eyes, he swallowed. “Is this seat taken?” She asks him, pointing to the empty spot beside him. He shakes his head, his hands falling nervously into his lap.
Spencer was mentally scolding himself for being at a loss of words, which he never was. He could rattle off facts about literally anything and talk for hours but right now, he was speechless.
Y/N slide into the booth beside him. “So, are you with the FBI too?” She asked, her hands cupping her glass. She figured he was but since he didn’t offer her a name, she figured she would try and make conversation.
He nodded. Derek cleared his throat and Spencer looked up at him, pleadingly. His friend just aggressively nodded in Y/N’s direction, a way of telling him to say something.
“I’m Spencer.” He squeaked out.
Y/N looked up from the table. “It’s nice to meet you Spencer.” She smiled. Spencer waited for the inevitable offering of her hand, getting prepared to explain how he doesn’t shake hands because the amount of germs that are passed in a handshake are staggeringly high.
His eyebrows pinched together when a few moments passed and her hands didn’t move from her glass. “You don’t shake hands?” He asked, slightly dumbfounded.
Y/N chuckled. “Did you want me to?” She asked, a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. Spencer’s cheeks ran crimson and Y/N smiled at herself. “Not on the job, don’t feel the need to be so formal.” She summed up, leaning against the worn leather of the booth.
“Where do you work?” It feels like such a dumb question but it’s left his mouth before he can process it. You’re at a cop bar, Spencer, where the fuck do you think?
“Alexandria PD.” Y/N answers without thought, sipping at her drink. “Been there for three years now.”
“Oh, don’t be so modest.” Jasmine waves her hand at her best friend, scoffing. She turns to Derek, pressing her pointer finger into his chest to accentuate her words. “She’s the lead detective. Youngest to ever be promoted.”
Spencer’s eyes don’t leave Y/N while Jasmine talks. Y/N looks at her friend incredulously but there’s a small smile on her face and a blush is creeping up her neck. “I don’t like bragging.” She says to Jasmine, a small laugh leaving her lips.
Spencer has never been mesmerized before but he’s completely lost in Y/N’s laugh that he barely hears Jasmine continue talking.
“Pfft, it’s a big deal, Y/N. It’s not every day that a twenty-five year old gets promoted to that position.” Jasmine continues.
“Sounds like congratulations are in order.” Derek smiles, his eyes never leaving Jasmine. Y/N shakes her head. Jasmine is definitely not going home in the same car she came in.
“Thank you, but it’s not a new promotion.” She takes another sip of her beer, welcoming any distraction at this point. She hates it when she’s the center of attention.
“She never wants to celebrate her successes.” Jasmine tuts, rolling her eyes. She finally breaks eye contact with Derek to look at Spencer. “You know, she was top of her class at UCLA and has three masters. Three. I barely got through my one.” Jasmine hiccups at the end, nodding.
Derek looks over at Spencer and Y/N. “Looks like pretty boys gonna have a run for his money.”
Y/N looks over at Spencer, quirking an eyebrow. “Oh.”
Spencer’s cheeks darken but he doesn’t offer further explanation. Y/N looks to Derek for answers instead. “Three PhD’s.” He says, raising three of his fingers up in conjunction with his words.
Y/N nearly chokes on her beer. “Three?” Getting her master’s was hard enough she couldn’t fathom doing it again for her doctorates.
“He goes by doctor.” Derek winks at her.
“Morgan.” Spencer warns, looking up at him with stern eyes. Derek throws his hands up in surrender. “You don’t have to call me doctor.” He says to Y/N, running a hand through his hair. “He just likes messing me.”
Y/N smirks. It’s small and nearly imperceptible but Spencer notices and it makes his breathing pick up. “Who said I didn’t want to, Doc?” Spencer swallows, pressing his hands together to distract himself.
The conversation moves on but after a while, Jasmine and Derek are in their own little world, leaving Spencer and Y/N to talk.
She learns that he was the youngest person ever recruited for the FBI, a fact which he didn’t want to own up to. Similar to Y/N, he didn’t like the spotlight on him. Unlike Y/N, he had a reason to have the spotlight on him, which she told him after finding out he’s a literal genius.
