⛤probably panicking at a disco ⛤ or living through this ⛤ or needing direction to perfection ⛤ or looking for some monkeys in the arctic ⛤or bigmouth struck again ⛤ totally a witch ⛤ if you need a spell just ask, but if anything bad happens I'm not legally liable ⛤
⛤ for all your late night needs
⛤ masterlist (requests: open)
⛤ sarcastic reader enthusiast ⛤ specialize in all your alternative reader needs ⛤
⛤ ongoing: you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love
⛤ rules read them before requesting
⛤ penny for your thoughts?
⛤ some of my gorgeous graphics by @strangergraphics if you were wondering
currently deciding if i wanna write more angst, the other ending of begged that's sitting in my inbox, the other part to the other ending of begged in my drafts, or if i want something whimsy
you'll know what i decide on in like four hours if i don't take a melatonin and knock tf out
you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love masterlis
words: 2.5k+
warnings/tags: fluff, season2!spencer, glasses!spencer, hotchner!reader, basically love at first sight for reader, minor stalking
summary: one night while you're bored in bed you decide to look up your dad's newest agent and decide that you have to make a move on him
a/n this was so cute to write, im lowkey tired though, also i gotta take a break from the angst at the moment, but it will be back i promise, im not done with begged either
"Who's that?"
At your question your dad turned out, facing the bullpen. You watched as he followed your line of sight to one of his agents working at his desk. He'd been working at the BAU for a little while now, but to you he was new.
You were visiting your dad, Aaron Hotchner, after having graduated with your master's degree. You'd been too busy with school to visit your dad like you used to. So the moment he said he was free to have lunch with you in his office the same day you were in town you immediately accepted.
It was your normal lunch with your dad. He asked how school was, told you about cases, and questioned you about what your future held for you. What you hadn't expected though was to see an agent who looked way too young to be at the BAU. He looked about your age, yet wore the clothes of someone's grandpa. Although you did have to admit his sweater vests did look quite cute.
"Dr. Spencer Reid," your dad told you, "he's our expert on just about anything."
You looked over at him one more time, studying him. He was clearly focused on something, not noticing the conversation that was taking place right outside Hotch's office, above where he was reading a file at his desk.
"He looks way too young to be a Dr.," you thought out loud.
"He's your age actually," Hotch said, "has three doctorates, and just as many bachelor's."
To say your jaw was on the floor would be an understatement. How did someone who looked like they'd still be able to order off the kid's menu have several degrees?
"So what you're saying is I'm a lazy, good for nothing, idiotic, loser," you joked.
"I didn't say anything even close to that," he said, already knowing your teasing antics after years of being a victim of them.
"You implied it when you said he was my age."
"I only said he was your age because you said he looked too young to be a Dr."
"He does," you stated, your voice a little louder than intended, making a couple people's heads turn your way.
Once they looked away your dad spoke again.
"I have to get back to work, and you have a future to figure out," he told you.
You made a face at him, "Don't remind me," you said, having spent all week doing job interviews and using whatever connections you had made with people in college.
"I'll see you at home," your dad told you before retreating back into his office.
You knew your way out of the place, having been there multiple times before. As you walked between the desks in the bullpen you noticed a certain person's head lift up. You made eye contact before he swiftly turned away and you kept walking towards the glass door. You couldn't help but smile at the fact that he took a moment to notice you.
In that split second you took in his nerdy, yet cute, glasses that framed his face. Alongside his soft looking hair that sat perfectly, and his meek expression as he no doubt tried to analyze whatever he could about you in that moment.
That was the thing about profilers: they were always studying people by how they walked, or talked, or even breathed. He probably figured out something about you you wouldn't even have been able to figure out in the brief second he saw you.
Dr. Spencer Reid, you kept repeating to yourself. It was as if you were trying to engrain it into your brain so you wouldn't forget it. There was something about him you just needed to know.
You tried not to give into your urges. But after thinking about him on the drive home, then at dinner, then while you were trying to fill out a job application, and even as you were laying down in your comfy bed, you inevitably gave up. He was consuming your every thought and you eventually had to cave into the hunger.
You took out your laptop, quickly looking up his name. He had multiple doctorates, no doubt it'd be easy to find at least something about him.
What you found though was more than you expected. There were multiple of his papers, all of which you read through, hanging onto almost every detail. There were countless articles, some about him himself, and some about his work at the BAU.
You couldn't find any socials. You assumed he must've been very introverted by the way he looked and his lack of online presence. After doing a little bit of digging—which was actually at least two hours worth—you managed to find the social media of one Penelope Garcia. You knew she was the technical analyst for the BAU, and with her bubbly personality probably loved to make the fun occasional posts.
Lucky for you, one of those fun occasional posts included a picture of Spencer. He was taking a sip of coffee while Garcia must've sneakily taken the photo of him.
He looked quite cute when he had no clue anyone was looking. If you hadn't seen him with your own eyes you might've assumed he was something you made up.
To be fair, he didn't sound real on paper.
A genius. Correction, a cute genius. Who had multiple degrees in subjects you could barely wrap your head around, who was working a real job saving people. Not even to mention seemed shy, yet could no doubt probably talk your ear off with facts you never in a million years would've known.
He seemed like a guy you'd dream up after a horrific break up. Not someone that existed. And even crazier, was a possibility for you.
You flopped down onto your mattress, imagining it. He probably enjoyed trips to the bookstore, and small coffee shops, and walks in the middle of autumn as the crunchy orange leaves fell to the ground. He probably loved long talks, and you could imagine admiring him as he explained topics he was passionate about.
The more you imagined him the more he seemed like an angel on the walls of Versailles. Irrevocably beautiful, and impossible to ever even fathom wanting to look away from.
You fell asleep that night thinking and daydreaming of him, scheming up a plan to talk to him.
Luckily for you, that plan was able to be put into action only two weeks later. Your dad had offered to have lunch in his office again to make up for missing dinner due to a case. Normally you'd be sad he missed your original plan, but you couldn't have been happier now about it.
Your plan was exceedingly simple, only requiring the perfect timing. Your dad told you to arrive around one in the afternoon. You knew he had a meeting from noon till then, meaning there was a window in which you could arrive early and be unable to enter your dad's office. You decided to take advantage of this to try and talk to Spencer.
The only flaw was that you had no clue how you'd approach him. He knew you'd been to the BAU before, having seen you there, so you couldn't lie and say you were lost. He probably wouldn't approach you first, and you didn't want to interrupt him while working. You were going to have to go with the flow and hope for the best.
You walked out of the elevator, clipping on your visitor's pass. You opened up the glass door, taking in a deep breath before stepping in. You had arrived at 12:30, hoping that was enough time to run your scheme before your dad invited you in for lunch.
The bullpen was busy with agents doing paperwork, or talking to others about something work related. You stood in the middle of it pretending to check your watch as if having accidentally arrived just a little too early. You looked through your dad's window, seeing he in fact was in a meeting. You now just had to figure out how to make your way to the cute nerd's desk.
Divine forces must've been working with you that day as a familiar person headed towards you.
"And to what do we owe this visit?" Derek Morgan said, now standing in front of you.
"I was supposed to be having lunch with my dad, but I guess he's busy at the moment," you told him, unable to not notice the way a certain agent's ears seemed to prick up.
"Well I guess that means you're stuck with us."
"Last time that happened we broke a printer, and got banned from Garcia's lair," you reminded him.
"Which is why," he started to say, pointing at you and someone else behind you, "I'm putting you in capable hands."
If you could give up your first born to whatever was making you this lucky you would. You looked behind you as he pointed to Spencer who quickly ducked his head to avoid your gaze.
"So you're giving me a babysitter?" you teased.
"No, I'm introducing you to someone who hopefully won't help you cause property damage," he said, walking you closer to Spencer's desk.
"You say that as if you weren't the one to help me."
"Not the point."
Morgan walked up to Spencer's desk, gaining his attention. Spencer's eyes flicked between you and Morgan through his glasses.
"Pretty boy," he greeted, and you immediately knew he lived up to the nickname, "I don't suppose you've met Hotch's daughter."
"Uh, no," he replied, stammering as he stood up from his seat, "I didn't even know Hotch had a daughter to be fair."
He smoothed out his tie before giving you a small wave. You smiled at him, not expecting him to wave at you instead of shaking your hand.
"Boy genius doesn't do handshakes," Morgan told you.
You just nodded at him, waiting for Spencer to say something.
"It's nothing personal, it's just that with the number of pathogens passed through a handshake, it's actually safer to kiss," he rambled, his ears burning red.
"Interesting," you said, unable to help the smile on your face at his weird, yet fun fact. So far he was exactly as you had imagined him.
Morgan looked between you two for a moment. Sensing something he wasn't too sure what he was picking up on.
"Well, I'll leave you both to it," he said before turning around, leaving you with Spencer.
Your plan had worked way better than you ever expected it to. You introduced yourself to him as he did the same, even though you already knew who he was. You knew more about him then he probably assumed you had. He introduced himself as Dr. Reid, making it easier for you to bring up your next topic.
"Dr.?" you questioned, pretending to be shocked, "no offense but you look kind of young to be a Dr."
He looked down at the floor before speaking, "I get that a lot."
"Well what are you a Dr. in?"
"Mathematics, chemistry, and engineering," he answered, sitting back down in his chair.
You stole a chair from an empty desk, placing it in front of his desk. You leaned forward, resting your chin on your head, fully interested in whatever he had to say.
"And here I thought my master's was impressive," you teased.
"N-no, it is," he stumbled, "any academic achievement is impressive. Only about 34% percent of the adult population in the United States has a bachelor's as their highest level of education. A master's degree is even less, with only about 13% of the adult population having one as their highest level of education."
You nodded along as he spoke. You weren't surprised he new statistics that perfectly applied to the conversation off the top of his head.
"So I guess you're in the top .0001% with your three degrees."
"Technically, I have three more, but their only bachelor's."
You playfully rolled your eyes, "Yeah, their only bachelors who would count them," you joked.
He smiled at you, a real honest smile that you wanted to kiss off his face. Usually you weren't one to fall for someone so quickly, but there was something about him you couldn't shake away.
"I have an eidetic memory," he admitted, intriguing you even more, "so it just makes it easier for me I guess."
"So you're a genius basically."
He stumbled over his words, a faint blush appearing on his face, "I wouldn't call myself a genius."
You once again nodded, liking how flustered he got.
"Well genius," you said, using the nickname against him, only making him turn redder, "where'd you go to school?"
"I went to Caltech."
"Really? I can't imagine you in orange."
"I wouldn't say it's my color, but the school's pretty great."
"I'd assume they’re a lot better than just pretty great if their teaching geniuses there."
He shook his head, "I never said I was a genius."
You sat up in your chair a bit, leaning a bit closer, "Give me any evidence as to why you're not a genius and why I shouldn't call you genius."
Spencer sat there for a moment, opening and closing his mouth multiple times.
"Exactly," you said, "you are a genius."
Before he could respond the door to your dad's office opened. Your expression dropped a bit since that meant your conversation with Spencer was over. You were having fun teasing him for being so smart and watching him get all flustered.
Someone walked out of your dad's office, making their way down the steps as he noticed you. He waved you into his office. You looked back at Spencer wanting to accomplish one more thing before leaving.
"I had fun talking with you," you told him, hoping he'd pick up the hint.
"I did too."
"It'd be nice to finish our conversation another time."
He nodded, looking down again, too nervous to look at you.
"Yeah, if whenever you're back, I'd love to continue talking, you're nice to talk to."
"I was thinking more like when you're not working," you admitted, knowing he was too hopeless to get the hint.
"Oh," he said.
"I assume you like to read," you said, looking at the stack of books on his desk.
"Just a little bit," he joked, smiling up at you.
"Good," you said, grabbing a sticky note off his desk, writing your number on it, "give me a call sometime, I'd love to go to the bookstore with you sometime if you want."
He nodded, taking the piece of paper from you, "Okay," he mumbled.
You got up from your chair, putting it back before turning towards him, "Bye, genius."
"Bye," he uttered, his voice low, as if still nervous to talk to you.
