you and me... potentially? (Spencer reid x fem!reader)
Summary: you've been keeping your massive crush on spencer reid a secret, that is until you go to the movies with him and realise he might just feel the same way about you.
CW: fluff, basically shy!reader, fem!reader, she overthinks a lot, has low self esteem. mentions of Project Hail Mary but no major spoilers, but lots of references to Grace's science pun t-shirts lol.
Word Count: 1.9k
A/N: yay finally!! I had so much fun writing this, inspired by a conversation with my lovely moot @mango-lovrr and our headcanon that spencer reid would absolutely wear science pun t-shirts.
The man sitting at the desk adjoining yours - Doctor Spencer Reid.
You were also kind of hoping no one noticed - the way your cheeks reddened and smile broadened - when you both talked. About the most mundane things, too. The weather, what you ate for dinner, anything for goodness sake.
Basically, you kind of had a massive, raging crush on Spencer, and you could only pray no one noticed. Including him. Especially him.
Because you really weren't the type of person to go shouting about it, or confide in anyone the way most people do in, for example, 2000’s romcoms. You were a girl who did not confront, because you knew there was always someone better out there, much prettier than you, who Spencer probably deserved more. Because he was gorgeous - and way, way out of your league.
Plus, you had an idea of his type, what with the case in LA a few years earlier and a gorgeous blonde by the name of Lila Archer, whom Spencer made out with. In a pool. Psyching yourself out was something you did a lot, really. The slight burn in your chest, sparkling with a twinge of hope while simultaneously decaying your self esteem.
Penelope had invited you to countless girls nights at O'Keefe's, urging you to pick up a man. “Have a little fun, show off some of your charm!” she’d exclaim, while you knew that you were more of a spluttering and stuttering sort of charmer. Awkwardness no one seemed to desire in a woman, but yearned for in a man.
Which was greatly ironic, considering the circumstances: the dimple adorned, wispy haired, soft clothed agent sitting opposite you, somehow emitting a warmth under the unforgiving and oppressive fluorescent lights of the bullpen.
“Hey, you okay?” Spencer questioned concernedly, craning his neck over the desk divider to peek at you as his eyebrows raised.
“Um…uh-huh” you replied unconvincingly, cheeks burning at the thought of being caught staring.
Spencer nodded, soft curls unfurling from behind his ear as he returned his attention to the case file on his desk. Part of you wished you could reach right over, tuck the hair back in place again.
Your stomach pulled at the wanting that you were so unfamiliar with, it seemed to come out of nowhere.
***
The clock struck five.
You’re not usually the type of employee to immediately stop working when it’s time to leave, simply because absolutely no one else is, and you’d rather not appear like you're eager to go, what with the serious nature of your job and all.
So you hang on a few minutes. Usually until Spencer starts packing his things. Not in a creepy way.
He stands, pulling his coat on and slinging his worn messenger bag over his shoulder, before looking at you.
“Have you seen that new sci-fi movie yet? Project Hail Mary?” he enquired politely.
You and Spencer shared a love for film - especially the sci-fi genre - and regularly discussed new releases. This is what made your wanting so consuming. You shared so many similar interests, the discussions serving as a reprieve from your gruelling job.
You considered his pretty simple question carefully, not because it was particularly mentally challenging, but so that your mouth could catch up with your brain and form a coherent response.
“I haven't actually, but I've been wanting to. I’ve heard good things about it!”
“Me too! I've been anticipating its release for a while, actually. It was originally a book by Andy Weir, who's the author of The Martian - a book that’s also been adapted into a movie. I really recommend reading them too, surprisingly I found the movies just as enjoyable - which, you know, isn't always the case. Also, Project Hail Mary’s portrayal of astrophysics, relativity and spacecraft engineering is highly accurate, so that’s good.”
A pause.
“Would you… like to watch it with me? It's showing this evening at the local movie theatre, not far from my apartment. I could, um, drive us and then… drive you home?”
Heart fluttering stupidly in your chest, you said: “I would love to!”
Not bad. No stuttering, at least.
Spencer waited patiently as you gathered your belongings, before following him towards the elevators, oblivious to the fact that your discussion had attracted a little audience across the bullpen.
“How long has it been? Three years now?” queried Emily.
“What, since he’s been looking at her like she hung the moon?” JJ joined.
“Nah, more like she’s been looking at him like that.” corrected Derek.
“Whatever, can they just- ugh - do something about it already!” exclaimed Emily, losing patience.
***
“You totally cried!” you exclaimed while grinning brightly under the darkened sky. You always loved exiting a movie theatre after the sun had gone down. It was like entering a new world.
The sidewalk was wet with fresh rain, petrichor pungent in the air. You walked side by side with Spencer, a newfound electric energy between you as you excitedly discussed the movie.