“You can’t have an IQ that high and expect people to notput you at the center of their attention.” Spencer blushed at her words.
“I don’t mind your attention.” He replies, making Y/N’s heart skip a beat. “But normally, people are more annoyed by it than they are fascinated by it.”
Y/N tucks a pieces of hair behind her ear. “Well they’re clearly missing out.”
They talk for what feels like hours. Every new piece of information Y/N gets, she savors. There’s something about Spencer that makes her want to know everything about him. And she damn near does.
He doesn’t just work for the FBI, he works for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, which is like the best of the best. He has an eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words per minute, a skill which Y/N is borderline envious of, and he’s from Las Vegas. Which is where his mom lives, in a clinical facility because she has schizophrenia.
“I’m so sorry, that must be really hard on you.” Y/N says, placing her hand on Spencer’s arm soothingly. Her eyes are soft like her hand which he notices when he accidentally brushes it. She really means it.
Spencer learns that Y/N came to Virginia after university because her dad passed away and she was the only person in her family close to him. He left everything to her which also meant she had to go through all his belongings.
A tenant in his apartment building found him dead. The initial report said he had died of natural causes but after his autopsy they found signs of foul play. As it turns out, he was murdered. It’s what propelled Y/N to become a cop in the first place. “I set up base here and never looked back.”
He also learned that she’s probably the sweetest and funniest person he’s ever met, and he’s friends with Penelope and JJ. She’s smart, she seems to pick up on all his little quirks and respects them. And she’s beautiful, which he knew from the instant he saw her but is even more pronounced now that he’s getting to know her.
The two had been so engrossed in their conversation they didn’t notice that their friends were no longer sitting across from them. With a quick glance behind them, Y/N saw Jasmine slip out the front door, holding Derek’s hand and laughing flirtatiously.
Spencer groans next to her. “He was my ride home.”
“Did you really think the night was going to end any differently for those two?” Y/N asks, settling back into the seat.
“No.” Spencer relents. Without thinking, he reaches across Y/N and takes her drink, taking a few sips before realizing what he’s done. “Sorry.” He says, placing the cup down.
Y/N moves a fraction of an inch closer to him. “I don’t mind.” Her hand lightly brushes his thigh. “But, as you probably already know, we practically just kissed.”
Spencer’s breath hitches in his throat as Y/N’s hand comes to rest fully on his thigh, her fingertips lightly tracing circles on his inner thigh. He tries to focus on anything else but he can practically feel the blood rushing to his dick.
Y/N notices the change in his demeanor, leaning in closer so she can whisper. “I’ll stop if you want me to.” Y/N doesn’t know what’s come over her. Sure, she’s hooked up with guys she just met at the bar before but she’s never been this straightforward with someone. Not right off the bat, and definitely not with this much ease.
The tension between them has been palpable ever since she sat down an hour ago and now, with their friends gone, there was nothing stopping her from commenting on it.
Spencer shook his head at her words, mumbling something Y/N didn’t quite pick up on. “What was that, doc?” She emphasized the last word, her hand slowly moving up his thigh.
He started to bounce his right leg nervously. Y/N smirked. “I make you nervous?” He nodded slowly. Y/N stopped what she was doing, removing her hand and putting some space in between them. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” She was suddenly overcome with embarrassment, her actions finally seeping into the logical side of her brain.
“I didn’t tell you to stop.” Spencer nearly growled. Now it was Y/N’s turns to blush as she nervously looked over at him. There was a hunger in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. She unconsciously squeezed her legs together.
He leans closer to her until his lips are grazing her ear. “The bathroom’s empty, we could sneak away, no one would even notice.”
Y/N swallows at the implication. He’s been watching, waiting for the right moment to initiate whatever the fuck this was. Which means he knew it would get to this at some point.
Without a second thought, Y/N grabs his hand, hauling him out of the booth and making a beeline for the bathroom.