You couldn't help but feel giddy with how well your conversation had gone. It also didn't help that you were going to see him outside of his job at some point. Even worse you kept daydreaming about him, and thinking about how you just might drop dead if he kissed you after your date to the bookstore.
you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love masterlist
words: 1.4k+
warnings/tags: spencer's pov, angst, drinking, smoking, reader has a bad addiction, she's an unreliable narrator in the first part, technically miscommunication if you like squint, tbh i don't think this is a healthy relationship at all anymore
summary: Spencer's perspective on the event from alternate ending one of begged (you don't have to read begged but the alternate ending part is a must)
a/n i have a lot to say rn lowkey, starting off the reason i have the alternate endings is bcs i got multiple requests for them, plus was asked to continue some of this one, also like genuinely this was hard to write because while i think spencer is doing his best he too has flaws that make it hard to try and write this relationship as something healthy or can be fixed, plus is doesn't help that the reader is an unreliable narrator in the first alternate ending bcs she's been drinking the entire time and is slowly getting more and more gaps in her memory. This keeps making me think of the Bojack Horseman episode where he's looking back on all the "first times" he drank alcohol bcs reader doesn't really remember when this started and the time she says she does remember when this started is actually false bcs she's trying to justify to herself doing all of this. This was really long but i keep spiralling in thought abt what was supposed to be one oneshot 😭 anyway if u read this tysm for doing so and pls enjoy!
He knew it was his fault he let it get this bad and he knew it was his job to fix it. The consequences of his constant absence were finally catching up to him. He'd tried his hardest to not let things go too far.
He bought you whatever you wanted. If you had plans to go out, but he was away on a case he made sure you weren't spending a dime of your own. He encouraged you to use his card for dinner, or drinks, or anything that required money. If you talked about wanting a new book, or vinyl, or literally almost anything he bought it for you before you could even finish telling him about it.
Originally you were hesitant at first, not wanting him to splurge too much on you. He didn't care though, and just wanted some way to make up for not being there. Eventually, you gave up on protesting and just let him do as he wished.
That was when he first thought something was wrong.
Even before you'd moved in with him you would chastise him for paying the bill at dinner, or spending a little extra to buy you something nice. He couldn't resist treating you so lavishly. If he could, he'd find a way to buy you the moon. Even if you would tell him it was too much, because to him nothing was too much for you.
So when you stopped refusing to let him pay for you he immediately had a feeling something wasn't right. He'd leave you his card and at first it always stayed right where he left, not a single charge on it. But slowly that changed, and it held a permanent spot in your wallet.
It didn't feel entirely right to him, but he let it slide.
He didn't want you dependent on him. You had a job and could pay for your own stuff, but he needed a way to feel less guilty about not being there for you. If he could just take care of you in one way then maybe it would make up for not being able to in other ways. But deep down he knew it wouldn't.
Nothing felt wrong until one day when everything clicked into place.
Spencer had been on a case for a few days where he had no cell reception. The unsub was going across multiple small towns that were experiencing a problem with the power lines. Cell phone service had been down and the unsub chose to take advantage of it. For almost a week Spencer wasn't able to call you.
There was no place close enough for the team to stay so that they could have power and be able to work the case. They opted to have Garcia send over any potential file needed beforehand, and proceeded to go days without any service.
Once the case was over messages flooded the team's phone. Spencer didn't get a chance to tell you this beforehand, which made his concern even worse when he saw several missed calls from you.
The second the plane touched down in Virginia he called you. You told him something about a pipe in the bathroom, which made him feel slightly better. Yet, he still didn't fully believe you for some odd reason though. He decided to brush it off since he knew what his constant leaving was doing to you, and you definitely didn't need him to make things worse by calling you a liar.
He returned home and believed everything was fine, because in his mind it was. You were happy to see him and he was happy to fall asleep next to you again. He tried his best to make up for everything by spending every second with you. He was even able to make it fully through dates without having to leave at the last minute. Something he knew was the bare minimum he should've been doing for you. But everything was still going well.
Or so he thought till he went to get the mail one day. He'd noticed a hospital bill in your name. It detailed your entire stay which was dated back to the day he'd been on that case where you'd called him multiple times.
The realization hit him and he felt sick to his stomach. Even worse, he started to question why you didn't tell him.
For the next few days he tried to hint towards you about it. Mentioning how some people at work had gotten sick. Or the facts behind the flu and the correct medical procedures to take care of someone with it. No matter what you never said anything.
He quickly figured out you weren't going to open up to him about it and decided it was just one thing. Right?
He started to question if that was the only thing you were hiding. He never looked at what you spent his money on. You were an adult and he knew he could trust you. He didn't need to snoop on what you were buying.
But something in him told him to check. He looked at the recent purchases on his account, noting the bars you chose to frequent more often, alongside the purchases of wine that started to grow.
Once again that pit in his stomach formed. Was his absence causing you to drink more?
He looked around the apartment for any evidence but couldn't find much. There was the vodka in the fridge that you told him you bought for a girls night. He left the apartment that night so that you could have your time without him in peace. But now he started to question if that was what started this, since the purchases started not long after.
There were bottles of wine in the apartment. Most of them being the recent ones you'd bought, but they were mostly closed. There was nothing he could find that would suggest anything bad.
So he decided to once again drop it. You were an adult and you made your own decisions and did your own things. He had no say in what you did when he was gone, and had no right to police you around.
That was what he kept telling himself.
But things only ever got worse from then on. He'd been going on cases like he regularly would. Once again leaving you alone in the apartment.
He'd return home and notice bottles switching from the small collection you had. He never drank, but he didn't mind you keeping alcohol in the apartment when you moved in. But he'd rarely seen you touch them, except for the occasional glass of wine during dinner.
It was a battle in his head whether or not he should confront you about it. He knew something was wrong and he was causing it. But what if him bringing it up only made it worse? What if he was wrong and you resented him even more? He was trying desperately to make things right with you, to the point he didn't want to make a single mistake to ruin it.
He noticed when you picked up smoking and would secretly do so even when he was home. You'd go outside saying you wanted some fresh air then come back inside smelling faintly of smoke.
His consciousness was growing on him and he knew he needed to talk to you. He couldn't be selfish anymore and try to pretend things were okay when he knew they weren't. He'd been trying to build up the courage for days when he came home to you drunk at the kitchen counter.
He did his best to take care of you and get you to bed. Every time you didn't recognize him hurt, but this was his fault and he had to accept that.
Spencer knew better than anyone what it was like to be in your position. To be an addict trying to rationalize your addiction while you thought no one noticed. He believed his team didn't know a thing and had to get clean all alone.
It hit him all at once what he was doing to you. He wasn't just neglecting you with his lack of presence in your life. He was neglecting you by letting you ruin yourself all because he was too afraid to lose you. He remembered what it felt like to go through this alone and made a promise to himself he wasn't going to let you do that.
When he woke up that morning he was going to do whatever it took to be there for you in the ways he hadn't. Whether that meant taking days off of work, or having to have the team call him on a case while he was home, or even taking you to rehab. He was going to be there for you from now on, no matter what it cost.
a/n ik there wasn't any dialogue but this was just more of Spencer's perspective on this cause i thought it'd be fun to explore
Alternate Endings: You Seem Pretty Sad For A Girl So In Love - Spencer R.
begged:
-alternate ending one: Things hadn't gotten any better since that night you begged Spencer to stay and instead you'd started to pick up some bad habits that you thought Spencer hadn't noticed until he did
-spencer's pov: Spencer's perspective on the event from alternate ending one of begged
can be read alone, but here's part one if you want to read first
words: 3.2k+
warnings/tags: ANGST, alternate ending to another oneshot, technically part two, drinking, smoking, reader is drunk, kind of neglectful and absent spencer, flu, hospital visit
summary: Things hadn't gotten any better since that night you begged Spencer to stay and instead you'd started to pick up some bad habits that you thought Spencer hadn't noticed until he did
a/n @goldenlinguistics1114 and @zmbiereid for the idea! I have another alternate ending I'll post at some point, also I was playing cool about it by boygenius when writing this, and I was thinking abt bojack horseman so let me know if you catch my reference
Everything had been a blur and you couldn't even pinpoint to exactly when it started. It could've been a decade and you wouldn't have noticed. The months turned into another week missed, to what felt like hours stitched together to make what you questioned was a full day. You could only point out one incident that led to this, which was one of the last things you fully remembered.
The pain was the first thing you remembered, followed by the realization your boyfriend wasn't there to help you. You'd been coughing for a couple days, sneezing more than usual, your throat felt like it'd been scratched raw, but you just thought it was a simple cold. It wasn't gradual at all. Instead you woke up one night unable to breathe from how stuffed your nose was. You couldn't even think straight with how the pain was pounding in your head. It took you what felt like years to conclude you felt like you were dying before doing something about it.
You'd been sick before, but there was always someone there for you, and it had never been that bad before. The first thing you did was reach for your phone and call your boyfriend. You could barely make out his contact, but once you did the phone started to ring, making the pain in your head grow.
Spencer always picked up no matter how late it was. Whether he was in the middle of a case, or he was dead asleep, he'd still wake up and answer.
Except this was the first time he didn't. The call went to voicemail after ringing. You didn't know what to do. For so long Spencer had been the first person you called for anything. And now he wasn't picking up.
You tried again and again before giving up. You thought you were going to die in that bed. The constant ringing made your head hurt worse, you couldn't breath, partly from how stuffed your nose was, the other part from the shortness of breath you were experiencing.
You looked at your phone one last time, dialing one of your friends. They picked up quickly, sounding tired like they'd just woken up. They asked what was wrong and you told them. Their first thought was to ask if Spencer was there, which only made you cry in your delirious state. They then told you they'd be over any minute and to try and take some medicine if you could.
They let themselves into the apartment with their spare key. You don't remember too much. Just that they got you to choke down some sort of medicine and that one moment you were in a soft, yet empty bed, and the next you were somewhere where everything smelt sterile.
You awoke two days later, confused as to where you were. You sat up in an empty room, looking at your surroundings. Quickly you realized you were in the hospital, but you couldn't remember what for. All you remembered was the pain and Spencer not answering. After that it went blank.
Eventually a nurse came into your room. She seemed happy that you were finally awake, telling you what had happened. Your friend had rushed you to the hospital the second they noticed you were burning up badly and couldn't breath. The nurse told you it was good what your friend did. She said that if she didn't things might've taken a turn for the worse.
You didn't want to process what those words meant as you tried to get the thought to leave your head.
She told you how you had a severe fever, which had just started to go away. You felt better now, you could breathe easier, your head still slightly pounded, but not as bad, and your throat didn't feel as raw.
The nurse told you everything, except for the part where your boyfriend never answered the call the hospital gave, and he never returned it. Your friend showed up later to visit, bringing fresh clothes, food they knew you'd want, and comfort items from your apartment. They also didn't have the heart to tell you how Spencer never picked up the phone, or called back, even with the nasty voicemail they had left after he hadn't picked up for the tenth time. With how highly you spoke of Spencer, and how sweet he treated you when they met him they were shocked he hadn't answered once.
Your friend visited during the appropriate hours every day, making sure you weren't alone. You wanted to ask about Spencer, but couldn't bring yourself to. You hadn't checked your phone, too afraid to see that he either hadn't called once, or was now finally picking up his phone.
Another two days later you were discharged with instructions to return if the symptoms did. Luckily, you were fine and had recovered easily. You had finally looked at your phone to see that Spencer hadn't called once. You should've been surprised that with five missed calls from you he didn't think to answer once. But with how things had been going, and with how he left that night, even when you begged him not to, you couldn't bring yourself to feel a certain way about it.
The wound was too raw to acknowledge, and too old to dwell on.
You had been sitting on the couch, eating leftovers when your phone rang. Originally, you thought it was your friend checking up on you, but to your surprise it was Spencer. You stared at his name for a moment before answering.
"Hey," his voice rang out, one that you knew, but felt miles away from familiar anymore, "I just landed, I'll be home in a few minutes."
You had completely forgotten he was away on a case. When you got back to an empty apartment everything felt normal. Nothing felt out of place and you hadn't noticed that till now.
"That's great," you said, your face eerily empty.
"Why'd you call me so many times a few nights ago?" he asked casually.
It took everything in you not to throw up at that moment. He'd noticed the calls, but hadn't taken a moment to call back, or even text, or maybe even have Garcia, or any of your other friends he knew check on you.
