growing together
[summary] as a plant-obsessed person, you find it intriguing and take it upon yourself to finally strike a conversation with the man living across from you--when you spot him bringing in a couple of plants into his apartment. [pairing] spencer reid + gn!reader [warnings] implications of maeve and spencer's depression, please let me know if there's anything else [category] fluff with angst, hurt/comfort, strangers, pining [word count] 3.7k
[a/n] i'll leave another author's note at the end, but just a few mentions; this concept came to me when someone suggested the headcanon that spencer has houseplants. but i don't know where it even came from if it was in my ask or in my taglist, so if it's you, please let me know! this is the longest i've written and one that has so much meaning behind everything, so i'm very very proud of myself for this. thank you to @reidselle for being such a kind beta, and of course to @writer-in-theory and @angstyalex for listening to me talk about this and hyping me up <33 masterlist
SPOTIFY PLAYLIST! you may need to change the song faster/slower depending on your reading speed, but this really completes the reading experience :)
you could hear inconsistent thudding, dragging against the floor, and the huffs and pants of a man out in the hallway. nosily, you took one look through the peephole, finding your curly-haired neighbor entering the door across from yours, dragging three pots of plants behind him—the view blurring into a cloud of green and light.
you never met the neighbor across from you. you only heard his door opening and closing at the oddest of hours and the constant shuffle of the feet of people delivering food to his doorstep. that was really about it.
so to see him dragging large potted plants into his apartment, you couldn’t help but laugh, especially when you stared at your living room, which was bursting with color and life. croton, dracaena, and golden pothos stuck out of a corner, crawling towards the window where the light perfectly streamed in, feeding all of the plants scattered around the room.
plant obsession was an understatement.
anyways, the mystery of the man across was rather fascinating. you knew he was an fbi agent, as told by your gossip-y landlord. your landlord did also mention that he was rather nerdy, but in a cute way. (you didn’t know how to take that statement, because she was fairly old.) you pondered at the thought of him, the mystery intriguing you. maybe the plants were a sign from the universe to finally say hi; get to know him a little bit.
you tiptoed around the living room, being careful not to step on overflowing leaves or slip on any fallen petal. you needed to find the right one to give, to send the right message.
ah, there it is.
you picked up the little white pot and checked the plant, making sure it looked neat enough to give. picking up some scratch paper, you scribbled a kind note.
----- saw you’re giving plants a shot. i’m not a stalker, i promise. try this one out, it’s pretty low-maintenance and just very easy to have around. yours truly, a fellow plant-obsessed neighbor in 204 :) -----
you read and reread the piece of paper, flicking the corner until it accidentally creased, and finally took a breath. you peered outside, checking if anyone was around, and approached his door. you left the note tucked under the small pot, and slipped right back into your apartment. you checked through the peephole, curious; a part of you wanting to watch his reaction as he found your offering. you rolled your eyes and stepped away, not wanting to obsess over it.
and as soon as you did, spencer opened his door, looking down and finding your thoughtful gift. he smiled to himself as he quickly read and reread, his eyes sprinting through the words. he looked up at the same brown door he’s looked at every morning and night, and imagined an apartment protruding with green and pink and yellows, the small space invaded by dozens of plants. and he looked back down at the plant you gave, it fitting snugly in his hands, and he held in laughter. it was the perfect plant to start off with, the perfect beginner’s introduction to houseplants.
a succulent.
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spencer returned into his apartment, looking at the three, very daunting plants facing him. there was a clear disparity from what he had just received, the succulent looking at him so innocently. he held in laughter and sat down, bringing out books from his satchel, freshly borrowed from a library. he flipped the pages, bookmarking information on each of the plants he bought, and the one that was gifted. he looked once more at the door, thinking of a way to thank his neighbor.
the next time you did exit your apartment, you were greeted by an envelope at your doorstep. you found scratchy, inconsistent, handwriting on a piece of coffee-tinted stationary.
----- thank you for the succulent! i owe you a plant in return. if you could help me figure out this whole houseplant thing, i’d be eternally grateful. best, spencer reid, the guy from 203 -----
you giggled, now knowing his name. you repeated it internally, whispering it, pronouncing each of the consonants as crisply as you could. spencer. reid.
it rolled off your tongue so easily, you found yourself reiterating it involuntarily. you zoned out, replaying the pronunciation, to the point saying it once more would elicit laughter.
you didn’t think much of it again other than the instances you saw his letter attached to your refrigerator. he seemed like a very friendly man, but he definitely was not around enough for you to ‘accidentally’ bump into him. you did try—you waited to hear a sound come from his door, and timed yourself to take out your trash at that time (even if it wasn’t full yet). but, his door was silent, the man behind it even moreso.
and then, you found a pot of beautiful ponytail palm at your feet one morning. your eyes lit up, its thin, curly, stringy leaves sticking out, tickling your legs as soon as you opened your door. of course, another note was attached.
