"Hey, S/N... Eu sinto muito por... não, calma. Eu... eu queria te pedir desculpas pela noite passada e... merda, isso não está certo. Me ligue, ok?"
...
Dois dias antes
Hoje o céu está cinza. Ventos cantam por entre as ruas que, nesse horário, estão com pouco movimento. Uma pessoa ou outra se arrisca a sair do conforto de sua casa para enfrentar o dia.
Eu não queria ser uma delas.
Olho para o relógio acima da mesa da cozinha e vejo que ainda são 5:35 da manhã. Mais uma noite que dormi na sala.
Levanto-me do sofá e logo sinto um desconforto nas costas. Talvez seja hora de trocar esse sofá velho por um outro um pouco melhor.
Vou em direção ao armário para pegar algo para comer... pão com geleia ou geleia com pão?
Sento-me na poltrona próxima à janela e tomo meu café da manhã enquanto olho para as nuvens carregadas de chuva. Queria ser uma nuvem, ela parece tão livre...
Volto à realidade quando escuto o vizinho do apartamento ao lado bater na minha porta.
"Hey, S/S! Tudo bem? Eu não vi você chegando ontem do trabalho e fiquei preocupado. Só passei aqui para ver se você estava bem."
"Oi. Estou bem, obrigada, Dr. Reid'.
"Ah, por favor, me chame só de Spencer"
"Ok. Escuta, eu preciso me arrumar para o trabalho antes que comece a chover, meu carro está no mecânico. Obrigada pela preocupação e tcha-"
"Ohhh! Você quer uma carona? A biblioteca fica a caminho da UAC, de qualquer forma."
Porra, cara... eu só queria comer meu pão com geleia...
"Ok. Vou me arrumar. Você... você quer entrar?" - perguntei. Por favor, não aceite...
"Ahh, eu vou te esperar lá na recepção, não quero incomodá-la."
"Beleza. Ah, tudo bem, Spencer?"
"O que? Ahn, sim? Porque a pergunta?"
"Só percebi que não tinha te perguntado isso ainda. Sei lá, é falta de educação não perguntar, sabe?"
"Ahhh, hahaha... tudo bem, relaxa. Ei, S/N... meus pêsames pela sua perda. Deve ser difícil perder alguém tão-"
"Me espere lá na recepção, desço em dez minutos" - disse e fechei a porta sem esperar sua resposta.
Summary: After the events of your birthday party, you and Spencer are forced to talk about the past.
A/N: This is incredibly long! I didn’t wanna split into 2 parts and keep you guys hanging though! Warning that this is 18+ and there are mentions of addiction and drug use. Please let me know what you think here!
Part One
Masterlist I Requests
The air outside felt just as oppressive as the crowded room. Yet at least here you were free from those stranger’s stares, watching you with a strange excitement as your distress spiralled.
Guess they’ll have something to gossip about tomorrow, you thought distantly.
You stopped a few steps from the door, your breathing out of control as you felt sharp panic overtake you; why did you run away? Why did Alex have to ask you in front of all those people? Why did he have to ask you at all?
And why, why, did you look at Spencer?
Of course, you knew the answer to that.
It was for that same reason you always stayed late at work until he was finished. The same reason you always sat beside him on the jet. The same reason you broke away from Alex’s parents just to dance with him tonight.
Guilt tore through you; Alex was far from perfect but he deserved better.
Your name rang out, a desperate plea in the cold air, and you wrapped your arms around yourself. Why was Spencer doing this now? Your thoughts and emotions were scattered and unsure. You couldn’t trust yourself to have this conversation right now.
You turned to watch him approach you, his steps hurried and clumsy enough to make you worry he would fall. You shook your head, tears clouding your vision as your breath hitched. “Spencer,” you barely got the two syllables of his name out between heavy breaths, “I-I-“ I can’t do this right now, you wanted to say, too little air in your lungs to form the words.
Gently, but with urgency, he pulled your hands from where they harshly gripped your elbows. Smoothing his hands over your bare arms, he warmed the goosebumps from your skin. Ducking down to match your gaze he delicately cradled your face between large palms; thumbs swiping over your cheekbones as he met your gaze. “Breathe with me, sweetheart.” He told you softly, warm words misting the air as they met the cold night.