"I would've called to ask earlier, but the case kept us super busy," he explained, which unfortunately did not help the gnawing feeling in your stomach.
"A pipe burst in the bathroom," you lied, not wanting him to worry about you, he'd been saving someone from getting murdered and was no doubt exhausted, there was no need to make him feel even worse, "I didn't know what to do, but I figured it out and everything is fine."
"That's good," he said, "I'm sorry I wasn't there to help."
"It's fine, everything's fine now."
"You sure?" he asked, questioning your tone. He knew how you'd repeat that everything was fine when it truly wasn't. He knew everything about you. At least he did, you weren't too sure these days.
"Yeah, I called a friend and they sorted it out," you told him, not exactly lying, since you did call your friend, it just wasn't the whole truth.
"Alright, I'll see you when I get home," he said, before adding, "I love you."
"Love you too," you said quickly before hanging up.
Spencer returned that night, content to see you. He kissed you like he usually did, helped you at night like he usually did, and then left a week later like he usually did.
Something felt different this time after he left. The first night was the worst, knowing he disappeared from you without a second thought. Every new first night alone you would crack open a bottle of wine, the amount of glasses increasing each time till it was a whole bottle.
The wine wasn't enough that night though and you decided to reopen the bottle of vodka in your fridge from your last girls night with Penelope and the rest of the BAU girls. You told yourself it would just be one vodka cranberry.
Which it was, but only for that night.
It took you three days to finish the bottle before moving to whatever drops of liquor you could find around your apartment. The headache you woke up with only got worse each morning, making you move onto morning mimosas. You told yourself it was just to help with the headache, no other reason.
The next day Spencer returned home. You did your best to hide what had happened the past four days. You filled the vodka bottle with water, since Spencer would most definitely notice it was empty. You did the same thing with the wine that sat on the counter just days ago. It was a good thing for you that Spencer never drank and would never have a reason to notice the alcohol free bottles.
Spencer stayed home for longer than usual. You were elated that you weren't waking up to an empty bed anymore. Your free time was no longer spent lying motionless on the couch, instead being filled with walks in the park, and dinners that ended with you cuddled up on the couch while some movie played.
The past three weeks had been the best in a long time. You were actually happy to return home from work instead of dreading the second your surroundings were forced to go silent.
You hadn't touched any of the remaining alcohol in the house. Even refusing the glass of wine Spencer offered you one night. Luckily he didn't pick up the bottle because only he would notice the change in the weight of it.
You'd gone three weeks without even thinking about needing a distraction until the only sound in your life was the crickets outside the window. Spencer had been called in for another case and had called you earlier in the afternoon to tell you he'd have to cancel on dinner that night.
It only hurt slightly less knowing he was gone, due to how well things were going. But even then it only took you till the second night alone to pick up the bottle again.
You'd made a trip to the liquor store after work, saying that you'd just pick up one bottle to enjoy with dinner. Somehow one bottle became three, and three bottles became not just wine. You woke up that morning feeling like you had less than a month ago.
The cycle had continued for a while. Growing more and more each time he left. Whether it was abrupt, or he called you from work, or you got to kiss him goodbye before he walked out the door, you resumed the same activity you did every time.
At some point cigarettes started to appear in your pocket. You had tried them once as a teenager, continuing the habit for a couple months till your friends wrestled away your stash. You thought back to how they'd all moved in rotation with you for a couple weeks making sure you actually quit smoking. They cared about you and refused to let you pick up a bad habit, instead trying to help you swap it out for a good one.
You wondered where all your old friends were. They probably had good lives. Lived in nice houses, worked a nice job, had a partner that was home. Maybe even kids they got to wake up to in the morning, instead of the same motionless air.
You tried to hide your habits and the cycle you'd been stuck in as best as possible from Spencer. Whenever he called or texted you that he was on his way home you quickly gathered yourself, throwing away all evidence of your drinking, hiding those that you didn't want him to see.
The cigarettes in your purse got stashed in between your collection of vinyl records. Spencer knew you were careful with them and he would never touch them without your permission, hence why it was the best hiding spot.
Everything had gone just your way. He never noticed and he never had any clue what you were doing while he was away. He didn't even know that you'd gotten fired from your job for being late and missing days. You kept that from him by leaving the house at your usual time. You sat in a small dingy bar that was always opened, drinking till you had to sober up just enough for him to not notice.
Even with you drinking while he was home he never noticed. And you believed he never would till one night.
The front door opened, you heard shoes being kicked off, a bag being put down gently on the ground as someone made their way through the apartment. You couldn't tell who it was, not even caring enough to move. You could barely feel whatever surface your face was on, much less move your head or open your eyes to see who was there.
Someone touched your arm gently as they whispered your name. You could just barely open your eyes to see someone's face in front of yours. You couldn't immediately recognize it, but your body felt too heavy to jump, instead you just stared at him.
"Hey," he said, his voice gentle, "I didn't mean to wake you."
Whoever this was must've thought you'd fallen asleep at wherever you were in your apartment.
"Who are you?" you slurred out, still able to lift your head, but able to move your mouth, "What are you doing in my apartment?"
He looked confused, "It's me, Spencer, Hotch let us all go home instead of doing paperwork this late."
You tried shaking your head, unsure if it moved or not, "No, no I live here alone. What are you doing here?"
He looked even more confused, retreating away from you. You couldn't tell where he was until a light switch flicked on. You squeezed your eyes shut, not expecting the intense light you were met with.
"What the-" you heard him say as he looked around the place.
There were bottles scattered around the place, mostly in the kitchen. On the counter where you were sitting, the space was littered with empty bottles of all kinds.
"What happened?" he questioned, unable to comprehend the sight before him.
The bright light seemed to make some part of your senses click into place as you lifted your head. You looked at what he was seeing, shrugging.
"I was bored," you slurred.
"You were bored so you drank an entire liquor store?" he questioned, his voice somewhere between surprised, concerned, and wanting to die from the fact he had no clue about this.
Once again you just shrugged, trying to keep your body upright.
"When did this start?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper.
"I don't know," you said, "Why do you care?"
"I'm your boyfriend, I should care, I should've known, I-" he tried to reason, but you cut him off.
"I don't have a boyfriend."
There was a beat of silence.
"What?" he said, his voice sounding caught in his throat. If you could make out his face better you would've said he was on the verge of tears.
"I live alone," you repeated.
He was silent again. He took a couple steps closer, lowering himself to your level.
"I knew-" he said, having to stop himself to clear his throat, "I knew you'd started smoking, but I couldn't bring myself to talk to you about it because I knew I was the reason why. But, I had no clue any of this was happening. I'm so sorry."
Tears were slowly falling down his face as he looked down. He couldn't look you in the eye. Not in that state. Not with knowing he was the reason why you'd been reduced to this.
"Stop being dramatic," you uttered, in your mind some stranger crying in front of you, "I once smoked a cigarette in a single drag." You drunkenly laughed at your own admission.
To you it was hilarious. Your horrible accomplishment was the funniest thing you could think of and was the first thing you thought of when he mentioned knowing your problem. To him it just made the pit growing in his stomach expand three times. He held his head down even further, the tears flowing even more.
"How did I let this happen?" he mumbled to himself.
"It's fine, I'm fine," you reassured him.
He shook his head, "No it's not, I should've noticed, I should've done something."
"Maybe," you said absentmindedly.
He finally looked back up at you, swallowing his tears for the time being. He had failed you at the moment, but he wasn't going to anymore.
"Let me get you to bed," he said standing up as he held out his hand to you.
"Why should I follow you?" you questioned, still unsure about the crying stranger in front of you.
He paused for a moment, opening his mouth, trying to think of what to say.
Eventually he settled on, "I don't know."
You sat there till lying down sounded nice and the stranger didn't seem like he was going to hurt you. He seemed rather caring, more than you thought anyone had been to you in awhile. You blindly followed him throughout your apartment, clinging onto him. Something about holding onto him made you feel safe and calm even in your drunken state.
He softly guided you onto your bed, onto the side you usually slept on. You got comfortable in your spot. He put the blanket over you as you grabbed onto it, pulling it closer to you.
"You're sweet," you drunkenly mumbled.
He didn't respond, instead just kneeled on the floor in front of you. He stayed there, resting his chin on the edge of the mattress, inches away from your serene face. The tears slightly fell off his face and onto the soft sheets as he watched you fall asleep. He continued to observe you as your breath evened out.
He placed a soft kiss on your forehead. He pulled back, admiring you for another long while.
"I'm so sorry," he uttered, even though he knew you couldn't hear him, "I'm to help you I swear, I'm going to take care of you from now on, I promise."
Those were the last words he said to you that night before climbing into the bed next to you. It felt off to him though. You were practically strangers to each other now. He had no clue you'd been fired, that you'd been drinking yourself away, or that you'd been dying in the hospital months ago. You had no clue how much of his absence had been eating away at him, and how much he was unable to sleep at night because of it.
He silently promised himself that he was going to do whatever it took to help you. Even if that meant him leaving. He then cried himself to sleep, quietly as to not wake you, just like he did every other night.
summary: After many missed dates you finally make it almost all the way through one before having to beg Spencer to stay
a/n ts was sad to write, anyway let me know if we want more angst
For once the air was still, but not suffocating. Outside the apartment it wasn't silent, the crickets chirped, people's cars drove by, there was life. And for once inside the apartment it wasn't quiet either. Remnants of a home cooked meal were left in the kitchen, lights were left on as two people danced around the apartment, flowing perfectly around each other.
Spencer was home after a week long case and was resuming the date he had to bail on because of it. You had plans to see a performance that was that night only. It was supposed to be a soft night with your boyfriend. One that would take his mind off of work, and one that would make you forget all the others he had to miss because of work.
Instead, you were left with a text message from him, saying he couldn't make it and was about to board a flight out to Missouri. Instead of holding his hand in the dark and on the way home, instead of getting dessert after, and walking under the stars, you were left to cry silently in your bed.
The first couple missed dates you excused. You probably would've excused more of his absence if it hadn't bled into your life even more.
It wasn't just dates anymore. It became celebrations for your accomplishments at work, or in your life, events that he knew you'd been waiting for and just how important to you they were; to which you ended up missing, waiting for him, only to receive a text hours later that he was in some state across the country, and that he'd call you when he could, and eventually make it up to you.
He always did make it up to you though. Tickets to concerts you couldn't afford, reservations at your favorite restaurant, even once reorganizing the entire party meant to celebrate your promotion, all because he missed it.
But something never sat right about all of the makeups. Because that's what they were. Makeups. He had time to think of you as a priority, but nowhere near a first.
The worst was when eventually, he missed your birthday. He knew the exact day, he'd never forget it, it was one of the days he swore on the heavens above he'd never forget. And yet, there you were with the cake he had made for you, sitting alone in the apartment, eating it all by yourself. The cake was bitter, you couldn't tell if it was your tears, or just the cake itself that made it taste that way, either way it made your stomach churn and your throat close up.
Tonight wasn't the night to think about that though. He was here, and that was all that mattered. You made it through dinner with him, helping him cook the meal so he didn't lose a finger, or cause a kitchen fire. He wasn't the most coordinated, easily making you laugh, the way you hadn't been able to for weeks.
Spencer had even made sure to go to the bakery all the way across town to pick up your favorite dessert for the two of you to share. Now you were both cuddled up on the couch, watching a movie he let you pick, with your favorite candy.
He'd done everything right. The dinner, the dessert, the candy, his attention, his attendance. And yet, something still didn't entirely feel right.
"Did you know all the blue in this movie were used to make the female lead's eyes pop more," he murmured into your ear as he held you against his chest.
"Hm," you mused, paying more attention to the movie for a moment, "I guess they do."
"Also the IKEA scene was heavily improvised by the actors," he told you, "it made the scene look more natural that way."
"Someone did their homework," you teased, looking up at him.
"You loved this movie, so I wanted to know all about it," he admitted, "that way I could talk to you about it."
You smiled up at him, appreciative of his attempt to share facts about a movie you loved.
"You're so-" you were about to say as his phone started to ring and your stomach dropped.
You knew exactly what it was without a doubt.
Spencer picked up his phone before looking over at you. He opened his mouth, but you spoke before him.
