The overplayed Christmas music filled the large room in the White House. I examine my handiwork, mistletoe hung in every doorway, far too many overdecorated trees, and lights I carefully placed along the walls. It had taken me all week to get it perfect. My boss, President Loki had demanded it be the best holiday party the White House had ever seen.
As his personal assistant, I never handled any important matters. My job mostly consisted of scheduling his appointments, getting his meals, coffee, and anything he deemed too insignificant to bother anyone else with. In other words, Iβm his lackey. I would have quit long ago, but I couldnβt stand to be away from him. He is the most attractive man I have ever seen, almost otherworldly. He is endlessly charming. He wouldnβt be so successful, if he wasnβt. Thereβs also a dark side to him that he hides from the public. He can be arrogant, bossy, and mean. I have seen him fire people for walking in the room in a way he deemed unbecoming of his brand. But he had always been kind to me.
Β βY/N, this is wonderful. Exactly what I imagined for the party. Everyone I have spoken to loves the decorations. You have outdone yourself. Make sure you enjoy yourself tonight. You deserve a break.β Loki pats me on the back. His attention is taken off me when a leggy brunette walks by. βIf youβll excuse me, Y/N, I must see to my guests.β
I find my friends, Emma, Hannah, and Meg. They work on Lokiβs campaign team. They have been working overtime, since he is up for re-election. They are taking shots; their laughter rings out above the music. βY/N, you need to get started, youβre a few shots behind.β They hand me a glass; Meg fills it to the top. I press it to my lips; the alcohol burns my throat on the way down. I repeat the process four more times. Loki did tell me to enjoy myself and Iβm having a blast with my girls.
βPresident Hottie was looking extra fine tonight.β Hannah slurs. βY/N, I donβt know how you are with him every day, and still havenβt tried to sleep with him.β Emma interjects. βItβs not that I donβt want to, heβs just not into me. Heβs had plenty of opportunities when we are alone, but he has never made a move.β βUgh! Can we change the subject? Iβve had enough of his royal highness to last a lifetime.β Meg whines. βWhat do you all want for Christmas this year?β
Emma thinks about it for a moment, βI told my husband I wanted a new tablet for work.β βIβm hoping for a new handbag.β Hannah says. βWhat about you, Y/N?β βI donβt think there is anything I want this year.β Meg looks shocked. βThereβs nothing you want? Come on, if you could have anything in the world, what would be your Christmas wish?β The effects of the alcohol have taken over. Iβm just as surprised as the girls when I say, βAll I want for Christmas is for Loki to rip this dress off me.β They giggle and squeal with delight at my answer. The fun stops when a large hand appears on my shoulder.
βY/N, I require your presence for a moment.β My soul leaves my body when I realize my boss just heard my inappropriate comment about him. I am absolutely getting fired. Iβm right behind him, my head hung in shame. He leads me away from the party into his office. I wait for him to shut the door before profusely apologizing.
βSir, I am so sorry. I donβt usually drink this much, and the girls β β βKneel.β He interrupts me with his command. βWhat?β βDonβt make me tell you again, pet.β I notice his erection straining against his pants as I sink in front of him. βDo you wish to please me, pet?β I nod my head yes. βOf course, you do. Always so good for me, exceeding my expectations. You look so pretty on your knees for me. I want your mouth, sweet girl.β
I unbutton his pants freeing him. I reach for his length, pumping gently while taking him in my mouth. He is way bigger than Iβm used to. I gag as he thrusts too deep. I flick my tongue tracing the veins along his glorious manhood. I relax my throat taking all of him. I hollow my cheeks sucking as he pulls my hair, guiding me. He moans my name as I slurp his tip, my hand working the rest of him. He thrusts harder hitting the back of my throat causing me to choke. He doesnβt stop. I hold onto his strong thighs for support. His thrusts become sloppy letting me know heβs close. His grip on my hair tightens. He slams roughly into my throat. He places one finger under my chin lifting my head. I look up meeting his gaze. βSwallow.β He commands as the warm liquid slides down my throat. He helps me off the floor.
I notice he is still hard. His hungry eyes trail over my body. He takes a step forward; strong hands grip my dress. It feels like he barely tugs on the material, but it comes apart in his hands as slides it down my body. He strips me of my underwear. βI have fulfilled your Christmas wish. Now you can grant mine.β He reaches between my thighs, swiping a long finger down my center. βSo wet for me. I havenβt touched you yet. Choking on your Presidentβs cock has ruined you already.β
He picks me up, slamming my body against the cool wall. He sucks bruises against my neck. I squirm in his arms, moaning his name. Β I tangle my hands in his raven curls. I grab the band of his head piece. I try to remove it so I can see his face better. He clutches my wrist stopping me. βThe horns stay on.β He growls. He forcefully thrusts into me. I cry out, placing one hand on his muscled arm, the other holds the right horn of his head piece.
He holds me against the wall his expert fingers circle my clit. βYou take me so well. So good for me.β My legs shake as he pounds into me. βLoki Iβm gonna come. Iβ¦β βCome for me. Let your president have all of you. Let me claim you.β I come undone with his words.
He grasps my hips using me as his human sex doll, fucking me relentlessly. My body slams against the wall with every thrust. He wraps his porcelain hand around my neck squeezing tightly. His moans are music to my ears. He comes apart panting against my neck. He places me back on my feet. He removes his suit jacket tossing it to me as I collect my underwear from the floor. βYou can leave out the back.β He adjusts himself zipping his pants and straightening his clothes. He opens the door taking one last look at my disheveled appearance. βMerry Christmas, Y/N.β
Much Ado About Nothing
(Act III, Scene V: The Temporary Bliss)
Your fleeting moment of happiness is quickly overshadowed as old wounds from the past resurface.
Part warning: (18+) fingering, protected sex (because helping him roll down a condom is hot), and, unfortunately, angst
Words: 4.8k
A/n: so this is the last part of Act III: The Deception, you might want to prepare yourself as we get closer to the truth
SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
You were a coward. A fool. A mess. You didnβt know what to label yourself anymore, or if there were even words to describe the way you felt. But you did know one thingβyou didn't have the strength to confront Spencer, you couldn't even see his face without feeling sick. So you did what you did best.
You avoided him. Plain and simple.
It was actually easier than you had expected. After that dreadful weekend, there seemed to be enough cases to distract you. You traveled across the state, one week in a new place, and another in a different city. By the end of the month, you hardly thought about him at all. Your friends seemed to be unaware of the underlying tension between you, and even if they did notice, they surprisingly kept their thoughts to themselvesβeveryone except Derek who teasingly pointed out that you seemed more focused on your work than usual.
You had shrugged off his comment with a forced laugh, brushing it off as if it was just a harmless observation. You told yourself that you were fine, that you had everything under control. But despite your efforts to stay distracted, the reality was different. The moment the plane landed back in Quantico, you knew you would have to face him again, especially when Emily suggested to hit the bar.
Her reason was to blow off steam after a gruesome few weeks, which was followed by a chorus of agreements from the team. Now you were left with no more excuses. Your eyes drifted toward him, his gaze slowly met yours, and that was how you found yourself in the same dingy, low-lit bar the team always gravitated to an hour later.
The familiar murmur of conversation and clinking of glasses greeted you as you entered the place. While the others settled to their usual spot in the corner, you quickly made a bee-line towards the bar. The bartender, a tall man with a slightly overgrown beard and sharp blue eyes, looked up as you approached.
He was cute, in a rugged, rough-around-the-edges kind of way. You would normally find yourself attracted to these types of menβconfident, approachable, and with a certain easygoing charm. But apparently, your heart had other ideas, preferring a certain someone with a genius-level IQ with warm brown eyes.
βHey, you're back," he greeted you, nodding his head. "Havenβt seen you in a while."
You leaned over the bar. "It's been a busy month."
"Where did you go off to this time?"
"Chicago."
He whistled softly. "Chicago, huh? Must have been a big one to send you all the way there." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. βWhat did the bad guy do this time?β
You gave a small, secretive smile. "You know I can't talk about that. That's classified information."
The corner of his lips turned into a wide grin. βCanβt blame a guy for trying.β He picked up a glass and began wiping it down. βSo, whatβll it be tonight? Your usual Margarita?β
You hesitated, shaking your head.
"Sex on the beach?"
Normally, you'd ask for eitherβyou preferred something light and tangy, a drink that was strong enough to take the edge off without overwhelming you. But tonight was different. Tonight, you needed something with more kick.
βGive me a shot of tequilaβno, make it two.β
A frown briefly crossed his face. βAre you sure?β
No.
βYes,β you insisted. βI need something stronger tonight.β
The man studied your face for a moment before he nodded, pouring two generous shots in front of you. He turned to grab lime wedges from the small fridge under the counter but stopped abruptly when he noticed youβd already downed one of the shots.
"Wow, you weren't kidding.β
The strong liquor burned your throat. βThat is disgusting.β
βThatβs why you need this to chase it,β he said, sliding the lime wedge and a pinch of salt towards you. βHere.β
You purposely ignored him and brought the second glass to your lips, feeling the burn even before you swallowed.
βHere, take it.β
βNo, Iβm fine.β You pushed the now empty glass toward him, making a face. βPour me another one.β
βI donβt think thatβs a good idea.β
βOh, come on! Iβm here with the gang!β You gestured toward the corner where the team was sitting. βYou donβt have to worry about me.β
He hesitated, glancing over your shoulder and then back at you. βFine, but this is the last one,β he said, reluctantly pouring another shot.
You gave him a quick nod, grabbing the shot and lifting it to your lips, steeling yourself for the burn. Just as you were about to drink, you felt a firm hand on your wrist. Your body tensed, not because of the sudden interruption, but because you felt another hand resting at your back before it slowly slid across, settling just at the soft curve of your waist.
You didnβt have to turn your head to know who it was. His smell was unmistakableβclean, with a hint of soap and the faintest trace of coffee.
βI think youβve had enough.β
You watched as Spencer took the glass from your grip, settling it on the counter. Your brows knit together in confusion. βWhat are you doing?β
But instead of answering you, his eyes were focused intently on the bartender. βYou shouldnβt have given her another glass.β
The bartenderβs eyes widened slightly, and he held up his hands. βHey, she asked for it.β
You nodded along. βTo be fair, he did offer me Sex on the Beach.β
That didnβt seem to help. Spencerβs grip tightened on your waist, and you could feel him pulling you slightly closer to him. βThatβs not funny. We need to get you some water.β
βReid, itβs just two shotsββ
He cut you off, turning back to the bartender. βCan she get a glass of water?β
The bartender nodded, quickly grabbing a glass and filling it with water. He handed it to Spencer, who then turned his attention back to you. βDrink this, please.β
βSeriously, Iβm fine,β you protested.
He placed the glass in your hand. βDrink it.β
βTwo shots,β you argued, finally facing him. βItβs not a big deal. Iβve drunk a lot worse than this.β
βI'm aware.β
βThen why does it bother you so much?β
He went quiet for a moment, his eyes drifting between you, the glass of water, then back to you.
βBecause I donβt like being the reason youβre drinking something you hate in the first place.β
You quickly downed the cool water. How could you even answer that? Your skin suddenly felt hot, and your palms grew clammy as he kept his hand on your waist. You looked away, unable to meet his gaze.
βItβs not because of you,β you said, shrugging as you set the glass down.
"Isn't it, though? Why else would you be reacting this way?"
βMaybe I just like tequila now. Did you ever think of that?β
βYou hate tequila," he replied as if it was common knowledge.
βYeah, well, maybe Iβve developed a taste for it.β
βSo youβve suddenly decided you like something youβve been avoiding for years?β
βMaybe Iβm trying new things,β you shot back, your tone sharp. βMaybe you should try it too.β
There was a moment of silence as he considered your words. "I am trying new things."
You felt him tug you slightly, letting your body fall against his. Your heart sped up as you stared up at him. Even in the dim light of the bar, his brown eyes seemed to catch the faint glow, looking lighter and more intense than usual. You watched as his gaze drifted slowly to your lips.
"Reid..."
"Hmm?"
"What are you doing?"
His expression softened as he looked back at you, his hand still resting lightly on your waist. "I'm trying to play the perfect boyfriend."
"So this is all an act?"
This was it, the moment of truth, the point where everything could change. He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. βNo,β he said quietly, his thumb brushing against your hip.
Your hand fell to his chest, fingers pressing lightly to feel the rapid beat of his heart. It was pounding, just as fast as yours.
"Spencer..."
He let out a sighβa sound that seemed to carry both relief and a touch of disbelief as it left his lips. "I thought I'd never hear you call me that again."
He was right. Ever since you drifted apart, calling him Reid felt safer, like a barrier that kept things distant and professional. Spencer was too personal, too intimate for the walls you had built around yourself. But now, standing so close, it felt like the past and present were colliding, making everything more confusing.
Your finger played with the knot of his tie, absentmindedly tracing the pattern. "You're making this more complicated."
He nodded. "I know."
"We're supposed to break this off."
"I know."
"We're supposed to stick to the plan."
He opened his mouth, then closed it, struggling for a moment before replying, βIf that's what you want, then we'll go through it. But...β
You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. "But what?"
"But I need to know if itβs really what you want." His voice faltered slightly. "If you want me to leave, I will."
His question hung in the air like a thick fog, making it hard for you to think clearly. It was a simple choice, wasn't it? Stick to the plan, keep up the fake dating, and finally break it off. No mess, no complications. But why, then, did the thought of him leaving feel like a heavy weight in your chest?
You caught him nervously trailing his bottom lip with his tongueβa habit of his when he was deep in thought. The simple gesture made you feel an unexpected pull, and before you knew it, you found yourself pressing closer to him.
βSpence,β you murmured. βYouβre making this really hard.β
βI donβt want to make it hard,β he said quietly. βI-I just I need to know where we stand.β
You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. The words felt heavy on your tongue, but you knew you needed to say them.
"I want you to leave," you started, watching as his expression shifted, a hint of pain flickering in his eyes as he slowly pulled away. But before he could step back, you tugged on his tie, pulling him back towards you. "But I'm leaving with you."
His eyes widened slightly. "What do you mean?"
And suddenly, a wave of embarrassment washed over you, and you looked away. "What I'm trying to say is... thatβwell..."
"Well?"
Your gaze focused somewhere beyond his shoulder, finding it easier to speak without meeting his eyes. "I want to finish what we started that morning."
He blinked, processing your words. "You mean... when we..."
"Yeah."
You noticed his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. "Oh." He leaned in slightly, his hand moving to rest on the small of your back. "How drunk are you right now?"
You couldn't help but let a laugh escape your lips, finally looking back at him. "I had two shots!"
His expression softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You know what this means, right?"
"What?"
"If weβ¦" He trailed off, clearing his throat before continuing, "If we do this, it'll change everything."
You smoothed down his shirt, your fingers lingering on the fabric. "I know."
"And you still want that?"
"I do."
He took a deep breath, searching your eyes for any hesitation. "And you want to leave... right now?"
"Look, if you don't want toβ"
He quickly cut you off, shaking his head with a slight, nervous chuckle. βNo, I do. I justβ¦ I want to make sure you do too.β
"I wouldn't be saying this if I didn't mean it."
His eyes softened. βYouβre right,β he said, the corners of his mouth lifting in a hesitant smile that looked almost like a grimace. βOkay. Okay. Weβre doing this.β
Seeing him easily flustered was always amusing for you, and this time was no different. "Come on," you urged him, taking his hand in yours. "Let's get out of here."
"Wait, shouldn't we tell them we're leaving?"
You glanced back at your friends. "And tell them what? That we're going to have sex?"
He almost tripped over his own feet. "Well, when you put it that wayβ¦"
You squeezed his hand and flashed him a smile over your shoulder as you started toward the exit. With a quick, eager step, he followed behind.
Spencerβs apartment was just as you rememberedβdeep green walls, warm lighting, bookshelves lining every corner. But you barely had a moment to register your surroundings before he had his face buried in your neck.
His lips found the sensitive spot below your ear. Your fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt as his mouth trailed a wet path down your throat, and you had to push against his chest slightly because he was pressing you too hard against the door. For a man who spent most of his time buried in books, he seemed to have an unexpected strength that took you by surprise.
βHey, hey,β you murmured, a soft giggle escaping as you tilted your head to look at him. βSlow down.β
He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes before leaning down again, his hands coming up to cup your face as he kissed you.
His lips were hot against yours, moving with an eager, almost desperate need. He sucked gently on your lower lip, pulling it into his mouth before releasing it with a soft, audible pop. The sudden absence of his mouth left your skin tingling, only to be followed by the gentle graze of his teeth, a playful nip that made you gasp and clutch his shirt tighter.
You felt lightheaded, melting under his touch as his tongue teased the seam of your lips, coaxing them open as his tongue teased the seam of your lips, coaxing them open. You let him in willingly, your tongue meeting his eagerly. The sensation left you feeling hot and dizzy, your entire body craving for more of his taste. It was as if his kiss was an intoxicating drug, leaving you utterly addicted. Even when he pulled away slightly to catch his breath, you grabbed him again, pressing your lips firmly against his.
Spencer sighed with pleasure as he held the back of your head, his fingers splaying against your scalp. You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, lost in the way his lips moved against yours, but the instant you felt his growing bulge brush your hip, you gently pushed him away.
A thin, glistening string of saliva followed you, and you reached up to wipe it from his mouth with a quick, almost embarrassed swipe. His breath came in ragged gasps as he looked down at you, his eyes wide in surprise.
"Sorry, I-I got carried away," he mumbled, letting his hand trail down your spine. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to."
You looked up at him, your eyes searching his. "You thought I pushed you away because I want us to stop?"
"Uh... maybe? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
"No, Spencer," you said softly, reaching up to loosen the knot of his tie. "I pushed you away because I need you to take me to your bed."
He watched intently as you pulled off his tie, and when you pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders, his hands fell to his sides.
"Are you going to watch me undress you, or are you going to help?"
A slow smile spread across his face as he shrugged off the jacket completely, his hands moving to the buttons of his shirt. "I think I can manage that."