----- dear 204, i read that this is an easy to grow plant, as long as it’s in a warm bright spot. you’ll probably find that easy to come by :) best, spencer reid -----
the ponytail palm was one you used to own. it was rugged, but truly speaking, so easy to take care of. it didn’t ask for much. just sunlight and a small amount of water. it grew slowly but steadily.
you brought it in, placing it next to the majesty palm by the window. you sighed, thinking about mysterious 203, about how he had the time to buy you a plant in return, but for some reason you never saw him. you collapsed on the couch, looking at all of the plants decorating your apartment, its life and color filling the secret, well-kept void.
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as time went by, more plants were exchanged with spencer reid. along with notes, of course.
you gave him asparagus fern—letting him know that it was a plant that withstood abuse much better than typical ferns. it wasn’t as fragile, it could be in both light and dark corners.
he responded with albuca frizzle sizzle. it was a quirky, curly plant. his note was even quirkier; “only bought it cause it looked different.” more palms, philodendrons, snake plants, pothos, aloe, and ivy alternately graced both of your doorsteps, filling your apartment with more life than you expected to ever fill it. it was an extra dent in your monthly budget, but it was too much fun, looking forward to seeing what he would give in return.
and reading his notes was another thing to look forward to, too. never failing to make your week, the notes detailed research on the plant he dropped off, sometimes giving you updates on the previous plants you gave him. it was a joy to read; you’d plop on the couch and read and reread it, sometimes running your fingers over the indentation the ballpen had left on the delicate paper. you thought about how he had touched it, how he had likely scanned his eyes over the paper again and again before finally leaving it in front of your door.
did he want to stay hidden?
you were technically in correspondence for weeks now, but you couldn’t help but think about what he looked like. you had only really seen the back of his curly head of hair, your brain creating puzzle pieces to fill in the idea of a person.
and then, another puzzle piece had fit in. he called.
“hello?” you answered, your voice treading gently. “hi,” the voice was kind, nervous, almost. “i got your phone number from the landlord, i hope that’s okay.” “i’m sorry, who is this?” “right! uh-this is spencer, spencer reid.”
there was a relief in knowing that the name you had been reading for months was now a voice. hearing him say his own name after being confined to reading it for months was as satisfying as an exhalation after a long hold. this voice. this sweet, kind voice. it was him. you replayed the image of the man with curly hair entering his apartment carrying plants in, and overlaid the voice on the phone.
“oh, yes, hello!” you tried not to sound too excited. “it’s nice to finally hear your voice,” he chuckled. “oh, you too, you have no idea. um, what’s up, is everything okay?” “yeah, great, actually. i just hope this isn’t too much to ask—” his voice wavered. you were eager to meet him. “not at all! how can i help?” “i’m going to be gone for about a week and a half for work and to visit family, and i was wondering if you could possibly water my plants while i’m out?”
you held the jaw-drop in, and calmly said, “oh, sure!”
you weren’t going to meet him, unfortunately.
“really? thank you so much, i seriously owe you a huge favor after this. i’ll leave another plant out for you, and the key will be in the planter.” you nodded, a little disappointed, wanting a face-to-face handoff. “sure, no problem.”
“great, i’ll drop it when i can. thanks again!” he quickly hung up.
you slumped onto the couch, releasing an exasperated sigh. was everything just in your head?
regardless, you kept your promise. you picked up the key he left behind, and the note that had his scribbled instructions. his handwriting was just as scratchy, but you were used to it. the words went through your eyes, and you instead focused on the person who wrote it. his letters were kept on the coffee table, for when you were bored and curious, hoping to find remnants of his soul weaved into his writing. you just yearned to know him.
you put the key in, a distinct and successful click ringing in the hallway. as the door swung open, you were greeted by an apartment that was littered with things that were so distinctly him. a chess set, a few framed artworks on the walls, and books. more books than a man needed to have. the browns of the space were distinct from the green life pouring into the room. there were large palms, pothos, ferns, and perennials growing in all directions. it was almost like a completely different person had suddenly moved in.
you followed his instructions, finding a small and simple water can by the kitchen sink. you moved around the apartment systematically, watering each of the planters. you tried not to snoop, but you couldn’t help it. you looked at his books on the shelves, noting the broad range of his interests; from mathematics and physics in molecular biology, to sci-fi literature. although some books looked barely touched due to their smooth spines, you noticed that the pages had already browned at its edges. there wasn’t an order to his bookshelf that you could find or figure out, either. more questions swam in your mind; your puzzle becoming more complex by the minute.