"You can answer it," you told him, sitting up, "it's fine."
He blinked at you for a moment before letting out a breath and answering the call.
"Hey, Hotch," he greeted.
To say you were hoping that he'd come back and sit on the couch and finish the movie with you, would be a lie, because you knew he wasn't going to. It would've been a lie to say you were disappointed, because you couldn't be, you couldn't feel disappointed by something you'd been letting slide for so long.
You could hear his muffled conversation as he had gotten up, choosing to take it in the bedroom. You could hear his voice telling Hotch he'd be there as soon as possible. You could hear the door creak back open, and all the life in the apartment went quiet again.
He swallowed hard before speaking, "Hotch called, I have to meet the team at the BAU for a case."
"Okay," you mumbled out. Tears used to prick your eyes at those words, but now you couldn't even will them to come.
"I don't want to leave, believe me," he said, his voice low.
"Should I?" you questioned, tired of letting this go on unspoken. Your gaze stayed on the floor, unable to look up at him.
"What?" he said quietly.
"Spencer, this was to make up for the date you missed because of your last case, which was to make up for my birthday which you missed because the team needed you to be there immediately," you told him, your voice coming out harsher than you wish you had.
"I did have to be there immediately, and the team did need me," he defended.
"Penelope told me you were there early, and the first one there, and yet you didn't even have the decency to call me," you argued, "you had Penelope call and tell me."
He was now also staring at the ground, "I was busy."
"You were too busy for me," you said, "you say your team needs you, but what about me? Do I not need you too?"
He shook his head, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes, "No, that's not true."
"Then why are you never here?"
"I am here, I'm here right now, and I'm always there to make it up to you."
"But, that's what it is every time, as makeup, never the actual date or plans you promised you'd show up to."
"I have to be there for my job, it's important, my team is important."
"What's more important, Spencer, me or your team?"
He paused at the question. Not because he didn't want to tell you his answer, but because he couldn't. You and his team were the most important people to him. And he just couldn't choose between them.
"That's not fair," he whispered out, his voice caught in his throat as a tear slid down his cheek.
You were finally looking up at him, and he was looking back at you. You were both silent for a moment. The only sound that filled the place was the noise outside that invaded the deafening silence in the apartment.
"Can you please just stay?" you asked, your voice small and meek. You wished you could cry, that you could truly feel sad about him having to abandon your date again. But you couldn't, you didn't feel sad, just numb inside.
"I," he started, stuttering over his words, "I can't, I told Hotch I'd be there as soon as possible."
"You can't even stay with me for thirty minutes?" you questioned, "just this once, please."
Your pleas hurt him inside, but he had a job to do. He couldn't sit around and finish a movie with you when people were out being killed. But he also couldn't will himself to take a step towards the door.
"I have a job to do," he told you, the words stinging in his mouth.
"Please, Spence, please," you begged, "just stay for once, that's all I ask."
He was silent before another moment, as you looked back down at the floor. You heard footsteps as the floor creaked under the weight. You expected to hear the sound of keys jangling and the door closing, but instead you felt the couch dip under the weight on top of it. You looked up ever so slightly to see him sitting exactly where he was just a few minutes ago.
"I'll stay," he told you, "just this once."
You accepted it, letting him put his arm back around you. You snuggled up into his side again, leaning your head on his chest. You could feel his staggered breathing as you laid there, motionless, watching the movie play through.
You hated thinking about how every second was a second closer to him leaving and walking out that door again. You tried to focus on just being there in that moment when he finally decided to stay.
But why did it have to take you begging him for him to stay? Shouldn't it have been enough to not want to leave you alone? Shouldn't he have been more resistant to abandoning you, again?
You'd been waiting on your luck to change. That this would happen, and he'd stay. And yet, it still didn't feel right. No wish in a fountain could change that dreaded feeling.
It wasn't enough that he was staying, when you had to beg him too.
Instead of trying to find something to focus on that didn't make you feel even worse, you chose to just close your eyes. Maybe if you fell asleep you wouldn't feel so bad about him leaving again. You wouldn't have to watch or hear him leave, and that would be the least painful way for this to happen.
But you weren't that fortunate. You heard the sound of the end credits playing as that feeling of dread deepened. You heard the TV shut off, feeling the weight and warmth of his body leave yours as he laid you down softly on the couch. You felt him place a soft his on the crown of your head as he stroked your hair. He muttered a small, 'I love you', before leaving the living room. You heard him grab his keys and his bag as the door shut behind him.
That was when the tears finally won. You sobbed silently onto the couch. Even in the end your plea wasn't enough to make him stay any longer than what you had begged him to.
Even with him placing a kiss on you before leaving, and telling you he loved you wasn't enough to soften the blow of him leaving. You knew he wasn't lying when he said he loved you, he truly did. But in the end, it didn't feel like enough.
It was good that he loved you, and how he loved you was good, and you knew it was something you shouldn't let slip away. And yet, it was hard to keep it when it felt like no matter what it was always going to leave you, it was now just a matter of when.
you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love masterlist
words: 4.3+
warnings/tags: jareau!reader, JJ's older sister, she does not work at the BAU, i don't think anything else so please enjoy
summary: Eventually the team finds out Spencer has been talking with JJ's sister and has a date with her, then months later they finally get to meet her
a/n i need to start being consistent on my posting lowkey like i meant to post this DAYS ago but anyway if you like please leave a comment i love reading ur guy's comments i enjoy them so much, and please enjoy!
It all started with a normal day at the BAU office. Hotch and Rossi arrived early before the team, as did Emily and Spencer. Morgan and Garcia arrived exactly on time, chatting and giggling over something random. Everyone made their morning coffee, Morgan made sure to tease Spencer for the amount of sugar in his as per usual. Paperwork was filled, the usual banter was shared, and overall it was a normal day.
Except for the elephant in the room. Spencer had been oddly cheerful the past few days, and no one could understand why.
They tried doing what they do best, profiling, but even then it was hard to figure out. To any of their knowledge no crazy scientific discovery had been made, at least not one that would make him happy for that long. Nor was there a new doctor on Dr. Who, or a new science fiction adaptation being made. They ruled out anything personal already, since Garcia had stalked all of his family and friends, and none of them had anything exciting going on.
The only thing they knew for sure was that everyday during his lunch break Spencer would get a call, and opt to take it in the break room. The team tried spying on him in there, but were only able to be successful once, because since then they'd been met with a closed blind.
The curiosity was weighing on them. They knew Spencer knew they were on to him ever since the blinds in the break room started being shut, and Spencer hid his phone more often.
It was only a matter of time before one of them broke. They'd already gone insane enough to start betting on it. Emily put down twenty bucks that he'd reconnected with an old friend, Penelope jokingly betted he was getting a puppy, and Morgan had his bet on him having a secret girlfriend. They mostly doubted Morgan, as they believed there was no way Spencer would randomly get a girlfriend, and then not tell the team.
He told them what colors of socks he had on, what book he was reading, and even the species of bird he passed by on the way to work. There was no way Spencer Reid, the man who never stopped rambling, could hide a secret girlfriend.
Morgan just defended his bet by, in his words, saying, "I call him pretty boy for a reason, kid's got game when he wants to."
It had now been two weeks since the usually chipper mood and randomly scheduled phone calls started. The team was on the edge of their seats. They'd decided that morning that when Spencer walked in they'd corner him till he gave them answers.
Was that an HR violation? Definitely. But, when you survive the horrors of working at the BAU everyone is more of a family than just co-workers.
The team, consisting of Emily, Derek, JJ, and Penelope, gathered around the front of the office, waiting for Spencer. Rossi had opted out of the plan, and instead was watching from the safety of his office, while Hotch had no clue about anything that was happening.
When the elevator bell dinged the team stayed put, watching as Spencer walked out. He paid them no mind as he entered the office making his way to his desk. They slowly followed behind, careful not to alert him of their presence. Spencer put down his bag and coffee cup as he turned on his computer. Once he was ready to work, he looked up from his desk to see most of his team surrounding it.
"Can I help you?" he asked, all amused, half concerned.
"Spill it, wonder boy," Garcia said, pointing a fluffy pen at him.
"Spill what?" he questioned, as if he didn't know exactly what they meant. He was aware of his behavior and how the team was snoopy, but he tried his best.
"Don't play coy with us, pretty boy," Morgan told him, crossing his arms.
"We know there's something going on with you," Emily said, less accusatory, and more of as some wanting to know what was going on with their friend.
"There's nothing going on," Spencer told them, lying through his teeth.
"You've had strange phone calls for two weeks now, and have been oddly happy," JJ pointed out.
"We're happy for you about whatever it is," Emily said, plastering her signature Emily smile on her face, "we just want to know what to be happy for."
Spencer looked away for a moment before looking back at his team.
"I just don't see how it's any of your business."
"Because we're your friends," Penelope told him, "and I really, really, really want to know what's got that smile stuck to your face."
Penelope reached a hand out, as if to touch the smile on Spencer's face. He slowly moved back, keeping distance from her hand as she retreated.
"That's nice, but I don't have to tell you guys everything that's happening in my life," Spencer told them, only mildly annoyed by their failed ambush.
"But-" Penelope started before being cut off.
"He's not going to tell us and we should respect that," Emily told the team as she walked away from Spencer's desk.
"Alright," Penelope let out with a sigh as she followed Emily.
Morgan followed after her, leaving only JJ at Spencer's desk.
"I'm sorry we ambushed you," JJ apologized, "I hope you know we only had good intentions."
Spencer looked up from his work, "I know, it's just... it's personal," he admitted to her, looking rather nervous, unlike before.
"I get that, and when you're ready to tell us we'll be here to listen," JJ told him, about to leave his desk like the others, when his voice stopped her.
"Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to tell one person," Spencer voiced, looking at the ground as he tapped his leg with a pencil.
JJ turned around, looking at him, "I'm all ears," she said, secretly excited to know Spencer Reid's big secret.
Spencer was silent for a moment, as if debated whether or not he still wanted to tell her his secret or not. Eventually, he made his decision and immediately blurted it out, so he wouldn't lose confidence.
"I really like your sister," he admitted, now lifting his head up to look at her.
JJ just blinked at him, before uttering, "What?"
"When we first met we exchanged numbers," Spencer stammered out, "and then we kept calling, and I told her it was okay for her to call me at working during my lunch break, and then we called and talked every single day, and when I'm not at work I spend most of my day talking to her, and even when I am at working, most of my time is spent thinking about her, and now we have plans to get dinner and see a movie when she's back in town on Friday and-"
Spencer kept rambling as JJ tried to process everything. Morgan was right Spencer had a secret partner, but what was even more shocking was that it was JJ's very own older sister.
"My sister!" JJ exclaimed a little too loudly, catching the team's attention.
"Yeah," Spencer said, his voice getting softer as he sunk into his chair, "I hope you're not mad at me. I promise I'd never hurt her and have no intention to. I really care about her, and I love talking to her, and I love listening to her, and-"
Spencer started to ramble again, but now the team had made their way back over, and had gotten involved.
"Woah, what are you talking about, pretty boy?" Morgan questioned, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm going out on a date next Friday," Spencer confessed, making Morgan just about start to celebrate, before adding, "with JJ's sister."
"Oh, no," Penelope blurted out as Morgan quickly stopped his celebration.
They all turned to look at JJ who was frozen in shock.
"When did you two even meet?" she questioned, racking her brain for possible overlaps between you two.
"I had to drop off some case files at your house about a month ago," Spencer began, "but you weren't home, and instead your sister answered the door. I planned to just drop off the files, but Henry really wanted me to go inside to play with him. She let me in and we just got to talking. She gave me her number before I left, and then I called her later that night."
Spencer explained the story of how you met with a smile and small blush on his face, as he fidgeted with his hands. He loved thinking about how you two first met. How sweet you were to Henry as you played with his action figures with him, while also cracking jokes that made Spencer laugh, and the references you made that Spencer immediately understood. He hadn't even noticed he'd spent two hours with you till he looked at his watch. But truthfully, it was probably the best two hours of his life.
"I can't believe I didn't know about this," JJ thought out loud. She wasn't necessarily mad about this, more shocked than anything. Spencer was like a brother to her, and you were her older sister that she looked up to. You might've been the exact opposite of her in some ways, but she never would've expected for this to happen. But, that's not to say she didn't approve of it.