“I did not…cry,” Spencer said so unconvincingly it caused a chuckle to bubble from your chest, “I… teared up. But so did you! I did see you reaching for the tissues in your pocket, you know.”
“Well, I really thought Rocky was…” you started.
“I know, I know, me too. But he wasn't! The end was incredibly… heartwarming.”
“Yes, it was.” you agreed, peering at him as you stopped once you reached his car. “Are you sure you’re okay to drop me home? I really don’t want to be a bother, the metro journey isn't too bad-”
“Please, I insist,” he earnestly said, cutting you off while opening the passenger door for you.
You peered into his eyes, impossibly dark, and you could have sworn they glistened like stars under the night sky. He looked so earnest as he stood there. Before you could be accused of outright staring, you thanked him before getting into his car. Of course, being the gentleman that he is, he closed the door for you too. Which could mean nothing.
***
Everything looked blotchy as the raindrops on the windows blurred everyone's car lights together, a warm toned distortion against the navy sky. With the heater on (since Spencer noticed you shivering) you felt incredibly cozy, the rhythmic sound of the indicator almost drifting you to sleep.
It was quiet in a way that confirmed two people were comfortable enough in each other's presence to not force words, and the silence continued for a good ten minutes before Spencer spoke.
“I liked his t-shirts.”
“Hm?”
“Grace’s t-shirts. The science puns. You know… ‘I Had Potential’” Spencer chuckled.
“Oh yeah!” you realised, “they were pretty fantastic, weren't they?”
“Definitely” he agreed.
Eventually, Spencer halted the car outside of your apartment complex.
“...Thank you. Not just for dropping me off, but for this evening too. I really enjoyed the film,” you psyched yourself up for your next words, “...and spending time with you.”
Spencer let out a breath, shifting in his seat to look at you more directly. “I enjoy spending time with you, too. Well um, you know, they’re probably going to be more movies. That we both enjoy. To, um, watch together.” he stuttered.
Your heart wouldn't stop doing that stupid jumpy thing as you undid your seatbelt, the pure warmth of your face becoming unbearable.
“Yes. For sure” you nodded.
“Wait, let me-” he said, swiftly getting out of the car and walking around to your side, opening the car door for you.
You could barely keep it together as you exited his car, stuttering a goodbye as he waved, supposedly waiting until you were safely in your building before driving away.
***
It had been about a week since you attended the movie theatre with Spencer.
Fluorescent lights, rhythmic typing, and the smell of coffee. The usual for a monday morning inside the BAU.
You were early that morning - thankfully - as you beelined to Spencer’s vacant desk. You hoped no one saw as you planted a gift bag next to his keyboard. You picked a bag that looked the most unassuming, a plain dark blue. Successfully, the bullpen was empty enough to not attract wandering eyes to your activities.
Or so you thought.
“Pretty girl, whatcha got there? Is it pretty boy’s birthday or something?”
Derek.
“Um. No… It’s just something. For him. That I thought he’d like.”
Way to play it cool.
“I see, I see,” he acknowledged with the most shit eating grin on his face, “you’re all sweet on him, aren't you?”
“What! I simply-”
“He’s all sweet on you too, you know that right? The way he looks at you? It’s driving Emily insane, how oblivious you both are.”
“I really don’t think he-” you began, before Derek cut you off again.
“Look… I understand you’re both not the type for a big fuss, so I'll leave this here: say something, do something.” Derek spoke with such understanding that, surprisingly, the shock of feeling seen didn't really feel like shock at all. It felt like relief.
“This is me doing something.” you motioned towards the bag with your head.
Derek nodded, satisfied, and walked away.
***
About half an hour later, Spencer walked through the bullpen doors.
Once at his desk, he eyed the blue gift bag curiously. Your best effort to appear unassuming included pretending to be absolutely absorbed in the case file open on your desk, when in reality, you were hyperaware of his movements, watching them from the corner of your eye.
He opened the bag, pulling out the first bundle of fabric and unfolding it curiously. You then heard a surprised laugh.
“Was this you?” he asked with such delight, holding up a t-shirt with the words ‘I had potential’ on it, as well a potential energy graph.
You couldn't help but laugh, too, at his joy.
“I just had to! It being a science pun and all, they reminded me of you.”
Spencer rummaged further into the bag, pulling out another t-shirt, this time one with a periodic table printed on it, with the phrase ‘I wear this shirt periodically’ beneath it.
His laughter increased, while you grinned sheepishly at him.
“I love them. Thank you.” he spoke earnestly. His face softened, looking at you with such…longing?
“I’m glad you didn't think it was weird or anything.” you mumbled pathetically.