Gripping his wrist, you nodded and tried to match the steady rhythm of his breaths. The tingling in your fingertips abated slowly, the dark spots blotting your vision replaced by the clarity of his chestnut eyes, and the all-consuming panic was replaced with a barrage of other emotions.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeatedly murmured. As the ringing of your ears quietened, you realised he had been whispering these reassurances to you from the moment he caught you.
It was too sweet, too perfect. He could read you like nobody else, calm you like nothing else, and right now that was an impossible revelation to contend with. You pulled back, stumbling back a few paces.
“Spencer, I need to-“
He cut you off.
“I love you.”
The words rushed from him, as though they had been fighting to leave him for longer than just tonight. Tears shone in his eyes, his voice rough as he fought through this welling of emotion, “I love you.” He repeated, the words hanging in the air between you impossibly.
You wiped at your eyes, aggressively pressing your palms against your brow. Your voice raised in pitch as you struggled against the multitude of things you wanted to scream, shout, cry, and whisper to him.“You-you can’t do this to me right now.”
Your name fell from him again, as he staggered half a step closer. Close enough to touch you once more. Both hands gripping one of yours, he pulled you yet nearer. “I know,” he told you, a sadness pulling down his voice, “I should’ve told you a long time ago.” One hand left yours, the fingertips of his left hand raising to push your hair from your eyes. The pads of his fingers brushed tenderly against your temple at the action and you couldn’t prevent the way you leaned into the sensation. Voice hoarse, breaking as his tears fell, he told you; “I never should’ve let you go.”
Pursing your lips against the sob that tried to leave you, you dropped your gaze. You couldn’t do this now, this was the worst time for this conversation, but he was making it so hard to walk away. You pulled back, a few trembling steps to put some distance between the pair of you; anything that might clear your mind enough to think straight. His gaze could only tempt you closer but it was impossible to ignore the pull of his touch.
The new space between you did nothing to help.
The sight of Spencer felt eternally frustrating; his honey-brown eyes sparkling with expression and hair almost drooping alongside his shoulders. “You- you ended things with me?” The words rasped out, almost becoming caught in the knot swelling in your throat. “What did you expect?”
“I know,” he implored, tears threatening to spill over as he gripped his own hands in the absence of yours. “I know this isn’t fair, but… please.” His feet fumbled closer to you, hands wrenching free of one another to cup your cheeks once again. His thumbs drew circles over your cheeks, swiping away the tears you hadn’t noticed falling. “Why did you look at me?” He finally asked.
How could you answer that with anything other than the truth? You tried your best to hold onto anger, annoyance, but your next words came out flat and disaffected. “You know… I could say yes to Alex… I could marry him, have a kid, a dog, a house, whatever.” You sniffed, eyes closing against the sight of Spencer’s distress. “And I could be fine.” You shook your head, the image your words had conjured in your mind dull compared to the sight of Spencer. “But-but… it wouldn’t be enough. I looked at you because I wanted you to give me a reason to say no.” You reopened your eyes, breathless as your emotion for this man overtook you. “I looked at you because I love you.”
A whine escaped him at that, forehead pressed against yours and you let him pull you closer still. His lips pressed against yours, tentatively at first but increasingly desperate when you reciprocated his desire by tangling your hands in his hair. Your mouth opened in a gasp as his arm wound possessively around your waist - pulling you chest to chest with him.
His name fell from your lips as your mouths were forced to part in a needful gasp for air. Almost magnetically, your lips met once more, no pause for words left between you.
You could feel the heavy weight of Spencer’s longing for you in each press of his lips, each grab of his hands, each moan he let slip into your mouth.
The door you had fled from clattered once more and you jolted from Spencer with a gasp of surprise. “Alex is…” JJ broke off, eyes widening as she took in the sight before her; you and Spencer still entirely wrapped in each other, looking wide eyed and guilty at the now opened door. She cleared her throat, delicately closing the door behind her and taking a step towards the pair of you. “Alex is looking for you.” She told you, almost sternly. “It might be for the best if he doesn’t find you like this?”
Entirely guilty, you nodded with downcast eyes. What were you doing? You pulled away from Spencer, ignoring lingering hands that tried to keep you, and nodded solemnly. “You’re right,” you agreed, chastened. “I-I can’t do this right now.”