"My man, my man," Morgan said, giving Spencer a pat on the back, "I always knew you had it in you."
"Is she pretty?" Garcia asked, unable to help herself as she bounced on her feet.
"She's JJ's sister, of course she is," Emily told her before Spencer could answer.
He probably wouldn't have anyway. He was too caught up thinking about how pretty you looked for those two hours. He was sure his eyes never left your face, as he pictured you perfectly in his mind, thanks to his eidetic memory.
"Look at him, he looks like Rudolph's cousin," Morgan teased, as Spencer unknowingly was turning bright red.
"Don't you guys have work to do?" Spencer said, unable to take the smile off his face.
The team just groaned, murmuring various things as they dispersed. Spencer felt a weight off his shoulders now that the team knew, and that he seemed to have JJ's approval. He was mostly just glad she didn't toss him out a window.
"You break her heart and you won't know what hit you," JJ threatened, saying the typical sister line to Spencer.
"I wouldn't dream of it."
***
It had been months now since your first date with Spencer. That date then turned into a second date, which became a third, then a fourth, then you became his girlfriend officially. Whenever you were in town, which was more often now, you even stayed with Spencer instead of your sister's. You didn't live too far yourself, but it was still a drive to where Spencer and your sister lived, so you only did it on the weekends, usually because of how often you wanted to see Spencer.
He was the most perfect boyfriend ever. He paid attention to every little thing. He knew how much you liked music, especially The Smiths and The Cure, so he made sure to keep vinyl records for you to play when you were at his apartment. He also started to wear your favorite cardigan of his more throughout the week, so that when you visited on the weekends and inevitably stole borrowed it, it would smell just like him just for you.
Each month he remembered the anniversary of when you met, and found it mandatory to get you something each month. He bought you new jewelry each time, each with a new special message or meaning to it. He also made sure each one was presented to you with your favorite flowers from your favorite local florist, and your favorite chocolate.
The team had witnessed his relationship from the outside. They noticed how his weekends were mostly spent with you. They noticed how somehow he'd gotten even happier. Even after a tough case he was feeling better quicker, since he either got to talk to you right after, or come home to you and lay in your arms.
The team had never met you before somehow. You visited JJ regularly even before Spencer, but you never had a reason to meet her team. And now that you were with Spencer walking into the restaurant to meet his team.
They had a rather difficult case a couple days ago, and to help lighten the mood, they'd agreed to all meet up for dinner. Spencer decided it was time for you to meet the team since they'd constantly been asking about you. His request was met with no decline, and even made Garcia squeal when she heard she would finally get to meet you.
Even before you became Spencer's girlfriend, the team always had a vague interest in you. You were JJ's mysterious older sister. JJ would mention you offhandedly, and only when the topic regarded you, but she never brought you up randomly. She chose to keep most of her personal life to herself, which included you.
You were nervous getting ready, and on the drive there, and even when Spencer held your hand, reassuring you that the team would love you. Those nerves stayed even when you followed him over to a giant table full of people.
Spencer greeted his team, pulling out a chair for you before sitting down himself. The team immediately turned towards you.
"So you must be the famous Jareau we've been hearing about," the person to Spencer's left said, "I'm Derek Morgan."
He introduced himself as the rest of the team started to go around, doing the same.
"I'm Penelope, I've heard so much about you," she introduced, unable to contain her excitement, making you smile.
"Emily Prentiss," she said with a small smile.
"Aaron Hotchner, but you can just call me Hotch," he introduced, sounding very stern, but not in a bad way. He was everything Spencer had said about.
"David Rossi,' he greeted.
"I would hope you know my name," your sister joked as she sat to your right.
You laughed at her joke, starting to make conversation with the team. You heard about old cases, inside jokes that the team would explain to you through fits of laughter, and even the time where Morgan kept pulling Spencer's chair out from under him during one of their stupid prank wars.
"That was so unfair," Spencer argued through laughter, "you would be nowhere in sight and yet somehow you still pulled my chair."
"I watched him dash out of my office just to do that," JJ added while laughing.
"It's only fair," Morgan argued, "you made everything on my computer screen only be on the left side for like a week."
"It was not a week," Spencer retorted, "and you got Garcia to fix it."
"After he begged me to," Garcia added, noting how Morgan had to offer her a week's worth of coffee for her to fix it.
"I still can't believe you were on his side, baby girl," Morgan said, looking at Garcia as he shook his head.
"You stole his book, of course I was on his side."
"He was reading Pride and Prejudice," Morgan argued, "who reads Pride and Prejudice."
When hearing the title of the book, you slowly turned your head to your boyfriend, who already seemed to know what was about to happen.
"Pride and Prejudice, like the one you borrowed from me, and have been saying you keep forgetting at the office," you pointed out, not actually mad, instead finding it funny that he'd been getting back at Morgan, all for stealing your book.
"Technically, it is at the office," he said, "I just don't know where."
"uh, huh," you said, nodding your head skeptically, toying with him.
"It's true," he defended, his voice getting higher in the way it usually did when he was trying to defend himself against your playful banter, "I've looked through the entire office and I can't find it."
"Clearly not the entire office," you teased.
While the two of you bantered, the team watched in silence. They noticed how you didn't notice their sudden silence, and also the smiles on both of your faces that wouldn't seem to be going away anytime soon. Morgan eventually took it upon himself to break the silence that had fallen over the team.
"We've said a lot about ourselves tonight," Morgan started, "but what about you two?"
"What about us?" Spencer said, his gaze snapping from you to Morgan.
"How'd you two meet?" Morgan asked, starting simple.
Spencer knew he'd already told his team, but before he could say anything he let it go as he saw the gleam in your eye.
"I was actually babysitting Henry when..." you started to explain. Spencer spoke alongside you, filling in the gaps that he remembered so vividly. He was more than happy to retell the story of how you met over and over again.
"And then he just asked me out," you finished, having explained the entire story of how you met up to your first date.
"Where'd you guys go for your first date?" Penelope questioned, giggling over her wine.
"A theater was doing a marathon of all the Star Wars movies, and I had an extra ticket," Spencer told them with a shrug, knowing they'd find it nerdy, yet very him.
"Oh, god," JJ groaned playfully, titling her head back.
At the same time Emily said, "And you wanted to go to that?" to you.
"Yes," you exclaimed, ready to jump out of your seat, "I love Star Wars."
"Please don't get her started," JJ pleaded, "she used to make me watch every single movie on repeat for a day straight."
"It was only like once, or twice," you argued.
"It was multiple times," your sister argued, "and now you have Henry obsessed with it too."
"As he should be," you retorted. It was nice to banter with your sister and your boyfriend and people you could tell they cared about. Dinner was better than you'd ever expected, and it made you forget all about your nerves.
"That is a nice necklace," Emily blurted out before apologizing.
"It's fine, and thank you," you told her, your hand automatically going for the necklace that was pressing against your skin.
"Is that Tiffany?" Penelope questioned, leaning closer to look at it.
Of course, if anyone were to notice the brand it would be Penelope. You knew the necklace cost a pretty penny, even if Spencer wouldn't tell you exactly how much. You glanced over at him slightly, his face already flushed.
"It is," you said, messing with the two heart pendants, one silver, one the iconic blue, as they sat on the small silver chain around your neck.
"That's a six hundred dollar necklace," Penelope said, her face aghast.
"Since when did you have the money for a six hundred dollar necklace?" your sister said, already skeptical.
"I don't," you admitted.
"I see," JJ said, now turning her gaze to her boyfriend, "you really know the way to her heart," she teased.
You felt your face heat up at her words. You knew she was right. With all the perfectly planned dates, all the beautiful jewelry that you loved so dearly, and with how sweet he was about everything, it was as if he had a manual on exactly what to do to make you happy and fall for him even more.
"It's not that crazy," Spencer said, stumbling over his words, "besides that's not even the most expensive," he tried to defend, only digging himself into a deeper hole.
Penelope gasped, "You are one lucky girl," she told you, smiling at you.
"I know," you said, unable to take the smile off your face, as you played with the pendent in your hands.
Eventually your food arrived and the conversation lessened. The occasional antidote was shared, or someone made a playful jab at the other. It seemed that the team had accepted you and enjoyed having you around. Spencer was clearly having a great time, especially since you'd gotten along so well with the team. Your sister no doubt felt the same way too, happy to see the people she cared about most and the person she cared about most get along.
Dinner had ended, and Rossi refused to let anyone else pay for dinner, saying that it was his treat. Everyone did decide to chip in on the tip though, too kind to let Rossi pay for everything.
Everyone said their goodbyes outside of the restaurant, most of them asking when they'd see you again. You were saying your final goodbyes before Hotch started to speak to you.
"I hope to see you at the next team gathering," he told you, nodding his head.
"I hope to be invited," you told him, really wanting to see the team again soon.
"No doubt you will," he said, not before adding, "you're good for him, you know."
You shrug as you said, "I guess," knowing that he too had been good for you.
"He's been a lot happier since you came into his life," Hotch told you, which from what you'd gathered about him, seemed to be the best possible thing he could say.
You looked over at your boyfriend who was busy getting teased by Morgan, while having the largest smile on his face.
"It's nice to see him so happy," you told Hotch before finally saying goodbye.
You and Spencer separated from the group for the night, making your way back to the car. Spencer opened the door for you before going to the driver's side. He started the car, pulling out of the parking lot, before taking your hand in his, resting them on the center console.
"I think the team really liked me," you said, breaking the quiet silence of the night.
"I told you they would," he said with a smile.
"I think your boss gave me his seal of approval," you joked.
"Hotch?'
"Yeah, he thinks I'm good for you," you told him.
"You are," Spencer said, his voice low, as he raised your joined hands, leaving a small kiss on the back of your hand.
You were content with how things had gone and the car ride home with Spencer. You'd gotten used to calling Spencer's apartment home, when just a few months ago you'd never even stepped foot in it. It was nice how things had changed. Everything about Spencer really had made your life a lot better.
The car was quiet as you enjoyed the nice view outside. Spencer parked the car, pulling out the key, about to leave the car when you stopped him.
"Wait," you said, grabbing something out of your bag.
He listened, waiting for you to do whatever you were going to do. You took out a pen, scribbling something small onto his hand. He kept your hands conjoined as he lifted them up to look at what you drew. On his hand you had written, 'u + me = <3" and even added the word forever, underlined multiple times under it.
"What made you think of this?" your boyfriend asked, smiling at you.
You shrug, "I don't know, I just thought it'd be cute," you told him.
"I love it," he said, a sparkle in his eye as he leaned closer to you, "and I love you."
"I love you too," you said back as he captured your lips with his, still holding your hand.
***
Bonus:
"Who are you texting?"
The sound of a voice broke your trance as someone entered the kitchen. You looked up to see your sister starting to make breakfast for her kid.
"No one," you quickly responded, lying through your teeth.
"And this no one just has you smiling and giggling at eight in the morning," your sister said skeptically, knowing you all too well.
"I can smile and be happy at 8am if I want to be," you argued back.
"Maybe when it's Christmas, not a random Tuesday."
You just rolled your eyes at your sister, looking back at your phone to see if he had texted you back.
You could hear your sister let out a sigh from across the kitchen.
"Yes, mom?" you joked.
"Whatever this is," she said, pointing a finger at you, "just take it slow this time."
You rolled your eyes again, "Even if it was that, which it's not," you said, blatantly lying, "I've learned my lesson by now."
"You better have, I don't need to give you another lecture on standards, do I?"
"That was once and I know it was a bad decision," you defended, your sister referencing the time you went back to an old ex in the middle of the night, which was definitely a bad idea, "besides, shouldn't I be the one giving you advice."
"And yet, only one of us is married."
"You're hilarious, you know that," you deadpanned.
"I know I am," she said, "and even though it's not that, just know I'm rooting for you."
"Are you?" you questioned as she retreated further into the house to get ready for work.
Once she was gone you looked back down at your phone to see that he had responded. He had confirmed your date in two weeks that you couldn't have been happier about. Today you left your sister's to go back home, but now you'd be counting down the days till you got to return, and see him again.
summary: Garcia drags the entire BAU team to a trivia night at a bar. And for the first time, you are included.
word count: 3.3k
warnings: fem!reader, rossi’s-niece!reader, established relationship, age gap (26x18)
_____
Apparently Penelope had been talking about this trivia night for weeks. It was some big charity event at a bar in downtown D.C. She had decided, without asking anyone, that the entire BAU team was going. No exceptions.