Spencer took a seat at his desk, carefully folding the shirts back up and gently placing them back into the bag. “You’re kidding right? This is one of the best gifts I've ever received.”
Again, a familiar moment of silent reflection, until:
“Ive never met anyone who's understood me so well,” he began with a serious expression, “I know I'm not for everyone, some people make that explicitly clear, but with you,” he gazes, “I feel like I can be myself.”
He places those words between you like they’re fragile, vulnerable.
“Me too,” you reassure him, "it's always so easy with you.”
You take a breath.
“Would you like to make our next trip to the movie theatre… a date? We could get dinner afterwards. If you want.”
Spencer’s mouth opens in what you could only call amused disbelief, “you know, that’s funny. I was about to ask the same thing. A date.”
That’s it. You’re dead.
“I guess it’s settled then,” you confirm.
“I guess it is.”
You can’t help the upturn of your mouth, which he reciprocates, before you both try so hard to begin your work for the day.
Derek catches your eyes from across the room. He winks. You smile.
summary: Spencer Reid was always different. It was few and far apart that a woman would catch his eye, and when she did, the statistics of their relationship working out had him pulling away with little effort. However, when Hotch's new assistant walks into the BAU, it's like she's bewitched him. Now, no matter what he does, he seems to find himself working hard, and hardly working.
genre/tags/CWs: workplace romance, hotch's assistant!reader, sunshine!reader, pervert!spencer, infatuated!spencer, male masturbation, fem!reader, reader has a mom that is mentioned, 3&1times!fic, fast burn for Spencer, like Spencer meets reader and is set on fire
a/n: I've decided to post this in smaller chunks so I am more easily motivated to write because it feels less daunting, I hope you enjoy so much! this'll probably end up being four parts long with varying degrees of length :3
w/c: 3.7k
PART ONE: THERE'S A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING.
Spencer Reid had always been different. His genius nature had ensured a childhood that was anything but normal. How could he, when he was applying for colleges before he had finished puberty? His high school experience was tumultuous at best, and he was also smart enough to know any girl who may have caught his eye was too many years his senior to consider as a partner. That’s how Spencer was about things– analytical. He crunched numbers, he ran probabilities and searched statistics in his ever expanding brain. Being different was something Spencer Reid was no stranger to.
However, when you joined the BAU, Spencer Reid had come to the realization that something within him was now different in an entirely new way.
You had joined the BAU, not as another profiler, or a new liaison under JJ’s wing, but as Hotch’s assistant. The scope of Hotch’s job was infinite, and he was often burdened by mountains of paperwork. Since Hailey’s untimely passing, the Bureau, which was normally incredibly unforgiving and less than charitable, decided it might be a good idea to pay someone to take things off Hotchner’s plate, if not for his own sake, then for Jack’s. Before Hailey’s passing, Hotch was expected to book hotels, check in, and communicate when the jet would be needed. He would have to mark all of the expenses made by the team and why the money was spent, filling out a ledger that oftentimes took over an hour to complete, over three if the team spent longer in one location than normal. Hotch took care of plenty of large tasks every day, but it was the million little tasks that kept him until the wee hours of the morning some weeks. With a young son, that was too much to ask.
So the Bureau hired you. You, whose task it was to pick up all of the little things before Hotch even thought of them. Fortunately for everybody, you were excellent at your job. You followed the rules your mother had taught you, who was a secretary years before you. You never left before Hotch did, even if that meant spending hours after hours, after long weeks of grueling work. You were constantly busy, but you never overburdened yourself, and you were always happy to help. You came to the bullpen every morning with a smile on your face and a shining gloss on your lips, and a chipper hello to share to all of your coworkers. You walked with a bounce in your step, and a seemingly never ending supply of pocket butterscotch to hand out to anyone who wanted one. Your task book, perfectly organized and personalized, was never far from your reach. You were regarded as the office sweetheart, and everyone but you knew it. You did your best every day, and were happy when you went home every night.
It was because of this absolute purity that Spencer knew there must be something very, very wrong with him. Because despite your innocence, your unwavering ability to bring joy to every room you entered, Spencer’s mind began to plunge into dark, dark places when you were around. Not that Spencer assumed you were some sort of celibate nun, nor that he assumed you didn’t have a sensual streak. You were a grown woman, and a beautiful one at that. He assumed that you had your pick of partners and chose them accordingly, and frequently. But even then, there was a goodness within you that Spencer felt move in the air around you. It was in your voice, it was in your perfume.
Spencer wished he could say he used to be normal about you. That he wasn’t always this way– but he had always been enamored, even upon your first meeting.
