hey lover |s.r.|
pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader
summary: spencer wants to ask you on a date but his fear of rejection causes him to write you a letter. however, he’s made the miniscule and idiotic mistake of forgetting to sign it. (fluff, mutual pining, and miscommunication!!)
warnings: very light swearing, description of murders/crime scenes (criminal minds level gore/description), food mention
guide: (Y/N) = your name, (Y/L/N) = your last name, (Y/N/N) = your nickname, italics = letter
word count: 3.2K
a/n: asjkdfhkj this is my first spencer fic i hope it turned out ok!!
***
It seemed like a good idea at first. Derek’s ideas always seem good at first. Spencer wasn’t sure why he trusted things would work out without error. Yet there he was, letter in hand and eyes wide at the stupid, miniscule mistake he made while you awaited his answer.
***
You had just begun working at the BAU no more than 3 months ago as the new communications liaison, replacing JJ while she was absent on maternity leave. You were quickly integrated into the carefully woven quilt that was the BAU and, in turn, you had built some very close relationships with your coworkers.
However, there was one person who you had grown extraordinarily fond of: Spencer Reid. You didn’t want to admit how smitten you were with the doctor, seeing as you were only working at the BAU for so long, but it was an indisputable fact you had fallen for him.
Unbeknownst to you, Spencer felt the exact same way. Your courageous and selfless demeanor struck him as something he hadn’t seen in anyone in quite some time. Not to mention how incredibly beautiful you were. Spencer knew it was impossible for anyone to be perfect but, when you made him feel the way he did, he began to question his thinking.
Spencer was quite terrible at hiding his feelings, finding himself staring at you a second too long when you walked to your office in the morning or bringing you extra breakfast and coffee because the store just happened to have an extra muffin they wanted to get rid of. It was so obvious yet you couldn’t pick it up for the life of you and Spencer really thought he was flirting to the fullest extent of his ability.
One morning you were running late. You had yet to arrive but you called Hotch to let him know you’d be at the office in no more than 30 minutes because the train was down for the time being. You also had texted Spencer, asking him if he wanted something at the small coffee shop around the corner while you waited. So as Spencer gave you his order with one hand, he downed the coffees he had made for you and himself in the other.
“Whoa, kid,” Morgan chuckled, prying the cup from his hand, “slow down. Your toothpick-body can’t take all that caffeine.”
Spencer swatted at Derek in an attempt to get the cup back only to see him lift it to his lips. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Morgan started with mock innocence, “was this for a certain communications liaison that a certain doctor has a crush on?”
Spencer rolled his eyes but felt the back of his neck heat up. “I don’t have a crush on her.” He made his way back to his desk, ignoring Morgan’s eyes boring into him.
“Oh, really? That’s a shame,” he could practically hear the teasing grin in Morgan’s words, “because she likes you.”
Spencer went rigid. He spun slowly on his heel until he saw Morgan’s smirking face, feeling his stomach drop again. He couldn’t believe he fell for that. Spencer retreated to his desk with Derek chasing after him.
“Kid, kid, listen! I know you like her! I was just-”
“Be quiet!” hissed Spencer, his cheeks now coated in a healthy flush.
However, Morgan wasn’t quiet enough. Emily perked up from her desk, rolling her chair over to join the conversation. “What are we talking about?”
Spencer tensed his hands and shook his head, turning to face his work again when Morgan explained, “How pretty boy’s got it bad for (Y/L/N) and won’t do a damn thing about it.”
“What?!” Spencer whipped around, his jaw slack from panic. Morgan and Emily were cackling to themselves at his shock, not even bothering to silence themselves.
“Reid,” Emily began, clutching her stomach from laughter, “it’s okay, I know you like her-”
“What?!”
Spencer’s increasing panic only furthered the pair to laugh even harder. Was he that easy to read? Did everyone know how he felt towards you? Dread began to set into his stomach at the thought of you knowing. His overthinking mind started to wander, assuming you knew how he felt and had led him on to get free breakfast every morning. He quickly scolded himself for thinking that— he’d been hurt too many times before, making that line of thinking second nature. But you weren’t someone who wanted to see people hurt; you were too kind, too caring to do that to anyone.
“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Emily asked. “She obviously likes you, too.”
Spencer’s eyes lit up for a second at the thought of you feeling the same but he caught himself. A moment too late, however. Emily and Morgan teased him, batting their lashes and making kissy faces at him, leading to Spencer throwing his head in hands to hide from their stares.
The two were no later interrupted as Hotch called Emily up to his office to go over a report she had put in, leaving Spencer and Morgan alone. Derek nudged Spencer’s leg, Spencer frowning at him as he met his eyes.
“Listen, kid, Prentiss was right. Why don’t you ask her out?”
If what Derek and Emily had said was true, why couldn’t he? He imagined himself walking up to you and asking you on a date, his heart fluttering at the thought. His fantasy soon turned sour as you snorted at his question, shaking your head vigorously and pushing him out of your office.
“I don’t think I could look her in the eyes if she rejects me.” Spencer’s voice was no more than a whisper as he announced his realization.