She’d even made a group chat that she spammed with reminders and increasingly intense threats about what would happen if anyone backed out.
“Garcia says if anyone doesn’t come tonight she’s going to hack their computers and change their passwords to ‘GarciaIsAlwaysRight’,” he read outloud, looking a little amused, but more confused.
“Sounds like you and Uncle Dave should probably go then,” you giggle.
Rossi groans from his armchair.
Spencer glances down at you curled up into his side on the couch, a small smile tigging at his lips. “She says I should bring you.”
“Me?” You raise an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” Spencer says. “Only if you want to, but she says she’ll cry if you don’t go.”
You couldn’t help but smile. Penelope had become something like a friend since the first dinner party. She texted you a few times a week, at first just checking up on you. Then memes you did you didn’t really understand. Then random pictures of things she wanted to buy.
“I already said you could,” Rossi says, not taking his eyes off whatever weird old man show he was watching on the T.V. You and Spencer both turned your attention toward him.
“I didn’t ask you yet,” you point out.
“You were going to,” Rossi says dryly. “So my answer is yes.”
Spencer squeezes tighter on your side and you smile. “Thanks, Uncle Dave.”
“Besides,” Rossi says, finally looking up over the top of his glasses. “Garcia will probably follow through with those passwords if we don’t go.”
Spencer nods, looking down at his phone.
“Garcia also says there will be mozzarella sticks,” he adds, reading a text.
“Well if she would’ve started with that I would’ve said yes a long time ago,” Rossi says, turning the T.V. off.
Within the next 45 minutes, you were riding through downtown D.C. with Dave behind the wheel.
You’d claimed the front seat without really thinking about it. Spencer sat behind you, his legs stretched out as far as the backseat would allow. He stares at the window, watching the streetlights. He looks peaceful.
“You know,” Dave says, making conversation. “I don’t think I’ve ever voluntarily gone to a trivia night in my life.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” you say.
“I still don’t understand why trivia has to happen in a bar,” Spencer chimes in from the back seat.
“Because adults like bars,” you suggest.
“Adults also like libraries,” Spencer says, voice completely serious.
“Nobody is buying beer and mozzarella sticks in a library though,” You say.
“That’s the only reason I’m going,” Rossi says.
“Somehow I don’t believe that,” you smile.
Rossi glances over at you for half a second before looking back at the road. “You think I’m lying?” He asks.
“Well I saw you reading your trivia facts book all week,” you said.
“I was curious,” he defends.
“About a game you supposedly don’t care about?”
“You don’t prepare to lose,” Rossi says. “I’m aiming for a perfect score.”
“The average winning trivia team answered between 60 and 70 percent of the questions correctly.” Spencer recites like a book.
You turn around in your seat. “Have you researched trivia too?” He just stares at you, his ears becoming red. You giggle. “You studied for bar trivia!”
“NO!” He argues. But he kind of did. “I wouldn’t classify it as studying.”
You smile wider. “What would you classify it as then?”
“Curiousity?” Spencer offers.
You laugh. You watched Spencer's reflection in the rearview mirror. He was looking out the window again. Not nervously. Just taking everything in. The corners of his mouth were turned up ever so slightly. You reached back without thinking, letting your fingers brush against his knee. He looked up immediately. You smiled. He smiled back. Then, almost instinctively, he rested his hand over yours for just a second before letting go again.
Neither of you said anything. You didn't need to.
A few moments later Rossi slowed the car and pulled into a parking spot.
"Well," he said, shutting off the engine. "I hope you two actually know something useful."
You opened your door. "I know every winner of American Idol."
Spencer climbed out behind you. "I know the chemical composition of concrete."
Rossi looked between the two of you. "...Somehow I think we'll be alright."
_____
The bar was already loud before you even opened the front door. The sound of laughter spills out onto the sidewalk. Once Spencer pulled the door open, the sound of wine glasses was unmistakable. You step inside first, followed by Rossi, then Spencer last, pulling the door shut behind him.
The place was bigger than it looked. Strings of warm lights stretch across the ceiling, illuminating every table that was occupied by groups of people huddled together over answer sheets and pitchers of beer.
“There they are!” Penelope announces, barreling across the room like she’d been specifically waiting for your arrival. Which knowing her, she probably was.
“There’s my favorite profiler!” she cheered, throwing her arms around Spencer before he could protest. She pulls away, then immediately turns to hug you. “And my favorite profiler’s girlfriend!”
My favorite profiler’s girlfriend.
Garcia’s favorite profiler = Spencer.
Spencer’s girlfriend = You.
It wasn’t that nobody had ever called you Spencer’s girlfriend before. Spencer had. You had. Uncle Dave implied it. Spencer likely said it when he told the team. But this was different. She said it so naturally.
“I’m so happy you came!” She said, breaking away from the hug.
“You threatened to cry if I didn’t,” you laughed.
“And I would’ve.”
“I believe you.”
“I already got us a table,” she says, starting to walk in the direction.
“You mean you’ve already decided where everyone is sitting,” Rossi corrected.
She marched the three of you across the bar to meet up with the rest of the team.
“Took you long enough,” Morgan says.
“We’re five minutes early,” Spencer says.
“You’re usually the first one here, Reid.” Emily says.
“We had to wait on Rossi,” Spencer shifts the blame. He wasn’t lying. You did have to wait for your uncle to find a shirt that he felt deserved to experience his first trivia night.
JJ smiled when she saw you. Hotch gave the three of you a small nod from the end of the table. No words, just acknowledgement, which felt good nonetheless.
“Okay,” Penelope said excitedly, clapping her hands together and looking around the table. “Team selection time!”
“I want Reid,” Morgan says immediately.
“Not fair,” Emily says.
“I drove him here,” Rossi says, “I think I should get him.”
“No,” Penelope says, waving both hands dramatically. “I invited everyone here. Spencer is on my team.”
JJ folds her arms. “This is ridiculous.”
“No,” Morgan argues, “What’s ridiculous is pretending Reid isn’t worth at least 50% of the answers.”
“Fifty?” Emily scoffs, “Try like seventy.”
Spencer blinks. “I don’t think I’m worth–”
“You’re not allowed to have input,” Penelope interrupts. “You’re the prize.”
Spencer looks confused by that statement. You can’t help but laugh, both at the situation and at his face.
“They’re literally drafting you,” you say, leaning in close to him.
“I’ve noticed,” he whispers, putting an arm around you and pulling you closer to his side.
“We could flip a coin for him,” JJ suggests.
“No!” Penelope gasps. “You don’t flip a coin for Spencer Reid.”
“Why not?” Rossi asks.
“Because then Morgan might win,” Emily jokes.
“Sounds fair to me,” Derek says.
The table continues arguing. Spencer eventually clears his throat. Nobody hears him. He waits a few moments before trying again. Still nothing.
“I think everyone should compete against me,” he finally says. His voice was louder than you think you’ve ever heard him be.
The table goes completely silent and eight eyes turn toward him.
“I think that would be the fairest solution,” he says, adjusting the sleeve of his sweater awkwardly. Everyone is looking at him waiting for him to explain further. “Since there are ten of us, and it’s teams of eight, a-and who–, whichever team has me is m-more likely to win, i-it would be most fair f-for eight of you to be on a t-team and me and one other person compete on our own.”
“Who’s the other teammate?” Morgan asks.
“Y/N,” Spencer says without any hesitation, or confirmation from you.
JJ looks between the two of you. “Really?”
“Yes?” Spencer looks confused by the question.
“So this whole plan was just ‘me and my girlfriend versus everybody else’?” Morgan asks, leaning back in his chair.
“It seems like the most fair option to me,” Spencer says.
“Not for her,” Morgan argues.
“How?” Spencer asks.
“Because she’d be stuck with one teammate while the rest of us have eight people,” he explains.
“Trivia is usually about covering as many categories as possible,” Kevin says.
“I don’t want her to get demolished on her first trivia night,” Morgan says.
"I don't think she'll get demolished,” Spencer says, completely honest.
Morgan raises an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
"She's very smart,” Spencer smiles.
"We're not saying she isn't," Emily says. "We're saying she'd be at a disadvantage."
Spencer opens his mouth to argue. Then stops. Because objectively eight people is more than two.
"Alright,” Morgan says, folding his arms. He looks at Spencer. "If you're trying to prove you're smarter than eight people, that's your business." Then he turns to you. "But Y/N..." His voice softens a little. "You really okay with losing so your boyfriend can try to prove he's smarter than eight people?"
You look up at Spencer. He's already looking down at you. Not cocky, not arrogant, just quietly confident. Like he'd already done the math and genuinely believed the two of you could win.
“Yeah,” you shrug.
"...Seriously?" Morgan asks, looking around the table.
“I’m not saying they’re going to win,” Emily shrugs.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if they did,” JJ says.
“I believe in my nerds,” Penelope smiles.
“I don’t,” Kevin says playfully.
“Me neither,” Will agrees, his thick accent surprising you.
“Neither do I,” Rossi says quietly. You hear him anyways.
“Wow,” you say, only a little offended.
“I’m trying reverse psychology,” he defends.
“That’s not how reverse psychology works,” you say.
“We’ll find out,” he says mysteriously.
“Alright,” Morgan says, turning his attention toward you. “Are you sure you want to test your luck this much on your first trivia night?”
You nod once, looking at Morgan, then at Spencer. "I trust him."
Spencer's ears turn pink.
"...Thank you," he says quietly, squeezing you a little tighter. You bump your shoulder against his.
Morgan reaches across the table. "A hundred bucks says you don't win."
"I don't really want to gamble,” Spencer says wearily
Morgan groans dramatically. "It doesn't have to be money."
"I was going to buy mozzarella sticks anyway," Spencer points out.
Hotch, who has been quietly watching the entire exchange, finally speaks. "I think Reid's right."
Every head at the table turns toward him. Hotch takes a sip of his drink.
"If Spencer and Y/N split the categories naturally, they'll probably outperform the rest of us."
You glance up at Spencer. He catches your eye almost immediately.
"So..." you smile. “Do you think we’ll win?"
A small smile spreads across his face. "I think we'll do well."
You smiled. That wasn't what he'd wanted to say. "We'll do well" was Spencer Reid's version of outrageous confidence. If he'd thought there was even a five percent chance of losing, he would've said, We'll try our best. Instead, he'd said We'll do well. Which, translated from Spencer, meant: We're absolutely going to win..
The host tapped the microphone, immediately quieting the room.
“Alright everyone, first question,” the announcer says. ‘What is the chemical symbol for tungsten?”
“W,” Spencer whispers before you can even equate ‘chemical symbols’ with ‘the periodic table.’
You write ‘W’ down.
“Who painted The Persistence of Memory?”
You begin writing. ‘S a l v’
“Savador Dali,” Spencer whispers. “Oh, you already got it. Good job.”
“In the most recent Golden Globes, what television drama won the Best Television Series Award?”
Spencer looks lost. You smile, scribbling the answer down.
‘Mad Men’
“You knew that?” Spencer asks.
“It beat Grey’s Anatomy and House,” You smile.
You hear Morgan arguing with Penelope at the table beside you.
“Write Heroes!” Morgan demands.
“Heroes wasn’t even nominated!” Penelope says.
You see everyone slouch when the answer is revealed. Everyone except you and Spencer.
“Which composer wrote The Four Seasons?”
Spencer looks at you. You immediately start writing, so he knows he doesn’t even have to tell you the answer.
‘Vivaldi’
“Who designed the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, Spain?”
“Frank Gehry,” you say, looking to Spencer for a fact check.
“I love you,” Spencer said.
You suppose that means you’re correct.
“What is the value of Planck’s constant?”
You immediately slide the answer sheet to Spencer. He scribbles the equation down before anyone else even starts writing.
“I love that you know when something is my problem,” he smiles, handing the pencil and answer sheet back to you.
“I love that it’s never my problem,” you smile, taking the things back.
“Which singer released the album Back to Black?”
Spencer looks at you as you write down ‘Amy Winehouse.’