-
It was in the briefing room where he met you. Hotch moved aside to introduce you and you flashed your ever-bright smile, and Spencer felt something inside his heart twist. His palms grew sweaty, and his mouth parted slightly. Your white button up was tucked neatly into a knee length pencil skirt. Sheer black tights with not a single tear covered your legs, and a pair of sensible black heels were on your feet. Your hair was tousled just so, like you’d styled it, but not like you had obsessed over it. Everything about you radiated effortless beauty, and Spencer swallowed hard. Something was different about you, something other than the divergent ways Spencer was rebuffed from his peers. Something special, something that had his heart racing.
You met Spencer’s gaze in the room that day, saw the look on his face and felt the corner of your mouth twitch. You looked him up and down, and carefully took note of what you saw. A patterned tie tucked into a simple, cozy-looking cardigan. Fluffed, unstyled curls atop his head– and what must have been the cutest button nose you’d ever seen. His gaze was like a deer caught in headlights, and it made you want to giggle. You hadn’t seen a guy look at you like that since you TA’d a freshman class your senior year at university, and you had been dressed far less professional than today. You tossed him a wink and tilted your head just so.
Spencer finally seemed to register that you saw him staring, and as soon as you winked at him, something terrible happened to him.
His cock twitched in his slacks.
Spencer’s eyes went wide and immediately tried to play it off, giving you an awkward, flat half-smile before tearing his eyes away. Looking away from you felt like getting out of a warm bed before work– leaving the most comforting place in the world to face reality. His dick throbbed, stirring in his pants, the visage of that wink burned in his eidetic memory. Somewhere in that same memory floated reminded of pupillometry, studies suggesting the reason why a wink is disarming in relation to staring. Staring is a nonverbal threat, and by closing one eye and effectively breaking the gaze, the threat is mitigated, not to mention the social connotations of a wink. Should he have winked back? Did you register his gaze as a threat? All of these thoughts bounced around in Spencer’s head as his length continued to grow in his pants. All of a sudden, the gravity of the situation collapsed onto his psyche and all but one thought left his head.
He had a boner. For his new coworker, in a room full of his closest friends and his boss. His stomach dropped and he swallowed again.
You, of course, in all of your kindness noticed only the change in his face to pure discomfort and began to worry. You didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable– what a terrible first impression to make! You couldn’t see his cock below the table, which was jumping as it was trying to make a run for it. Just before you were about to say something, Spencer sat up straight and said, “Excuse me,” in a strangled tone, turning around in his spinning chair and walking straight out of the conference room. Your heart sank and brow furrowed. He hated you, you were sure of it, and you worried about the implications this would have on your relationship with Spencer as members of the same team. Meanwhile, Hotch looked out the door, face stony as ever, but glossed with concern.
“Is he okay?” You asked, unsure if this was typical behavior during a briefing. You hoped it was, feeling incredibly guilty.
Emily, the woman who had just introduced herself to you moments before, waved a hand. “I’m sure he’s okay. Weird of him to just get up and leave like that though,” she said. You frowned, and Derek cut in.
“He probably just realized he washed his hands two times instead of three after pressing the elevator button,” He said teasingly. The man named Rossi smirked. The meeting was almost over anyways, and Hotch soon released you to attend to your matters before the next case arose.
-
“Excuse me,” Spencer said, his tie suddenly feeling far too tight before trying to turn as fast as possible, not wanting anyone to get the slightest clue of what had him leaving in such a hurry. He stood and walked out the door, tugging down his cardigan as far as possible, anxious. He was practically jogging by the time he reached the single-stall restroom and locked the door behind him. Frantic, he panted while his back pressed against the door. What in the world was wrong with him? The image of your smile, your body, replayed in his mind and he buckled as he throbbed again. He took a deep breath, trying to think of anything else but you. His heart filled with guilt, which helped curb the continuation of any growth below. Was he so pathetic, so lonely, that a perfectly normal interaction had him running off to make sure he wouldn’t look like a pervert in front of all of the people he held closest? His face burned, and he moved to the sink to wash his hands and splash his face. The shame that now lived had successfully ceased the blood flowing to his clearly neglected cock. He dried his face and brushed his hair from his eyes.
He didn’t understand what had just happened. Well, physiologically, of course he did. But psychologically, he had no clue why you had such an affect on him, and he sighed deeply. He needed to get laid. Or to kiss someone, or jerk off more or literally anything if a beautiful woman paying him half a second of attention caused him to spiral in this way. He straightened his clothes and turned to unlock the door, praying this experience was singular.
When Spencer returned to the bullpen, he knew he had to rectify the situation post-haste. He probably freaked you out, and the thought of killing whatever professional relationship you could’ve had immediately after greeting you made him genuinely sad. Despite the strange display his body decided to throw at him moments ago, Spencer was a thoughtful man. He wanted to get to know you, find out things about you, become friends. He just hoped he hadn’t ruined his only shot.