He shook his head, a string of ‘no’ and ‘please’ escaping him as he reached for you.
You grabbed the palm that reached for you, “Spencer, this isn’t a no.” You squeezed his hand, the only reassurance you could give in this moment, before pushing it back towards his figure, “I- it’s just not… not right now. Just give me some time, please?”
He nodded, lips pursing as he swallowed back tears. “Anything,” he told you thickly.
Lowering your eyes from his, finding it impossible enough to leave even without the sight of him, you called to JJ. “Can you take me home?”
———————————————————————
Days had passed since that evening but the remnants of your touch remained embedded in Spencer’s skin. His lips still tingled where they had tasted yours and fingertips still burned hot where they had traced your flushed skin.
Days had passed since that evening; but he was yet to see you, yet to hear your voice, and yet to bathe in the brightness of your gaze.
You had asked for space, for time, and he was determined to give it to you. When the weight of his memories overwhelmed him, however, he would crack under the pressure. A text here, a call there, but nothing ever reciprocated.
He tried to distract himself with work, throw himself into case files and paperwork, but every day that he sat across from your empty desk reminded him that you were not there. Had he lost his chance with you? Had he chased you away with his late show of devotion?
These harassing questions were only silenced by one, unerring, memory of that evening. You had told him you loved him, you had reciprocated his great emotion for you; you loved him.
But, a scratching thought remained; after all the time that he had wasted, would that be enough?
His phone vibrated suddenly upon his desk, sliding a few inches as the screen lit up with your name. Dropping the paper that he had been mindlessly ripping into smaller and smaller pieces, he snatched the phone from the desk.
Can you come over after work?
His fingers worked over the keys almost faster than his brain could tell him what to write. Luckily, his reply was short; yes.
———————————————————————
Spencer lifted his hand to rap his knuckles against the mahogany of your door but, before contact could be made, he noticed the trembling of his fingers. Retracting his hand, using it to fiddle once more with the tie around his neck, he slowly let out a long breath.
A little more settled in himself, he knocked. Your light footsteps hurried to the door and he chose to interpret your rush as a positive sign.
The door fell inwards, revealing your face peering up at him. Whatever words he had planned to say caught in his throat, tangling there and making it impossible to speak.
You relieved him of the burden of speaking first, “hi, Spencer.”
Swallowing heavily, he returned your greeting with a voice strained by a barrage of competing emotion. “Hi,” he glanced down to his right hand, clutching a peace offering in the form of a bouquet, and presented it to you as though he had just recalled they were there. “I- these are for you.” He explained, pointlessly.
Your eyes brightened as you looked over them, both hands immediately reaching for the gift, and you beamed. Still looking down at them, you murmured “My favourite…”
Your smile eased him greatly. This gesture of his, so clearly appreciated by you, reminding him of how well he knew you. How perfect you were for each other.
You took a step to the side, holding the flowers almost reverently beside you, and gestured for him to enter. He moved into your apartment, finding a light on at the end of the hall and following it to the kitchen.
You entered the room behind him, crouching at the corner cupboard and emerging with a crystalline vase. Filling the vessel with water, you softly pulled the twine bow that held the flowers together, and carefully placed the stems in the vase. Once the display was completed you paused in your movements. Your fingertip delicately traced over one of the larger petals, your head tilting as you watched the flower shift beneath your musings.
He wished, so dearly, that he could hear your thoughts in this moment. Unable to help himself, he greedily asked; “what are you thinking about?”
You turned to face him, a sigh and a melancholy frown pulling at your lips. “You know my favourite flower,” he nodded eagerly, dissecting each subtle intonation in your words. “And it’s not just that you know it… it’s that you think to buy them for me, you think to make me smile.”
“Of course.” To Spencer it seemed so obvious, so simple. Why, then, were you telling him this with such wonder?
You looked down, the angle disguising your smirk but your gentle sigh still reached him. You echoed him in a whisper, “of course.”
You moved closer to him, leaning your weight against the counter across from him. “I’m sorry.”
Spencer couldn’t discern whether his heart began to race or if it stopped completely. What could you possibly be sorry for? He was sure his attentive gaze would not have missed a ring on your finger but his eyes still darted to where your hands were folded upon the counter. Settled by the emptiness of your ring finger, he asked; “what for?”
