Youâre CuteâŚYet Irritating [s.r]
Post prison!Spencer Reid x sunshine!fem!reader
Summary: Sheâs always humming a tune, dancing, or tapping her fingers. And Spencer canât stand it.
Warnings: Angst with happy ending, irritated Spencer, crying, self doubt, rude comments, self hatred, etc.
Note: I always fidget and I thought this would be cute! Let me know what yâall think!!
Sorry for any errors! I didnât re-read it! :)
And yes, he was unfortunately counting.
He bet she didnât even know she was doing it, the repetitive rhythm of her finger nails on the desk. Files piled it, almost all the time, and Spencer always had to walk by with his fist in his mouth to prevent himself from organizing it the way he liked.
He was going to be honest, he kind of missed having that feeling, the urge to clean or organize. It told him, in a way, that his old self was still with him, and that little thing gave him hope that he so tightly held onto.
But his old self was able to focus. His old self was able to dig himself into file folders and never be able to leave, yet the tapping.
Spencer couldnât take it.
His eye twitched every time she breathed particularly loud, his lips pursed when her foot started tapping on the floor, and, worst of all, his head shuttered when her dang finger nails tapped on the deskâs top.
And it surprised him that he did, it was such a little thing that was apparently going unnoticed by everyone else. But he just couldnât focus on his work with the practical racket that was doing on next to him.
He wasnât gonna lie, he almost got up just then to go ask Hotch for a desk rearrangement. But he knew that his boss would suspect something and either tease him about it or shake his head about how ridiculous it was.
Spencer agreed as well. He couldnât change seats just because the woman next to him was tapping her fingers.
Gosh, even thinking it sounded absurd.
But he couldnât help but imagine silence.
Silence while his brain could process things.
Spencer couldâve lost it when she started humming a soft tune. She seemed to have a new one in her head every day, each time she sat down, tea in hand, she hummed a different song than yesterday.
He couldnât quite pin point which one it was, but he didnât dare to continue thinking to figure it out.
His head turned toward her, hoping sheâd notice his glare but she didnât, sheâs still stuck on the file she was looking at.
âQuit that, will ya?â
Her head snapped up at the sudden outburst, surprise reflecting in her eyes yet he spotted confusion.
How was she confused to the constant annoying tapping she was doing? And the humming? Spencer was slowly loosing his mind.
He took a deep breath to prevent from lashing out, his hand coming out and wiggling his fingers toward hers.
âT-the tapping, itâs irritating. Quit it please.â
Her face dropped from surprised to hurt, and Spencer somehow hated that it was quiet as soon as he said something.
âRight. Sorry,â she whispered so softly Spencer almost couldnât hear her. She tried to add a little chuckle at the end of her murmur, yet her voice cracked against her own accord.
He watched her fingers stop, instead clenching them in a fist tightly.
Spencer shouldâve been glad that the silence he so wanted was granted, but something unsettling brewed in his chest at her facial expression, her now glossy eyes staring at her computer screen. He also noticed her other hand that wasnât holding the folder was digging into her thigh to prevent it from bouncing out of anxiety.
He didnât know the feeling, regret, maybe, but all Spencer knew was that he wished he hadnât said those words.
But he didnât want to say sorry, something inside him prevented him from doing it. Maybe he was selfish because he ignored the regret in him and took the opportunity to have the ability to focus once more.
âI canât help, falling in love with you,â she hummed softly, just under her breath as she stirred her favorite tea in the mug the next morning.
Spencer had to admit, he missed her singing in the morning. It reminded him that through all the terrible cases theyâve experienced, there was still happiness in the world, still hope, and she clearly found it through music.
But the pounding headache that didnât go away that day prevented him from being kind.
So he couldnât dare to show his wishes of her singing more often, heck no. And the more he thought about it the more irritating it became. He became hyper focused on the breath before each sentence she sang, the cinnamon toothpaste blaring his nose. She was also slightly off pitch every couple seconds, and she sang a couple words wrong.
It got worse when she took forever to mix her tea, blocking his path towards the coffee machine.