You were sitting at your desk, now moved in just across Spencer’s, scribbling something into a to-do list when he approached you. You felt a pang of anxiety flow through you, remembering how uncomfortable he had seemed at your gesture earlier. You turned to face him, and tried to read his body language. He was obviously still nervous. He picked at his cuticles and would only meet your gaze for a few seconds before looking away.
“Uhm, hi,” he said, his throat dry. “I’m, uh, sorry for my behavior earlier. It- I was… nauseous. I tried a new bagel place this morning, and I guess it’s just not for me… Food poisoning is often associated with vomiting, but it can actually manifest in a plethora of ways due to improper food storage for an extended period of time?” His statement came out more like a question, as if he was asking you for verification of the plausibility of his story in correlation with is infodumping.
You gave him a confused smile and stood. “Okay… that’s good. Not good! I’m sorry you’re not feeling well, but I was really worried at first that I’d made a poor first impression. I have a habit of flirting, kinda. Not on purpose. And if I did make you uncomfortable, again, I apologize. It wasn’t my intention– I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Your kind confirmation made something in Spencer’s heart ache. For just a split second, his brow furrowed. He didn’t know why– he knew you were being polite. But Spencer’s feelings were hurt anyway. Not that he wanted you to mean something by it, but it might’ve been nice…
Spencer blinked and smiled back. “No! Not at all- it was just terrible timing. Digestion and all.” His awkward comment made you giggle to yourself and he felt his insecurity creep in once more.
“Of course,” you replied. You decided now was a good time to try a reintroduction. You stuck out your hand and told him your name. Spencer’s arm twitched, like it was trying to stay by his side. Of course, that moment is when Emily decided to look over and saw your mistake before you did.
“Oh! Sorry, but Spencer doesn-” Emily was cut off by the abrupt arrival of Spencer’s hand into yours, and he shook it firmly. Emily blinked as her mouth hung open. Spencer shot her a subtle look and she snapped it shut before turning back. “...Nevermind,” she mumbled.
You were confused, but glad to see Spencer smiling back at you. His heart raced, both at the contact with you just moments after his incident, and at the thought of the germs. Thankfully, however, he didn’t notice any abnormal pulsing going towards unwanted places. He exhaled and smiled back. “It’s nice to meet you, too. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, but you can just call me Spencer. Or Reid. It’s all the same to me.”
You released his hand and Spencer felt the absence deeper than he should’ve. Your hand was soft, and warm, and even though he was sure his hands were clammy he wished you hadn’t let go. You gave him one more bright smile before sitting again.
“I’m excited to work with you,” You said finally before turning back to your notebook.
Spencer flushed a little. “I am, too,” he said, knowing all too well that some parts of him were far more excited than others.
–
That night when Spencer arrived at his apartment, he shouldered off his satchel and kicked off his shoes. He headed straight for his bedroom to lay down before remembering he still needed to shower. He huffed, and went to the bathroom to turn on the water. Once the water was hot enough, he stripped down and hopped inside. Spencer relished the feeling of the water– it almost burned him, it was so hot, but it was the only way he’d shower. He wasn’t the most built guy out there, and oftentimes, he found himself just barely too cold. The droplets quickly warmed him, and he tipped his head back to let it cascade down his curls. As the room filled with steam, he began recounting the day in his head. Despite its… unconventional start, the rest of his work went by smoothly. No cases that day, so he spent the time catching up on paperwork and organizing his desk. When he went for coffee at the break station, he ran into you again. You’d had a very pleasant conversation about his interests, how he got his start at the BAU, what he did in his free time. The whole time, even when he rambled on and on about statistics that most people would’ve ended up tuning out, he came to the realization that you hung on his every word. You asked follow up questions, met his passion with curiosity. He felt full of pride and appreciation after. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had actually listened to him for that long. He, of course, asked you questions in return. He found out you liked to shop and accessorize, and that your career choice was influenced by your mother. However, you did actually enjoy what you did, and didn’t feel overly pressured. You smiled as you recounted your university days, and how you preferred cats over dogs because of their self sufficiency. Spencer found himself entranced by you, eager to learn all he could. He wanted to know everything you had to tell him, and was in utter disbelief that you seemed to feel the same way. He hoped you’d become friends, and stay that way for a long time.