“I should have called, or… or something.” You were wringing your hands together as you spoke, words muted as your head bowed, hiding your eyes from him. “I just…” your words trailed off as you lifted your head, eyes softening as they found his.
“You asked for space.” He reassured you, leaning against the counter in some effort to be closer to you. “I-“ he huffed a sad little laugh at himself, at his own inability to follow your simple instruction, “I tried my best.”
Your nerves were clear in the set of your shoulders, obvious in the tightness of your voice, and the sight inspired his own nerves to triple.
Almost shyly, you peeked at him as you spoke next, “I broke up with Alex.” Spencer felt as though some great weight had been lifted from his chest, allowing him to breathe for what felt like the first time in years. His shoulders collapsed down and his eyes fell shut as a guilty smile painted his features. Spencer had never been particularly religious, but he was ready to fall to his knees and proclaim his everlasting thanks to whichever deity had looked so kindly upon him.
You watched this unschooled reaction with a sparkling interest in your eyes, dissecting his reaction intensely and waiting to speak once more. “Sorry,” he told you hoarsely, struggling to regain his composure after the relief that you had sent burning through his veins.
“Spencer, what do you want?”
Your words were clipped, wavering at the end of each syllable in a telling show of an emotion that you were trying desperately to chase away. Eyes narrowing at you, Spencer worked to discern this emotion. You lips were working oddly as you awaited his reply, twisting and pursing, and your hands were gripping one another almost desperately. You were scared, Spencer realised with a frown. “What?”
Eyes shining, you asked again. “What do you want?”
But, surely, you knew the answer to that. “You.” He told you, imploring. “I want you.”
You lifted your weight from the counter, increasing the distance between you as you hugged your arms. He chased you, this new distance scaring him, and leaned imperceptibly further over the counter between you.
You asked for further reassurance. “You do?” Eager to settle these fears of yours he pushed from the counter and moved to stand before you; no barrier left between you. You looked up at him, eyes shining with tears you were doing your best to hold back. “Even now that I’m-I’m available again?”
Eyebrows crunching together, hands smoothing over your arms, he answered with a voice strained by confusion. “You think I only wanted you because you were with someone else?” How could you think that?
Could you not feel the weight of his devotion for you? Could you not hear the way his thoughts spilled and spiralled into longing each time your eyes met? Could you not see the affection painting each subtle brush of his hand against yours?
Your hands were against his chest but he couldn’t discern whether the action were meant to keep him at bay or press affection into him. He hoped for the latter. “You never said anything, Spencer.” You told him, sending something in his heart twisting painfully. “Not until now.”
His eyes squeezed shut, emotion overwhelming him. Desperately, his grip tightened upon your arms; how could it still feel like you were slipping through his fingers? Eventually, he breathed out, “I know.”
“You keep saying that,” you almost whispered into the quiet air of your kitchen, “‘I know’” you parroted sadly. “I waited for you.” You admitted softly, one hand daring to frame his face. Sucking in a breath at the contact, your palm feeling electric against his skin, he opened his eyes to find your almost haunted gaze. “I waited for you to tell me that you- that all those things you said - that you didn’t mean them.”
Tears spilled from him now. The too perfect memories of the sharp words he had shot at you in some self-destructive haze of withdrawal playing tauntingly in his mind. In his minds eye he could still see your face crumpling, still hear your voice lowering into whispers, and still feel the sharp sting in his chest as he had turned from you. Afterwards, that night, he had indulged himself. Falling into a chemical high and chasing the feeling of increasingly fleeting serenity it had once afforded him; even then he was quickly realising that your absence was not something his habit could hide from him.
He had mostly sobered by the time Morgan had knocked on his door, sent to check on him at your request.
Shaking his head against the memories, having already agonised over them through enough sleepless nights, he tried to explain. To finally explain. “I couldn’t keep hurting you.” The words were cracked and frayed by the sadness dragging him down, but he continued through his tears. “I couldn’t stop and you were-you were getting dragged down with me.”
Thumb softly clearing the tears from his cheeks, you ignored your own pooling tears. “But you did so well. You’ve done so well.” Your second hand smoothed over his shoulder, fingertips grazing the stubbled skin of his neck. “I’m so proud of you,” you smiled sadly, “but even after you got clean… you didn’t say anything.” One of your hands left him, the skin of his cheek feeling cold and hollow at your absence, to instead rub over your streaming eyes.