“I would’ve gotten that eventually,” he says.
“No you wouldn’t have.”
“You’re right.”
“What is the square root of 2, rounded to four decimal places?”
“1.4142,” Spencer says confidently over your shoulder. You just write it down, because even if he was wrong, that was closer than your guess would’ve been.
But you knew he wasn’t wrong.
“What is the powerhouse of the cell?”
You quickly scribbled the answer down and looked over to Morgan, who was practically jumping for joy about the fact that he got a science question correct. You giggle.
“Before our final question,” the host says, unfolding the score sheet agonizingly slow to let anticipation build. “Let’s take a look at where everybody stands.
The projector turns on.
“In fifth place,” the host announces, “with 48 points…”
A table near the dartboards cheer as their team name appears.
“Team Quiztopher Columbus!”
A few scattered claps echo through the bar.
“In fourth place, we have the Know-It-Alls with 57 points!”
Another round of applause.
“And in third place, we have The Bar Flies, with 63 points!”
“Okay we’re not third,” you hear Morgan say.
“But do you think we’re good enough for second?” Emily asks.
“In second place, with 70 points…”
Morgan’s sweating. You didn’t take him for the type to take trivia this serious. But then you realize it’s not the trivia he’s taking seriously, it’s the competition and the idea that he could win something.
“Team BAU!”
“On the podium, baby!” JJ cheers.
“We’re coming back!” Morgan chants, looking at you and Spencer. Even though it hadn’t been announced, everyone knew who was in the lead.
“And with the longest running streak of all time in this bar,” The announcer starts. “With a perfect 90, TEAM TWO!”
Someone from another table whistled. Morgan looked between the scoreboard and the two of you.
“TWENTY POINTS!?” He gripes.
“You guys haven’t missed a single question?” Penelope exclaims. “I’ve literally never heard of that in the history of ever!”
“Now technically our winners have already been decided,” the host smiles at you and Spencer. “But tradition is tradition.” He held up the final card. “Our last question is worth double points, not to decide the winner, but to see if Team Two leaves here with the first perfect 100 in this bar!”
The host looks around the bar. Despite the fact that no one else can win, everyone is still very invested.
“For ten points… What is Scooby-Doo’s full name?”
You watch Morgan’s face twist. “Excuse me?” He says, annoyed. “That’s the question?”
“What is Scooby-Doo’s full name?” The host repeats.
Spencer slowly turns toward you, seemingly to ask what kind of question that was, but he’s shocked to find you already writing the answer down without consulting him.
“...You know the answer?”
“Yep!” You smile.
He stares at you. “You know Scooby-Doo’s full name?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
“Why not?” you say, handing the answer sheet to the announcer. His eyebrows shot up for the briefest second before his face returned to neutral. You caught it. Spencer caught it. And you catching it.
“That looked promising,” Spencer whispers to you. You grin.
After collecting all the answer sheets, the announcer returns to the microphone.
“Scooby Doo’s full first name is…” he looks around the room, building tension. “Scoobert Doobert Doo III.”
The room erupted into laughter. No one believed it.
Except for you. Because you wrote exactly that on your card.
The host raised both hands for silence. “And with a perfect score of 100…”
“THEY GOT THE ANSWER?” Morgan yells.
“Your trivia night champions are TEAM TWO!”
You turn to Spencer. “We got every question!”
Before you could process it, Spencer’s hand came up to cup your cheek. He crashed his lips against yours in a heated, impulsive kiss in the middle of the bar that was so far from anything you could’ve imagined him doing. It wasn’t gentle or shy like any of his other kisses that happened around people, this one was full of pure adrenaline and a glass of scotch that he forced himself to drink in order to look cool.
He pulls back, his lips wet and shiny.
“That was so hot,” he whispered so only you can hear. “You’re so smart.”
You smile shyly, both from the compliment and the very intense public kiss. “You answered like 90% of the questions–”
“88% actually.”
“See, I really only knew like 20% of them.”
“And they just happened to be the 20% I didn’t know.”
“You would’ve figured them out eventually.”
He shook his head. “I have never heard the name Scoobert Doobert Doo III in my life.”
You giggle. “You have a gap in your education.”
“Apparently.”
“You work for the FBI and you’ve never watched Scooby Doo?”
“I preferred educational programming as a kid.”
You’re about to make fun of him, but luckily for Spencer, Morgan appears beside the two of you, holding out a $100 bill.
“You actually brought cash?” You say, staring down at the bill.
“You said there wasn’t gonna be any money,” Spencer reminds him.
“I changed my mind,” Morgan extends his hand further.
Spencer looked at the bill for a second longer before gently pushing Morgan’s hand back toward him. “I don’t want your money,” he says.
“Seriously?” Morgan raises an eyebrow.
“It wasn’t about winning,” Spencer says.
Penelope nearly tackled you from behind. “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU GUYS GOT A PERFECT SCORE!”
“We did,” Spencer says calmly.
The bartender walked over carrying a small trophy no bigger than a coffee mug. "For our champions,” he says.
He placed it on the table in front of you and Spencer. It was cheap plastic. Gold and crooked. The tiny plaque read:
TRIVIA NIGHT CHAMPIONS
April 2008
You picked it up carefully, smiling. "We get a trophy?"
"You get your names on the wall too," the bartender said. "First perfect game we've ever had."
You looked over at Spencer. He was staring at the little trophy like it belonged in a museum.
"You know..." he said quietly.
"What?"
"I think this is my first trophy that wasn't academic."
You smiled.
"And even then it kind of was."
_____
To be continued...
_____
Read Part 27 Here!
Uncle Rossi's Dinner Party Masterlist
All Works Masterlist
_____
a/n: sorry this part took so long guys, i've been ovulating (that's my best excuse) the next part is going to be a continuation of this part, so keep that in mind. I'll do my best to get it out as soon as I possibly can. I'm going thrifting tomorrow, however I SHOULD have time to work on it in the evening, so I might be able to knock it out then, depends on how easy it comes to me :)
anyways thank you guys for the support on this monster of a series that was originally supposed to be a one shot :)
sorry i haven't posted an update for you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love, i just got back from a trip but hopefully i should be posting something within the next two days!
summary: Garcia drags the entire BAU team to a trivia night at a bar. And for the first time, you are included.
word count: 3.3k
warnings: fem!reader, rossi’s-niece!reader, established relationship, age gap (26x19)
_____
Apparently Penelope had been talking about this trivia night for weeks. It was some big charity event at a bar in downtown D.C. She had decided, without asking anyone, that the entire BAU team was going. No exceptions.
She’d even made a group chat that she spammed with reminders and increasingly intense threats about what would happen if anyone backed out.
“Garcia says if anyone doesn’t come tonight she’s going to hack their computers and change their passwords to ‘GarciaIsAlwaysRight’,” he read outloud, looking a little amused, but more confused.
“Sounds like you and Uncle Dave should probably go then,” you giggle.
Rossi groans from his armchair.
Spencer glances down at you curled up into his side on the couch, a small smile tigging at his lips. “She says I should bring you.”
“Me?” You raise an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” Spencer says. “Only if you want to, but she says she’ll cry if you don’t go.”
You couldn’t help but smile. Penelope had become something like a friend since the first dinner party. She texted you a few times a week, at first just checking up on you. Then memes you did you didn’t really understand. Then random pictures of things she wanted to buy.
“I already said you could,” Rossi says, not taking his eyes off whatever weird old man show he was watching on the T.V. You and Spencer both turned your attention toward him.
“I didn’t ask you yet,” you point out.
“You were going to,” Rossi says dryly. “So my answer is yes.”
Spencer squeezes tighter on your side and you smile. “Thanks, Uncle Dave.”
“Besides,” Rossi says, finally looking up over the top of his glasses. “Garcia will probably follow through with those passwords if we don’t go.”
Spencer nods, looking down at his phone.
“Garcia also says there will be mozzarella sticks,” he adds, reading a text.
“Well if she would’ve started with that I would’ve said yes a long time ago,” Rossi says, turning the T.V. off.
Within the next 45 minutes, you were riding through downtown D.C. with Dave behind the wheel.
You’d claimed the front seat without really thinking about it. Spencer sat behind you, his legs stretched out as far as the backseat would allow. He stares at the window, watching the streetlights. He looks peaceful.
“You know,” Dave says, making conversation. “I don’t think I’ve ever voluntarily gone to a trivia night in my life.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” you say.
“I still don’t understand why trivia has to happen in a bar,” Spencer chimes in from the back seat.
“Because adults like bars,” you suggest.
“Adults also like libraries,” Spencer says, voice completely serious.
“Nobody is buying beer and mozzarella sticks in a library though,” You say.
“That’s the only reason I’m going,” Rossi says.
“Somehow I don’t believe that,” you smile.
Rossi glances over at you for half a second before looking back at the road. “You think I’m lying?” He asks.
“Well I saw you reading your trivia facts book all week,” you said.
“I was curious,” he defends.
“About a game you supposedly don’t care about?”
“You don’t prepare to lose,” Rossi says. “I’m aiming for a perfect score.”
“The average winning trivia team answered between 60 and 70 percent of the questions correctly.” Spencer recites like a book.
You turn around in your seat. “Have you researched trivia too?” He just stares at you, his ears becoming red. You giggle. “You studied for bar trivia!”
“NO!” He argues. But he kind of did. “I wouldn’t classify it as studying.”
You smile wider. “What would you classify it as then?”
“Curiousity?” Spencer offers.
You laugh. You watched Spencer's reflection in the rearview mirror. He was looking out the window again. Not nervously. Just taking everything in. The corners of his mouth were turned up ever so slightly. You reached back without thinking, letting your fingers brush against his knee. He looked up immediately. You smiled. He smiled back. Then, almost instinctively, he rested his hand over yours for just a second before letting go again.
Neither of you said anything. You didn't need to.
A few moments later Rossi slowed the car and pulled into a parking spot.
"Well," he said, shutting off the engine. "I hope you two actually know something useful."
You opened your door. "I know every winner of American Idol."
Spencer climbed out behind you. "I know the chemical composition of concrete."
Rossi looked between the two of you. "...Somehow I think we'll be alright."
_____
The bar was already loud before you even opened the front door. The sound of laughter spills out onto the sidewalk. Once Spencer pulled the door open, the sound of wine glasses was unmistakable. You step inside first, followed by Rossi, then Spencer last, pulling the door shut behind him.
The place was bigger than it looked. Strings of warm lights stretch across the ceiling, illuminating every table that was occupied by groups of people huddled together over answer sheets and pitchers of beer.
“There they are!” Penelope announces, barreling across the room like she’d been specifically waiting for your arrival. Which knowing her, she probably was.
“There’s my favorite profiler!” she cheered, throwing her arms around Spencer before he could protest. She pulls away, then immediately turns to hug you. “And my favorite profiler’s girlfriend!”
My favorite profiler’s girlfriend.
Garcia’s favorite profiler = Spencer.
Spencer’s girlfriend = You.
It wasn’t that nobody had ever called you Spencer’s girlfriend before. Spencer had. You had. Uncle Dave implied it. Spencer likely said it when he told the team. But this was different. She said it so naturally.
“I’m so happy you came!” She said, breaking away from the hug.
“You threatened to cry if I didn’t,” you laughed.
“And I would’ve.”
“I believe you.”
“I already got us a table,” she says, starting to walk in the direction.
“You mean you’ve already decided where everyone is sitting,” Rossi corrected.
She marched the three of you across the bar to meet up with the rest of the team.
“Took you long enough,” Morgan says.
“We’re five minutes early,” Spencer says.
“You’re usually the first one here, Reid.” Emily says.
“We had to wait on Rossi,” Spencer shifts the blame. He wasn’t lying. You did have to wait for your uncle to find a shirt that he felt deserved to experience his first trivia night.
JJ smiled when she saw you. Hotch gave the three of you a small nod from the end of the table. No words, just acknowledgement, which felt good nonetheless.
“Okay,” Penelope said excitedly, clapping her hands together and looking around the table. “Team selection time!”
“I want Reid,” Morgan says immediately.
“Not fair,” Emily says.
“I drove him here,” Rossi says, “I think I should get him.”
“No,” Penelope says, waving both hands dramatically. “I invited everyone here. Spencer is on my team.”