Just as Spencer had told her, the bathroom was empty. That, of course, didn’t stop her from checking all the stalls to make for certain that they were alone. Trust me, no one wanted to hear what was about to happen.
Spencer was still standing by the door, his once cocky demeanor now dwindling into the awkward nervousness that Y/N had grown to love about him.
“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” She says softly, grabbing both his hands. They just met, she doesn’t know what he has or hasn’t done before and while Y/N might have some experience with bathroom sex, she’s found that not all people do. In fact, it’s very rare for her to find someone who has.
Spencer lets go of her hands and for a split second she thinks he’s going to turn around and walk out but then his lips are on hers and she’s trying to get her brain to catch up because she’s missing it.
In a surge of confidence, Spencer cups Y/N’s face, smashing his lips against hers. After a moment, she kisses back, her hands coming up to run through his hair.
The moans that fall from her lips at the contact has him hard. He moves them so she’s the one pressed against the door, his hands coming down to grab her hips and pull her against him.
His tongue asks for entry and she gladly concedes. In a swift motion, she’s wrapped her legs around his waist, his hands supporting her by holding her thighs.
Y/N’s dress has been effectively hiked up from the change in position and while she respects his respect for her, she wants his hands on her. She reaches down to move them up until they’re resting on her bum. With a satisfied grin she pulls away from his lips.
He looks at her, out of breath and red in the face. “You’re not wearing underwear.” He breaths out.
She laughs, curling her finger around the hair at the back of his neck. “Actually, I was. Seemed to have lost them.” She shrugs innocently.
His eyes widen as he realizes what she’s saying. Something in her knew he would get it. He chastely kisses her cheek, his lips hovering over her ear. “You took them off, didn’t you? When you went to the restroom twenty-seven minutes ago.”
Y/N bites her lip, partially to fight back the laugh that wanted to come out knowing Spencer had counted the minutes, and nods. “Naughty, naughty girl.” He whispers, biting her ear. She gasps at the action, not expecting it, which propels him to grind against her.
“You gonna do something about it, doc?” She giggles, leaning forward to place a kiss on his collarbone.
Spencer moves them over to the sinks and sets her down on the counter, standing between her legs as he kisses her neck. Y/N starts to undo the buttons of his shirt just enough to expose his chest, which she runs her fingernails down, leaving red tracks in their wake.
“Fuck.” He groans, his forehead pressing into her chest. She lifts his head up to kiss him, fingers combing through his hair again, an action she’s coming to thoroughly enjoy.
“Do you have a condom?” Y/N asks as she kisses down his neck, her hands following in motion until they hit the top of his jeans.
Something about the question jars Spencer. Like his thoughts finally register exactly what he’s doing and the nerves slowly creep back into his stomach. He nods hastily, reaching into his back pocket where his wallet is. He sets it down beside Y/N on the counter.
Y/N unbuttons his pants and pulls the zipper down, tantalizingly slow, being careful to avoid touching his erection. Still attacking his neck with kisses, she pushes both his jeans and boxers down and they land bunched around his ankles.
She can’t help but look. I mean, really, it’s human nature to be curious.
His whole body is flushed red, or marked red by her fingernails and mouth, and that doesn’t exclude what he’s packing. And boy, is he packing. Y/N swallows at the sight.
Spencer avoids eye contact now that he’s fully exposed but Y/N is gentle in bringing his eyes to hers. She kisses him. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. Bathroom sex is just like normal, bed sex.” She laughs a little at her phrasing.
Spencer just nods nervously, reaching next to her to pick up the condom. He rips the package open and, with slightly shaking hands, focuses on putting it on.
After a few moments of fumbling hands, ragged breaths and a deep red blush that’s been slowly creeping up his neck, a smile slides across Y/N’s face. She places her hands over his and he looks up at her with worry in his eyes. “This is your first time doing this, huh?”
He swallows nervously, a small nod of his head indicating that her assumption was correct. “Like, ever?” He nods again. She responds by bringing his lips to hers. Y/N kisses him gently, a lot more calm and composed than they had been walking into this bathroom.
