summary : spencer hints at the need to change himself to be deserving of love, but why would he compare himself to others, and who is he trying to impress ?
word count : 1.2k
pairings : spencer reid x bau!reader (idiots in love, workplace romance)
notes : pretty boy worries about his fitness test and falls for the promotion of toxic masculity, glowups and looksmaxxing... morgan's fault ? mentions of a high protein diet and yes i cringed writing this, who's gonna tell him we love an adorable skinny nerd ?
there were a lot of bad days at the BAU.
obviously, the place wouldn't run without the existence of negativity in the world. the everlasting presence of crimes, death, meant there were inevitably going to be a lot of bad days. victims you won't save in time , unsubs you won't catch, it was something all members of the team were at peace with by now.
there would be bad days, terrible ones even, but the sun would rise again the next morning, bright and announcing hope. another chance at making the world a better place.
the bad days at the BAU, the one spencer reid truly feared until his heartrate sped up and his breath caught in his throat, were a bit more silly. he'd grown up not to let himself be afraid of anything, except one.
the fitness tests.
"good morning, spence !"
when you entered the tiny kitchenette space to make your ritualistic daily coffee, your voice sounded cheerful. oat milk, lots of ice and a dash of vanilla syrup. iced latte was your fuel, and spencer didn't need to turn around to see look. he knew the way you liked it by heart like a catchy melody stuck in his head. he felt your presence in the room before you even spoke.
the lack of reaction made you frown when no one greeted you in return.
"morning," he answered simply. his hair looked particularly soft and ridiculously good in the way he'd decided to style it today - brushed back, curls rebelling agaisnt gravity - but you wished he'd turn around to hand you your mug. just like he always did.
today, he didn't.
the ice cubes hit the bottom of the glass and clinked, highlighting the unusual silence stretching between you. his shoulders looked slumped from behind, and you couldn't help but crane your neck to look over his tall figure.
it wasnt coffee he was drinking.
in his personal labeled mug, the one that had its spot on the shelf next to yours for convenience and unspoken rules - the first one to arrive makes coffee for two - was some sort of sloshy, pale mixture.
"holy fuck, what is that thing ?" you exclaimed in a voice too high for his sensitive self. too early to be the center of attention, too.
"nothing. i mean it isn't nothing, but it's nothing important"
judging by the knot your brows formed, he could tell you'd never accept to drop the subject.
"i have my fitness test this afternoon, i got the email last week and... i don't know, i guess it's not exactly a moment i look forward to."
"oh... none of us do, really."
your answer is simple, not inconsiderate. he knows you too well to be sure the latter would've included an eye roll and some giggling.
you move to the tiny fridge to find the bottle of oat milk kept on the top shelf, and feel the need to break the silence. "and drinking vomit is the best form of suicide you came up with ? babe, you could've made it work with the toaster"
there it is, the confirmation. you don't take him seriously, never have and probably never will.
"it's not vomit !" he retorts, crossing his arms to show how offensed he was. "it's a shake. with fruits and stuff... and protein as well"
by the sudden tilt of your head, lips parting and hand stilling mid pour, spencer felt his cheeks burn.
"they're full of micronutrients and can provide an energy boost, especially in the morning which is great for-"
"i know what a smoothie is, reid."
he looks down bashfully. “of course you do… i’ll let you have the space”
taking a couple steps to the right to give you the privilege of having the counter space, the conversation quietens when he sees you stare, dumbfounded and curious.
“this isn’t you.” you say in matter of factly tone. nothing is easier than knowing him. “you hate cold drinks…”
even coffee, actually. your beloved ice cubes you luckily always find in the freezer don’t interest him. and even though he’d never tell you he’s the one to refill the mold behind your back, he’d rather drink the coffee scalding hot.
“i do, but morgan recommended it.“
you sigh, rolling your eyes. “of course he did. what for, you know you could run backwards and the bureau would still keep you. you’re an asset to our team”
the little dimples of his you love so much make an appearance under the neon lights of the kitchenette, and you decide to keep going.
“morgan is just a cocky flirt.” your arms cross, droplets of condensation forming on the outside of the glass.
“aaaaand if you want my opinion, he’s probably suffering from some undiagnosed bigorexia. which to be honest, is really common in men”
not spencer, though. never spencer.
instead he shifts on his feet, and the distance between you seems like too much as a tight feeling in your chest urges you to protect him from all external forces.
“it’s not exactly like he forced me to do anything.” he retorts under his breath.
“i just think maybe… maybe i could put on some muscle. to be more efficient on the field.”
but his eyes are soft.
his eyes are soft as he opens up to you, the only person who ever listened. his slender fingers linger next to you, on the handle of the utensils drawer, and he looks like an absolute dream without even realising it.
when every breath and step he takes nearly undo you, how on earth could he possibly think he’s not enough.
“you’re perfect.”
those oh so perfect brown eyes look up and you melt.
“coffee is too good to be replaced with a bland protein shake you don’t even like. and you get too cranky when you’re lacking caffeine.”
it all comes to you naturally, too naturally. the reassuring words. the protective feelings when it comes to your beloved colleague.
“you hate exercise and there’s not a single reason why you should force yourself to do something you don’t enjoy for the purpose of changing yourself. it’s silly.”
swiftly you grab the handle of the mug with one hand and flick his forehed with the other.
"ouch- hey !" he exclaims in a high pitched voice. "what's that for ?"
“bringing you back down to earth. seriously,” the first sip you take is cool, the ice slightly melted already. “it’s not worth it.“
seconds pass before he actually says something, rubbing the spot you just hurt to make you feel bad about it.
now, his eyes find yours again. it doesn’t take a trained profiler to notice the change of posture.
“it does sound stupid when you say it like that…” he admits, chin higher and lips pursed.
you laugh, a full on burst of laughter at his self awareness.
“because it is. it’s so- unlike you.”
quieter, the sound of his chuckles mimic you. something warm contrasting with the iced drink you sip on.
“it’s not. i’m actually dying for a chocolate donut right now.”
this isn’t who he is.
the guy who cares about his physique more than anything and bends to society’s expectations. and amongst the false excuses he made and lies he tried to give you, you saw the truth immediately.
spencer is spencer. the guy who likes his coffee black with a donut on the side and calls it breakfast. he knows how you like your coffee and trades the opportunity to sleep in for more time with you in the morning.
and he is, in your eyes, the closest to perfect that there's ever been.
