older!spencer reid x younger!reader
summary: spencer comes home and you can instantly tell something’s wrong
Spencer got home at 1:14 a.m.
Not because traffic was bad, and not because he stopped anywhere on the way. Because after leaving Quantico, he’d sat in his car for nearly ten minutes staring at the steering wheel, replaying the conversation in the bullpen over and over in his head.
The words shouldn’t have bothered him as much as they did. But they did.
By the time he unlocked the apartment door, exhaustion sat heavy behind his eyes. The apartment was dim except for the warm yellow light above the stove. And there you were.
Bare legs curled beneath one of his sweaters at the kitchen counter, half-asleep with a book open in front of you and a mug of tea long gone cold beside it.
Spencer stopped in the doorway instantly. Every single tense thought in his brain dissolved on impact.
You looked up at the sound of the door opening, sleepy expression immediately softening.
God, the way you said that. Like you’d been waiting specifically for him.
Spencer shut the door quietly behind himself. “You stayed up.”
“You say that every time like it’s gonna stop me.”
You glanced at the microwave clock dramatically. “Wow. I had no idea.”
Despite himself, Spencer smiled a little. You stood from the stool and crossed the apartment toward him slowly, socks sliding softly across the hardwood floor.
The second you reached him, your arms wrapped around his waist automatically. Spencer exhaled the moment he touched you. It wasn’t even conscious anymore. His body just knew how to relax around you.
“You smell like the BAU,” you mumbled against his shirt.
“That’s possibly the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“You smell like coffee, stress, and Derek Morgan’s cologne.”
Spencer huffed out a tired laugh, resting his cheek against the top of your head. And then you pulled back just enough to look at him properly.
Your expression shifted immediately, “You okay?”
There it was. That terrifying ability you had to read him within seconds. Spencer hesitated too long.
Your eyes narrowed slightly. “Spencer.”
“Mm.” You stepped back, unconvinced. “That’s usually code for absolutely not nothing.”
He loosened his tie slowly, avoiding your eyes. “Luke made a comment tonight.”
Spencer nodded once. You waited.
“He…” Spencer sighed quietly. “He questioned our relationship.”
Your face didn’t change immediately. Which somehow made it worse.
“He said the age difference was weird?”
Spencer looked up, surprised. “How did you know that?”
“Because people always think that’s original.”
The bitterness in your voice made his chest tighten. You moved back toward the kitchen counter, folding your arms loosely. “What exactly did he say?”
Spencer repeated it carefully. Probably too carefully. Omitting parts that sounded harsher out loud than they had initially. Unfortunately for him, you knew him too well.
“You use that voice when you’re editing.”
Spencer looked mildly offended. “I do not have an editing voice.”
He opened his mouth to argue. Then stopped, “…apparently I do.”
You walked over again, gentler this time. “Honey, what did he actually say?”
Spencer looked away briefly before answering, “He implied that because you’re younger, I have some kind of power imbalance over you.”
Silence. Not awkward silence. Just stillness. Then you blinked once. And laughed. Actually laughed.
Spencer stared at you. “You’re taking this significantly better than I did.”
“Because it’s ridiculous.”
“He wasn’t trying to be malicious.”
“I know.” You reached up, smoothing tired fingers through his curls. “But it still upset you.”
Spencer finally admitted it, “…yeah.”
Your expression softened instantly, “Oh, baby.” That was your voice. The one that undid him completely every single time.
You guided him toward the couch without a word, and Spencer went willingly because he always did when it came to you. You tucked yourself against his side the second he sat down.
For a minute neither of you spoke.
Your fingers traced lazily over his wrist while his head rested against the couch cushion.
“I hate that it got to you,” you said quietly.
Spencer swallowed. “I just don’t ever want you to feel like—”
He looked at you then. You held his gaze steadily, “I have never once felt controlled by you, Spencer.” His shoulders loosened slightly.
“You over-explain toaster instructions to me,” you continued. “You apologize when you interrupt yourself. Last week you asked me if it was okay to buy a different shampoo because you were worried I liked the old one better.”
Spencer looked horrified. “That’s not—”
“You are literally the least manipulative man alive.”
“That feels statistically impossible.”
A tiny reluctant smile appeared on his face. You leaned closer. “You know what the actual problem is?”
“You’re scary smart and weirdly pretty, so people assume you’ve got some evil mastermind thing going on.”
Spencer blinked slowly. “Pretty?”
You stared at him. “Oh my God,” you whispered. “You don’t know you’re pretty.”
“This is devastating news for me personally.”
Spencer’s face immediately flushed pink. “I think we’re getting off topic.”
“No, no, hold on.” You cupped his face dramatically. “This changes everything.”
He tried to pull away, embarrassed beyond belief already, but you just grinned.
“Spencer Reid,” you said seriously, “you have giant brown eyes, eyelashes women would kill for, and the bone structure of a Renaissance painting.”
“That is objectively untrue.”
“You look like you were designed in a laboratory for lonely girls with intellectual issues.”
Spencer made a strangled noise somewhere between a laugh and genuine distress. You smiled softly then, brushing your thumb beneath his eye, “But none of that is why I love you.”
Spencer’s expression changed immediately at the word. Love. Even after all this time, it still affected him like a physical thing.
“You know why I love you?” you murmured.
“You care about people even when it hurts you. You remember tiny things about everyone. You make tea for me before I ask because you know exactly how my day went just by looking at me.”
Spencer looked down briefly.
“And you make me feel safe,” you finished quietly.
That one hit him hardest. You could see it happen. His throat moved slightly as he swallowed.
“Spence,” you whispered, “I chose you.”
The apartment went still.
“No one manipulated me into loving you. I just do.”
Spencer stared at you for a long moment like he didn’t entirely know what to do with the sincerity.
Then, very softly, “I love you too.”
You smiled immediately. “I know.”
“You’re obsessed with me.”
“That’s unfortunately true.”
“Catastrophically whipped, some might say.”
Spencer narrowed his eyes instantly, “Morgan said that, didn’t he?”
“Oh my God, they did talk about me tonight.” Spencer groaned quietly, already regretting telling you anything.
“They like you,” he admitted.
“No, she specifically threatened Luke.”
You looked delighted. “Aw.”
“And Hotch said you’re good for me.”
That surprised you enough to go still, “Hotch said that?”
Spencer nodded once. A soft smile spread across your face slowly.
“Well,” you said quietly, “he’s right.”
Spencer looked at you for a second like he physically could not help himself. Then he leaned down and kissed you. Slow. Sleepy. Full of everything he never quite managed to articulate correctly.
Your fingers slid into his hair immediately, and Spencer melted into you with dangerous ease. When you finally pulled apart, you rested your forehead against his.
“You know,” you murmured, “if anyone should be concerned about power imbalance here, it’s probably you.”
Spencer blinked. “What does that mean?”
You smiled innocently, “I could absolutely ruin your life.”
He sighed softly, entirely lovestruck, “You already did.”
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