There’s still a nervousness about him but Y/N feels him relax into the kiss, slowly gaining back some of the confidence he had a minute ago. His tongue swipes over her bottom lip, her jaw dropping to allow him to search her mouth with his tongue as if he’s done this a hundred times before.
Had she not asked, she never would have guessed that he was a virgin. Aside from the obvious nerves, which she had passed off as a combination of alcohol and public sex, there was nothing about the way he held himself that made her second guess it.
His blush has completely taken over his face and it makes Y/N’s heart beat faster, if that is even possible because it was already running at a million beats per second. The taste of him overwhelms her senses which is why she lets out a small whine when he pulls away.
Spencer looks into Y/N’s eyes, his own glazed over with lust. “It’s okay.” She whispers, dragging her hand down his chest until it lands right above his sex. “I’ll teach you.”
He gulps, audibly gulps, as she wraps her hand around his cock. His forehead falls to her shoulder briefly as a barely audible “fuck” falls out of his mouth.
Y/N shuts her eyes and tries to contain the excitement boiling inside of her.
She slips the condom on with ease. Spencer watches her do it before looking up at her. Now she can see just how nervous he is. His hands are slightly fidgeting at his sides so she grabs them, placing them on her hips.
She scoots forward enough for access while still being supported by the granite beneath her. Spencer’s hold on her hips tightens.
Y/N hooks her hands behind his neck, giving him a nod of approval. “Whenever you’re ready, baby.” She whispers, looking in his eyes. Her entire demeanor has changed. She’s settled down so that he can enjoy this as much as possible and her eyes reflect that kindness.
Spencer removes one of his hands from her hips to help guide himself. He fumbles a little but after a few misses, his tip gently pushes into her. Y/N inhales sharply at the contact.
“Is this okay?” Spencer asks hesitantly, searching Y/N’s eyes for any sign of regret. She nods her head enthusiastically, a whimper falling from her lips.
“Yes, please, Spence, fuck me.”
He obliges, inching into her slowly until he’s buried to the hilt. “You okay?” He asks again, freezing his motions.
Y/N, overcome with pleasure, takes a minute to reply. “Please keep going.”
He finds a steady rhythm. It takes him a bit of time but he gets there eventually, fueled on by the soft moans that fall sporadically from Y/N’s lips. His thrusts are slow at first, picking up in speed as he grows more confident.
Spencer, being the person he is, knows everything there is to know about sex. But knowing about it and actually doing it are two very different things and he’s coming to that realization very fast.
Words cannot describe how good this feels. The way her walls clench around his cock with every thrust. The feeling of her hands on his back, fingers pressing little crescents into his skin hard enough to leave a bruise. And the noises she makes when he hits that perfect spot, encouraging him to continue.
Pure bliss is what it is. If this is what heaven’s like, Spencer Reid would gladly die in Y/N’s arms right now.
Y/N hooks her ankles around his waist, pulling him closer. She gasps out a moan at the new angle, her head falling back. Spencer somehow manages to pull her hips even closer. He thrusts faster but at a steady pace that has Y/N’s legs shaking.
“Spencer.” She moans when his lips attach onto her neck and start sucking the spot just above her collarbone. She’s close, which honestly shocks her. She also knows Spencer’s not going to last much longer, she doesn’t expect him to at least.
“Shit.” He mumbles against her neck.
“You gonna come?” Y/N asks between gasps of breath, one of her hands moving down to rub circles on her clit.
“Mmhmm.” Spencer moans.
“Then come baby,” She encourages, getting closer to her own release now that her fingers are working are her core, electricity jolting her body.
He tuts, a moan breaking the action. Y/N can tell he’s holding back. Spencer lifts his head so he’s looking at her and it nearly sends him over the edge, that look of pleasure plastered on her face. “Wanna wait, for, fuck- for you.” He manages out between moans.
“I’m right behind you baby, just let go.” As if under her complete control, Spencer releases and within a second is tumbling over that edge, stilling inside her. His orgasm knocks the breath out of him.