Once Spencer had finished scrubbing his scalp, he realized that at some point during his shower, his length began to grow again. The memories of you must have triggered something subconscious to revisit from this morning, and he groaned slightly. He was all at once disgusted with himself and hazy with lustful thoughts of the other things he had noticed about you. The way your clothes clung tightly to your figure, how your heels caused your hips to sway when you walked. Spencer took the base of his cock in a firm grasp and let out a low moan. He dragged his hand along his length. He knew it was unethical to be jerking off to his new coworker when they'd only met that day, but he convinced himself it was because he hadn’t been jerking off that he was so riled up. It had nothing to do with the way your perfume had etched itself into his nose, or how you were able to make professional attire as alluring as lingerie. Beads of precum dribbled from his tip as he stroked himself faster. He whimpered and brushed a thumb over his sensitive tip, the heat from the shower making the air feel thick. He pumped his dick over and over, taking on a punishing pace. He braced himself with his other hand against the shower wall when his knees began to buckle in the pleasure.
His moans began to break, whines that sounded strangely like your name. “Please…” he croaked out, before feeling his orgasm take over. He blinked rapidly as he painted his shower floor with thick ropes of cum. He typically wasn’t the masturbation type, as it was few and far apart when he found things worth fantasizing over.
Spencer panted as he rode out his high, his mind flooding with dreams of you being in the shower beside him. When he opened his eyes, he felt a pang of guilt and turned to scrub his body, trying to wash away the guilt he felt for his actions alongside it.
-
Thankfully for Spencer, in the weeks that followed, things were normal at work. Well, as normal as they could be. After your first real conversation by the coffee pot, there was some sort of silent agreement formed to meet there every day to talk. You liked Spencer– he was kind. He was a great listener, if a little ramble-y. Not that you minded, in fact, you’d told him once before you thought it was sweet. Spencer had gone red at that, and it made you smile. He was a cutie, and you weren’t fool enough to ignore the feelings you felt building for him.
Spencer would hold the elevator for you, as how work was going, listen as you groaned. You’d always worn your heart on your sleeve, and were acutely aware of how Spencer made your heart flutter. However, you also were smart enough to know that the BAU wasn’t necessarily the place to form a relationship. You didn’t want to wreck the team dynamic when you had only just joined, and decided to just let your crush comfort you in the quiet moments in that break area, content to keep it to yourself.
Well, content may not have been the right word. The first time you heard about the times Spencer had won women’s hearts during cases when you stuck behind at the police station made your heart ache. Apparently, when he was younger, he’d even made out with a witness under his protection after only 48 hours of knowing her. Lucky bitch, you found yourself thinking. You blinked. You weren’t usually so venomous about these things, and you could practically hear your mother’s voice chiding you in your ear.
“Green is not your color sweetie, don’t let it become your signature look.” She’d say. You frowned, and tried to push away the thought. For her information, you actually looked fantastic in green. But you knew the sentiment was right. It wasn’t like you to be so.. bitter. Spencer was changing you in ways you didn’t know how to handle.
Spencer, too, was going through his own kind of metamorphosis. He found himself yearning for things that he’d had no interest in previously. When he’d shook your hand upon your reintroduction, it caused him to picture what it’d be like to just hold it— walk in stride, comforted by each other’s contact. He wanted to know what it’d feel like to have your hands on his body, how your touch would roam over his chest, his shoulders… lower, too.
He wished he knew how to turn off the switch you’d so easily flipped in his brain. That he could get himself to think about anything else when you were around besides your smile made of sunshine. Wanted to redact the uncontrollable desire he had for you that was slowly encroaching in his life.
You wished you could read him easier. That you could see, clear as day, where the line was drawn in the sand. Sometimes, when you made small remarks that resembled flirting, Spencer was able to smile along and reply, bantering like you’d known each other for years. Other times, you’d make yourself less discreet, and his face would heat and he’d begin to ramble barely related statistics, like he was trying to distract you. A push, a pull. A growing tension that neither of you wanted to ignore.
A growing desire to see just how far you could go before the line was washed away by the tide.
summary: Spencer thought he was in a long-term relationship— turns out, he forgot to tell her.
warnings: none, babe. this is pure fluff <3
“Come on, man,” Derek said, arms folded as he stared Spencer down across the break room table. “You can’t just read a thousand relationship books and think that’s the same as the real thing.”
Spencer looked up from the folder in his lap, utterly unbothered. “Thirty-nine books. And they’re peer-reviewed studies. It’s not about anecdotes, it’s about data.”
Penelope leaned over her coffee, eyes sparkling. “Oh boy. He’s going full empirical. This should be good.”
“It’s not that I think I understand relationships,” Spencer continued, adjusting his glasses. “It’s just that I recognize functional dynamics when I see them. And I happen to know what one looks like.”
Derek snorted. “Yeah? Like what, The Notebook?”
“No,” Spencer said. “Like me and Y/N.”
There was a beat of silence.
Y/N, seated two chairs down with a half-drunk coffee in her hand, turned very slowly. “I’m sorry, what now?”