this went on for days. as you consistently let yourself into his apartment, you saw more of his quirks, and scrutinized every bit of it—grasping at straws, desperate to understand the man you felt so connected to. most of the plants that filled the room were the ones you had given him, and they were kept exceptionally well. the plants only helped create an atmosphere that made you feel so easily at home. on some days, you found yourself entering early, or ‘checking on the plants’ even though they had no reason to be checked.
because even if you barely knew spencer reid, a part of you found yourself connected to his soul—even if they were only pieces.
you found yourself getting carried away rather frequently, because his apartment felt like an extension of yours. you would admire his side of the view, running your fingers through the spines of the books on the bookshelves, feeling the fluff of the rug under your feet, looking at the yellow of the bulbs in his lights. you pictured spencer reid living here. it was another puzzle piece assumed into the idea of this man.
and your puzzle was nearly complete.
it was the last day you had to water his plants, and you entered and followed your routine. classical music played into your ears, so when you zoned back in, ready to walk out the door, you were startled by the frame of a man in the apartment. “oh!” you exclaimed.
the man’s eyebrows were raised, shock and joy painted on his face.
“spencer reid.” even after practicing saying his name, there was still a disconnect and something unreal about finally saying it in front of him.
“204.” he smiled. “i was just watering your plants.” you notioned to the greenery behind you. “right.” he said aptly.
while no words could be exchanged, the atmosphere around the two of you spoke the only word necessary.
finally.
spencer admired how casually beautiful you looked. your hair was untidy, going in different directions. you looked comfortable in your sweatpants and slippers, tangled earphones trailing into your pocket. you thought about how this wasn’t the state you wanted to be in for a first impression, but he didn’t want to see you any other way. you looked so real. so raw. and undeniably beautiful.
when you looked at spencer, everything fell into place. the handwriting, his voice, the quirks of the apartment, it all perfectly fit him. his hair fell in all the right angles, framing his face. god, his face. his cheekbones stuck out, leading you to his eyes. they were so clearly tired, but as he looked at you, a spark crossed behind them, the first in a while.
as both of you noticed the other was staring, the searing eye contact was broken to hide the pink forming on your faces. you felt embarrassed, needing to get out of the situation as quickly as possible. you shifted where you stood and said, “well, they’re watered.”
spencer offered a shy smile and a light nod, and you took that as the signal to quietly leave.
you held your smirk in as you left, but once you reached the doorway, your stomach lurched. you needed to say something. you’ve been waiting months to finally meet him, to finally see him. say. something.
“actually—” you pivoted on your heel. “yes?” he responded quickly, his face hopeful. “well, uh, only if you’re interested, of course,” you nervously rubbed your arm, “would you like to see my collection?” “of plants?” he clarified. “uh, yes-?” you tried to smile through the awkwardness. “i’d love to!” he grinned.
your knees were going to buckle at his smile, but you stood and led him into your apartment. you could feel him behind you, and there was something about him being so near that made you nervous. as you swung the door open, spencer’s eyes widened at all of the plants scattered throughout the space. his eyes darted from left to right, up to down, scanning the whole room, logging each of the species into his brain.
“a bit much?” you asked him, tension lifting itself from your shoulders. “oh not at all, it’s lovely.” he was still looking around the room, and at that point, spencer could memorise the placement of every item in the apartment. “my mom says it’s a bit much.” you said, trying to track his eyes and see what he was looking at. “i don’t think so, it fills up the space. someone to live in the place while you’re out.” “oh, absolutely,” you smiled. “call me crazy, but i do talk to my plants. supposedly it can help them grow.”
he was looking directly at you now, a smile on his face. “oh yeah? and how are they?” “oh, fantastic conversationalists.” you smiled back. you both chuckled and the room had brightened.
spencer sat down, making himself comfortable, and you introduced him to each of your plants—how you got them, why you got them, which was difficult to care for, which was the easiest. for the first time in a while, you didn’t feel out of place as you rambled about your plants. he sat and smiled, nodding, and asked questions, too. your heart warmed, never really meeting someone who would listen to you talk about it all.
and just when you wanted to ask him out to a different setting—his phone rang. “sorry, i need to take this.” he gave an upset smile.
he spoke into his phone seriously, saying nothing but ‘yes’ and ‘i’ll be there’.
you looked down at the floor, already knowing what that meant. “work, huh?” you asked once he put his phone away. “yeah, i’m sorry.” he rubbed the back of his head. “but hey, it was great to finally meet you!” he smiled. you handed him the key, but he shook his head. “no, keep it. for emergencies.” his dimples were evident.