He started to unbutton his shirt, his fingers brushing against yours. The moment the last button was undone, he let the shirt fall to the floor with a soft rustle. Your palm glided over his chest as you took in his bare skin. You expected his body to be leanβhe had long limbs, after allβbut you didn't expect the subtle, defined muscles beneath your touch.
"Spencer, have you been working out?"
You could tell he was embarrassed by the way he shifted his gaze from you. "Morgan convinced me to stay in shape," he admitted with a shy smile. "He insists it's part of the job."
You plant a kiss right above his heart. "Well, it's definitely working."
The warmth of your lips seemed to ease his embarrassment, and he let out a soft sigh, his hands coming up to caress your back. You glanced up at him again. "Will you take me to your bed now?"
He quickly nodded and guided you towards his bedroom. Once inside, you pushed him down onto the edge of his bed. His hands roamed across your body as you slipped between his legs, slowly unbuttoning your blouse. The front of the fabric fell away and his gaze followed every movement, his hands eagerly helping you slide it off your shoulders.
Your bra came off next, the straps sliding down your arms as you tossed it aside. His eyes swept over you with admiration as he licked his lips, his gaze lingering on the exposed curve of your body. He pulled you closer, his hands gripping your waist as he pressed a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and down to the swell of your breasts.
When he wrapped his lips around your nipple, a sharp, electrifying pleasure shot through you. His tongue flicked and teased, alternating between gentle suckles and soft nibbles that made you gasp and arch into his touch. You tangled your fingers in his hair, holding him to you as he continued his ministrations, moving from one breast to the other.
The hand on your back slid lower, his fingers finding the waistband of your pants. You felt him unbutton them, the fabric loosening around your hips. With a firm but gentle tug, he slipped your pants down your legs, followed closely by your panties, until both garments pooled around your feet.
His hand began running up your leg, fingers slipping between your thighs. He let go of your nipple and looked up at you with those brown eyes that seemed to gleam under the light. βCan I touch you?β
You brushed his hair back gently from his forehead. βYouβve touched me before.β
βI want to hear you say it.βΒ
You felt his fingertips brush so lightly over your clit and you nodded. βYes,β you breathed out, βYou can touch me.β
All you could do was sigh as his fingers moved again. He was so gentle, so careful, sliding his fingers up and down your folds, spreading your arousal with each teasing stroke. His eyes never left your face, watching every flicker of pleasure that crossed your features, drinking in the way your lips parted and your breath hitched with each touch.
"ThβThat feels good," you cooed, your eyes fluttering low but not completely shut, wanting to see him as he worked over you. He followed your gaze where his fingers continued their exploration, gently pulling back the soft flesh to expose your clit. He traced light, feathery strokes over the sensitive skin and the motion left your legs shaking, nearly losing balance if he weren't holding you against him.
He grabbed the back of your thigh. βPut your leg up here.β
You complied and rested your feet on the bed, giving more access. The new position allowed him to press his fingers more deeply against your clit, his fingers moving in a steady rhythm. You were trembling, mind numb from the way he was touching you, and you almost couldnβt take it when he dipped his middle finger inside your cunt.
"God, Spencer,β you gasped, dropping a hand to the wrist that was nestled between your legs, nails digging into his skin. He slipped another finger inside you, and your eyes screwed shut this time. You could feel his fingers curling inside you, seeking, then finding, the tender spot that made you cry out in pleasure.
Everything became a blur after that. His fingers continued to thrust into you, and with each movement, you grew wetter, the slick sounds of your arousal echoing throughout his room. You clung to his shoulders for support, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he pressed soft kisses across your chest. His thumb then brushed against your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure in gentle circles.
"I'mβ¦β Your eyes fluttered open when his mouth latched onto your hard nipple. βI'm gonna come... if you... keep doing that..."Β
You weren't even sure why you were warning him, but you couldnβt stop yourself as your hips rolled against his hands. His thumb circled your clit faster in response, and the world around you began to spin. You gasped his name, the sound escaping your lips in a desperate, breathless moan.
When his teeth softly grazed your sensitive nipple, you finally snapped. Wave after wave of orgasm bliss rolled through your body, the pulse of pleasure sending your thighs trembling as he held you through all of it. It's all too much, too intense, and you were left completely spent, shaking, breathless, and needing to lay down immediately.
Spencer caught you as you collapsed on top of him, the force of your weight pushing him onto his back. You stayed like that for a moment, trying to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly against his. But it didn't last long when you felt his bulge press right between your thighs. Without thinking, you found yourself rolling your hips.
He let out a sharp gasp, his hands gripping your hips tightly as you moved against him. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the hardness of his erection pressing against you through the fabric of his pants as your face hovered above his, lips barely touching.
"So when are you going to fuck me?"
He bucked his hips against you. "I-I... I have a condom in my drawer."
His words made you falter. Why does he have a condom?
It was stupid, really, you knew why contraception was necessary. But the thought of him having an active sexual life with someone else after you had drifted apart stung deeply. It wasnβt technically your business, but knowing that he might have been with others hurt, especially when the last man you had been close to was him.
"Spence... why do you have a condom?"
You hated how small your voice sounded.
He gently brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, his eyes searching yours as he weighed his words before letting out a sigh. "Afterβ¦ after that night, when weβalmostβ¦ I just wanted to be prepared. I didn't know ifβ¦ if we'd everβ¦"
You slowly relaxed. "So you haven't used any?"
He shook his head. "No, I haven't."
Your heart swelled at his words. You leaned in and kissed him softly, a sudden rush of affection washing over you. "Well, I think it's time we put it to use," you whispered against his lips, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "Where did you put it?"
"Bottom drawer, on the left."
You pulled away to reach over to his drawer, hearing the sound of his belt buckle unlatching behind you. Your eyes briefly flashed towards the book sitting on the nightstand, a glimpse of its cover catching your attention. But you didnβt dwell on it, you were too focused on rummaging through his things until your fingers brushed against the familiar texture of the wrapper.
He was completely naked as you turned to face him again, your eyes catching his cock resting perfectly against his stomach as he leaned back against the pillows. You crawled over to him and leaned down, placing a soft kiss on his bulging tip.
He let out a sharp hiss. "I-I don't think I can last long if you do that."
You smiled and straightened yourself, your fingers delicately tearing open the wrapper. You could feel his eyes on you, half-lidded with desire, his focus narrowing to the way your fingers brushed against his skin. His body tensed, and his breathing grew heavier, as you slowly slid the condom down his length.
The thin latex felt almost invisible under your fingertips, allowing the heat radiating from his body to seep through. He couldn't take his eyes off you, mesmerized by the way your fingers glided over him so effortlessly. Your touch was firm yet gentle, and when you finally reached the base, you gave him a final, possessive squeeze.
Spencer let out a shaky breath, his hands finding your hips as you positioned yourself over him. You hovered above his tip, teasingly brushing it against your entrance before slowly sinking down. You paused halfway, adjusting to his size, feeling lightheaded as he stretched you regardless of how wet you were. It was overwhelming, but the numbness was exactly the kind of rush you were seeking.
And finally, with a deep breath, you let gravity pull you down, taking him all the way in.
You both gasped at the sensation, the intense fullness causing your muscles to clench around him. His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he steadied you. Then, slowly, you began to move, lifting yourself slightly before sinking back down.
Your breaths synchronized, shallow and quick, as you found a steady rhythm. Spencerβs hands guided you, his palms pressing firmly on your hips before trailing back to your ass, squeezing the soft flesh. You held onto his jaw as you leaned in, your lips meeting in a heated, breathless kiss. His tongue slid into your mouth and your brain turned to mush.
He kissed you hungrily while your hips continued to rise and fall, each movement driving him deeper inside you. You felt his hands roam your body, one sliding up your back to pull you closer, while the other remained on your ass, encouraging you. You moaned into his mouth, the sensation of his lips and his cock brushing your tight, inner walls making you tremble with pleasure.
You pulled back slightly, resting your forehead against his. "S-Spence..."
He nipped at your bottom lip, casually biting and pulling it between his teeth. "Mhm?"
You didnβt know why you had called out his name, only that you needed to. It was more of a reflex than anything else, a desperate need to connect as your pace quickened. He let out a low, throaty sound of pleasure as your walls clenched around him. And that was when you heard your name on his lips. It was soft, but it was enough to drive you to the edge. You rolled your hips urgently, trying to chase that familiar, blissful sensation but your thighs started to burn, your movements slowing down a little. He sensed your struggle and tightened his hands on your waist.
His fingers dug harshly into the tender skin of your sides, his hips bucking up to meet yours with force. His thrusts suddenly became more relentless, each powerful push driving him deeper inside you. The slick, wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of your cunt filled the air, the squelch of your joined body punctuating with each thrust.
The pleasure built within you, coiling tighter and tighter until it was all-consuming. Finally, with one last, powerful thrust, you were both pushed over the edge. Your body convulsed with the force of your orgasm at the same time he spilled into you. His head fell back against the pillows, his eyes squeezed shut as your fingers dug into his shoulders, riding out every wave of your climax.
It took a few more minutes before you felt his body relax. You did the same, collapsing on top of him as he is hands softened their grip on you, gently caressing your back.
"Are youβ¦ okay?" You simply nodded, too tired to find your own voice. His thumb brushed your side. βAre you sure?β
You nodded again, snuggling yourself closer, feeling the weight of your body pressing down on him. He kissed the top of your head.
βI know youβre making yourself comfortable, but I really need to go to the bathroom.β
You lifted your head, meeting his eyes. βWould it bother you if I peed at the same time you clean yourself?β
The smile that spread across his face lit up his features. βOf course not.β
You pressed a soft kiss to his chest before reluctantly rolling off him. Spencer slid off the bed and reached for your hand, helping you up. You both moved to the bathroom, where Spencer headed for the sink to wash up while you made your way to the toilet.
As you sat there, you thought about how surprisingly natural this feltβalmost as if you had done this before. The way he naturally kissed your cheek before exiting the bathroom didnβt feel awkward or out of place, it was oddly comforting. When you finally finished, he was already waiting for you in comfortable clothes. He stretched out his hand, and when you took it, he pulled you close. βAre you hungry?β
You found yourself nodding. βI could eat something.β
He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. βIβll make us some sandwiches, I think I have enough stuff in the fridge,β he suggested, and then added somewhat sheepishly, βI also, um, put some fresh clothes out for you to use. I hope thatβs okay.β
Your heart might burst at how adorable he was. βThank you, Spence. Thatβs really sweet.β
He gave your hand a gentle squeeze before heading to the kitchen. You picked up the clothes he had laid out for youβa soft t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, but as you held them, your gaze drifted back to the book sitting on his nightstand. Curiosity got the better of you, and you picked up the book, studying the cover.
The Narrative of John Smith.
You opened it, noticing the handwritten quote on the first page.
βLove is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone, we find it with another.β βThomas Mertonβ
A sudden feeling of nausea hit you, as if youβd been punched in the gut. You flipped through the pages, trying to steady your breathing. It wasnβt the softness of the paper that greeted you as you slipped onto the next page, but the sharp edges of something hard brushing against your fingertips. You carefully pulled out what seemed to be a photograph, your heart sinking as you realized whose it wasβ¦ Because right in your hand, Maeve was smiling back at you.
Maeve.
Maeve. Donovan.
Everything suddenly came crashing back, the past shooting straight to your heart. The memories, the pain, the confusionβit all flooded your mind in an instant. You remembered why you and Spencer had drifted apart, why that night had changed everything. The woman staring back at you was the reason you had shut yourself off from him in the first place.
No, it wasnβt all her faultβyouβd be a heartless fool to blame a dead woman for something she couldnβt control. But she had consumed his mind. The presence she held in his life was enough to end the friendship you once had. And now, holding the photograph, you felt an overwhelming tightness in your chest that made it hard to breathe. The walls seemed to close in, the room feeling too small.
You needed to get out of here.
You quickly pulled on your clothes, the fabric feeling suffocating as you hurriedly dressed. Your movements were frantic, driven by a need to escape. You dashed out of his room, but Spencer was already standing by the bedroom door.
"I was just about to call you, the food isβhey, what's wrong?"
You walked past him, the pain constricting your chest so tightly that you could barely breathe, let alone speak. βIβ¦ I need to go,β you stammered out over your shoulder.
Spencer's face fell as he saw the distress in your eyes, his hands reaching out to stop you as you headed for the front door. He turned you to face him, and the moment he saw the tears threatening to spill, his own expression crumpled in worry.
"What happened?" he asked softly, his hands gently cupping your face. You flinched and shoved him away.
βDonβt touch me.β
You noticed the hurt in his eyes, but you barely looked at him, trying to control your own emotions. Your mind was a whirlwind of confusion. You felt the lingering warmth from the post-orgasmic rush, the serotonin still buzzing in your veins, but at the same time, the gut-wrenching pain was consuming you. The fleeting sensation youβd felt moments ago seemed like a cruel mockery now, as your heart twisted with every beat.
βYouβre really leaving?β
You slowly nodded, refusing to meet his gaze.
βJust like that, after tonight?β
You remained silent, your mouth shut tight. Then you heard him mutter something under his breath, barely audible but unmistakable.
βThatβs what you always do, isnβt it?β
Your eyes snapped to him. βWhat is that supposed to mean?β
There was a heavy silence, a beat of rising tension as his eyes narrowed at you. βYou run away when things get hard.β
You stared back at him in surprise. βIs that what you think Iβm doing?β
βYes,β he said sharply. βEvery time we get to a point where we might actually resolve something, you disappear.β
Was that really how he saw you? Someone who ran away at the first sign of trouble? The thought was a bitter pill, one that left a heavy, sour taste in your mouth.
βThatβs not fair,β you protested, shaking your head as you felt the sting of tears at the corner of your eyes.
βWell, you know whatβs not fair?β His voice suddenly turned a pitch higher, each word cutting through the air. βPulling me into thisβthis whole fake relationship thing and then running away when it starts to mean something real.β
βWhat?β The accusation stung, a sharp jab to your already fragile heart. βYou think this was easy for me? You think I didnβt have doubts?β
"I think you dragged me into this and now youβre scared because itβs not just a game anymore," he pressed, his eyes flashing with frustration as he stepped closer. βEvery time l show that l actually care, you run away.β
βI donβt run away.β
βYes, you do. You always bail on me,β he argued, his tone growing sharper with each word. βJust like that morning, just like now, and just like that nightββ
You finally had enough.
"Donβt you dare bring that up!β You snapped. βYou donβt get to use that against me. You know exactly why I had to leave!β
Spencer flinched as if he was struck. The impact of your words hit him hard, and you could see the hurt and realization dawning in his eyes. His posture sagged, the tension in his shoulders melting away as the anger drained from his face. βI know, I know,β he whispered, the regret clear in his voice. βI-Iβm sorry.β
Your heart ached, the pain of old wounds reopening. The memories of that night, the way you felt invisible and helplessβit all came crashing back. You shook your head, taking a step back, needing to put distance between you. βNo, I canβt do this right now.β
You turned away, desperate to escape. The walls felt like they were closing in, your chest tightening with every breath.
βWait,β he called after you. βIβm sorry. Pleaseβ¦ I donβtβ¦ stay, please.β
You paused slightly, but you couldnβt let yourself give in. Not when every painful memory from that night seemed to claw its way back to the surface. Not when the fear of getting hurt again loomed so large. Not when you knew if you turned back now, you might never find the strength to walk away again.
βWe should end this whole thing,β you said quietly, each word feeling like a knife twisting in your heart. βIβll tell Hotch first thing in the morning.β
The words hung in the air, heavy and final. The reality of what you had said sank in, and for a moment, it felt like time itself had frozen. His face fell, a look of utter devastation crossed his features as his eyes searched yours, trying to grasp at the fragments of what was left. He opened his mouth to speak, but you couldnβt bear to face him any longer.
You slowly reached for the door, wrenching it open before stepping into the cold night. You left him standing there, watching helplessly as you walked away for what felt like the hundredth time.
You woke up with an arm draped across your waist. Under normal circumstances, you would have jumped at the unexpected contact, but when the memory of last night crossed your half-conscious mind, it shouldnβt have surprised you.
Although you werenβt sure how you ended up like this. The details of the night before were a bit hazy, like fragments of a dream slipping through your fingers. You remembered the intensity, the undeniable pull that had drawn you together, but how it had led to this calm, intimate closeness was a mystery.
The gentle weight of his hand resting on your stomach was a constant reminder of the compromising position you were in. You wondered whether he was awake, or whether he was merely drifting in that blurry space between sleep and consciousness. You couldnβt help but wonder if he even realized how tightly he was holding you.
But then a subtle brush across your stomach made you tense unexpectedly. You felt his warm breath fanning across your skin, a shaky exhale that barely made a sound as it passed through his lips. There was an intake, a pointed swallow, the thick gulp of exchanged air suggesting he was, in fact, already awake.
You shifted slightly. This seemed like the right moment to address what happened last night. The quiet of the morning made it seem like an appropriate time to confront your emotions, to peel back the layers of what was quickly becoming something more real. More than just a lie
But neither of you spoke. Neither of you moved. The only sound in the room was the steady rhythm of your breathing. You lay there, waiting, your mind conjuring up various scenarios of what might happen next. You imagined him awkwardly stumbling over an apology, or worse, bolting out of the room in a rush of confusion and regret. Yet you certainly didnβt expect what came next.
He pressed a hesitant kiss at the back of your neck.
You froze, caught completely off guard. You thought of pulling away, but your body remained still, almost as if it refused to react until your brain processed the rush of emotions flooding through you. For a moment, you felt suspended in time, unable to move, to think, to breathe. But as you felt his tongue trace a warm, delicate line along the curve of your neck, you knew you couldnβt resist him any longer.
You tilted your head, giving him better access to the tender skin beneath your ear. His lips found the spot where your pulse throbbed most visibly, and he lingered there, sucking gently the whole time you squirmed in his arms.
He took your response as encouragement, letting his hand trail along your stomach before stopping at the hem of your shirt. He paused, his hand resting lightly against you as if asking for permission. A moment of hesitation fluttered through your mind, but it didnβt last too long. With a deep breath, you gave a small nod, signaling him to continue.