“You know- we’ve got a pretty dangerous job,” you told him, with some kind of stuttered laugh as though you were attempting to lighten the heavy mood of the air but still struggling too much with your own sadness. “And- it’s so stupid- but every time I got hurt… Every time you hovered over me while I was getting patched up, all those times I would wake up in the hospital with you at my bedside… every single time I thought ‘this is it - he’ll tell me now - if he loves me he’ll tell me’.” You gave a light shake of your head, “and each time you said nothing. And, eventually , it didn’t matter what Morgan said, it didn’t matter what JJ said… because you didn’t say anything.”
The answering words struggled from him, his mouth dry as he just suddenly realised how his behaviour must have seemed to you. How could he blame you, for trying to move on, when he had left you with no proof of his devotion except heavy gazes and lingering touches? “I didn’t want to let you down,” you sighed as he spoke, head ducking as you sniffled, “I wanted to be sure and- and I wanted to tell you. I nearly did, but I was scared.” His words were tumbling into one another in his haste to get them out. “Fifty-eight percent of addicts relapse at least once in their recovery, I… I didn’t want to lose you forever.” Shaking his head, struggling to understand even his own logic looking back, he breathlessly finished with. “I thought I could keep waiting and making sure I that I wasn’t going to let you down. I was so sure we would just end up together somehow. And then - then you met someone else and… it was too late.”
“You could never lose me.” You reassured, eyes distant as they wandered over his shoulder. “I wish you had talked to me,” you told him solemnly, before returning an open gaze to him. “But I understand.”
Encouraged by these words, he softly placed his hands upon your waist - hoping you would allow him pull you closer. “I’ve loved you since our very first conversation.” Your hands slid around his neck, fingertips curling into the hair at his nape. “I loved you when we were together and I loved you for the entire year, nine months, and eleven days that I had to watch you with someone else.” His head ducked, forehead pressing against yours and gaze boring into yours. “I never stopped and I shouldn’t have waited this long to say it. I’m sorry.”
The words poured from him, a subtle whisper beneath the hammering of his heart. Please, he prayed to whoever would listen, please.
Tentatively, you tilted your face upwards. Lips parting, your eyes darted between both of his in a fearful search for deception or hesitation. Spencer knew that all you would find in his eyes was affection.
You kissed him. Your lips were slow against his, languid and perfect. The last time he had kissed you he had felt frenzied; it had been the first time he had been able to hold you in years and he hadn’t hidden the desperation that had filled him.
“I love you,” you murmured in the brief moment your lips were parted.
This kiss was different. This kiss could afford to be languid and slow; the promise of being together clarifying in the space between you.
Despite this allowance of steadiness, slowness, between you - neither one of you seemed able to ignore the rising need for more. One of your hands slipped from the back of his neck; lowering to tug meaningfully at his tie and the action sent a spiral of desire burning through him.
The guilty sinful memories of you had been ever-present in those lonely nights without you, but even they were nothing compared to the real thing. You had already freed him of his tie as his hands dipped beneath your shirt - the feel of your skin beneath his electrifying and leaving him desperate for more.
You pulled back suddenly, an unbearably salacious gasp pulling from you as he pulled you flush against him. “Spencer,” even his memory could not compare to the breathless way you whined his name, “I want you.”
The confirmation was all he needed, the enthusiasm within your words bolstering his confidence as he kissed you in reply. Spencer knew the layout of your apartment, knew how to steer the two of you to your bedroom using the shortest possible route, but he couldn’t wait that long. Your table, he knew, would likely withstand the weight of you.
Your hands upon his belt stalled completely as he pressed you against the table. Mouth still parted beneath his, you followed his silent instruction and perched upon the stained wood. Your legs fell open around him, the warmth of your body welcoming him to fill the space, and your hands returned clumsily to his belt.
Catching your hands, he stopped your attempt with a stern grip. As desperate as he was to fill you, to feel you stretched deliciously around him, he had to taste you first; taste one of the hardest sensations to recreate.