Morgan laid a hand on his shoulder, the other reaching around Spencer’s desk to hand him a piece of paper and a pen. “Then we’re going to do this the old fashioned way. Women love it when they get love letters, so write her one.” Spencer’s eyes bulged at Morgan’s words. “Love might be a bit strong, I get it, but you get the sentiment, right? Write her a letter about why you like her, ask her out at the end of the letter, and then slip it under her door.”
Spencer nodded slowly before shooing Morgan away, already hunched over the first draft of the letter. He worked it over and over again, feeling like each copy wasn’t good enough for you until he saw his phone buzz. It was a text from you. You were heading up. Spencer panicked, folding his latest draft and slipping it under the door to your office before settling back at his desk.
You waddled in from the elevators, attempting to balance a carry-out tray of coffees and a bag of croissants in one hand and your work bag in the other. Spencer jumped up from his seat, relieving you of the items belonging to him in an instant.
“Thank you so much, Spence. I was seconds away from dropping my breakfast.” You shouldered him gently in place of a grateful gesture. He nodded, ducking his head in hopes you hadn’t noticed the blush creeping up his cheeks.
Before Spencer could say anything, your phone rang. Sending him an apologetic smile, you managed to slip it out of your pocket and place it on your shoulder, shrugging it up to your ear as you answered. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N).”
Spencer watched you walk off towards your office, taking a short sip from the coffee he definitely didn’t need. You stepped in and flicked the lights on with your elbow before tossing your bag onto your desk, freeing a hand to hold your cell phone. You took another step in before stumbling, your shoes caught on a loose paper by your door.
It was go time.
Spencer hurried back to his desk and pretended he wasn’t looking at you, even though it was extremely obvious he was. You set your breakfast on your desk and bent over to pick up the note, skimming it as you spoke. Your head snapped up and you turned to face the window that exposed the bullpen, Spencer ducking his head down and innocently reading the newspaper on his desk. He chanced a look up only to see you frown and hurriedly shut the blinds.
Spencer thought he was going to be sick. He paled and ran his hands over his face before digging the heel of his palms into his temples, massaging them roughly. You looked upset— disgusted. Why did he think you’d ever like him?
Before he could indulge in his own pity party, you stormed out of your office with a large file in hand. You raised it in the air to gather the attention of the team as you announced, “We have a case!”
The team scurried in after you, everyone finding their places in the conference room as you clicked on your presentation. The pictures of two young couples appeared on the screen as you passed the files around.
“Four victims from Atlantic City have been found dead in their homes.” You clicked to the crime scene photos, wincing at the sight. “The husbands’ C.O.D. being a slice through the carotid and the wives’ a shot through the head execution style. The husbands have also had their...hands removed.”
Hotch looked up from the file, brows furrowed. “This all happened in the span of 3 days so we need to be vigilant. He could be planning his next attack right now. Wheels up in 20.”
***
On the plane ride to New Jersey, the team had finished being briefed by Garcia’s intel quicker than usual and were left to ponder their own thoughts. You sat off by yourself at a table in the back of the jet, opening your bag to sneak out the letter left at your office earlier. You scanned the words and frowned again before being hit with a genius idea.
You stood from your seat and settled next to Spencer on the couch. Oddly, he went rigid at your presence, sitting up straight and avoiding eye contact. You shook it off and continued on with your plan.
“Spence, hey, can I ask you something?” you whispered.
Spencer’s mouth went dry. He knew what you were going to ask about. What else could you be asking about? “S-sure.”
“You’re the guy who’s good at identifying handwriting, right? Like matching it and stuff?”
His eyes flickered up, mouth opening and closing a few times before he settled on a nod. His mind swarmed with questions but none of them came out. He decided it might be best if he were silent, anyway.
“Great. Then can you help me out with” —you pulled the letter from your bag and handed it to Spencer— “this? I think I might have a secret admirer or something. Whoever it was either wanted to stay anonymous on purpose or forgot to sign their name. Either way, could you help me out?”
And that’s when Spencer started to blame Morgan for his terrible idea. Well, it wasn’t exactly his fault but Spencer couldn’t take the blame for something so embarrassing. There his letter was, his handwriting, his words, his admission, and he forgot to sign his name.
Spencer debated the logistics of admitting to his error; he wouldn’t have you pining over a mystery man, but then again he would be asking you out in real time. The whole point of the letter writing was to not see your face and if he told you he wrote it you could reject him straight to his face. He couldn’t deal with the thought of that. So Spencer, fear consuming him, shoved the letter back in your hands with a nonchalant shrug.
“Sorry, (Y/N/N), I don’t recognize the handwriting.”
“Oh,” you muttered, standing up. “That’s okay. Thanks for looking.”
And as you returned to your seat on the other end of the plane, a pit formed in your stomach. You were no profiler but you hoped you could have read Spencer better, seeing if he let on any signs the letter was his, that he liked you. But at that moment you had to push it aside. There was work to be done.
***
After a few days in the case, the team had a breakthrough. They had discovered all the women had been drugged and used a bargaining chip to lead the men back to their homes before getting killed. The unsub had been targeting wealthy couples at casinos and the only way the team could catch him is if he was drawn out of hiding. The whole explanation was a long winded way of Hotch telling you you needed to go undercover as Spencer’s wife.