His palm was warm as he slipped beneath the fabric, tracing soft patterns on your skin. You tensed momentarily at the initial contact, then relaxed into his touch as he gently skimmed along, drawing invisible lines towards the soft skin where your breast met your ribcage. He paused yet again, this time as if he was waiting for any sign from you to stop. But you gave none. How could you stop when every part of your body was trembling with anticipation?
When he realized that you werenβt pulling away, his large palm covered your breast.
You let out an audible gasp.
In all the time you had known him, Spencer was the type of person who approached everything with caution and thoughtfulness, and maybe even a bit reserved. But he was a man full of curiosity, always eager to learn and explore new things, and this time, he was curious about your body.
His hand lingered there, taking in the softness of your skin before his palm molded around the curve of your breast, fingers stretching out to feel the delicate flesh beneath. The pressure was light at first, almost tentative, as if he were gauging your reaction. He then moved his thumb to trace the outline of your nipple, causing it to harden under his touch.
Your skin prickled with arousal as he continued to tease you, brushing over the sensitive peak over and over again until he was satisfied. There was a certain confidence in his movement now, as though he were familiarizing himself with your body. When you arched your back, he responded by pinching your nipple lightly between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it gently, drawing a quiet moan from you.
His own breath was hot and uneven against your neck. You pushed your hips back into him, feeling the firm pressure of his growing arousal against your body. The sensation made you crave moreβno, you needed more. Before you could second guess yourself, you pulled his hand away from your breast, only to guide it further down.
His fingers followed your lead, sliding over your stomach and down towards the waistband of your shorts. You felt his breath grow shallow as he realized where you were leading him. He hesitated for a moment, but when you parted your legs for him, his hesitation dissolved. His hand slipped beneath the fabric of your shorts, and with daring boldness, he let his fingers slide under your panties as well.
The moment he made contact with your bare skin, a shiver ran through your body. He ran his fingertips along the length of your folds with genuine curiosity as if he was wondering how you managed to be this wet already. His fingers slid over your slickness, up, down, and then back up again before he found your throbbing clit.Β
Your chest began to heave, your hips unconsciously bucking against his hand as he worked over you casually. He circled your clit with slow precision, the pads of his fingers finding just the right pressure to make you gasp. A strained moan escaped your lips, more like a cry of need than anything else, and Spencer seemed to sense your desperation.Β
He withdrew his hand from you, and you almost voiced a protest, but it died in your throat as he pushed your shorts down your legs. You quickly helped him, slipping off your panties before you settled back onto your side. But he stopped you, pulling you slightly onto your back so you were half-lying on the bed and half atop him.
Your heart was pounding in your chest as he slowly parted your legs. He positioned one of them over his, leaving you fully exposed. You could feel his ragged breath against your ear as his hand moved down the length of your inner thigh. You squirmed when he finally reached your heat.
He traced the outer edges of your folds, teasing you with light, feathery touches before he slipped lower, finding your entrance. He teased you there, dipping just inside before retreating, a drawn-out moan tumbling past your parted lips. He repeated the motion, each time going a little deeper, until finally, he pushed two fingers inside.
The sensation was immediate and overwhelming. His fingers were long, stretching you in ways that made your toes curl. You watched the way his arm flexed, his muscles tensing as he pumped his fingers in and out of your dripping cunt. He hit a spot inside you that left you gasping and panting, and your desperate hand sought purchase, sliding up behind you. You reached into the soft hair at the back of his head, threading carelessly through the tousled strands as he leaned closer, planting open-mouthed kisses along your neck.
Your moans grew louder, more urgent, as he continued to thrust his fingers deeper. The pressure built inside your lower stomach, and you could feel the unmistakable rhythm of his hips rutting against your ass. He was hard, his cock straining through the fabric of his pants, brushing against your bare skin with every thrust. Another drive of his hips had you clenching around his fingers, and suddenly, the sweetest noise flew past your ears.
A groan. A very small one, hardly above a whisper, but it was rich and coarse.
The sound only heightened your pleasure, and now you were seconds away from shattering. Your grip on his hair tightened as you turned your head towards him. He responded immediately, his mouth capturing yours desperately, a meeting of tongues and teeth that left you both breathless. You clung onto him as his fingers quickened their pace, and all you could hear was the filthy sound your body was making.
Everything was suddenly too much, and before you knew it, the tension coiled within you snapped. A wave of intense pleasure crashed over you, leaving you trembling and crying out against his mouth. Your body convulsed with the force of your orgasm, your inner muscles clenching around his fingers as he continued to drive into you, his hips grinding desperately against your ass.
You were now panting, trying to focus through the haze of your orgasm as you felt the hard length of him straining against his pants. You shifted slightly, arching your back to give him better access, and the new angle allowed him to press even closer. His fingers slipped from you, and he grabbed your hip, using it as leverage to grind himself harder, rutting his hips against you with an urgent rhythm.
With a final, forceful thrust, he found his release as a moan that sounded more strained and desperate, almost like a whine, escaped his lips. His body tensed and then relaxed, the tension melting away as he clung to you, his breath heavy and warm against your mouth.
For a moment, you stayed like that, both of you trying to catch your breath. But then the silence that followed became too palpable, stretching on as neither of you seemed ready to break it. You should probably say something, anything to fill the void, but neither of you seemed able to find the right words.
The quiet grew, and you suddenly became acutely aware of everything around youβhow your leg was still draped over his, the feeling of his arousal still pressing against you, and the way the cool air brushed your exposed skin. And somehow, amidst it all, you began to feel a creeping sense of unease.
You began to resent how you had allowed yourself to be swept up in the moment. You began to hate your lack of self-control. When your brain was no longer clouded by lust, your thoughts became clear, and now you felt foolish for letting things go this far, for not guarding your emotions as well as your body.
Spencer opened his mouth, but you didnβt want to hear whatever regrets he might voice. You sensed it in the way he slightly pulled away, the way he loosened his grip around you as if he too was trying to make sense of everything. The last thing you needed was to hear those doubts spoken out loud.
You couldnβt take it anymore. The air felt thick, almost suffocating. The more you stayed there, the more you felt like drowning. It was all becoming too much. So you slipped away from his arms, trying to create some much-needed space between you. You didnβt look back as you headed towards the bathroom.
You didnβt look back as he called out your name.
Spencer opened his mouth, but you didnβt want to hear whatever regrets he might voice. You sensed it in the way he slightly pulled away, the way he loosened his grip around you as if he too was trying to make sense of everything. The last thing you needed was to hear those doubts spoken out loud.
Much Ado About Nothing
(Act III, Scene III: The Close Encounter)
The tension between you and Spencer finally snaps as you find yourself sharing the same bed.
Part warning: sexual tension and (finally) heavy kissing
Words: 1.6k
A/n: this is relatively short because I got really busy this weekπ iβm so sawry
SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
You werenβt stupid. You knew exactly why he kept that book on his lap the entire time. It just seemed wiser to pretend not to noticeβnot just for his sake, but for yours too.Β The less said, the better, especially when your own reaction had been anything but subtle. Because who the hell would moan at the slightest touch? Who would shudder and gasp from a mere brush of fingers across the skin?
Well⦠you, apparently.
You couldn't believe he managed to fluster you this much. This was Spencer. Spencer. Someone so complicated in your life, the same guy you swore you'd never let yourself get close to. Yet here you were, pulse racing and cheeks hot, all because of a few innocent touches that shouldn't have meant anything.
No, you were probably too caught up in this stupid situation. It was the only explanation that made sense, that had to be it. And now, you needed to pull yourself together. A reset, perhaps. A way to snap back to reality and remind yourself that everything was just a performance. Because there was no way in hell that these feelings were realβthey couldn't be.
So you did what you did best: you kept your distance. Not completely, but just enough to keep the act while building an ever taller wall between you. You touched his arm occasionally, you even leaned on him when others were around. But whenever it wasnβt necessary to be by his side, you avoided being alone with him.
Until later that night.
You had been so focused on avoiding him that you completely forgot the dread nagging at you since this morning. You lingered with the girls, laughing over the last drops of wine until you somewhat felt the slight buzz of alcohol in your system. It was close to midnight when you finally made your way back to your room, only to stop dead in your tracks.
The bathroom door swung open just as you entered, and there he wasβfresh out of a quick shower. His hair was slightly damp, carelessly flopping onto his forehead, and he was clad in a classic pajama set, stripes of soft blue and white that somehow suited him. Your gaze slowly drifted back to his face, catching his gaze just as time seemed to freeze.
Neither of you moved, neither of you spoke, and you wondered whether you could fake a fight and slip into Penelopeβs room when he finally cleared his throat.
βI, uh, Iβll just grab a pillow,β he mumbled awkwardly, motioning towards the floor.
You watched him fumble with the flimsy pillow, his fingers clumsily adjusting its corners, and the sight made you feel bad. The thought of him all curled up on the floor while you sprawled out on a queen-sized bed felt downright ridiculous, but at the same time, the idea of laying so close to him was making your palms sweat.
βWait,β you blurted out, surprising even yourself. βIβ¦β
Say it. Just say it.
βYou can sleep on the bed.β
You winced as the words left your mouth, but Spencer just looked at you, frowning slightly. βI donβt want to take the bed if it means youβre on the floor.β
You shook your head quickly, almost laughing at the absurdity of the situation. βI meanβ¦ we can share it?β
His eyes went cartoonishly wide.
βYou want to share the bed?β
You nodded.
βAs inβ¦ both of us?β
You nodded again.
His voice turned a pitch higher. "Together?"
βYeah, justβ¦ you know, you stay on your side and Iβll stay on mine,β you added, trying to sound more confident than you felt. The room was suddenly too warm, too stifling. Or maybe it was just the heat rising to your cheeks. You waited for his response, but when he seemed to hesitate, you started to second-guess yourself.
βYou know what, just forget about itββ
βNo!β He quickly said. He cleared his throat again. βWe can... we can share the bed.β
You held his gaze, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. βOkay.β
βOkay.β
One long second passed until you bolted into the bathroom with your change of clothes.
You slammed the bathroom door behind you, your breath catching in your throat. You quickly stripped yourself naked, a little more harshly than necessary, and pulled on your shorts and t-shirt. The fabric clung to your skin as if it too sensed the shift in the air.
Itβs just one night, you repeated in your head like a mantra. You were just going to sleep. Sure you had history, and sure, sharing a bed would complicate things further. But the two of you had shared spaces beforeβlate nights at the office, long stakeouts in cramped cars. This was no different. It had to be no different.
Finally feeling somewhat calmer, you unlocked the door and stepped out. Spencer was already under the covers, his back to you, the lines of his shoulders tense under the thin blanket. The mattress dipped slightly with your weight when you finally slipped under the covers, and you lay down on the very edge, as far from him as possible without making it obvious.
One minute turned into two, and then those minutes stretched into more, and you realized both of you were still very much wide awake. The quiet was starting to drive you insane.
βReid?β
His voice was oddly quiet. βYes?β
But what were you even trying to say? You scrambled for something, anything, but you couldnβt find the right words. Your thoughts felt tangled, a jumble of half-formed ideas that fizzled out before they could be voiced.
Spencer noticed your hesitation and turned towards you. βWhat is it?β
Feeling flustered by the way he was looking at youβespecially when you caught him glancing briefly at your lipsβyou blurted out the first thing that came to mind, which wasnβt at all what youβd planned to discuss.
βWhen do you think we should fake our breakup?β
The question hung awkwardly in the air. You regretted it the moment it left your lips, but there was no taking it back now. His gaze changed subtly.
βBreak up?β
You nodded, feeling suddenly foolish but too committed to stop. βYeah, I mean, with how things are goingβ¦ and how weβre supposed to be pretending, right? It justβ¦ it feels like something we should plan out, doesnβt it?β
Spencer watched you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to read your thoughts. Finally, he let out a slow breath, nodding slightly.
βSureβ¦ we should have a plan.β
βMaybe we could have a big argument,β you suggested.
He shifted to face you, the bed sheets rustling softly under him. "What kind of argument?"
"Something dramatic," you proposed, your heart beating a little faster as the distance seemed to close with his every subtle movement. "Something public where everyone can see itβs over."
βI donβt think we can handle something that intense."
βYouβre right,β you agreed softly. βSomethingβ¦ simple then?β
Spencer unconsciously licked his lips, a brief, nervous gesture. Your eyes followed the movement, lingering just a second too long. βWe could just say it isnβt working out.β
You drew your eyes back to his, and unconsciously, your foot brushed against him under the covers. He tensed for a moment. But after a pause that stretched a beat too long, he shifted slightly, not to pull away but to gently rest his leg against yours.
βYou think that will be enough?β you whispered, your breath hitching slightly.
βMaybe,β he replied, his voice equally low. βWe can say we want different things.β
You swallowed hard. βDifferent?β
"Different⦠paths, maybe," he suggested, his leg sliding against yours again and you felt a rush of heat spread through your body. You could hardly think when you were too focused on the sensation of his bare skin against yours.
"Like... we grew apart?"
He nodded slowly. βSeems believable.β
Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it. The space between you seemed to shrink with every word.
βBelievable,β you echoed.
He moved a fraction closer. βYeah, believable.β
Your eyes locked, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop spinning. You could see the slight hesitation in his eyes, a question perhaps about crossing a line. But then he leaned in, closing the remaining distance, his forehead touching yours. Your eyes fluttered closed as his breath brushed against your lips⦠and then there was no space left at all.
You felt him everywhere. Your mouth, your waist, your thigh. Spencer Reid was kissing you, and it felt utterly surreal. Although this wasn't the first time you found yourself in this position, you chose to ground yourself in this moment, letting the past fade into a distant memory.
So you focused on the way his lips barely brushed against yours, his touch so soft and tentative at first before he slightly pulled away. It was as if he was testing the waters, trying to gauge your reaction. When you moved forward, closing the gap between you, he finally kissed you again, his lips moving against yours with a growing sense of urgency.
Everything around you started to blur, the edges of reality fading as your every sense focused on his touch, his warmth, his scent. When he carefully slipped his leg between yours, you sighed into the kiss, a soft, inviting sound that encouraged him further. He took it as an invitation, his tongue gently probing at the seam of your lips until you parted them.
The moment his tongue met yours, you were overwhelmed with a rush of sensation. You held onto him, tracing your hands along his back, feeling his body tense under your touch as you pulled him closer. His hands were just as busy, one cradling the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, while the other gripped your waist, pulling you closer as if he couldnβt get enough.
You didn't know how long you stayed like that. When you finally pulled back for air, you were both breathing hard, your foreheads still touching. Your fingers lingered on the nape of his neck, tracing delicate patterns while his thumb gently brushed your cheek. There was a moment of stillness, a shared breath, before he moved again.
Spencer leaned in for another kiss, and as you pulled him closer to you, you knew this was no longer about pretending. What you felt was as real as the lingering taste of him on your lips, a reality that was impossible for you to deny.
Yet here you were, pulse racing and cheeks hot, all because of a few innocent touches that shouldn't have meant anything.
ππ€
Spencer leaned in for another kiss, and as you pulled him closer to you, you knew this was no longer about pretending. What you felt was as real as the lingering taste of him on your lips, a reality that was impossible for you to deny.
Much Ado About Nothing
(Act III, Scene II: The Dangerous Game)
An unexpected tension rises between you as Spencer dangerously blurs the line of your fake relationship.
Part warning: Sexual tension. Lots of it. And... body description? Basically Spencer gets a little handsy and has a bonerπ
Words: 2.8k
SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
You shouldβve known this would happen. Deep down, given the lie you were maintaining, you had suspected that you'd end up sharing a room together. You were dragging your suitcase behind youβbecause a duffel bag wasnβt enough for all your stuff despite staying just one nightβwhen Penelope pulled you away from the group.
βYou and lover boy are staying in the room on the second floor, the one on the corner left.β
You frowned, your eyes darting between Penelope and Spencer, who was grabbing his bag from the car. βI really donβt think thatβs necessary,β you reasoned, trying to come up with an excuse. βI meanβ¦ Reid and I just started dating, we havenβtβ¦ you know.β
Penelope flashed you a smile. "Then maybe it's the perfect time toβ¦ you know.β
You felt a flush rise to your cheeks. "Pen, no, we should probablyβ"
She cut you off with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Itβs just for one night. Besides, you know itβs the best room hereβgreat view, lots of space. It would be a waste for it not to be enjoyed by the new couple."
You narrowed your eyes on her.
βItβs also the only room with a lock.β
You made a face. The thought of sharing a room with Spencer, especially one with a lock, sent a wave of anxiety through you. Memories of that night flooded your mind, making the situation feel even more daunting. You felt your cheeks flush again, your heart pounding faster. It took every ounce of your self-control to smooth your expression back into something neutral.Β
"Alright," you said, forcing a smile. βFine.β
Penelope beamed, clearly pleased with herself. "Great!β She gushed, pulling her suitcase. βBecause there are no available rooms left.β
You sighed inwardly, realizing there was no way out of this. You watched her enter the house, leaving you to gather your thoughts alone. Maybe it wouldnβt be that bad. Maybe sharing a room with Spencer would be manageable.Β
After all, it was just one night. You had handled more complicated scenarios in your line of work, hadnβt you? You had faced near-death experiences. If you could negotiate with armed suspects, how hard could one evening of pretend romance be?
Extremely hard, you realized, because when Spencer slowly approached you, all you wanted was for the ground to swallow you whole.
βWhat?β he asked, probably noticing the look of sheer panic on your face.
You tried to find the proper way to say it, searching for words that might soften the blow. But there was no other way than to tell it how it was.
βWeβre... weβre sharing a room,β you finally managed to say.
There was a pause, and then there it was, the elephant in the room. But you both avoided acknowledging it directly, as you always did, so he simply cleared his throat and looked away.
βOkay,β Spencer said quietly, his eyes fixed on some distant point.
βOkay?β You echoed. βYouβre really okay with this?β
He glanced back at you. βLook, werenβt you the one who wanted to make this convincing? Sharing a room might help with that.β
You sighed, knowing he was right but still feeling the weight of the situation. βYeah, I guess so. Itβs just...β
βItβs just one night,β he snapped. βWeβll manage.β
Oh, wow, he was going to be a bitch about it.