He’s jerked off before, had countless orgasms in the privacy of his own bed but nothing like this. Never like this. His head falls onto Y/N’s shoulder, slick with sweat.
The feeling of Spencer unloading inside her has Y/N coming, Spencer’s name leaving her lips in broken moans as she wraps her arms around him.
Spencer remains motionless for a minute, trying to catch his breath. Y/N can’t fathom trying to move right now, so she welcomes the stillness, her hands rubbing Spencer’s back.
After a moment, he stands up and helps clean Y/N up. She smiles the whole time at the gesture. After pulling his clothes back on, Spencer stands in front of Y/N.
“That was…” Spencer breathed out, his hands landing on Y/N’s thighs.
“Unexpected.” She finished his thought. “Amazing. Best you’ve ever had?” She laughs, her hands propped on his shoulders.
“I have nothing to compare it to but I’ll get back to you on that.” Y/N laughed.
“I’ll hold you to that.” She smiles. He leans in and kisses her softly.
“It was definitely something.” Spencer says as he helps Y/N down from the counter, balancing her when she stumbles slightly under her weight.
Spencer’s arm wraps around her waist. “It definitely was.”
“Did you really think the night was going to end any differently?” He asks, repeating the words she had said to him right before everything changed.
Y/N smiled, shaking her head. “Nope. It was just what the doctor ordered.”
Summary: After failing his field test, Spencer is stuck on desk duty for a week. You, his usual partner for cases, get put with Morgan for the newest case, and Spencer can’t say he’s a fan. Oh no, he’s not a fan at all.
A/N: Hey I watch criminal minds now for one reason and one reason only. Can u guess what it is? Anyways, enjoy!
Word count: 2236
His eyes had followed you all day. His gaze stayed locked on your figure as you smiled, laughed, and pushed Morgan away with a blush. On any normal day, that would be you with him, but since Spencer failed his last gun-on-the-field test, he had been punished with one week of desk duty.
…Leaving you to partner up with Morgan on the newest case.
You and Spencer were good friends, both bonding over being the youngest on the squad while being somewhat prodigies. But where Spencer thrived in mind, you thrived in body, having one of the best aims at the academy and being exceptional at hand-to-hand combat.
Naturally, they paired you and Spencer together, tying together the two weak links. You’d needed more experience and familiarity with the cases the BAU handled; Spencer had needed training (or protection) on the off chance of a physical altercation happening on a case. But now that Spencer was confined to the office only, you were working without a partner, and so you had been paired up with Morgan.
Something you didn’t seem to mind one bit.
He could see it, the both of you working together over a table scattered with papers. Derek’s hand would brush yours or your shoulder would bump his. You would snort at something he said or look deep into his eyes while explaining a lead you had uncovered.
Spencer burned with envy, jaw tight and eye twitching as he clicked on his mouse a little too tightly, only to hear a small crack. Glancing down, he scoffed at the sight of his jammed button, no longer able to move and therefore no longer able to select anything on his computer. Useless.
When he returned his gaze to your and Derek’s forms, his chest jumped at the sight of you staring right at him, a small smile on your face. The moment you noticed Spencer look up, though, you flinched away, a flush of pink rising up to your cheeks as you began to cough and spin in the complete opposite direction to avoid his gaze.
Spencer rose to his feet in concern, and Derek glanced at you in surprise, chuckling and patting you on the back as you choked on your own spit.
“Wrong pipe?” Spencer could barely hear him say from the distance but could read his lips. Not that he focused on those words too much, too busy watching the way Derek’s hand rested on your back and rubbed your shoulder blade.
It was when you whispered something then, Derek leaning in to hear you better and you, in turn, leaning closer to him as well that Spencer finally tore his gaze away. A swell of hot jealousy rose in his chest and burned his throat like bile.
His chair rolled back and slammed against the wall, almost shaking the room as Spencer snapped up from his seat. People startled to attention at the sound of the crash, eyes wide and confused when they saw Spencer as the cause. He saw you had twisted around as well to see what had happened, brows furrowing and lips parted when you met his gaze.