You begged him to let Emily take your place but Hotch assured she would be better as a lone guest to cover your perimeter. Frowning, you explained you didn’t have any undercover experience but Hotch assured you you’d be fine, that the unsub would fall easily for your charade because of your close identification with the victim pool.
So there you were, in your hotel room sitting in a dress you didn’t care for with a wire far too uncomfortable running up the length of your sleeve. Your body thrummed with nerves so, in an attempt to calm down, you reached for the letter and reread it, practically having it memorized by now.
(Y/N),
I don’t normally do these sorts of things but you deserve these sorts of things— nice things. You deserve the best things. You deserve the things that make you happy, that make you smile, that make you laugh. You deserve all of that and more.
I’ve only known you for some time but I can safely say I’ve completely fallen for you. To be entirely honest, I don’t know how everyone here hasn’t as well. You have this gorgeous smile that makes everyone light up around you. Not to mention your laugh; it’s harmonic and encapsulating, like good music you never want to turn off.
I like you. A lot. And I know you’re too good for me but I can’t help but try. I get scared because people might see right through us— through me— and you’ll realize it, too, that you’re too good for me.
But now isn’t the time to worry about the future (even though I may have a tendency to do so). I’m sorry for not being the best at words. And I’m sorry for not being able to say this to your face but I like you, (Y/N), and I want to go on a date with you.
You were sure you had the confidence to spur forward with the night.
You left your room, ready to knock on Spencer’s door when you heard hushed whispers coming from inside. From the sound of it, Spencer was trying to opt out of the night while Hotch was trying to convince him to stay.
“You’re the only one on this team that can play some convincing poker, Reid-”
“That’s not the point!” Spencer huffed. “It’s...it’s (Y/N). People might see right through us— through me— and they’ll realize she’s too good for me. They won’t buy it. Not when she looks like herself and I look like, well, me.”
Something about his words hung around in your head. It was disquieting. His words weren’t true, of course. He was everything you could’ve wanted and the sheer fact he didn’t see himself that way broke your heart. But it wasn’t just that, there was something else. Something hidden in his words triggering a memory in you.
You were pulled from your thoughts as Spencer and Hotch walked out of Spencer’s room, giving you curt smiles before leaving towards the undercover van outside.
***
Fortunately, the night went as planned. The unsub was apprehended and you managed to stay cool undercover. Mostly cool. Your head was up in the air for a bit as you tried to recall what exactly Spencer had said that reminded you of something. Spencer had to focus you back in a few times but didn’t think anything of your lack of focus. Or, at least, he didn’t say it.
The jet couldn’t leave until the next morning so the team was stuck overnight at the trashy little motel the bureau had paid for. You tossed and turned in your bed, unease settling in your stomach. You decided it might be best for you to read the letter again, seeing as how it brought you such comfort earlier. But the second you scanned the words, the realization hit you squarely in the face.
Disregarding the late hour and the fact you were in pajamas, you ran out of your room and up to Spencer’s knocking on the door with haste. Spencer also seemed to be awake, answering just as quickly as you knocked.
“(Y/N)?” His voice was gravelly and low, like he had been in and out of sleep. You bit back a grin at the adorable pajamas he wore: plaid flannel bottoms and a t-shirt reading “I LOVE LAS VEGAS!” in bright gold lettering. Spencer tracked your eyes roving over his body before clearing his throat to get your attention again. “What’re you doing up at 3:00-”
“I know you wrote the letter.”
You didn’t mean to blurt it out but you just...did. Spencer coughed awkwardly and avoided your stare, shaking his head.
“I don’t...I don’t know what you’re…”
“Spence,” you began, taking his hand in yours, “I overheard you and Hotch talking earlier, about how people would see right through us. It’s the same thing in the letter— nearly identical.”
Spencer, positive he was completely red in the face, muttered, “Must’ve been a coincidence.”
“But it wasn’t, because I know you, Spencer.” You sucked in a sharp breath, your heart pounding in your chest. “Because I like you, Spencer.”
Spencer cocked his head, a smile tugging at his lips like he didn’t want to believe what you said. “You...you like me?”
You took a step towards the doctor, locking your hands around the back of his neck with a chuckle. “Yeah, Spencer, I like you.”
Spencer reached a careful hand up, brushing your hair out of your eyes and running his knuckles down your cheek with an adoring smile before connecting your lips. The kiss was soft and unsure but worth exploring. As you began to deepen it, you heard a door click open from behind you.
“Nice pajamas, you two,” Rossi teased. Spencer glared at him over your shoulder for disrupting what was the most perfect kiss he ever had. Rossi chuckled, holding his hands up in defense. “I saw nothing!”
Rossi slipped back into his room, laughing to himself about the interruption. You tucked your head against Spencer’s chest, feeling him place a soft kiss against the top of your head while his arms looped around your back, pulling you impossibly tighter towards him.
“You know,” he began, his chest rumbling against your ear in the most comforting way, “I’m beginning to think I should be writing you more letters.”
“A few more couldn’t hurt.”