His tone was sharp, dismissive, and it grated on your nerves. This whole situation was already uncomfortable, and his attitude was only making it worse. The last thing you needed was him to act like this was some minor inconvenience when it felt like so much more. You threw a glare at him.
βFine,β you shot back. βBut youβre taking the floor.β
He didnβt respond, he just kept looking at you with that same unreadable expression. His silence was infuriating. It was as if he couldnβt even be bothered to acknowledge your frustration, and that only fueled your anger more. Without another word, you stormed away, seething, dragging your suitcase as you left him standing alone in the driveway.
Maybe he shouldn't have snapped at you. Spencer knew it wasn't fair to take his frustration out on you, especially when you were both stuck in the same awkward predicament. But it was hard to act as if everything was fine when the reality of your situation weighed so heavily on his mind.
Sometimes he wished he wasnβt wired like this. He knew he had the tendency to overthink, to let anxiety get the better of him, or to struggle with situations that required emotional skill. He could handle high-pressure situations in the field, but dealing with personal relationships was hard for him. It was never his intention to push people away when he felt overwhelmed, but it happened way too often, and today was no exception.
He also knew he needed to work on that. But to do so, it required him to confront his traumas, and that was the last thing he wanted to face. So instead, he pulled his sunglasses down and opened his book because nothing screams a good coping mechanism like reading fiction to avoid reality.
And his reality now was you.
βWhat are you doing?β
He peered over his glasses and saw Derek hovering above him. βWhat does it look like Iβm doing?β
βLike youβre brooding.β
βIβm reading.β
βI can see that,β Derek said as he settled on the lounge chair beside him. βWhat I meant was, what are you doing out here alone? Whereβs your girlfriend?β
Spencer had asked himself the same question. You werenβt there when he dropped his bag in your shared room, you were also missing during lunch, and when he realized that you were avoiding him on purpose, he decided to change into more comfortable clothes and head out to the pool.
βSheβs around,β Spencer replied, trying to sound nonchalant. βNeeded some alone time, I guess.β
Derek raised an eyebrow. βTrouble in paradise already? You two just started dating.β
βItβs not that. Weβre justβ¦β He thought of a way to explain the situation without giving too much details. βWeβre adjusting to the whole team knowing about us. Itβs a bit overwhelming.β
βYouβre both overthinkers, thatβs the problem. Just relax and enjoy the weekend,β Derek suggested, leaning back in his chair before giving him a pointed look. βAnd maybe try spending some time with her instead of hiding behind that book.β
βIβm not hiding,β Spencer shot back without looking up from the pages.
βSure youβre not,β Derek replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. βJust saying, kid, youβre here to have fun. Maybe try doing that with your girlfriend.β
He turned a page over, not saying a word. When Derek realized he was purposely ignoring him, he leaned closer.
"Let me give you some advice about women."
Spencer wrinkled his nose, already dreading what was coming. "Iβm not sure I want to listen to this."
"Trust me, you do," Derek insisted. "First off, this," he said, pausing for emphasis before pointing his finger toward Spencerβs book. "Is not cute."
Spencer flipped over his book, revealing the cover with its title printed in bold letters. In Cold Blood. "Of course not. It's a detailed account of the 1959 murders inβhey!"
Before he could continue, Derek reached out and plucked the book from his hands. "Not this. You," he said, pointing the book at him. "No wonder she's off doing her own thing while you're glued to this."
Spencer furrowed his brow. "She's the one whoβ"
"No. No." Derek placed the thick paperback down on the small table between them. "Second piece of advice about women, they're always right. Or, at least, they think they are, and sometimes it's easier and wiser just to go along with that."
"That's hardly practical advice."
Derek laughed, leaning back comfortably. "You don't have to agree with everything, but showing that you value her perspective can go a long way."
"Sheβd be easier to deal with if she wasnβt so stubborn.β
"Reid, do you even hear yourself? You sound like you don't even like her."
Spencer paused, an uncomfortable realization dawning on him. He was supposed to be playing the part of a devoted boyfriend, not a grumpy one. He was supposed to keep up the act.
"Fine," he sighed reluctantly. "What should I do then?"
"Be present. Stop isolating yourself and go talk to her."
"I don't even know where she is."
βThen go find her," Derek said matter-of-factly, his eyes drifting across the pool. He nodded his head. "Speak of the devil.β
Spencer turned in the direction Derek pointed, pushing his sunglasses up with a finger as they slid down his nose.
Then he froze. His brain promptly shut down as if someone had flipped a switch. His eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets, his jaw slacking open, his mind startlingly blank as he watched you step out of the house wearing what he assumed was a swimsuit. The top had straps that crisscrossed in a way that seemed overly complicated to him, and the bottoms were minimal, barely covering your skin.
Your swimsuit left very little to the imagination and he found himself momentarily stunned. He felt an unexpected tightness in his throat and a sudden warmth pooling in his chest. The heat surged through his body before it focused right between his legs, and he forced himself to clench his thighs together as he snapped his mouth shut.
Derek cleared his throat beside him.
"I guess you do like her," he teased, picking up the book from the table before dropping it onto Spencer's lap. "You might want to hide that."
Spencerβs face turned a deep shade of red as he quickly tried to adjust the book to cover himself better. His mortification grew as he noticed you standing close by, your attention directed towards Derek.
"Hey Morgan, can I steal my boyfriend for a sec?" you asked, smiling a little too sweet.
"He's all yours, pretty girl," Derek replied with a grin, standing up before he left you two alone. When he was out of earshot, you sat on the chair he had occupied.
"We've been away from each other far too long," you commented, your voice hushed. "It's not looking good for us."
Spencer nodded absently, trying to focus on your words. But his attention was too focused on the bottle of sunscreen in your hand.
βYouβve been avoiding me.β
He shook his head.
βYou have," you pointed out, popping open the cap. "Well, maybe I have too, but thatβs not the point."
Spencer shifted uncomfortably, his eyes following the movements of your hands as you squeezed some sunscreen onto your palm.
"We need to do something," you continued. Your palms rubbed the lotion together at the same time his tongue darted out to lick his lips nervously. "If we keep avoiding each other, theyβll start to suspect us."
He nodded again, his mind half on your words and half on the way the sunscreen glistened on your skin as you started applying it to your arms. "You're right," he admitted, forcing himself to concentrate. "We need to be more convincing."
"Exactly," you pressed, unaware of his growing distraction. "We should start doing things that couples do. Spend time together, be seen together."
"Yeah," he echoed, his gaze drifting as you moved to apply sunscreen to your shoulders. βTogether.β
"And we should show more affection," you added, and his breathing hitched slightly when your hands moved to apply sunscreen across your chest, fingers brushing subtly along the upper swell of your breasts. It was a casual motion for you, but for him, it was torture. His eyes followed the path of your hands, his mind struggling to stay focused on anything else.
"And I know you donβt like holding hands, or any type of PDA for the matter," you continued, turning slightly, giving him a clearer view of your chest. "But I think it's necessary. It makes this whole thing look real.β
"Uh-huh," he mumbled, his focus slipping again as your hand moved lower, smoothing lotion over your stomach and inching toward your hips. His throat felt dry, and he unconsciously pressed the book harder against his lap.
βReally? Youβre okay with that?β
He blinked, forcibly pulling his eyes up to meet yours, hoping you were oblivious of where his gaze had lingered behind his shades.
βYes." He winced when his voice came out high-pitched and strained. He cleared his throat, and repeated in a more controlled voice, βYes.β
βHuh.β
He shifted nervously. βWhat?β
βNothing.β You looked away, now focusing on your legs. βI just didnβt expect you to agree.β
He hadnβt planned to, but it was hard to think straight when he was too focused on the way you were leaning down, smoothing the lotion over your thighs. The angle gave him a clear view of your breasts peeking out from your top, the thin fabric barely containing them, and he had to bite his lip to suppress a moan.
βGreat, theyβre still staring at us,β you noted with a quick glance over your shoulder. You handed him the bottle of sunscreen. βHere, help me put it on my back.β
His eyes widened. βI donβt thinkββ
But you were already laying down on your stomach on the lounge chair, pushing your hair to the side. βCome on, itβll look more natural if you help me.β
Maybe you were right, maybe this was necessary, but he couldnβt help recalling the last time he had his hands on you and how that night had turned out. But he convinced himself that this was different. You both were out in the open and surrounded by your friends, so nothing could go wrong.
Nothing serious, anyway.
He moved to your chair while keeping his book securely on his lap, and you caught sight of his awkward movements. βYou know you could just put the book down.β
βNo, Iβ¦ I think Iβll keep it with me.β
βYou must really like that book.β
He forced a small laugh, trying to appear casual. βYeah, itβs, uh, a good read.β
You frowned, clearly not buying it but choosing not to push further. He then took a deep breath and poured some sunscreen into his hands. He moved closer, the book still awkwardly balanced on his lap, and slowly placed his hands on your back.
Your skin was warm, just like how he had imagined it. Soft and smooth under his fingertips. He started at your shoulders, working his way down with slow, careful motions. He could feel the tension in his body as he focused on you, acutely aware of every inch of skin under his fingers.
You had grown quiet, and Spencer noticed the subtle change in your breathingβhow it had deepened and slowed. Your usual witty remarks were replaced by a tense silence that seemed to hum with something neither of you had expected to surface. He felt your muscles relax under his touch, and as he reached the lower part of your back, he paused, unsure.
βIs this okay?β he asked softly.
You nodded. βYou can go lower... if you need to.β
He nodded slightly, though you couldnβt see it, and shifted his position. He could feel the heat radiating off your skin, the subtle shifts of your body as you adjusted to his touch. Then his hands slipped a bit further down, his fingers brushing the top of your swimsuit line.
βLet me know if I need to stop,β he murmured, his voice low and almost hesitant.
You didnβt respond immediately, and he took your silence as permission to continue. His pulse quickened as he realized the line he was crossing. This was already dangerous territory, but he couldnβt help it. Not when he was this close to feeling your soft flesh beneath his fingertips. Not when the rush of blood to his groin was making him lose all sense of control.
He carefully slipped his fingers just under your swimsuit. When you made no move to stop him, his fingers dipped dangerously lower, his gaze intently fixed on your face. He observed your mouth part slightly, eyes closed and brows knitted together in a mix of surprise and something else he couldn't quite place.
He was so focused on your expression, the way your body responded to his hands, that he nearly missed the soft, almost breathless sigh that escaped your lips. The sound was unmistakably intimate, downright sinful and he immediately stopped. His hands hovered just above your skin as you quickly opened your eyes, realization dawning on both of you.
"I-I'm sorry, Iβ" he started, pulling his hands back, the book almost falling from his lap.
"No, it's... it's okay," you said quickly, sitting up and adjusting your swimsuit, a flush creeping up your neck. βIβ¦ uh...β
You looked at each other, silent for a heartbeat. Then you both began to speak at the same time.
βIβm gonnaββ
βI should probablyββ
You cleared your throat, beginning to stand up. βIβm gonna grab a drink. Do you want anything?β
Spencer shook his head, a tight smile briefly crossing his face. βNo, I, uh, Iβm good. Thanks.β
There was an awkward silence before you finally snapped. You quickly turned and hurried away, leaving Spencer to himself as he sat there, his body betraying a level of sexual frustration that was both inconvenient and embarrassing. The bulge in his pants was almost painfully obvious at that point, forcing him to adjust the book on his lap with a grimace.
His eyes involuntarily flickered back to you, only to regret it instantly as he caught a glimpse of your ass peeking from the bottom of your swimsuit. He let out a sigh. He might actually need a cold drink after all, or better yet, a whole bucket of ice.
It was a casual motion for you, but for him, it was torture. His eyes followed the path of your hands, his mind struggling to stay focused on anything else.
Iβm officially at the point of watching so many thirst edits that I have the songs running through my head at all times. Currently itβs βI WANNA FUCK ON YOU ALL NIGHHHHHTβ ππ€£
OMG stop this is so funny ππ€£
That very same tune came to me at work today like an intrusive thought, accompanied by Cap in his suit with those slutty mesh panels over his abs πππ
Itβs equally bad when thereβs a thirst edit to Backstreetβs Back and it unironically gives you the horn ππ€
Much Ado About Nothing
(Act III, Scene I: The Fake Dating)
It didnβt occur to you how serious the lie had become until you were forced to sign your fake relationship on paper.
Part warning: none, this might be the slowest burn I have ever written
Words: 2.4k
A/n: The original plan was to update this series twice a week, but I overestimated myself, so I will be posting each Thursday around this time. I hope you understand <3
SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
Spencer wasnβt sure how he would go through with this. The idea seemed simple enough on the surfaceβpretend to date, fool everyone, and finally find peace. Yet, the more he thought about it, the more complex it became, and the more complicated it was, the more crazy it seemed.
This was not what he had signed up for when he joined the BAU. Chasing criminals? Sure. Analyzing behavioral patterns? Absolutely. But pretending to date you to avoid the relentless meddling from his friends? Insane wasn't a strong enough word for it. It was ludicrous.
And even that word wasnβt enough. It was downright preposterous. How had rational, analytical work turned into this bizarre social experiment? Yet, here he was, ready to play his part even when he couldnβt ignore the absurdity of it all.
βWell, well, well.β Spencer looked up to see you walking from the opposite direction, both of you stopping right at the entrance of the bureauβs expansive building. βIf it isnβt my new boyfriend.β
He narrowed his eyes. Why did you seemβ¦ so normal about this? Werenβt you the one who hated his guts? Werenβt you the one who avoided him every time you had the chance? Were you really that desperate to get the team off your back?
βWhat? Youβre not going to greet your girlfriend?β
He forced a smile, trying to hide his irritation. βGood morning,β he replied curtly, opening the door for you.
You walked past him, and Spencer tried not to stare at you, but it was impossible to ignore the way your hair shone under the morning sun or how your perfume subtly filled the air as you brushed by him. He cleared his throat and followed you inside, wondering how long he could keep up this act without losing his sanity.
βWe need some ground rules,β he muttered, nodding towards security as you both passed through the entrance.
You raised an eyebrow. βGround rules? You mean besides pretending to be madly in love?β
βWe are not in love. We just started dating,β Spencer said, pressing the elevator button. βSo no spontaneous public displays of affection. We donβt want to overdo it.β
βWhatβs your definition of overdoing it?β
Spencer waited until the elevator doors slid shut, giving you a little privacy. "No touching. Especially no hand-holding," he stated firmly.
You scoffed. "Who on earth wouldn't want to hold their girlfriend's hand?"
He replied without missing a beat. "Do you know how many germs are transferred when you hold hands? An average of 3,000 bacteria from 150 different species, not to mention the potential viruses.β
βWow, remind me to never shake hands with you during flu season.β
He shrugged. βIβm just stating the facts.β
βOkay, germaphobe,β you deadpanned, leaning back against the elevator wall. βWhatβs acceptable then? A nod from across the room? Morse code blinking?β
He considered for a moment, then offered a compromise, βHow about an arm around your shoulder when weβre sitting? Or a quick side hug?β
βSide hug,β you echoed, mockingly horrified. βHow romantic. Our friends will believe weβre madly in love for sure.β
βWe are not in love.β
βSo youβve mentioned,β you replied dryly, standing straight again and turning toward him. βCan we at least try to look like a couple who actually like each other?β
That was the problem. You both didnβt like each other. βFine,β he sighed. βWhat do you suggest?β
You paused, considering the best way to make this look believable. βHow about you hold onto my waist from behind as we walk? Itβs a common gesture, and it looks natural.β
Spencer blinked, taken aback by the suggestion. βHold your waist? As in, really close?β
βYes, Reid, thatβs generally where the waist is located.β
He frowned at you. βThat sounds a bit tooβ¦ personal, donβt you think?β
βIsnβt that the whole point? To convince them weβre a couple?β
He hesitated, the image of his hands on your waist flashing through his mind. He suddenly imagined the warmth of your body against his, the subtle, pleasant scent of your perfume enveloping him. He could almost feel the way youβd be tucked right to his side, your height fitting perfectly against him, your head nestled just below his chin.
His heart unexpectedly started to race. The idea of holding you that close, feeling the rise and fall of your breath, the slight brush of your hair against his cheekβit was almost too intimate, too real. And he didnβt want to acknowledge that. He wasnβt sure if he could trust himself to play the role convincingly without his emotions betraying him.
βReid?β
Spencer snapped out of his thoughts, realizing he had been silent for too long. You were watching him impatiently.
βYou know what? Do whatever you want.β You turned away, facing the elevator door, clearly frustrated by his hesitation. βJust stand there like a statue for all I care.β
His eyes slowly fell to your waist, considering his options... Maybe it wasnβt that bad. The idea of his hand resting there, guiding you, didnβt seem as unbearable as he initially imagined. The gesture seemed innocent enough. Not too much, not too little. What could possibly go wrong?
Everything, apparently. Because it happened all at once.
One, he reached his hand toward you.
Two, the elevator door swung open.
And three, as you started to move forward, his hand managed to slip before it landed onto your ass.
You shrieked at the top of your lungs.
"Reid!"Β
Spencer's face turned red as he quickly retrieved his hand, stammering, "I-I'm sorry! That wasn'tβ"
But he wasnβt fast enough, because standing on the other side of the elevator door was Derek, witnessing the whole thing. His eyebrows shot up, and a slow grin spread across his face.
"What do we have here?β Derek drawled, crossing his arms. "Spencer Reid, getting a little too friendly?"
Spencer's mortification deepened as he tried to explain, "It's not what it looks like, I swear!"
Derek chuckled, shaking his head. "Sure, pretty boy. Whatever you say." He stepped to the side. βWell, arenβt you two lovebirds going to get to work?β
Trying to recover from the embarrassment, Spencer nodded quickly, his face still burning. He guided you out of the elevator with a brief, cautious touch on your back that stayed strictly in the safe zone.
You both hurried toward the glass doors, leaving Derek laughing behind you. You slightly leaned closer to him. βI could sue you for sexual harassment, you know.β
βIt was an accident! You moved too quickly.β
βSure, blame it on me,β you retorted, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you pushed through the glass doors ahead of him.