Spencer blinked at her like she’d asked if water was wet. “What?”
“What do you mean ‘you and me’?”
He frowned, confused. “I mean us. Our dynamic. It’s a prime example of a healthy relationship.”
Garcia dropped her muffin.
Derek leaned in like he was about to watch a car crash in slow motion. “Go on.”
Spencer tilted his head at Y/N. “You seriously didn’t know?”
She blinked. “Know what exactly?”
“That we’re in a relationship. Or— at least something adjacent to one. I assumed we were both aware of that.”
Y/N stared at him.
Spencer, sensing the disbelief, leaned back in his chair and began to list things off like he was briefing a case. “We text every night before bed. You bring me coffee the way I like it— three sugars, not stirred— almost every day, without asking. I’ve picked you up from the airport twice. You’ve stayed over at my apartment more than once, and you steal my hoodies.”
“That’s just…” She trailed off, looking helplessly at Garcia, who was frozen mid-bite.
Spencer wasn’t done.
“We hold hands when we walk across busy streets. You braid my hair when I’m stressed. I read you poetry once and you cried, which I took as a positive emotional response and not distress.”
Y/N slowly set her coffee down. “Okay.”
“I’ve memorized your Chipotle order,” Spencer added, like that sealed it.
“Okay.”
Spencer leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “We literally hold hands all the time.”
“…Okay, yeah, I see where I went wrong.”
Derek lost it.
Garcia was fanning herself with a napkin, whispering “my stars” under her breath.
Y/N looked like she was debating the moral and logistical weight of throwing herself into the nearest garbage can.
Spencer, meanwhile, just looked vaguely betrayed. “How did you not know?”
She gave him a look. “Because you never said it out loud?”
“I thought it was implied!”
Derek clapped once, loud. “Oh, I live for this.”
Garcia blinked. “Cool, so I’ve been third-wheeling a relationship that wasn’t even technically happening. Love that for me.”
Y/N turned back to Spencer, who was still trying to solve the mystery of how she missed this.
“Are you mad?” she asked.
“No,” he said, after a beat. “Just… surprised. I really thought we were on the same page.”
“Well.” She exhaled, slow and a little amused. “We are now.”
Spencer tilted his head. “Does this mean we’re officially dating?”
Y/N shrugged. “Statistically speaking?”
That got the smallest smile out of him.
“I’ll take it,” he said.
a/n: first spencer fic can i get a whoop whoop (i hope this is good, oh god)
this is a 3 and 1 times fic! 3 times you touch spencer's hair, and 1 time he gets to enjoy it.
pairing: spencer reid x bau!reader
genre: fluff
warnings: nothing crazy at all. spencer is soo touch starved in this (sorry not sorry), and pining so hard everyone around him knows. any season of spencer can be imagined for this!
𑣲⋆---
The first time you touched Spencer Reid's hair was almost a blur.
The case had been a public relations nightmare. The Unsub was leaving complex clues and evading being caught. With JJ speaking to a family, Hotch made Spencer talk to the press.
He had been previously rushing between the local police precinct and the nearest library to research the Unsub's references. Soft autumn breezes blew debris around the streets, and a stray leaf caught in his hair.
"Reid, wait." You caught him before we went back outside to be swarmed by cameras and microphones. With a hand, you smoothly reached and plucked the leaf from his hair. Spencer ducked away before the blush spreading on his face was visible.
Morgan walked by and teased something about him 'staying pretty for the cameras', but all Spencer could think about was you playing with his hair. As touch starved as he was, he would do anything for you to play with his hair.
ᝰ.ᐟ —————-
The second time made Spencer have to hide in the bathroom of a bar.
Just like every other time, the team went out for drinks after a hard case. Spencer sat with Emily and Morgan as they told stories, but he wasn't listening. Something about hearing them talk about past partners made the inside of Spencer's water glass look very interesting. That was, until you walked by.
With a drink in hand for Penelope, you walked behind him and ruffled his hair. He leaned his head into the touch, and played it off as him looking up when your hand pulled away. As you strolled back to your table, Spencer hoped it was dark enough that no one would see the pout and rising heat on his face.
He wasn't so lucky, however. Morgan kicked his shoe under the table, and grinned at him in a way that made him feel exposed. Spencer's chair scraped across the floor as he rushed to the bathroom. Cold water didn't do much to stop the tips of his ears from turning a shade of scarlet.
ᝰ.ᐟ —————-
The third time, Spencer was sure his brain short-circuited.
As always, he stood later into the night to finish up any paperwork Hotch or Rossi had left behind. You didn't usually stay late, but you also had some case files to finish putting together. You finished before him, and decided to say goodbye before you left.