He held it, eyes never leaving yours as he tugged his computer toward him, pulling random cords. When he finally unhooked something, anything, he gathered up the cord in his hands and announced to the group, “I need a new mouse.”
With his detached keyboard dangling by his side, Spencer stormed out of the room, leaving confusion and concern in his wake.
~~~
“You need to tell her.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Honey, you’re smart, not smooth–give up on this whole ‘lying makes me look cool’ spiel.”
Spencer bit his tongue, trying to focus his eyes on the screen that Garcia had pulled up. Photos of the recent unsub who’d been murdering teenage girls in a small town. Stuck at the home office, Spencer could only wait for information of the case’s status to reach him, otherwise he had no clue how it was going or how the team was doing.
Or if you were okay.
“Is it really a lie if there’s nothing to tell?” He dropped his eyes to the phone, still ringing and waiting for Morgan to pick up the call for the unsub’s identity.
“No,” Garcia sighed, “but in your case, there’s plenty to tell.” She adjusted her glasses while zooming in on the various pictures, only peering out of the corner of her eyes to say, “Face it, Reid, you’re a smitten kitten.”
“I am not-”
“Sweetness, whatcha got for me?”
“Suspect’s name and criminal history, as always. Aren’t I just a god?” Spencer rolls his eyes, sitting back in his chair and giving up on the argument as Garcia relays the information. Instead, he focused on the screen, familiarizing himself with the suspect until he heard your voice.
“Is Reid okay?” you asked in the background of the call, barely audible over Garcia and Morgan’s flirting. Spencer straightened up at that, head whipping toward the phone as he stopped in his tracks to listen for more.
Garcia raised a smug brow as she paused mid-sentence, both lines quiet and waiting for Spencer’s response. Spencer parted his lips, preparing to speak before you asked, “Is he there with Garcia?”
“Y-yes,” he sputtered, “I’m here.”
The room turned quiet, neither side of the call quite sure how to respond. A shuffling on Morgan’s side clued into the fact that he’d handed her his phone, allowing her to talk to her missing partner.
“Oh, um,” her voice was louder, its shakiness more noticeable, “cool-I mean, good.”
His heart warmed. “Yeah.”
It went dead silent again, silent enough that Spencer could hear Garcia’s lashes brushing her skin as she rolled her eyes. There was a buzzing running along his veins as he sat and waited, thinking of how you’d wanted to know if he was okay, if he was there.
“So… do- do you have any ideas about our guy?”
And just like that, it was just you and Spencer delving into a case together again, even if he was so far away.
“A few.”
“Give ‘em to me.”
~~~
It was the first unsub you’d taken down single-handedly, and the team decided to celebrate. “To YNs!” rang around the bar as the BAU clinked beer bottles together, everyone congratulating you and patting you on the back. A large grin spread across your face, crinkling the corners of your eyes and making them gleam.
Spencer watched from a stool at the bar, a smile settling on his face dotted with a hint of pride. He watched as Garcia gave you a side hug, cracking her bottle against yours before whispering something in your ear that made your eyes widen. He tensed in his seat after that, grin dropping as a heavy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.
She told her. YN knows how I feel, and it wasn’t even from me. Shit.
Your eyes never looked up, never tried to meet his even though you knew where Spencer was in the room. He didn’t know if that was good or bad.
Panic rattled his brain as he watched your every emotion from then on, trying to gauge how you felt about what Garcia had told you.
It was hard to do when Morgan approached you.
That look was on his face; Spencer knew it well. After a few beers, Morgan was loose enough to hit on women, loose enough to hit on you.
Like a hawk, he watched the interaction–Morgan spoke under his breath, you laughed, he laid his hand on your shoulder, and you looked up at him with that gleam in your eyes.
Spencer should have known. He should have seen it coming. Why would any girl prefer him over a guy like Morgan? Especially you? Big, muscular guys who were at your level of strength and stamina, and even compared to your mind in some ways.
Why would you want him? He couldn’t even pass the gun-on-the-field test.