Spencer quickened his pace to keep up, matching your brisk walk. βI am blaming it on you. This wouldnβt have happened if you hadnβt suddenly decided to move forward.β
βRight, because clearly, I should have anticipated your clumsiness.β
He shot you a sideways glance. βMy clumsiness? Youβre the one whoββ
βThere you are!β
You both turned to see JJ walking toward you, a knowing smile playing on her lips. βHotch is looking for you.β
You started to walk away. βSure, Iβll go see himββ
JJ shook her head, her smile widening. βNo, you donβt understand. Heβs looking for you,β she pointed a finger at Spencer, then swung it back to you, βAnd you. Both of you, together.β
Spencer raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. βBoth of us? Why?"
βSomething about filling in paperwork?β
He frowned, but as the implication of Hotch calling you both at the same time for paperwork sank in, he snapped his head toward you, his eyes wide with realization. You turned toward him at the same moment, and the gravity of your seemingly innocent lie spiraled down on him, making the whole situation feel alarmingly real.Β
The weight of it pressed on Spencerβs chest. How could he possibly forget about the most important thing in all of this? He had an eidetic memory, he was good at recalling even the smallest details, but how could he not remember the need to officially disclose workplace relationships?
The reality of potentially signing official documents to confirm this fake relationship made his palms sweat.
βThis is stupid,β you whispered when JJ finally left the two of you. βMaybe we should think this through.β
Spencer looked down at you. You were right, this was stupid. It was getting out of hand. But as he noticed the way you stared up at him, with your wide, doe-like eyes sparkling under the light, something shifted. This whole lie had started as a means to an end, a way to fend off the relentless teasing. But now, standing there with you, it felt like more than just a plan. Maybe it was the thrill of the unknown, or the strange comfort of the lie. Maybe it wasnβt just about fooling the team.
Maybe he was starting to fool himself too.
Spencer took a deep breath. βNo,β he said softly, more to himself than to you. βWe started this, we should go through with it.β
Before you could respond, he placed his hand on your lower back, feeling the warmth of your body through the thin fabric of your blouse before his palm slid over to your waist. Your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden gesture, but you didn't pull away.
What have you done?
You couldnβt believe you had actually signed the papers. The weight of the pen felt so heavy in your hand, the ink seeming to dry slower than usual as you scrawled your name on the dotted line. This was supposed to be a simple, harmless plan, but now it was documented. Official.
How did it come to this?
You watched as Spencer took the pen from you, his hand brushing yours momentarily. He glanced at you before turning his attention back to the document. The hesitation was brief, but you saw itβthe flicker of doubt before he pressed the pen on to the paper and signed his name next to yours.
What the hell are we doing?
βAlright,β Hotch said, taking the papers and giving you both a nod. βThis is a bit formal, but itβs necessary under bureau policy. If there are any changes in your relationship status, you should report immediately.β
You nodded, barely hearing his words over the pounding of your heart.
βAgain, congratulations.β
Your stomach churned. You were going to be sick.
βThank you,β Spencer responded. Hotch then dismissed you both, and as you turned to leave, Spencer's hand gently touched your back. You were the one who urged him to act his part, but it felt too intimate, too real at that moment. You quickly increased your pace, putting some distance between you as you walked down into the bullpen.
Penelope was sitting on your chair, chatting animatedly with the rest of the team in the open space. She looked up when you both arrived. βWell, look whoβs back!β Penelope called out. βHow did it go?"
You weren't surprised everyone understood what being called in, together at that, by Hotch implied.
βIt wentβ¦ as expected,β you replied, forcing a smile. Spencer stood a bit awkwardly beside you, his usual composure slightly ruffled.
"This is amazing,β Penelope sighed. "Oh! you know what we should do?"
You eyed her warily. "What?"
"This totally calls for a celebration!"
Your eyes widened. "Let's notβ"
"Are you guys free this weekend?" Penelope turned toward the rest of the team.
Derek leaned back in his chair with a wide grin. "You know I'm always up for a party."
Spencer looked between you and the rest of the team, clearly uncomfortable. "I don't think thatβs necessaryβ"
"He's right, Spencer isn't much of a party freak," JJ chimed in, joining in the conversation from her desk. "We should do something more relaxing."
"No, that's not what I meantβ"
"You know what we haven't done in a while?" Emily asked, walking closer with a thoughtful look before she settled onto your desk, leaning slightly against it. "We haven't gone to the pool lately."
Penelope perked up at the idea. "Rossi's villa?"
Emily confirmed her with a nod. "Rossi's villa. Heβs always saying we should use it more anyway.β
At any given chance, you would jump at the idea. You loved relaxing by the pool. You loved basking under the sun with a cool drink in your hand, the smell of chlorine in the air, and the refreshing splash of water on your skin. And Rossiβs pool was the perfect place for that.
It was a villa located an hourβs drive away that seemed more suited to a resort than a private residence. It was far from the city, mostly unoccupied, but always welcoming. You had been there before, stayed overnight there too, and all those fun memories were still vivid in your mind. You even recalled the time Emily was caught skinny dipping at night. Or the time Derek kicked Spencer out of the pool after realizing he had been hustling him at basketball the week before.
It had been fun then, but the more you reflected on those memories, the deeper your frown became. They had happened way before everything fell apart, before the tension had strained your friendship. It was a time when everything felt simpler, when Spencer was one of your closest friends. And now, ironically, he was your boyfriend.
Fake boyfriend.
"So it's settled, then?" Penelopeβs voice broke through your thoughts, snapping you back to the present.
Honestly, you didnβt want to go. How were you even going to pull this off? A weekend by the pool, while usually the perfect highlight for your summer, now felt like walking into a scripted play where your every gesture would be scrutinized. Not just by anyone, but by skilled profilers who could sniff out a lie like a shark smells blood in the water.
The fear of being exposed, of embarrassing yourselfβor worse, damaging your careerβwas gnawing at you. It made you increasingly anxious. Yet backing out wasnβt an option either. It would raise too many questions and invite too much speculation.
So you closed the distance between you and Spencer and linked your arm through his, ignoring the slight panic in his eyes. βSure,β you said, turning to Penelope as you mustered a smile. βSounds fun.β
Penelope beamed at you. Spencer, on the other hand, felt the exact opposite. The idea of spending an entire weekend pretending to be in a relationship filled him with dread.
And he couldnβt shake the feeling that everything was bound to go wrong.
Much Ado About Nothing
(Act II, Scene II: The Crazy Idea)
After being cornered by your friends, you found yourself in an even more complicated position due to your impulsive decision.
Part warning: none, just my bad attempt at crack humor
Words: 2.6k
A/n: If you paid attention, I've been using his gifs from season 9 so the timeline is somewhere along there. And while writing half of this, I realized Emily wasn't even on that season, but for the sake of fanfiction and pure imagination, let's ignore the human error of this stupid author. Thank you. Let me know what you think!!
SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
It took you exactly seven hours and fifteen minutes to finally gather the courage to head to Penelope's lair.Β The morning had been a blur of paperwork and reports, leaving you mentally drained and chained to your desk. But no matter how much work you plowed through, your mind kept drifting back to last night's disaster and how your friends had planned the whole thing.
Frustration wasnβt enough to describe how you felt. You found yourself gripping your pen so tightly it threatened to snap in your hand, and your fingers pounded the keyboard harder than necessary as you typed out reports.
Eventually, you found yourself daydreaming about ways to get back at them. You imagined a dozen different ways to plot your revenge, each more elaborate than the last, and although it provided a temporary sense of satisfaction, it wasn't enough.Β
By the time you wrapped up your last report, your frustration had reached its peak. You decided you couldn't wait any longer. You headed to JJ's desk first, hoping to catch her and get some answers, but it was empty. With no sign of her anywhere and your patience wearing thin, there was only one other person who might have the answers you needed.
You made a beeline for Penelopeβs office. The moment her door came into view, you knocked sharply and then entered without waiting for a response. You werenβt surprised when you found Penelope and JJ huddled over a monitor, their heads snapping up in sync at your abrupt entrance.
βThere she is!β Penelope exclaimed, turning around in her chair. βWe were just talking about you.β
βOh, really?β you replied, crossing your arms. βI wonder what could possibly be so interesting about me.β
Penelope and JJ exchanged a quick look, barely suppressing their chuckles.Β
βHow did it go last night?β
You groaned at the memory. βI canβt believe you guys tricked me!β
JJ laughed and turned to you, her expression almost apologetic. βLook, weβre sorry, okay? We just thought it would beβ¦β she looked over at Penelope, trying to come up for a word before settling with, βFun.β
βFun?β You exclaimed. βManipulating your friends into awkward situations is your idea of fun?β
Penelope waved her hand dismissively. βIt couldn't have been that bad. Did you guys talk it out?β
You stared at her pointedly as if the idea of you having that conversation with him was absurd.
βNo.β
βDid he apologize for anything?β
βNo.β
βCome on, there had to be some deep, meaningful conversation,β JJ chimed in, trying to hold back a grin.
You scoffed. βNo.β
βDid he walk you home?β
βNoβwait, yes, he did,β you admitted, recalling the memory. βBut he complained the whole time about how inefficient my route was and how there were, and I quote, statistically shorter paths to my apartment.β
βHow sweet of him,β Penelope observed, deciding to ignore the last part of your rant. Then she wiggled her eyebrows. βDid he lean in for a goodnight kiss?β
βWhat? No!β You sat on the only empty chair in the room, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. βNothing happened.β
βDid he at least say something sweet when he walked you home?β Penelope prodded, trying to dig deeper.
You shook your head, a resigned sigh escaping you. βNo, because it was nothing like that. We talked, we ate, he walked me home. Thatβs it.β
βSounds like the start of something to me.β
βTotally the start of something,β Penelope nodded enthusiastically.
You rolled your eyes. βThereβs nothing to start because we canβt even stand each other.β
βWell you know what they say,β Penelope sang. βThereβs a thin line between love and hate.β
You narrowed your eyes at her, trying not to show how unnerving her assumptions were. "That's ridiculous."
βBut he walked you home,β she pointed out.
βSo?β
βSo thatβs got to be something,β JJ joined in. βSpencerβs not exactly known for going out of his way unless he wants to.β
βHe was just being polite,β you insisted, feeling cornered. βHe walked me home because my apartment was on the way to his place.β
Penelope tapped her chin thoughtfully. βHmm, on his way, or making a way?β
You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache brewing. βThat doesnβt even make sense.β
βMaybe heβs being subtle about it,β JJ suggested, trying to sound reasonable. βHeβs not that forward when it comes to expressing his feelings.β
βNo, guys, it wasnβt anything like that,β you insisted, your voice rising slightly in frustration as your eyes moved between the two of them. The room felt smaller with each passing second, the walls closing in as they stared at you expectantly. They were enjoying this way too much.
βOh, but it could be,β Penelope persisted. βYouβre both single, smart, attractive people who spend a lot of time together.β
βYou two are unbelievable.β
βItβs okay, you can tell us,β she continued, her voice softer now as she reached out to pat your hand. βWeβre your friends, and if thereβs something more, weβd love to support you.β
βOr if you prefer to keep it a secret, we wonβt tell anyone.β
βExactly. You can trust us. Weβre really good at keeping secrets.β
βSo good.β
βSo good.β
Your patience snapped, frustration and pressure boiling over. βFine! Yes! Weβre going on another date!β You blurted out, the lie spilling out in a moment of desperation before you could stop. βHappy now?β
Silence fell over the room as Penelope and JJ stared at you, stunned. Then slowly, realization dawned on their faces, and a chorus of excited squeals filled the air.
βOh, I knew it!β Penelope exclaimed, clapping her hands in delight.
JJ grinned at you. βReally?β
The weight of your words hit you like a cold splash of water.
What had you just done?
βThis is so exciting!β Penelope gushed, her enthusiasm mounting. Then she turned to you. βWhy didnβt you say anything earlier?β
You suddenly felt a wave of panic. You scanned their faces, seeing only genuine excitement and curiosity, no hint of doubt and discomfort swelling inside you. How could you explain that there was nothing to tell because there was no second date? That it was just a knee-jerk reaction to their relentless teasing? You couldn't possibly confess now, not without making everything infinitely worse.
But how were supposed to tell him? The idea of deceiving not just your friends but also involving Spencer in this lie made you feel sick. The room seemed to spin as you tried to come up with some way to ease the damage.
βI... I wanted it to be a surprise?β You managed to say, although the words sounded more like a question. Your lie felt hollow even to your own ears, but Penelope and JJ seemed to buy it, nodding and exchanging excited glances.
βThis is going to be amazing,β Penelope said, practically bouncing in her chair. βSo whenβs the next date?β
Your mind raced. For there to be a next date, even a pretend one, you needed to talk to him. The realization hit you hard, the full weight of the lie you'd just created sinking in. You'd have to involve him in this deception and the thought made you feel queasy. You imagined the awkward conversation, the look of confusionβand likely frustrationβon his face. This was going to be a mess.
You opened your mouth, then closed it, scrambling for a response. βUh, soon. I-Iβve got to go talk to him about it, actually.β
Penelopeβs eyes lit up even more. βOh, planning it together! Thatβs so sweet!β
You forced a smile, slowly rising from your seat. βYeah, super sweet,β you mumbled, your voice barely steady. You could feel your cheeks burning as you stumbled over your lies. βI, uh, better go find him now.β
Without waiting for a response, you bolted out of the room, your heart pounding in your chest. You mentally kicked yourself with every step. You had let them get to you, allowing their teasing to push you into this mess. You couldnβt believe you had let yourself get caught up in this lie.
You paused in the hallway, briefly considering turning back and telling them the truth. The thought lingered for a moment, the idea of ending this charade before it spiraled further out of control. But you quickly shook your head, knowing that backtracking now would only make things worse. You could already imagine how unbearable the teasing and explanations would be.
No, youβve gone too far to back out now.
Continuing down the hallway, your steps quickened as you searched for him. You finally spotted him by the pantry, absentmindedly pouring too much sugar into his coffee. You walked up to him and leaned against the counter, watching him stir his coffee with more force than necessary.
βI did something stupid,β you blurted out, catching his attention. He looked up before glancing back down at his cup.
βWhy am I not surprised?β
βNo, listen.β You leaned in closer, lowering your voice. βItβs about last night.β
He finally looked at you, eyebrows raised, clearly surprised as to why you would bring up anything from last night.
βWhat about last night?β He asked, bringing his cup to his lips.
The words tumbled out in a rush. βI was with JJ and Garcia, and they were teasing me about us, how we supposedly have thisβ¦ thing going on now. I couldnβt take it anymore. Soβ¦β You watched him take a sip of his coffee. ββ¦I told them weβre going on another date.β
He choked, the drink catching in his throat. Coughing, he set the cup down with a sharp clatter, his eyes watering slightly as he regained his composure.
βYou told them what?β
βI didnβt know what else to do!β You rushed to explain. βThey wouldnβt stop pushing and I just wanted them to shut up. I thought if I said something like that, theyβd just leave me alone. But now they expect details, and Iβ¦ I need your help.β
He took a deep breath, trying to process what you were asking of him. βLet me get this straight. You, of all people, told them weβre going on another date, knowing full well how weββ He paused, searching for the right words. βHow we donβt get along. And now you want me to help you keep up this lie?β
You nodded, and he called out your name in frustration.
"Last night wasn't even a date!β
βI know! The words justβ¦ came out.β When you saw him shake his head disapprovingly, you let out a groan. βIβm not thrilled about it either, okay? But Iβm kind ofβ¦ desperate here.β
Spencer took another sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving yours. After a moment, he set the cup down, gripping it in his hand.
βNo.β
You narrowed your eyes at him. βNo?β
βNo,β he confirmed before turning around, walking back to his desk. βIβm not going to help you.β
You shuffled along, trying to match his pace. βWhy not? This could actually get them to stop.β
βDo you even hear yourself? This is crazy. You canβt just spin lies and drag me into them because you want to avoid a little teasing,β he retorted, sitting down and starting to shuffle through some papers on his desk, clearly trying to end the conversation.
βItβs not a little teasing! Theyβre relentless,β You pressed, leaning against his desk. βCome on, donβt you ever get tired of them trying to set us up?β
βThat doesnβt mean Iβm going to pretend to date you. Whatβs next? A fake wedding?β
βDonβt be dramatic. We just need to show up together a couple of times, act mildly interested in each other, and then we can break up. We fake it, we tell them it didnβt work out, and we move on. Itβs simple.β
βOf course, because nothing says βsimpleβ like faking an entire relationship.β
You crossed your arms and took a deep, calming breath. βLook, I know itβs not the greatest plan, but can you think of a better way to get them off our backs?β
Spencer stared at you, his eyes narrowing as he considered your words. βYou realize youβre trying to deceive a team of profilers, right?β
He had a point, but you werenβt about to back down. βWasnβt this your whole idea in the first place?β
βMy idea was for us to act like we get along, not pretend that weβre in love.β
βIt doesnβt even have to be convincing,β you argued, leaning in slightly. βJust enough to make them back off for a while. Besides, if you start laying it on too thick, theyβll never believe it. They know you donβt have much experience to begin with.β
Spencer looked offended, his brows knitting together. βI have experience,β he countered. βJust because Iβm not flaunting it doesnβt mean Iβm completely clueless.β
βOh, yeah? When was the last time you were in a relationship?β
The words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, and when you noticed the sudden change in his demeanor, you realized what you had just implied. There was a tensed pause as you both stared at each other. You both knew the answer to that question, and you both knew you were treading dangerous territory.
But before either of you could break the silence, a voice cut through the tension. βWhat are you two lovebirds fighting about now?β
You turned to see Derek standing by his own desk, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. And then you saw it, an opportunity. If Spencer wasnβt going to agree to help willingly, you were going to take matters into your own hands.
You straightened your shoulders and faced Derek. βWe need to tell you something.β
Spencer sensed what you were about to do and quickly stood up. βWaitββ
βReid and I are dating.β
You heard Spencer take a sharp inhale. There was no turning back. The nerves in your stomach tightened, but you decided to ignore it and focus your attention on Derek instead. His eyes widened in surprise, looking between the two of you.