He huffed, ignoring the way she flinched. âMove, will ya? Thereâs people who actually want to do their job and not sing songs about sunshine and rainbows; just please let me get some coffee.â
Her once upwards lips turned down, the light in her eyes going out. She cleared her throat. âRight, s-sorry.â
Spencer couldnât help it. The comment spat out before he could control it. âS-sorry,â he mimicked. âYou do know confidence is a key to this job, right? Quit the childish stuttering itâs infuriating.â
He didnât see her reaction, but if he did he would see glossy eyes and a facial expression that represented a shattered heart.
She raced out of the room, tea discarded on the counter and beelined towards the bathrooms. She quickly fumbled with the lock. It echoed throughout the bathroom, somehow making her emotions worsen. The tears went full force, a sob covered by her hands surrounding her.
His words kept repeating themselves in her head, telling her that she wasnât good enough for the job.
Why even apply? He was clearly smarter than her and took things more seriously. What was she thinking? Coming into a field like this and humming and singing all the time? Who does that?
She could feel her makeup smearing, and her black fingers rubbing her cheeks confirmed her suspicions.
She never knew Spencerâs problem with her. Every moment she recalled every encounter, hoping not to come across a moment where she offended him. And she never did.
But now she knew. It was her humming, her tapping, her singing, her stuttering.
She wasnât good enough to be here.
The thought made her cry harder, the type of sob where your breath catches in your throat, your vision blurry as your chest aches.
A soft knock on the stall door made her both flinch hardly and gasp at the same time.
A throat was cleared, an awkward moment of silence shoving its way between them.
The voice on the other side wasnât one she expected. Her heart started going on its own path, thumping quickly within her chest.
Her hand moved on its own accord, though hesitantly, and opened the lock.
Spencerâs hand came into view, opening the door and entering himself, closing and locking the door behind him.
Something about him being so close, the door locked, and them being in a place just for one person made her already beating heart pound harder.
His features, no doubt, were beautiful. His nose was like a button, eyes like chocolate in fresh cookies, lips soft and full like a blooming flower.
His hair, oh his hair. It was like a soft blanket she wanted to nestle her fingers onto, pulling at the roots until he let out a satisfying noise-
He hurt her. The words he said. She was upset. He doesnât like her.
Then why was he having such an effect on her?
Him clearing his throat once more caught her out of her thoughts, eyes meeting his.
âI wanted to say sorry. For what I said,â he whispered, and she noticed his fingers playing with each other. âIt wasnât nice nor professional. And I donât mean any of it.â
His apology was simple and sincere, eyes somehow widening while gazing at her. (Or were his eyes always like that? Full and desperate?)
âAnd in case you were wondering, youâre lovely at your job,â he sounded like he was rambling again, but he also seemed desperate to get the words out. âYour singing brings happiness to the place. Youâre more than good enough to be here. And Iâm sorry I made you doubt your amazing abilities.â
She felt a soft smile come to her lips, cheeks reddening at his complements. She wiped her nose. âReally?â
He nodded, leaning down and grabbing some toilet paper to wipe her cheeks.
Instead of simply giving it to her, he wiped them himself, wiping the damage he did to her away on his own. âI mean it with my whole heart.â
âThank you Spencer,â she whispered shyly.
He gave her a toothless smile, opening his arms for a hug from her.
Her heart pounded, knowing he barely let anyone touch him, but stepped towards him nonetheless.
Her arms went underneath his blazer, on top of his dress shirt (causing him to shiver) and laying her head on his chest.
He embraced her back, far too tall to be over her shoulder so he rested his chin on her head, shampoo filling his nose.
They stayed like that for a couple moments before pulling back to look at each other.
His eyes met hers, emotions swirling around, like they were trying to tell him something.
If it was a warning or an invitation Spencer didnât know, but he leaned forward to find out, nose brushing hers.
Her lips parted, causing his eyes to shoot downward at the movement.
He gave her a moment to push away, to shove him out of the stall for even thinking she had any interest on him.
The rejection never came.
He finally planted his mouth on hers, her hands shooting to his hair to pull at his roots, a small groan leaving his lips.
His lips tasted like coffee and something truly Spencer.
Whatever it was pulled her in more, craving the taste of his mouth.
They finally pulled away, breath fanning each otherâs faces. She was the one who laughed first against his lips, and he copied her before kissing her once again.
Sure, she was irritating at times, but she was cute, heâd give her that.