Still gripping one of your wrists he placed your palm flat against the table behind you, his mouth working down the column of your throat as you leaned back. Distractedly, you murmured; “is-is the table-“ you cut yourself off with a squeak as his hands smoothed under your skirt, fingertips tracing the silken skin of your inner thigh.
Pushing your skirt up, he dropped to his knees before you and answered. Although, you didn’t seem to concentrate on his answer as he pulled you to the edge of the table. “It’s fine,” his own voice was strained with desire, hoarse and barely recognisable as his own.
Despite the almost uncomfortable tightness of his slacks, he worked his mouth slowly down your thighs. Impatient whines poured from you but he was determined to re-write himself over every inch of you, determined to remind your body how he could make you feel.
When he finally tasted you, your hips jerked forwards as your back arched with a heady moan that Spencer could hear continually echoing in his mind. Hands now firmly clamped over your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wanted you, he worked on pulling more of those delicious sounds from you.
Your hands were tugging at his hair, nails scratching as his tongue flattened against you. The groan that escaped you reverberated sinfully in the air as your thighs tried to close around him. Easily, with the white knuckled grip he maintained on your thighs, he held them open.
You were shifting and twisting above him, desperate pleas leaving you breathless. Spencer knew he was teasing you; tongue lapping too lightly over your clit for any real progress to be made towards your orgasm, despite the jolting pleasure continually being sent through your figure.
Wickedly, he pressed his tongue flatly against your clit, providing the pressure you so desired, only to immediately return to his previous teasing. You gave a groan, a mix of pleasure and frustration infecting the sound, and tugged his hair more harshly. Mouth forced to leave you, he looked up at your hazy gaze and flushed cheeks. The smirk he gave at the sight of you, the sight of what he did to you, seemed only aggravate you more.
“Stop teasing me, Spencer.” He went to respond, mouth opening to claim innocence that he doubted he could really pull off with his head between your legs, but you cut him off sternly. “I know how fast you can make me cum, so do it.”
You loosened your grip on his hair and he complied immediately. Mouth dropping back down to your slick heat, he closed his lips around your clit whilst releasing your left thigh in favour of dipping a finger into you.
Soon a second, and then a third, finger slipped so easily inside of you; curling in an eager attempt to find that one spot inside of you that could make you fall apart. A long, low whine spilled from you as he found it. Mouth still working over your clit, he gave his own moan in response. The vibrato of the noise against your clit alongside his curling fingers sent you skittering over the edge.
Gripping your bucking hips with his free hand, he remained on his knees for you and worked over you as you rode out your high.
Even after your hips had stilled and your grip upon his hair had eased, he remained. The taste of you was unforgettable, irreplaceable, and he could ignore his own straining need if it meant he could taste more of you.
With some effort, you pulled him away. A haze had overtaken your gaze as he straightened before you and your lips were parted in the reverberations of your pleasure. You kissed him harshly, quickly, before sending your lips skittering and sucking down his neck. “Did that feel good?”
You nodded against him, giving a slurred “so good,” as you finally succeeded in removing his belt.
As you freed his erection, hand - slicked with your own juices - sliding over him and sending his head caving forwards, he managed to bite out. “No one else can make you feel this good.” The possessive twist of his words were surely not missed by you but, after all this time, you allowed him sink into his jealousy. “Only me.”
Second hand dropping to position him at your entrance, his own hands too busy tangled in your hair and gripping at your waist, you whispered huskily to him. “Nothing makes me feel like you do.” Your thighs squeezed over his hips, pulling him in, and your breath hitched as he entered you but still you whined out; “that’s why I belong to you.”
He had needed those words; this confirmation that you wanted to belong to him, wanted him to belong to you, and he surged forwards with a moan that spilled straight into your lips.
Your arm hooked around his neck whilst the other propped you up on the table behind you. Each slam of his hips against yours sent you forcefully backwards but his arm around your lower back kept pulling you back to meet him.
Part of him wanted to slow his movements, indulge himself entirely and take his time with you, but he couldn’t chase away the frenzied need to feel you and fill you and have you. All he could do was grip you harder, pull you closer, and selfishly keep you wrapped around him.
“Tell me how it feels.” He ordered, words strained by the moan that almost overtook them.
Your answering words came out almost staccato, stuttering out between whines and moans that you couldn’t suppress. “You feel,” a heavy whine interrupted the words, “god, Spencer, you make me feel so good. Don’t - ah - don’t stop.”