βYouβre serious?β
βYes,β you said firmly, crossing your arms and standing your ground, while Spencer remained silent beside you, his expression unreadable. βWe decided to give it a shot.β
βAt dating? As in romantically?β
βI donβt think thereβs another way to describe it.β
Derek stared at you both for a moment longer, then his shock gave way to a broad grin. βFinally.β He let out an amused laugh βTook you two long enough.β
He approached with a playful swagger, clapping Spencer on the shoulder and ruffling your hair, which you quickly swatted away. βCanβt say that Iβm surprised, but congratulations.β
Spencer looked at you, and you glanced back at him. Derek, oblivious to the tension between you two, grinned widely.
βI guess all that tension was just unresolved passion, huh?β
Your eyes snapped at him. βMorgan!β
βAlright, alright.β He raised his hands in mock surrender, still wearing a broad smile. βIβm just happy for you both. Seriously.β
You stared at him, bracing yourself for more teasing, perhaps a joke about what supposedly happened last night, or worse, something embarrassingly inappropriate. But to your surprise, Derek didnβt press further. Instead, he simply nodded with a genuine smile and returned to his desk, resuming his work.
You and Spencer stood there, dumbfounded, not quite sure how to process the sudden shift. You both were so used to his relentless teasing that his quick exit left you momentarily speechless.
You slightly leaned towards him as you continued to stare at Derek hunched over his desk.
βDo you hear that noise?β You whispered.
βWhat noise?β
βExactly. This is the sound of peace,β you replied with a slight grin, turning back to Spencer. βSee? This is already working. If we keep this up, we can finally get them off our backs.β
βI still think this is a bad idea,β he muttered, giving you a pointed look.
βDo you have a better plan?β you challenged, raising an eyebrow. βBecause Iβm all ears if you do.β
Spencer sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. He studied you for a moment, his eyes searching your face as if weighing the pros and cons. βI canβt believe Iβm even considering thisβ¦β He trailed off, looking genuinely conflicted. βThis is going to backfire, you know that, right?β
Sure, he could be right, but at the same time, you believed this plan was harmless. It seemed like a simple solution: a fake relationship played out convincingly enough to appease your friends. It was supposed to be straightforwardβan act, a performance without real consequences. Nothing could go wrong if you controlled the narrative.
You finally looked up at him. βDonβt worry,β you said, trying to sound confident. βIt wonβt.β
But as the words left your mouth, you realized, you weren't entirely convinced.
"I was with JJ and Garcia, and they were teasing me about us, how we supposedly have this.. thing going on now. I couldn't take it anymore. So.." You watched him take a sip of his coffee. "...I told them we're going on another date."
He choked, the drink catching in his throat.
Coughing, he set the cup down with a sharp clatter, his eyes watering slightly as he regained his composure.
"You told them what?"
I can see this so clearly!! Iβm cracking up! π€£
Much Ado About Nothing
(Act II, Scene I: The Suspicious Scheme)
The three times you sensed something strange when everyone paired you with Spencer, and the one time you understood why.
Part warning: Definitely inaccuracy in autopsy procedures and Spencerβs educational background, itβs hard writing a genius
Words: 5.6k (not proofread, Iβll do it when I have the time so please excuse me if you see any mistakes)
A/n: I tried to make this part shorter but I gave up. I hope you donβt mind reading moreπ
SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
I. The Forced Partner
There was usually a system when Hotch paired the team up, a method to his leadership that balanced skills and personalities to get the job done efficiently. But as Spencer and you were directed to the autopsy room together, you couldnβt help but wonder if Hotch was pushing his luckβor preferably yours.
It was weird. Two weeks had gone by since the last case where he had to witness you both sparring, and you wouldβve thought heβd keep you apart. Yet here you were, together again, stepping into the cold, sterile room.Β
The faint smell of antiseptic filled the air as you pulled on your gloves, the latex snapping against your wrists. A woman in blue scrubs, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, turned to greet you and Spencer. She extended a hand.Β
βIβm Dr. Nina Patel, Iβll be overseeing the autopsy today. You must be from the BAU.β
You nodded, shaking her hand firmly.Β
βAgent Y/N Y/L/N, and this is Dr. Spencer Reid,β you introduced, gesturing towards Spencer, who offered a brief nod and a tight lip smile in greeting. Dr. Patel returned the gesture and motioned for you both to approach the table.Β
βOur Jane Doe was found early this morning in an alleyway downtown," she explained, pulling back the sheet to reveal a woman appearing in her late thirties. "There are no apparent injuries, and no ID was found with her.β
Spencer stepped closer. "Any indication of the time of death?"Β
"Preliminary estimates put the time of death at approximately eight hours before she was found."
You watched as she started pointing to various parts of the body.Β
"She was also found with her clothes in perfect condition. Itβs possible she was placed there post-mortem."
Spencer raised an eyebrow. "Could suggest transportation from another location.β
You moved to the head of the table, examining Jane Doe's hands and nails. "No defensive wounds," you added. "She didn't fight back, or more likely, wasn't conscious during her final moments."
Dr. Patel nodded as she considered your observations. βItβs plausible that a strong sedative was used, which would leave minimal to no struggle marks. Weβre running some tests as we speak.β
Spencer chimed in quickly after that. βThe Unsub might have used succinylcholine, or even benzodiazepines,β he suggested. Then, turning toward you with a condescending tone as if simplifying it for your benefit, he added, βTheyβd metabolize quickly and would require a toxicology screen to detect definitively.β
You rolled your eyes.
βThatβs impressive, Dr. Reid,β Dr. Patel remarked, her eyes lingering on him a moment longer than seemed strictly professional. You narrowed your eyes at her. βDid you study pharmacology formally, or is this a passion of yours?β
βI actually did a bit of formal study during my Ph.D. programs.β
βOh, really? What did you study?β
βChemistry and Engineering. Pharmacology intersects quite a bit with those fields, especially when looking at biochemical reactions.β
Dr. Patel seemed genuinely impressed. βThatβs quite a formidable educational background. No wonder youβre so thorough with your analyses.β
You could feel a knot tightening in your stomach. Her admiration was professional, sure, but the way her eyes softened when she looked at him, the way her voice dipped just soβit was a tone you recognized all too well.
She was flirting with him.
You watched them, your gaze sharp and assessing. Although it wasnβt like Spencer to notice her advances; he was smart, yes, but his brilliance often left him oblivious to the layers of personal interaction that didnβt involve textbooks or theories. And Dr. Patel, with her easy smile and obvious interest, seemed to have her focus on him rather than the body lying between you.
You cleared your throat, louder than necessary.
βCan we continue?βΒ
Dr. Patel seemed to catch your eye, her expression shifting back to professional as she nodded. βOf course.β
She resumed her explanation, detailing the various findings and pointing out subtle indicators on the body that might have otherwise gone unnoticed. Spencer listened intently, his gaze shifting between Dr. Patel and you, noticing the subtle tension in the room, but didnβt comment.
It wasnβt until you had all the information you neededβand after you caught one last flirtatious look from Dr. Patel directed at himβthat Spencer finally spoke up.
βShe seems nice,β he remarked as you both stepped outside the building, heading toward the parking lot.
You shrugged. βSure, if you say so.β
Spencer glanced at you, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. βAm I missing something?βΒ
You looked over at him, debating whether to explain, before you finally sighed.Β
βItβs just... she seemed a bit more interested in you than the case,β you said, trying to keep your tone light but failing to hide your slight irritation.
And then he noticed it. The subtle tension in your voice, the way you avoided his gaze, the underlying frustrationβit clicked. βWait, are you... jealous?β
βNo, Iβm not!β You replied quickly, then softer, βIβm not.β
βYou sound like it.β
You scoffed. βNo, I sound like a friend trying to remind you that we have a case to focus on.β
βOh, so now weβre friends?β
βI meant that in the broadest, most professional sense of the word.β
βRight,β Spencer replied sarcastically. βI didnβt realize jealousy was part of professional behavior.β
βI wasnβt jealous,β you snapped. βStop making it into something itβs not.β
βSure.β
βReid.β
βY/L/N,β he shot back in the same flat tone.
Dear God, why was he so infuriating? How he had this ability, this perfectly annoying talent to get under your skin without seeming to try was beyond you. You both stared at each other for a while, until finally, you broke the silence with an exasperated sigh.
βLetβs just go,β you muttered, brushing past him.
You walked a few steps ahead, trying to shake off his words. It was absurd. The very idea was ridiculous when you were focused on the case, on solving the mysteryβnothing more.
You were not jealous.
II. The Unavoidable Flight
βIβm telling you, she was definitely flirting with him,β you said, your voice a mix of disbelief and annoyance as you and Penelope made your way toward the plane. βIt was so obvious, the way she kept looking at him, the tone of her voice. I mean, does professional decorum mean nothing anymore?β
βWhy are you acting so surprised? Wonder Boy is actually quite the catch,β Penelope responded. βHeβs not my type, but he clearly has admirers.β
Your eyes involuntarily drifted toward the man in question, who was walking a few paces behind, engaged in conversation with JJ. He was casually gripping the strap of his satchel bag, laughing at something JJ had just said. You narrowed your eyes.
βWell, I donβt understand what they see in him.β
βIt might be that genius brain of hisβtotally irresistible to some.β
βItβs annoying, is what it is,β you grumbled, quickening your pace as the plane came into view.
Penelope responded with a sly grin. βYou know what you sound like?β
βWhat?β
βLike someone whoβs maybe a little jealous.β
You frowned, hating how she was the second person to conclude your irritation with something else. βAbsolutely not.β
βOh, come on. You seem unusually focused on how others interact with him.β
βIβm focused on maintaining a professional work environment,β you defended, trying to keep your voice even as you approached the steps of the plane. βNot aboutβ¦ whatever youβre implying.β
βFine. If Dr. Patel makes her move and actually calls him, what would you do?β
Your eyes widened. βWhat? Who did you hear that from? Did he tell you? When did she call him?β
βHypothetically, oh my god,β Penelope laughed, stepping onto the plane as you followed, slightly flustered. βIβm just saying, hypothetically, if it happened, what would you do? How would you react?β
You paused at the entrance, processing her question. βIβd do nothing.β
βNothing? Really?β
βYes, Iβd do nothing because Iβm not jealous.β
βThatβs what any jealous person would say.β
You narrowed your eyes at her as you walked past the entrance, and when you caught her making herself comfortable on the long couch by the front, you quickly made your way to the back of the plane.
βHey! Where are you going?β
βTo find a spot where my supposed jealousy isnβt your inflight entertainment,β you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm.
βI knew you were jealous!β
βSupposed jealousy!β
Her laughter trailed after you, ringing down the narrow aisle as you navigated through the plane, bypassing Rossi, who was typing away on his phone, and Hotch, who sat across from him with his eyes closed, leaning back against his seat. You walked further down the aisle until you spotted an empty spot at the very back of the plane, looking very isolated and inviting.
It was perfect.
βGarcia! Thatβs my usual spot,β Spencerβs unmistakable voice echoed through the plane as you made yourself comfortable in your chair.
From the corner of your eye, you could see him standing over Penelope, a hand gesturing toward the seat while his other hand clutched his bag.
βBut itβs so comfortable,β Penelope responded, settling deeper into the plush seat. βCome on, Reid, I donβt travel as much as you do. Let me have it.β
Spencer paused, his initial protest fading as he took in Penelopeβs exaggerated comfort. βWhere would I sit?β
βYou can sitβ¦β
You quickly closed your eyes. Donβt say it. Donβt say it. Donβt say it. Donβtβ
βOver there! Thereβs an empty spot in front of Y/N.β
You were going to kill her.
You sank deeper into your chair, hoping to avoid any forced small talk or, worse, awkward silence with him. Maybe if you were lucky enough, heβd pick another chairβperhaps next to Hotch, or Rossi, orβ
A cough interrupted your thoughts.
βI know youβre pretending to sleep.β
Reluctantly, you opened one eye, peeking at him.
"Mind if I sit here?"
For a moment, you considered ignoring him, but the look on his face told you he wasnβt going to let it go. You rolled your shoulders, giving up the pretense, and sat up straighter.
βActually, yes, I do mind.β
He raised an eyebrow but lowered himself onto the seat anyway, clearly unfazed by your objection.
"Reid,β you warned him. βIβm serious.β
"I know you are.β His eyes briefly swept around the cabin as he settled into the seat across from you, placing his satchel bag on his lap. "But every other seat is taken. Unless you want me to stand in the aisle for the next few hours?"
You rolled your eyes, letting out a resigned sigh as you crossed your arms. "Fine, but I'm reserving the right to nap, and you're reserving the right to not disturb that nap."
βI donβt think thatβs a good idea.β
βWhy not?β
He leaned forward in his seat. βDo you know that you snore when you sleep?β
You gasped. βI do not!β
βYou do. You sound like a little chainsaw.β
You gaped at him. The idea of a rough, grating noise being associated with you was almost laughable, and yet here he was, completely serious. You were unsure whether to be amused or offended.
βA chainsaw? Thatβs what youβre going with?β
βWell, considering the average chainsaw operates at around 90 decibels, I'd say it's an appropriate comparison."
βDonβt make me throw you off the plane.β
He shrugged, leaning back in his seat. βJust so you know, certain sleep positions can actually help reduce snoring. Maybe you should tryβouch!β
You nudged him with your foot, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make your point clear. He rubbed his leg and glanced up at you with a wry expression.
βConsider that your first and only warning,β you stated firmly before closing your eyes, signaling the end of the conversation.
βSee, your position is all wrong, if you slightly elevate yourββ
βGood night, Reid.β
There was suddenly a moment of silence, the kind that feels almost tangible, stretching out in the small space between you. Then, you heard itβa slight, barely audible chuckle.
You wondered if your mind was playing tricks on you, the sound so faint that it seemed it could easily be a figment of your imagination. But no, there it was again, a soft, amused sound that had you frowning even with your eyes closed.
βGood night, Y/N.β
Maybe you were already dreaming.
III. The Lock-in Incident
βY/N,β JJβs voice chimed from behind you while you were gathering a stack of folders on your desk. βCan you take these down to the filing room? Spencerβs already down there reorganizing some of the older case files.β
You eyed the thick folder in JJβs hands. When there wasnβt an active case, the team often spent time organizing and maintaining the archives. As tedious as it was, it was a necessary task, and normally, you wouldnβt mind lending a hand.
But the sound of his name made you pause because working with him in a confined space seemed very much unappealing.
βWhy are you asking me?β
βArenβt you going there?β She asked, her gaze shifting to the folders in your hands.
Internally, you groaned. Yes, you were headed there, that had been the plan. But now that you knew Spencer was there, every step towards that cramped, paper-stuffed room felt like walking into a minefield.
βMaybe you should go down there instead.β
βI canβt,β she responded, already adding her folders to your pile. βIβve got to finish my other reports before the end of the day.β
Your eyes glanced over to Derekβs desk across from you. βMorgan?β
He turned over a page in the file he was reading, not even looking up. βSorry, Pretty Girl, I got my hands full with this case report.β
βOh, come on.β You stormed over to him, desperation edging into your voice. βIβll do you a favorβanything you want.β
Derek glanced up, finally giving you his attention, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
βAnything I want?β
βWithin reason.β
He chuckled, shaking his head. βSorry, but I really canβt. This reportβs due in an hour.β
Frustrated, you glanced over towards Emilyβs desk, hoping for a backup, but groaned when you saw it was empty.
You finally sighed, feeling the weight of your optionsβor lack thereofβsettle on your shoulders. You gathered the heavy folders in your arms, the paper edges digging slightly into your skin. It was just a few hours, you reasoned; you could manage Spencer. He could be insufferable, but you had your own ways of being equally annoying.
With a deep breath, you headed toward the filing room, mentally preparing yourself. He was already busy sorting through a pile of disorganized paperwork when you got there, his brow furrowed in concentration.
βI have more work for you,β you announced in a sing-song voice.
Spencer looked up, his eyes scanning the sight of the hefty folders in your arms. βNope. Theyβre yours, not mine.β
You paused, leaning on the table filled with sorted files. βAre you sure you want me to do this by myself? Because, you know, I might just rearrange what youβve already organized here. It would be a shame if all your hard work gotβ¦ scrambled.β
βDonβt even think about it,β he quickly warned. βHand them over. Iβll do it myself.β
You moved closer and placed the folders next to his neatly arranged stacks, deliberately nudging them just enough to seem accidental.
βReally?β he said, a hint of exasperation in his tone as he carefully realigned the folders you had nudged. βYou know, we could actually get this done much faster if youβre not acting like a child.β
βOh, please. Like youβre the mature one.β
βAt least Iβm trying to get the job done, not make it harder.β
βMaybe if you werenβt so uptight about every little detail, it wouldnβt be so hard,β you shot back, grabbing another stack of files to sort.
βIβm not uptight. Iβm precise. Thereβs a difference.β
βSure there is.β
Spencer opened his mouth to retort, but before he could get the words out, the sudden sound of the door clicking shut echoed through the cramped room. Both of you turned around simultaneously.
βDid that justβ¦?β He began, stepping towards the door and trying the handle. It didnβt budge. He jiggled it again, more forcefully this time. βGreat, itβs locked.β
βWhat?β You walked over, a sinking feeling in your stomach. βWho the hell locked it?β
βI donβt think anyone did. These old doorsβ¦ they stick. Itβs probably just jammed,β Spencer explained, though his voice carried a hint of doubt.
Yeah, right, you thought, your skepticism growing. Despite his logical explanation, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was more than just a coincidence. The timing was just too perfect, and you had a sneaking suspicion that someone might have been behind this.
But then the reality of the situation sank in. Your immediate concern shifted to the fact that you were trapped here, with him, until someone realized you were missing. The prospect was both frustrating and daunting.