JJ folds her arms. “This is ridiculous.”
“No,” Morgan argues, “What’s ridiculous is pretending Reid isn’t worth at least 50% of the answers.”
“Fifty?” Emily scoffs, “Try like seventy.”
Spencer blinks. “I don’t think I’m worth–”
“You’re not allowed to have input,” Penelope interrupts. “You’re the prize.”
Spencer looks confused by that statement. You can’t help but laugh, both at the situation and at his face.
“They’re literally drafting you,” you say, leaning in close to him.
“I’ve noticed,” he whispers, putting an arm around you and pulling you closer to his side.
“We could flip a coin for him,” JJ suggests.
“No!” Penelope gasps. “You don’t flip a coin for Spencer Reid.”
“Why not?” Rossi asks.
“Because then Morgan might win,” Emily jokes.
“Sounds fair to me,” Derek says.
The table continues arguing. Spencer eventually clears his throat. Nobody hears him. He waits a few moments before trying again. Still nothing.
“I think everyone should compete against me,” he finally says. His voice was louder than you think you’ve ever heard him be.
The table goes completely silent and eight eyes turn toward him.
“I think that would be the fairest solution,” he says, adjusting the sleeve of his sweater awkwardly. Everyone is looking at him waiting for him to explain further. “Since there are ten of us, and it’s teams of eight, a-and who–, whichever team has me is m-more likely to win, i-it would be most fair f-for eight of you to be on a t-team and me and one other person compete on our own.”
“Who’s the other teammate?” Morgan asks.
“Y/N,” Spencer says without any hesitation, or confirmation from you.
JJ looks between the two of you. “Really?”
“Yes?” Spencer looks confused by the question.
“So this whole plan was just ‘me and my girlfriend versus everybody else’?” Morgan asks, leaning back in his chair.
“It seems like the most fair option to me,” Spencer says.
“Not for her,” Morgan argues.
“How?” Spencer asks.
“Because she’d be stuck with one teammate while the rest of us have eight people,” he explains.
“Trivia is usually about covering as many categories as possible,” Kevin says.
“I don’t want her to get demolished on her first trivia night,” Morgan says.
"I don't think she'll get demolished,” Spencer says, completely honest.
Morgan raises an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
"She's very smart,” Spencer smiles.
"We're not saying she isn't," Emily says. "We're saying she'd be at a disadvantage."
Spencer opens his mouth to argue. Then stops. Because objectively eight people is more than two.
"Alright,” Morgan says, folding his arms. He looks at Spencer. "If you're trying to prove you're smarter than eight people, that's your business." Then he turns to you. "But Y/N..." His voice softens a little. "You really okay with losing so your boyfriend can try to prove he's smarter than eight people?"
You look up at Spencer. He's already looking down at you. Not cocky, not arrogant, just quietly confident. Like he'd already done the math and genuinely believed the two of you could win.
“Yeah,” you shrug.
"...Seriously?" Morgan asks, looking around the table.
“I’m not saying they’re going to win,” Emily shrugs.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if they did,” JJ says.
“I believe in my nerds,” Penelope smiles.
“I don’t,” Kevin says playfully.
“Me neither,” Will agrees, his thick accent surprising you.
“Neither do I,” Rossi says quietly. You hear him anyways.
“Wow,” you say, only a little offended.
“I’m trying reverse psychology,” he defends.
“That’s not how reverse psychology works,” you say.
“We’ll find out,” he says mysteriously.
“Alright,” Morgan says, turning his attention toward you. “Are you sure you want to test your luck this much on your first trivia night?”
You nod once, looking at Morgan, then at Spencer. "I trust him."
Spencer's ears turn pink.
"...Thank you," he says quietly, squeezing you a little tighter. You bump your shoulder against his.
Morgan reaches across the table. "A hundred bucks says you don't win."
"I don't really want to gamble,” Spencer says wearily
Morgan groans dramatically. "It doesn't have to be money."
"I was going to buy mozzarella sticks anyway," Spencer points out.
Hotch, who has been quietly watching the entire exchange, finally speaks. "I think Reid's right."
Every head at the table turns toward him. Hotch takes a sip of his drink.
"If Spencer and Y/N split the categories naturally, they'll probably outperform the rest of us."
You glance up at Spencer. He catches your eye almost immediately.
"So..." you smile. “Do you think we’ll win?"
A small smile spreads across his face. "I think we'll do well."
You smiled. That wasn't what he'd wanted to say. "We'll do well" was Spencer Reid's version of outrageous confidence. If he'd thought there was even a five percent chance of losing, he would've said, We'll try our best. Instead, he'd said We'll do well. Which, translated from Spencer, meant: We're absolutely going to win..
The host tapped the microphone, immediately quieting the room.
“Alright everyone, first question,” the announcer says. ‘What is the chemical symbol for tungsten?”
“W,” Spencer whispers before you can even equate ‘chemical symbols’ with ‘the periodic table.’
You write ‘W’ down.
“Who painted The Persistence of Memory?”
You begin writing. ‘S a l v’
“Savador Dali,” Spencer whispers. “Oh, you already got it. Good job.”
“In the most recent Golden Globes, what television drama won the Best Television Series Award?”
Spencer looks lost. You smile, scribbling the answer down.
‘Mad Men’
“You knew that?” Spencer asks.
“It beat Grey’s Anatomy and House,” You smile.
You hear Morgan arguing with Penelope at the table beside you.
“Write Heroes!” Morgan demands.
“Heroes wasn’t even nominated!” Penelope says.
You see everyone slouch when the answer is revealed. Everyone except you and Spencer.
“Which composer wrote The Four Seasons?”
Spencer looks at you. You immediately start writing, so he knows he doesn’t even have to tell you the answer.
‘Vivaldi’
“Who designed the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, Spain?”
“Frank Gehry,” you say, looking to Spencer for a fact check.
“I love you,” Spencer said.
You suppose that means you’re correct.
“What is the value of Planck’s constant?”
You immediately slide the answer sheet to Spencer. He scribbles the equation down before anyone else even starts writing.
“I love that you know when something is my problem,” he smiles, handing the pencil and answer sheet back to you.
“I love that it’s never my problem,” you smile, taking the things back.
“Which singer released the album Back to Black?”
Spencer looks at you as you write down ‘Amy Winehouse.’
“I would’ve gotten that eventually,” he says.
“No you wouldn’t have.”
“You’re right.”
“What is the square root of 2, rounded to four decimal places?”
“1.4142,” Spencer says confidently over your shoulder. You just write it down, because even if he was wrong, that was closer than your guess would’ve been.
But you knew he wasn’t wrong.
“What is the powerhouse of the cell?”
You quickly scribbled the answer down and looked over to Morgan, who was practically jumping for joy about the fact that he got a science question correct. You giggle.
“Before our final question,” the host says, unfolding the score sheet agonizingly slow to let anticipation build. “Let’s take a look at where everybody stands.
The projector turns on.
“In fifth place,” the host announces, “with 48 points…”
A table near the dartboards cheer as their team name appears.
“Team Quiztopher Columbus!”
A few scattered claps echo through the bar.
“In fourth place, we have the Know-It-Alls with 57 points!”
Another round of applause.
“And in third place, we have The Bar Flies, with 63 points!”
“Okay we’re not third,” you hear Morgan say.
“But do you think we’re good enough for second?” Emily asks.
“In second place, with 70 points…”
Morgan’s sweating. You didn’t take him for the type to take trivia this serious. But then you realize it’s not the trivia he’s taking seriously, it’s the competition and the idea that he could win something.
“Team BAU!”
“On the podium, baby!” JJ cheers.
“We’re coming back!” Morgan chants, looking at you and Spencer. Even though it hadn’t been announced, everyone knew who was in the lead.
“And with the longest running streak of all time in this bar,” The announcer starts. “With a perfect 90, TEAM TWO!”
Someone from another table whistled. Morgan looked between the scoreboard and the two of you.
“TWENTY POINTS!?” He gripes.
“You guys haven’t missed a single question?” Penelope exclaims. “I’ve literally never heard of that in the history of ever!”
“Now technically our winners have already been decided,” the host smiles at you and Spencer. “But tradition is tradition.” He held up the final card. “Our last question is worth double points, not to decide the winner, but to see if Team Two leaves here with the first perfect 100 in this bar!”
The host looks around the bar. Despite the fact that no one else can win, everyone is still very invested.
“For ten points… What is Scooby-Doo’s full name?”
You watch Morgan’s face twist. “Excuse me?” He says, annoyed. “That’s the question?”
“What is Scooby-Doo’s full name?” The host repeats.
Spencer slowly turns toward you, seemingly to ask what kind of question that was, but he’s shocked to find you already writing the answer down without consulting him.
“...You know the answer?”
“Yep!” You smile.
He stares at you. “You know Scooby-Doo’s full name?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
“Why not?” you say, handing the answer sheet to the announcer. His eyebrows shot up for the briefest second before his face returned to neutral. You caught it. Spencer caught it. And you catching it.
“That looked promising,” Spencer whispers to you. You grin.
After collecting all the answer sheets, the announcer returns to the microphone.
“Scooby Doo’s full first name is…” he looks around the room, building tension. “Scoobert Doobert Doo III.”
The room erupted into laughter. No one believed it.
Except for you. Because you wrote exactly that on your card.
The host raised both hands for silence. “And with a perfect score of 100…”
“THEY GOT THE ANSWER?” Morgan yells.
“Your trivia night champions are TEAM TWO!”
You turn to Spencer. “We got every question!”
Before you could process it, Spencer’s hand came up to cup your cheek. He crashed his lips against yours in a heated, impulsive kiss in the middle of the bar that was so far from anything you could’ve imagined him doing. It wasn’t gentle or shy like any of his other kisses that happened around people, this one was full of pure adrenaline and a glass of scotch that he forced himself to drink in order to look cool.
He pulls back, his lips wet and shiny.
“That was so hot,” he whispered so only you can hear. “You’re so smart.”
You smile shyly, both from the compliment and the very intense public kiss. “You answered like 90% of the questions–”
“88% actually.”
“See, I really only knew like 20% of them.”
“And they just happened to be the 20% I didn’t know.”
“You would’ve figured them out eventually.”
He shook his head. “I have never heard the name Scoobert Doobert Doo III in my life.”
You giggle. “You have a gap in your education.”
“Apparently.”
“You work for the FBI and you’ve never watched Scooby Doo?”
“I preferred educational programming as a kid.”
You’re about to make fun of him, but luckily for Spencer, Morgan appears beside the two of you, holding out a $100 bill.
“You actually brought cash?” You say, staring down at the bill.
“You said there wasn’t gonna be any money,” Spencer reminds him.
“I changed my mind,” Morgan extends his hand further.
Spencer looked at the bill for a second longer before gently pushing Morgan’s hand back toward him. “I don’t want your money,” he says.
“Seriously?” Morgan raises an eyebrow.
“It wasn’t about winning,” Spencer says.
Penelope nearly tackled you from behind. “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU GUYS GOT A PERFECT SCORE!”
“We did,” Spencer says calmly.
The bartender walked over carrying a small trophy no bigger than a coffee mug. "For our champions,” he says.
He placed it on the table in front of you and Spencer. It was cheap plastic. Gold and crooked. The tiny plaque read:
TRIVIA NIGHT CHAMPIONS
April 2008
You picked it up carefully, smiling. "We get a trophy?"
"You get your names on the wall too," the bartender said. "First perfect game we've ever had."
You looked over at Spencer. He was staring at the little trophy like it belonged in a museum.
"You know..." he said quietly.
"What?"
"I think this is my first trophy that wasn't academic."
You smiled.
"And even then it kind of was."
_____
To be continued...
_____
Read Part 27 Here! 🕰️ (coming soon)
Uncle Rossi's Dinner Party Masterlist
All Works Masterlist
_____
a/n: sorry this part took so long guys, i've been ovulating (that's my best excuse) the next part is going to be a continuation of this part, so keep that in mind. I'll do my best to get it out as soon as I possibly can. I'm going thrifting tomorrow, however I SHOULD have time to work on it in the evening, so I might be able to knock it out then, depends on how easy it comes to me :)
anyways thank you guys for the support on this monster of a series that was originally supposed to be a one shot :)