Even though it hurt, Spencer watched your interaction with Morgan a little longer, taking in how you nodded at what he said, biting your lip and blushing at what he’d muttered as Morgan pointed at him and- Shit, she’s looking, act natural!
Spencer spun toward the bar, almost falling off his stool as he slammed his hands against the counter to balance himself. Heart pounding in his chest, he set down the beer, a sigh escaping as he set his elbows on the surface and dropped his head into his hands.
If there was ever a time where Spencer envied Morgan (which wasn’t often), it would be now. He thought you and him had had a connection; every case aside from this week’s you’d worked by his side, asking for his guidance and in turn adding your own opinions, unfiltered by previous cases. It was his shoulder that brushed against yours while cramming together to overlook the same group of files and papers; it was his hand that skimmed over yours; he was the one you walked out with every night, looked toward for guidance, high-fived after solving a case, and laid your head on during a long flight home.
How could he have been so stupid?
“Spence?”
YN.
A hand pressed on top of one of his, still buried in his own hair. His skin tingled at your touch, and his heart tightened in appreciation. Gently, you tugged his hands out of his hair, forcing him to look up as you took a seat to his right.
“Hey, the only one who gets to tousle your hair is me, remember?” you teased, cheeks blooming into a soft pink. Spencer straightened up and faced you, eyes trailing up and down your face. When you shifted uncomfortably, he paled in embarrassment.
“Congrats on your first solve, YN.” Instantly, your face lit up, and Spencer’s chest constricted. God, he loved when you smiled at him.
“I couldn’t have done it without you.” You took a sip of your beer, missing Spencer’s face falling.
“Actually, it seems this was the one case you have done without me.” His voice turned forlorn, attracting your attention.
“What?”
His lips quirked in bitter amusement. “You seemed to handle things quite well with your new partner.”
Brows furrowing, you set down your beer, turning fully toward Spencer. “Are you talking about Morgan?”
Yes.
“Yes.”
You paused, gaze turning thoughtful as you observed Spencer’s every action. You could see right through him; he could feel it. But your words confused him. “This case… I didn’t like it very much.”
“What? Why?”
You shook your head. “It wasn’t right.”
“But you got the guy.”
“No,” you smiled softly. “I know that, but… I didn’t enjoy it like I usually do. Not that I’m, like, a sick person or something!” you rambled nervously, hands gesturing in a panic. “It’s just,” you clenched your eyes shut and took a breath, “it sucked that I couldn’t work it with you.”
Spencer froze.
“What?”
You opened your eyes and looked at him, face fully red. “I wish you’d been there. You know, instead of… in-instead of Morgan.”
Spencer’s jaw dropped. Your eyes widened.
“Not that I don’t like Morgan! Morgan’s awesome! Not that I like Morgan in that way, though–and-and I don’t like you in that way either! Wait, that’s not what I meant–what I mean is that I like you in a way that I don’t like Morgan. No, wait, I like you in a way that is different from the way I like Morgan, and-crap, that sounds wrong-”
Your voice seemed to fade as Spencer watched you frantically ramble. His heart pounded so loud it drowned out his own thoughts until all he could hear was Morgan’s not the one she likes; it’s me. She likes me. YN likes me and misses me and wants me around her and-holy shit.
“-and so yeah, I like you.” Your mouth slowed to a stop as you finally took in a breath, face transforming from the previous purple to a flushed red.
Spencer couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t take his eyes off you. The girl he’d fallen for since the minute he’d first met her returned his feelings.
“Spence?”
His eyes dropped to your lips, following the way they muttered his name.
“Spencer?”
He lifted his hand, brushing his fingers along your warm cheek before running his thumb over your bottom lip.
“Say it again,” he mumbled. “Please.”
“Spencer?”
“No.”
“I like you, Spencer,” you smiled against his thumb.
“Yes.” He leaned forward, stepping down from his stool and still towering over you as his nose pressed against yours. He tugged your lips to his, his hands drawing yours up to his hair before cupping your face. When you tightened your grip on his locks, he sighed. His hot breath warmed your face as he pulled away, his thumb brushing along your puffy lower lip. “Always yes.”