βLook, letβs just keep working,β he suggested. βThe sooner we finish, the sooner we can figure out how to get out of here.β
You nodded, though a part of you wanted to argue. βFine. But if weβre still stuck here by the time weβre done, youβre explaining this to Hotch.β
βWeβll get out, donβt worry.β
βLetβs hope youβre right.β You picked up a folder from the pile, flipping it open to look over its contents. βHow do I do this?β
βSort them by case type first, then by date within each type.β
βSo, this one would go underβ¦?β
βUnsolved homicides,β Spencer replied, taking a quick peek at the document you held open. βAnd make sure itβs in chronological order with the others.β
You moved to the designated shelf, sliding the folder into its appropriate spot before returning to grab another. βWait,β you opened the file, your eyes scanning the page. βI think this was my first case.β
You read through the document and nodded.
βYes, look, itβs the one where the Unsub was targeting families with children,β you reminisced, your mind going back to the time when you were still new to the job. βThat was such a hard case. Remember how I couldnβt stop crying? And how Hotch had to debrief me because I was still shaking even after we made the arrest?β
When you were met with silence, you looked up to see his back facing you, seeming too busy as he organized his files. You closed the document in your hands and walked back toward the shelf.
βOf course, you donβt remember,β you muttered under your breath. βWhy would you even remember?β
A twinge of disappointment settled in your chest, even though you hated to admit it. It was stupid, really, to expect him to recall every little detail from the past, especially when it had to do with you. But just as you turned to grab another file, Spencerβs voice stopped you.
βOctober 19, 2011.β
You paused, turning slowly to face him, your brows furrowing in confusion. βWhat?β
βThe date you started working here,β Spencer said, still focused on his task. βYou wore a black blouse and the brightest shade of red on your lips.β
You blinked, trying to understand what he was getting at.
βThe case was in St. Louis,β Spencer continued, now looking up to meet your gaze directly. βYour first field assignment. You told Hotch you were ready, but the case really got to your head.β
You found yourself at a loss for words, realizing what he was trying to do.
βYou cried when you came back from talking with the victimβs family. You cried when the second victim was found. You cried when we finally caught the Unsub.β
You continued to stare at him, not knowing how to process his words.
βYou also cried when I sat beside you on the plane.β
He remembered.
The realization struck you hard, almost like a physical blow. A part of you had convinced yourself that he barely noticed you, that any memory involving you was erased from his mind. But here he was, recalling not just any memory, but your first week when you joined the team, right down to the color of your lips.
βYouβ¦β The frown on your face deepened. βYou remembered.β
There was a pause as he looked at you, his eyes carefully assessing your reaction. βItβs hard not to."
You held his gaze. Sometimes you wonder what would happen if you were still on good terms. Would you smile at him now? Would you tell him that, yes, you also remembered how he allowed you to lean on his shoulder during that flight back home, despite the awkwardness of your first meeting when it seemed heβd rather keep his distance?
You shook your head, looking away from him. It was wishful thinking. Letting yourself dwell on what could have been would only lead to another heartbreak. You had learned to protect yourself, to keep your distance, because hoping for a return to those days would only make the present hurt more.
βRight,β you said, trying to keep your composure as you gripped the folder in your hand. βI forgot you have an eidetic memory.β
Spencer didnβt say anything, but you could feel his eyes on you, a quiet, lingering gaze that you felt more than saw. The room suddenly felt incredibly small, the walls seeming to close in around you as your fingers fumbled slightly with the papers, grabbing another file.
You needed to get out of here. You needed to regain control. The faster you finish your work, the sooner you can escape him.
IV. The Table For Two
βYou did it on purpose, didnβt you?β You pressed, arms linked with JJ as you both walked down the sidewalk, your stride matching the quick tempo of your rising irritation. The accusation in your voice was clear, but JJ just offered a casual shrug, avoiding direct eye contact.
βI donβt know what youβre talking about.β
βYou expect me to believe it was an accident?β Your skepticism was palpable, and you watched as a small smirk played at the corner of her lips. βThat the door coincidentally locked itself when we were both inside?β
βThe doors are old,β she said, keeping her gaze forward, her steps even and unhurried. βYou know how it is, sometimes if you even just shut them too hard, they jam. Could happen to anyone.β
Her tone was too nonchalant, too practiced, and you tugged on her arm, pulling her to a stop. βRight, and I suppose it was also just chance that the door closed by itself?β
JJ paused, finally facing you with a raised eyebrow. βI didnβt do it.β
βThen somebody did.β
βY/N,β she replied, her smile broadening in a way that only heightened your irritation. βNobody did.β
You groaned, resuming your walk as you pulled her along. βYou guys are so annoying.β
JJ laughed. βHow did you get out of there anyway?β
You sighed, the memory of the escape bringing a frown to your face. The entire time you were locked in that room, you had done everything possible to avoid talking to him, focusing on shuffling through files and pretending to be absorbed in the work.
After what felt like an eternity of awkward silence and strained small talk, you both gave up trying to ignore the situation and started moving around the cramped space, phones held high, desperately trying to find a signal. When you finally managed to get a single bar, you quickly dialed Penelope, who answered with her usual upbeat tone, clearly amused by your predicament.
"We had to call Garcia to let us out,β you said, your tone dry. βShe found the whole thing hilarious."
JJ's laughter grew as she imagined the scene. "She would have loved that. Probably made her day to rescue the two of you."
βSheβs already teasing us about it.β
Her laughter slowly died down as she gave your arm a light tug. βDid anything happen while you two were in there?β
You hesitated, recalling the awkward silence, the shuffling of papers, and that brief, tensed exchange. βNot really,β you admitted. βWe just tried to organize the files without screaming at each other.β
βBut did you talk at all? I mean, really talk?β
βJennifer,β you warned, the tone of your voice hinting that she was treading on uncomfortable territory. The thought of delving deeper into what hadβor hadnβtβhappened in that room was not something you were eager to talk about.
βI know, I know, itβs complicated,β she conceded. βJust thought it seemed like a good opportunity to maybe clear the air between you two.β
βWell, you thought wrong. Thereβs nothing to talk about.β
JJ looked at you skeptically, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she could see right through your defenses. She seemed on the verge of pushing further, but then her phone rang, interrupting the moment. She glanced at the screen and sighed, giving you an apologetic look. "Hold on, I need to take this. It's Will."
You nodded and watched as she stepped a few feet away to answer the call. You waited and tried to give her privacy, but it was hard when her words were clear as you listened to her talk, and the more she spoke, the more you narrowed your eyes at her.
ββ¦right nowβ¦ sureβ¦ no, itβs fineβ¦ I can be there in tenβ¦ of course, honey...β
You crossed your arms when JJ finally ended the call and turned back towards you.
"I need to head home,β she said, a bit too casually. βWill got called into work unexpectedly.β
Suspicion started to creep in as you processed her words. The timing was impeccableβa little too perfect. You both were supposed to meet up with Penelope and Derek for dinner, and it was almost guaranteed that Spencer would be there too, considering Derek had taken it upon himself to drag him along at any given chance under the pretense that βthe kid needs to go out moreβ.
But the thought of JJ bailing on you on such short notice seemed out of pocket, even for her.
"Really, right now?" you asked, narrowing your eyes slightly. She shifted on her feet, her smile a bit forced. βIs everything okay?β
JJ nodded, but there was a flicker of something in her eyesβsomething that looked more like amusement than guilt. "Yeah, I just need to get home to the kids. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
The more she spoke, the more your suspicion grew. Her demeanor seemed too casual, almost rehearsed, as if she was trying to assure you while simultaneously eager to leave. It felt like she was in on some inside joke that you weren't aware of.
βWell, if you really have to goβ¦β
βDonβt worry, youβll be fine.β JJ flashed a quick, almost relieved smile and gave you a hurried kiss on the cheek. βHave a good time tonight, and fill me in on all the details later.β
βDetails? What details?β You called after her but she was already walking away. βJJ! Why do I have to fill you in the details?β
She simply waved a hand without turning back, leaving you standing there with a growing sense of unease. You slowly resumed your walk, taking out your phone to call Penelope but stopped in your tracks when you saw a message from her, sent five minutes ago.
Hey, Sweetie, so sorry I canβt make it to dinner tonight! Something urgent came up. Have fun without me :)
Your stomach dropped as you read the message. First JJ, and now Garcia? It was starting to feel like you were being abandoned, or worse, you were being set up. You glanced around, half expecting to see Derek lurking in the shadows with a mischievous grin, orchestrating this whole fiasco.
It wasnβt until you arrived at the restaurant and spotted Spencer alone at the entrance, trying to avoid any immediate contact with the other patrons, that you realized your suspicion was confirmed. The pieces clicked together almost too neatly, and the man seemed as surprised to see you as you were to see him.
His discomfort was evident as he adjusted his stance, gripping the strap of his bag, eyes darting to you as you approached him.
βMorganβs late,β he announced as a greeting.
βHeβs not coming,β you said, unable to keep the annoyance from creeping into your voice. βAnd neither is JJ or Penny.β
βHe told you that?β
βNo,β you replied with a sigh. βBut itβs pretty obvious now, isnβt it?β
"What is?"
βThat weβve been set up,β you shot back, crossing your arms. βTheyβre not coming, and Iβm willing to bet they never planned to.β
He frowned, his brows knitting together. βYou think they did this on purpose? Why would theyββ
βCome on, Reid,β you interrupted. βTheyβve been nudging us to talk for weeks. What better way than to leave us no choice?β
Spencerβs gaze hardened slightly. βI donβt need to be manipulated into having a conversation,β he said sharply.
βAnd you think I do?β You retorted. βIβm not exactly thrilled about being tricked into a dinner date either, if thatβs what this is supposed to be.β
βItβs not a date,β Spencer replied quickly, almost defensively.
βWell, thatβs one thing we agree on,β you snapped, then sighed, trying to rein in your temper. βLook, I donβt want to argue. Letβs just forget this ever happened and go home.β
There was a pause as Spencer looked around, his eyes settling back on you. βYou want to go home?β
βYou donβt?β
He hesitated, then shrugged. βI mean, weβre already here. Might as well stay and eat. Itβs not like I have any better plans.β
You blinked, taken aback by his response. A part of you had expected him to jump at the chance to escape, but here he was, suggesting you to stay.
It seemed like a bad idea. The tension, the potential for awkward silences, the possibility of yet another argumentβit all pointed to leaving being the better option. But against our better judgment, you found yourself considering his suggestion more than you wanted to admit.
Maybe it was the hunger gnawing at your stomach, or perhaps it was the realization that leaving now would only make things more awkward the next time you saw each other. Dinner with Spencer was the last option youβd choose, but it was better than coming home to an empty fridge.
βFine,β you finally said, brushing past him. βBut youβre paying.β
Spencer looked momentarily surprised but then nodded. βFine.β
βFine.β
βFine.β
You rolled your eyes as you walked into the restaurant, but immediately stopped in your tracks when you took in the setting. This wasnβt just a restaurant, it was a place designed for dates. The realization made you pause as you looked around the room in horror.
The dim lighting cast a soft glow on polished wood and fine china, while a gentle melody played subtly in the background, setting an unmistakable romantic mood. Just as you were taking in the scene, a hostess approached with a warm, inviting smile.Β
"A table for two?"Β
You felt a flush rise to your cheeks as you realized how the evening was poised to look. Turning slightly to gauge Spencer's reaction, you found him even more flustered, his face turning a shade redder as he stammered a response. "Uh, yes, that'sβum, that will be fine."
The hostess nodded and led you to a small, intimate table near the window. Spencer fidgeted with the strap of his bag as you both sat down, his eyes darting around the room before finally settling on you. "This is... not exactly what I expected.β
You took the menu from the hostess before she left you both alone. βIβm going to kill them,β you muttered, shaking your head.
He raised an eyebrow. βThatβs a bit extreme.β
You sighed, flipping through the menu without really seeing it. βTheyβre always meddling. They donβt know when to stop. I'm also convinced that being locked earlier was also part of their plan. And thisβthis is just so...βΒ
βAnnoying?β He offered.
βInfuriating,β you emphasized, throwing your hands up. βItβs infuriating. And embarrassing. Andββ
βAnd yet, here we are,β he cut in, feeling the same way. Spencer paused for a moment, then leaned in slightly, sending you a pointed look. βYou know, maybe we should just give them what they want.β
You blinked. βWhat do you mean?β
βWell, itβs a fact that humans are generally satisfied when they get what they want. And since what our friends want is for the two of us to get along, maybe we should just... pretend that we do.β
βReid,β you pressed, mirroring his posture as you leaned forward. βThey donβt want us to just get along. Look around us. They want us to really get along.βΒ
Spencer paused, considering your words, his gaze lingering on the candlelit table and the other couples around, deep in conversation. He seemed to realize the full extent of the setup, the romantic undertone that wasn't simply incidental but intentional.
βYouβre right,β he finally responded, leaning back in his seat. βForget what I said. It was stupid.β
You studied him as he opened the menu, the candlelight casting a soft glow on his face. He was right. Not only was it stupid, it was crazy. Pretending to be civil with him was one thing, pretending that you shared some kind of unspoken, lingering feelings was another thing. The mere thought of it made your heart race, but you couldnβt tell if it was from anxiety or nervousness.
You quickly shook your head. It was ridiculous. How could you even begin to pretend to have feelings for someone with whom you shared such a complicated past? How could you act like there was something more between you when the reality was so different?
The whole idea was far-fetched, almost laughable. You couldnβt imagine yourself romantically involved with him, even if it was just for pretend.
Much Ado About Nothing
(Act I, Scene II: The Crude Suggestion)
A provocative joke led Spencer to contemplate, yet ultimately avoid, a crucial conversation with you.
Part warning: a little suggestive comment and two idiots being stubborn
Words: 2.1k
A/n: I want to remind you that each part doesnβt necessarily follow one another, the story focuses on their relationship and not on the cases being told. This is just a collection of shenanigans and nothing too serious!
SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
There was something about being in the middle of nowhere for a case. Maybe not exactly nowhereβyou knew where you were, you could pinpoint this city on a map, but there wasnβt the same bustle and constant noise you were used to in Quantico. The relative quiet was unsettling, yet oddly comforting.
Although nothing was comforting about checking the crime scene deep in a forest in broad daylight. It was a small, unnaturally circular clearing where the grass was trampled down in places, and in the center was the remains of what you were there to investigate.
βSo,β you started, your eyes scanning the place. βDo you think the Unsub uses these remote areas to avoid detection, or is he just a fan of the greatβalbeit blandβoutdoors?β
Spencer glanced at you from the other side of the clearing.
βStatistically speaking, the isolation could serve to minimize the risk of witnesses. However, itβs also plausible that the Unsub finds comfort in solitude. Or maybe he just dislikes traffic.β
βDislikes traffic,β you repeated, deadpan. βYes, because serial killers are really just misunderstood commuters.β
Just as Spencer was about to retort with what you assumed would be a wildly thrilling statistic about traffic patterns and criminal behavior, Emilyβs voice cut through the tension. βCanβt you two ever not bicker for more than five minutes?β
You turned to her. βIβm just trying to get a straightforward answer. But apparently, thatβs too much to ask for.β
βIβm giving you a range of possibilities, which is what profiling is about. Sorry if thatβs too complicated for you to understand.β
βOh, I understand completely,β you replied, matching his tone. βI just find that half of your theories are unnecessary.β
Spencerβs eyes narrowed. βThe depth of analysis ensures we donβt overlook anything. Itβs thorough, not unnecessary.β
βYou call it thorough. I call it overthinking.β
Emily stepped between you, raising a hand. βAlright, enough. Can we focus on the case now?β
βHe started it,β you couldnβt resist muttering under your breath as you moved to another part of the clearing.
βMe? You were the one whoββ
Emily cut him off with a loud, exasperated sigh, tilting her head back as if seeking divine intervention, before turning her gaze sharply back to both of you.
βMost people go to therapy to deal with this much-unresolved tension,β she remarked dryly. Then, fixing you with a pointed look, she added, βYou know what else might help?β
You frowned, glancing towards her. βWhat?β
Emily paused dramatically, her gaze shifting from you to Spencer and back again at you, lingering a little too long. She didnβt say anything, but the way she raised her brows and the smirk playing on her lips, you knew what she was implying. It was as if there was an unspoken code that only years of friendship between women could understand.
You looked away, a slight burn along our cheeks.
Spencer, still oblivious, looked from Emily to you, confusion written all over his face. "What? What are you talking about?β
βWellββ
βNo!β You stopped her. βDonβt listen to her.β
Spencerβs confusion deepened, his gaze shifting from you to Emily, trying to decipher the underlying message. Emilyβs smirk only widened, clearly enjoying the discomfort sheβd stirred up.
βYou should ask Y/N,β she said, her tone teasing. βIβm sure she knows some great ideas for... tension relief.β
You felt your face heat up even more, and you shot Emily a warning look, partly annoyed and partly embarrassed by her insinuation. But she simply just laughed, and when a sudden car pulled up near them, Emily found a way to escape.
βOh, look, the sheriff is here,β she said, swiftly changing the subject. βYou guys check the area while I talk to him.β
Emily walked off to meet the sheriff, leaving you and Spencer alone in awkward silence. You turned away, eager to divert your attention back to work when you felt him hang back slightly to walk with you.
He seemed to hesitate before speaking. βWhat was she referring to?β
You glanced at him, trying to gauge his reaction, wondering if he was genuinely confused or just looking for a way to keep the conversation light.
"Nothing," you replied with a dismissive shrug, keeping your eyes on the ground ahead. βShe was joking.β
βI could tell, but what about?β
You paused, realizing that the vague explanations weren't going to satisfy him this time. His analytical mind was both a blessing and a curse in moments like these.
"She was suggestingβjokinglyβthat we might relieve our constant bickering... through more unconventional methods."
"Unconventional methods?"
βSex, Reid. She was implying sex.β
His face instantly turned a shade of red, perhaps deeper than you had ever seen before. He blinked a few times, clearly taken aback by the bluntness of your clarification.
"Oh," he managed to stutter out, the usual fluency of his speech faltering under the weight of the topic. He bit his bottom lip, a nervous habit that you had come to recognize as his attempt to buy time while he gathered his thoughts.Β
βThatβsβ¦β
βCrazy, right?β You pressed on. βI mean, nothing good will come out if we start blurring pleasure and professional lines like that.β
There, you said it, an underlining of your words that carried more weight than the immediate conversation. You wondered if he understood your double meaning, and maybe he did, because his gaze met yours sharply.