Spencer looked up from the paperwork when he saw you standing in his peripheral vision. You brushed some of his hair out of his eyes before speaking about— well, Spencer didn't know, he focused back on the paperwork immediately, mumbling responses so you wouldn't see the flustered look on his face.
You patted him on the shoulder before slinging your bag over your shoulder. The both of you said your goodbyes, but Spencer didn't look back up until he heard the door close and he was sure you were gone. He sighed loudly, exhaling a breath he didn't know he was holding.
If you kept this up, these fleeting touches he craved so bad, he was sure he would explode.
ᝰ.ᐟ —————-
The last time was everything Spencer had dreamed of.
The very next morning, the team had been called to a case a few states away. On the jet, you and Spencer sat together. He stayed way later than he meant to doing paperwork, and he had barely been awake before the wheels of the jet went up. His eyes closed and he fell asleep almost immediately.
Spencer's head lolled onto your shoulder, and you smiled to yourself. The two of you stayed like that, until you brought your other hand into his hair and lightly scratched his scalp.
The second you started toying with his hair, he was awake. Spencer kept his eyes closed and pretended to still be asleep. He soaked up all of the attention you were willing to give him.
Those were, what he thought to be, the best 20 minutes and 34 seconds of his life.
this is a 3 and 1 times fic! 3 times you touch spencer's hair, and 1 time he gets to enjoy it.
pairing: spencer reid x bau!reader
genre: fluff
warnings: nothing crazy at all. spencer is soo touch starved in this (sorry not sorry), and pining so hard everyone around him knows. any season of spencer can be imagined for this!
𑣲⋆---
The first time you touched Spencer Reid's hair was almost a blur.
The case had been a public relations nightmare. The Unsub was leaving complex clues and evading being caught. With JJ speaking to a family, Hotch made Spencer talk to the press.
He had been previously rushing between the local police precinct and the nearest library to research the Unsub's references. Soft autumn breezes blew debris around the streets, and a stray leaf caught in his hair.
"Reid, wait." You caught him before we went back outside to be swarmed by cameras and microphones. With a hand, you smoothly reached and plucked the leaf from his hair. Spencer ducked away before the blush spreading on his face was visible.
Morgan walked by and teased something about him 'staying pretty for the cameras', but all Spencer could think about was you playing with his hair. As touch starved as he was, he would do anything for you to play with his hair.
ᝰ.ᐟ —————-
The second time made Spencer have to hide in the bathroom of a bar.
Just like every other time, the team went out for drinks after a hard case. Spencer sat with Emily and Morgan as they told stories, but he wasn't listening. Something about hearing them talk about past partners made the inside of Spencer's water glass look very interesting. That was, until you walked by.
With a drink in hand for Penelope, you walked behind him and ruffled his hair. He leaned his head into the touch, and played it off as him looking up when your hand pulled away. As you strolled back to your table, Spencer hoped it was dark enough that no one would see the pout and rising heat on his face.
He wasn't so lucky, however. Morgan kicked his shoe under the table, and grinned at him in a way that made him feel exposed. Spencer's chair scraped across the floor as he rushed to the bathroom. Cold water didn't do much to stop the tips of his ears from turning a shade of scarlet.
ᝰ.ᐟ —————-
The third time, Spencer was sure his brain short-circuited.
As always, he stood later into the night to finish up any paperwork Hotch or Rossi had left behind. You didn't usually stay late, but you also had some case files to finish putting together. You finished before him, and decided to say goodbye before you left.
Spencer looked up from the paperwork when he saw you standing in his peripheral vision. You brushed some of his hair out of his eyes before speaking about— well, Spencer didn't know, he focused back on the paperwork immediately, mumbling responses so you wouldn't see the flustered look on his face.
You patted him on the shoulder before slinging your bag over your shoulder. The both of you said your goodbyes, but Spencer didn't look back up until he heard the door close and he was sure you were gone. He sighed loudly, exhaling a breath he didn't know he was holding.
If you kept this up, these fleeting touches he craved so bad, he was sure he would explode.
ᝰ.ᐟ —————-
The last time was everything Spencer had dreamed of.
The very next morning, the team had been called to a case a few states away. On the jet, you and Spencer sat together. He stayed way later than he meant to doing paperwork, and he had barely been awake before the wheels of the jet went up. His eyes closed and he fell asleep almost immediately.
Spencer's head lolled onto your shoulder, and you smiled to yourself. The two of you stayed like that, until you brought your other hand into his hair and lightly scratched his scalp.
The second you started toying with his hair, he was awake. Spencer kept his eyes closed and pretended to still be asleep. He soaked up all of the attention you were willing to give him.
Those were, what he thought to be, the best 20 minutes and 34 seconds of his life.
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