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that was around a month ago.
you haven’t seen him since. he disappeared just as quickly as he had suddenly came to existence—as he had proved he was real. on some days you would wait for a sound in the hallway, running to your door to look through the peephole. was it foolish to keep hope?
your apartment was in slight ruin. leaves of your long-kept plants looked upset, wilting towards the ground. the sun remained hidden behind closed curtains and the wind never gushed through.
you had even left him a plant. it still sat on his doorstep. it was the only plant you would water everyday, in the hopes that maybe, he would bring it in. but it sat there, slowly losing its life and color. but, after a week, the plant wasn’t alone. baskets and offerings filled the cramped hallway with the smell of freshly-baked goods and fruit. you never caught who had left them.
your ears were tuned out at this point—numb to every sound that crossed the hallway. so when you exited, finding two blondes at his door, you were a flurry of emotions.
“excuse me-is everything okay? can i help you?” you peeked to see their faces. both turned around to look at you. one’s face looked defensive, the other’s sympathetic. “i’m sorry, who are you?” one asked. “i-” you stammered to find the right label. friend? neighbor? occasional conversationalist? plant-waterer? “he’s a friend. i don’t even know if he’s home, i haven’t seen him in so long.” “oh, he’s home alright.” the other remarked. “we’re his friends. from work.” she offered a slight smile. “have you been leaving the baskets?” you asked. “oh, that’d be me! i’m penelope, it’s nice to meet you.” you shook her hand, introducing yourself. the other friend introduced herself as well, a simple “i’m jj.”
you contemplated but debated towards it. “has something happened to him?” you bit the inside of your cheek, your worry coming to the surface. jj and penelope looked at each other, and penelope gave a look that read as ‘you might as well’. “he’s lost someone close to him. a girlfriend, kind of.” jj hesitated.
girlfriend.
oh.
your hearing became numb as penelope gave you a polite smile, and jj moved to knock on spencer’s door. you retreated into your apartment, everything blurring—was that from tears or exhaustion? you closed the door behind you, back leaning against it, hearing penelope and jj’s footsteps fade away. you held your head in your hands, your hands shaking, lips trembling, skin turning cold. everything you had held in at this point came out in waves of pain and anger.
your vision returned when your tears had dried, your body aching from being on the floor. you wanted to make things right. he needed a friend right now, you knew that much.
he didn’t owe you anything. so what you were going to do was out of the absolute urge to take care of him. call it love, call it friendship, call it whatever you want. but it was the decent thing to do.
you took the key kept in the box with all of his letters, and without another thought, went to his apartment door. you turned the key in the keyhole, and although the hallway was deserted, his apartment was even quieter.
the silence was insulated by the presence of plants, but the life in the room had clearly slipped away.
you found spencer on the couch, exhaustion painted all over his body. while he slept, his body was tense, clutching a book into his chest. you held your tears back.
you quietly watered the plants, checking on each of them. you picked up the books on the floor, placing them into neat piles by the corner. there was no attempting placing them on the bookshelf, so the corner would have to suffice. you cleaned the dishes as softly as you could, and brought penelope’s baskets in. unwrapping them so gently for the cellophane to not make a single sound. you sorted the food into the refrigerator. and when the apartment started to look like itself again, you went over to spencer’s body on the couch. his body hadn’t relaxed one bit, eyes still shut tight, like he was afraid to open them and face reality.
you crouched down to his level, watching his pretty face sleep.
you did what was decent, so now you could let yourself indulge in one small thing.
you inched towards him, hearing his hushed breathing. your heartbeat quickened as you noticed how close you were to him. and you planted one small, light, kiss on his forehead.
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spencer woke to the apartment in a condition better than he remembered. he tiredly went to his plants, touching the soil of the planters, feeling its moist texture under his fingers. he looked at the corner where the books had been moved, but his brain was too worn out for him to feel any bit of concern. a part of him knew it was you. by some miracle, it was you.
he looked at the door, and thought about thanking you.
he slowly opened it, his eyes adjusting to the fluorescent of the hallway.
when he looked down, it was your typical package—a note and an offering.
but there was no plant facing him.
instead, it was a packet of seeds.
he bent down to pick up your note and read it. he read your note, the same relief rushing over him that always did when it came to you.
seven words in your handwriting.
“life is more than living, it’s growing.”
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longer a/n: not to toot my own horn but DID YOU CATCH THE PLANT SYMBOLISMS??? DID U LIKE THE PLAYLIST?? I'M SORRY I'M JUST TOO EXCITED AND HAPPY WITH THIS FIC IM NOT GONNA STOP ABT THIS. I READ THIS BACK AND WAS LITERALLY LIKE ?? DID I WRITE THIS TF ? anyways i hope you liked it sorry you had to hear me gush like this i probably wont shut up about this one for a while
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