He exhaled, his demeanor shifting as he processed not just Emily's joke but also the deeper reference to that nightβthe one neither of you spoke about but still lingered between you.
βRight,β he finally responded, his voice firm, yet there was a hint of something else you couldnβt quite decipher. βNothing good at all.β
βIt would only complicate things.β
βExactly.β
βItβs a bad idea.β
βThe worst.β
For a moment, you both stood there, the forest around you fading into the background. You broke the silence first, turning away from him. "We should finish up here. There's still a lot of ground to cover."
With those words, you moved ahead, feeling his gaze on your back. The crunch of leaves under his steps echoed as he followed in silence.
It would only complicate thingsβ¦ as if it wasnβt already complicated in the first place.
Spencer looked over to where you stood; it was clear you were trying to avoid him for the past hour. He watched as you meticulously examined every leaf and twig, your focus seeming more like an escape than an investigation.
He knew he should say something, perhaps bridge the gap with an apology or an olive branch of some sort, but every potential word seemed to catch in his throat. It seemed like a constant cycle of hesitation and missed opportunities. Every time he thought to speak, doubt would claw its way back, holding him silent.Β
He wondered if perhaps it was the same for you.
βHey,β Emilyβs voice filled the silence as she joined back. βDid you find anything?β
Spencerβs train of thought was abruptly interrupted by Emilyβs arrival. He straightened up, quickly shifting his focus back to the present. He gestured towards the markings on the ground that you both had been examining.
βWe might have found something.βΒ
Emily crouched beside you, eyes scanning the evidence with practiced ease. βYou think this is from our Unsub?β
You nodded, offering the specifics, βThe pattern and depth suggest itβs not natural. And the spacing might give us an idea about the size and weight of the Unsub.β
βIβll get the forensics team to take a closer look.β She stood up, looking between you and Spencer. βYou two okay here?β
βYes, weβre fine,β Spencer answered quickly, a bit too eagerly. You simply nodded without saying a word.
βAlright, maybe I like it better when you both bicker.β
He saw you shrug nonchalantly. βIβm gonna check the other side,β you announced before walking away.
"She's avoiding me," he stated, a note of helplessness threading through his voice.
βCan you blame her?β
βWhat?β He asked, his voice tinged with defensiveness.Β βSo it's my fault?β
βWellβ¦ did you do anything wrong?β
There was a pause before he glanced away, his mind racing through that night. βMaybe,β he admitted, his voice low, almost reluctant.Β
"There you go, you have your answer.βΒ
He shifted from one foot to the other, visibly uncomfortable, as his fingers twitched at his sides. βDo you think weβre overreacting?β
She sighed. βLook, I don't know the details of what happened, and as much as I want to help, itβs between you two. The way I see it, you have two options: either resolve the problem or continue bickering.β
He frowned, mulling over her words. He glanced toward you and faltered for a moment, noticing the glare you were throwing him even from the other side of the clearing. It was clear you didnβt want to engage in any type of conversation with him.
βYeah, I think Iβm going to stick with bickering.β
Emily laughed. βReally? You donβt want to consider my suggestion earlier?β When she caught the blush creeping on his cheeks, her grin widened. βFinally caught on what I meant?β
His blush deepened, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"Oh, yeah, well, that's definitely not an appropriate solution," he stammered, trying to regain his composure. Collecting himself, he latched onto a more comfortable territoryβfacts.Β
"Actually, according to a study, about 20% of workplace relationships lead to marriage, but they can also significantly complicate professional dynamics, increasing the potential for conflicts of interest.β
Emily simply smiled, clearly amused at how flustered he was. Her silence only urged him to continue.
"And, well, that doesn't even begin to cover the fallout if things don't work out. The workplace can become, um, a challenging environment for both parties involved. It's just... it's tricky."
Spencer winced to himself, because ironically, the fallout was already happening. The situation he was theorizing about in vague terms was unfolding right in front of him.
"It sounds like you're speaking from experience.β
βIβm not!β He responded almost too fast. βIβm not.β
She studied him, her eyes narrowing slightly as she assessed his reaction. He shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the ground. The quick denial had been too sharp, too reflexive, and now he felt cornered by his own reactions.
βIβm not,β he insisted again. βI just... I mean, I've read a lot about it. You know, studies, research papers, it's nothing personal."
Emily nodded slowly, not entirely convinced but choosing not to push further. "If you say so.β
Her eyes lingered on him for a while, and when she realized the conversation wasnβt going anywhere, she turned around and left him.
βWhere are you going?β
βComforting her,β she called out, walking backward. βSomething you shouldβve done.β
He watched Emily walk away, her words stinging more than he wanted to admit. Then his eyes traveled to you, and it was as if you could sense his lingering stare, you looked up and met his gaze.
Anger. Annoyance. It was what he caught in your eyes before you quickly masked it with a neutral expression. The intensity of that brief exchange was enough to make him realize just how deep the rift between you had gone.
Spencer knew talking about it was the mature thing to do, but he also feared that bringing up that conversation might only open another can of worms. He felt stuck, unsure if addressing the issue would heal or harm. So he went back to being a coward and turned in the opposite direction.
It was for the better. You didnβt want to talk to him anyway.
Much Ado About Nothing
(Act I, Scene I: The Silent Agreement)
Ever since that night, you and Spencer had always been at odds, but there was one thing you both agreed on.
Part warning: just two idiots bickering nonstop
Words: 1,6k
A/n: so nervous about starting this but welcome to the first part! It's a short introduction though I'm trying to make longer chapters in the future
SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
Hate was too strong of a word, too intense and dramatic for the subtler, more nuanced disdain you felt toward him. It was more like a persistent itch you couldnβt scratch, a pebble in your shoe, or a fly that wouldnβt leave you alone.
You didnβt hate him. You didnβt even dislike him all the time. But there were moments when you wanted to shake him, or yank his tie hard enough to shut his smart mouth. Because every time he started throwing around statistics and facts, he made it sound like you couldnβt possibly understand, as if you werenβt on the same intellectual level as him.
And right now was one of those times you wanted to wipe that smug look off his face.
βYouβre wrong,β you argued, not breaking eye contact as you leaned across the cluttered map with pins and photos of various crime scenes. βThe Unsub doesnβt fit the profile of someone who strikes randomly. Look at the pattern, the meticulous planning in each locationβitβs obvious they selected victims based on specific criteria, not opportunity.β
Spencer scoffed, his eyes narrowing slightly. βThe victims have nothing in common. Different ages, different backgrounds, different cities. How do you explain the randomness of the victims if it was planned?β
βItβs the chaos thatβs planned, the seeming randomness, each victim is at a pivotal point. The Unsub is not just killing; theyβre sending a message through the timing.β
βA message? Or is that just what you want to see?β
You frowned, not liking the condescending tone in his voice. βReid, not everything has to fit into your neat little boxes of logic. Sometimes, you have to look beyond the obvious.β
βYou mean baseless assumptions?β
βHow about intuition?β you snapped back. βHow about pattern recognition that isnβt immediately visible but becomes clear when you consider the psychological aspects?β
βYou mean your hunches?
You gritted your teeth. βItβs not about my hunches. Itβs about understanding the Unsubβs mind. Theyβre choosing victims who are at turning points in their lives for a reason. Maybe itβs symbolic, maybe itβs personal."
βOr maybe youβre just reading too much into this.β
Your frustration bubbled over. You knew if he werenβt talking to you, he might actually agreeβNo, he would definitely agree. You had enough experience working with him to understand his analytical style and to know that he valued well-reasoned arguments.Β Yet now it felt like he was purposely dismissing your perspective.
He wasnβt being fair.
βYou know what? Sometimes I think youβd argue with a freaking wall if it meant you could prove a point.β To me at least. "Not everything is a textbook case, and not every answer is in your precious statistics.β
You saw him raise an eyebrow. βAnd youβd dismiss all logical analysis if it meant you could rely solely on intuition. How is that any more valid?β
βItβs not about relying solely on intuition,β you defended. βItβs about seeing the connections, the human behavior that your statistics canβt always explain.β
βBut youβre assigning meaning where there might be none.β He gave you a pointed look. βNot only is that dangerous, youβre being reckless.β
Red. You were seeing red. Your retort was on the tip of your tongue when a sharp clearing of a throat suddenly interrupted. You both turned to see Hotch standing at the corner of the room.
"Let's redirect this energy towards something productive," Hotch interrupted, you could almost feel the weight of his stare. "Both of your insights are pointless if you keep arguing like this.β
βI wasnβt arguing.β
You rolled your eyes. βSure, you werenβt.β
Your boss sighed, the kind of deep, exasperated sigh that seemed to pull the oxygen out of the room. βJust... work together. Please.β
The plea was simple, filled with the tiredness of having had this conversation more times than anyone cared to count. He then turned to leave and the room suddenly felt too big, the silence too loud.
You glanced over at Spencer the same time his eyes fell on you. But before either of you could say anthing, the door jerked open, and you watched as Derek sauntered into the room.
βDid you two fight again? Because Hotch asked me to babysit you.β
You scoffed. βReally? Those were his exact words?β
βOf course not, he asked me you needed supervision because you canβt stop sniping at each other.β
βSupervision,β you muttered under your breath, the word sounding ridiculous because it was the last thing you needed. βWe donβt need supervision.β
βExactly. What you both need is a babysitter.β
βWeβre also not kids.β
Derek chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. βCouldβve fooled me. Given how loud you were, I half-expected someone to start throwing toys.β
Spencer was quick to defend himself. βWe were having a professional disagreement.β
βA professional disagreement?β Derek mocked, pretending to be deep in thought. βThatβs what theyβre calling it these days?β
You huffed, crossing your arms. βYes, Morgan, some of us prefer to call it that instead of βarguing like toddlersβ.β
The grin spreading across his face was so annoying that you wondered whether you shouldβve put your frustration on him instead. Derek pushed himself off the doorframe and walkes over to Spencer, casually draping an arm around his shoulders.
βAlright, Pretty Boy, letβs hear your side of this professional disagreement.β
Spencer shifted uncomfortably under his arm but managed to maintain his composure. βWe were discussing the Unsubβs choice of victims. I believe the randomness is genuine, while someone,β he glanced pointedly at you, βThinks thereβs a pattern.β
Derek raised an eyebrow. βWhat pattern?β
You stepped forward, determined to explain. βLook at the victimsβ timelines. They were all at critical juncturesβnew jobs, big moves, major life changes. The Unsub isnβt picking them randomly; theyβre choosing people going through something significant.β
Derek nodded thoughtfully, removing his arm from Spencerβs shoulders. βAlright, I see where youβre coming from. And you, Reid, think itβs just a coincidence?β
βI think the Unsub might be targeting randomly to avoid detection. Patterns can be dangerous for them.β
You sighed. βCan we at least agree to look at both possibilities? If we cross-reference the victimsβ life changes with significant dates in the Unsubβs background, we might find a connection.β
You held his gaze as he studied you. You were right, you both knew you were, but you could tell admitting he was wrong was the last thing he wanted to do. There was a tense silence as he considered your suggestion, his eyes flicking between the evidence board and you.
Finally, he nodded, albeit reluctantly. βFine. We can analyze both angles and see if thereβs any overlap.β
βSee? That wasnβt so hard, was it?β Derek chimed in with a smirk, clearly enjoying the moment. βYou know, you couldβve gotten more work done if you two still got along.β
Derekβs words hit harder than you expected, a bittersweet reminder of a time when things were simpler. He was right, of course. There was a time when you and Spencer were more than just colleagues locked in constant debate. You were friendsβgood friends, even. You could almost hear the echoes of shared laughter that had once come so easily.
You remembered late nights at the office, the two of you working over case files and tossing ideas back and forth. Back then, your debates had been lively, yes, but never tinged with the frustration and competition that seemed to color your interactions now.
And to make matters worse, Derek suddenly voiced out the question neither of you dared to ask out loud.
βYou guys used to be inseparable,β he mused, glancing at the two of you with an amused smile. βWonder where it went wrong.β
You knew he was joking, but his words carried an uncomfortable truth that you couldnβt ignore. You could also tell it affected Spencer because his eyes met yours silently.
You both were thinking the same thing. You were sure of it, because everything had changed after that night, that one night you wished to forget. That one night when you thought your friendship would change for the better, but instead, it turned into a moment of clarity, a freaking slap to the face.
The change was immediate, like the abrupt silence that follows a sudden, jarring noise. What had once been effortless and natural now felt forced and awkward. The distance between you grew. The ease with which you once communicated had been replaced by a strained formality, as if both of you were trying too hard to pretend that nothing had changed.
It was as if you had made a silent pact to never speak of that night, an unspoken agreement to bury it deep and carry on as best you could. Both of you were too proud, too scared to address the elephant in the room.
You looked away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. The weight of the unspoken words pressed heavily on your chest, and sure, it seemed childish to harbor such disdain at your big age, but you couldnβt help it. It wasn't just the loss of a friendship that stung; it was the betrayal of knowing someone so close could cause you such pain.
Because Spencer Reid had hurt you deeply that night, so much so that a small, spiteful part of you wanted to hurt him too.
I'd been thinking about doing something like this for a very long time. I haven't seen an appreciation/friendship post on here in a VERY long time. So, I'm doing a quick shout-out to my favorite blogs on here <3 love you all.
don't forget to tag your faves <3 keep the chain going!
Aweee, omg! Me, @irishhappiness ? Lil' me? π₯Ή Thank you SO much! *hugs* π₯Ήπ
@fictive-sl0th @smolvenger @muddyorbsblr @lokisgoodgirl @chennqingg @jiyascepter @mochie85 +++ <3 (I just got up, my brain is still a bit sleepy, so I'm most likely forgetting some wonderful peeps... π)
*gasps* omg! thank you sm maddie! *sending you so many hugs and kisses* and ofcc back at you! You're like one of the top blogs for me here (,,> α΄ <,,)
Oof there are so many amazing blogs here... @foxherder @vbecker10 @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @sailorholly @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @buckys-wintersoldier @bookishtheaterlover7 @lokisgoodgirl @buckysdarling @audreythebookworm @queenoffiresign88 @sarahscribbles ++++ !! (there are so soo many more but im too shy to mention them ππ)
My favourite include but are not limited to: @sailorholly @holdmytesseract @winterslove1917 @slytherins-heir @lokisgoodgirl @little-butterfly-writes @otome-and-fanfiction @darlingdummycassandra @ladyofthestayingpower @mattyriddlesbitch
I'd been thinking about doing something like this for a very long time. I haven't seen an appreciation/friendship post on here in a VERY long time. So, I'm doing a quick shout-out to my favorite blogs on here <3 love you all.
don't forget to tag your faves <3 keep the chain going!
Aweee, omg! Me, @irishhappiness ? Lil' me? π₯Ή Thank you SO much! *hugs* π₯Ήπ
@fictive-sl0th @smolvenger @muddyorbsblr @lokisgoodgirl @chennqingg @jiyascepter @mochie85 +++ <3 (I just got up, my brain is still a bit sleepy, so I'm most likely forgetting some wonderful peeps... π)
*gasps* omg! thank you sm maddie! *sending you so many hugs and kisses* and ofcc back at you! You're like one of the top blogs for me here (,,> α΄ <,,)
Oof there are so many amazing blogs here... @foxherder @vbecker10 @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @sailorholly @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @buckys-wintersoldier @bookishtheaterlover7 @lokisgoodgirl @buckysdarling @audreythebookworm @queenoffiresign88 @sarahscribbles ++++ !! (there are so soo many more but im too shy to mention them ππ)
Summary: You and Spencer had a casual relationship. A misunderstanding ruins it all.
Pairing: Spencer Reid Γ F. BAU Reader
Warnings: Friends with benefits. Pregnancy.
Part 7
See my Masterlist Here
Three Months Later
A white frosted cake decorated with a hand drawn baby on it sat in front of you. Penelope was thrilled to be god mother to your baby, and she wanted to do a gender reveal party. You didn't mind and she was excited, so you and Spencer let her plan this little get together at Rossi's.
You held the knife alongside Spencer, bringing it down to slice the cake. When the piece was cut, you held a plate as he placed the cake on it, revealing pink bread. Penelope squealed "It's a girl!" Spencer hugged you, "I told you." He said, beaming. You had been convinced you were having a boy, but Spencer said he had a feeling the baby was a girl.
"About time we had a girl in the family! She will have all these boys wrapped around her finger in no time." JJ hugged you, nodding towards Jack and Henry running around the yard. Everyone congratulated you while the cake was being served. You were finally starting to show, your baby bump looked huge in your normal clothes. But in the maternity clothes you bought a few days ago, it looked small.
Spencer took you shopping over the weekend when he found you crying because your jeans wouldn't button anymore. He went all out, splurging on a new wardrobe. He even got you two pairs of shoes because your feet were starting to swell especially after work.
Tears welled in your eyes as you watched your coworkers interact with each other. You really loved them like family. Well, everyone except for Ashley who was noticeably absent tonight. You heard a rumor she wasn't happy at the BAU and was looking to transfer. You hoped it was true. She had been nicer to you after her talk with Hotch when she pushed you. You still didn't like her, only tolerating her because you had too.
It was getting late, and you were tired, so you went to take a small nap on Rossi's sofa. You found Penelope sitting there playing on her phone. She told you to lay your head in her lap while she shopped. She was already ordering the baby frilly dresses and matching headbands. You closed your eyes, drifting off pretty quickly.
When you woke up, Morgan was carrying you to the car. You and Spencer had been staying the night with each other for months. You fell back into your old situationship. The pregnancy hormones made you insatiable. Spencer was happy to help you, but you didn't want to get too close to him again. He had hurt you, and you were still offended that he only wanted to be with you because you were pregnant. He tried to argue, but you know that's what it was.
When you got back to Spencer's apartment, you took a quick shower. A new episode of your favorite show was coming on soon. You and Spencer cuddled on the couch watching it. When it was over, he took you to bed, making love to you twice before work the next morning.
A/N: If you have any ideas for a baby name, let me know!! β₯οΈ