This desperate little plea of yours was entirely unnecessary, he really hadn’t planned to stop until you were an exhausted mess of pleasure beneath him.
As the building pressure of pleasure quickly approached crescendo, however, he vaguely reasoned that he had the entire night to send you spiralling into pleasure. He wanted to fuck you properly tonight, twisted in your bed sheets and with you squirming beneath his weight.
As his thrusts began to falter, he watched you fall apart all over again. Your mouth puckered and opened into a silent ‘oh’ and the hand holding you up all but failed. He caught you as you slumped into him, wrapping both arms around you and burying himself to the hilt as he met his own release.
You remained within the circle of his arms for a long moment, your heavy breaths heating the space between you, and he sent a distant, dazed hand stroking over your hair. You hummed into him, curling impossibly closer and his eyes fell shut. This was a moment he could bask in, this was a moment he had fantasised over for too long and now, finally, got to experience.
Your quiet words broke him from his peaceful reverie. “Will you stay tonight?”
Head turning, lips pressing against the sweat slicked skin of your temple, he answered. “I’m not going anywhere.”
——————————————————————
Morning washed lazily over the pair of you; the sunlight twinkling through hastily shut blinds and the distant sounds of traffic lulling him back into awareness.
A slight fear had overtaken him as he had fallen asleep; would you be here when he woke up? Would the events of this evening turn out to be nothing more than his ever hopeful mind playing out perfection for him in the guise of some hyper-realistic dream?
But, he could feel the comfortable weight you between his arms, smell the honeysuckle of your hair, hear the quiet murmur of your snore, and still almost taste the evidence of your repeated pleasure.
You turned lazily in his arms, sleepy eyes cracking open to find him. “Morning,” you croaked, settling heavily against your pillow.
“Morning,” he parroted you, smile obvious in his words.
Groaning, you pressed a hand against your eyes. “It’s way too early for you to be so cheerful.”
Smiling down at you, despite your closed eyes, he murmured, “I’ve wanted to wake up like this again for years,” you smiled into his words, nestling closer to him, but your eyes remained closed.
You nodded dreamily, humming some vague agreement before a light snore told him you were asleep once more.
Summary: Reader is an IT tech and Spencer is a technophobe. Their paths are fated to cross.
A/N: This is a prequel to Bridge the Gap, linked below, but can be read as a stand alone! Please let me know what you think!
Bridge the Gap
Masterlist I Requests
The shrill and sudden ringing of the phone made you jump, so much so that you bashed your head on the desk you were currently crouched beneath. Abandoning the plug you had been attempting to find a spare outlet for, you clambered back to your feet and grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”
A tinny, nasal voice that you recognised but couldn’t quite place answered you brusquely; “one of the professors needs your help.”
“Really?” You asked, eyebrows raised as though she could see them. “It’s the first day of the semester.”
The woman sighed, “I know,” her voice dropped in volume as she spoke next and you had the distinct impression that she leaned closer to the phone as she spoke, “it’s a wonder they manage to get their pants on in the morning without help.”
You didn’t bother stifling the chortle of laughter that escaped you at that. Your closet of an office had space only for you, No would-be eavesdropper would bother to squeeze into the space just to hear you laughing at the alumni. Recovering yourself, you asked; “so-uh - what’s the problem?”
“Oh, I don’t know something about his printer I think.” There was a pause, and then; “it’s a new guy, Professor Reid? In…” you could hear fingers flying over a keyboard, “he’s in office 12C… the Criminal Science building.”
Eyebrows furrowing, attempting to mentally conjure a map of the campus, you nodded pointlessly. “Okay, I’ll head over now.”
“I’ll let him know to expect you,” she told you, before leaving you with a sarcastic “have fun.”
———————————————————————
Your internal map of the campus was a little less accurate than you would have hoped. In an embarrassing turn of events you were forced to awkwardly stop a student and ask for directions.
Ten minutes later than you would have liked, you found the office that you were looking for. For the sake of politeness, and because some of the older professors could be particularly pedantic about it, you lightly rapped your knuckles against the door before entering. “Um - hello?” You asked, awkwardly poking your head into the room.
A man, much younger than you had expected, turned sharply to face you. “Hi?” You blinked at him for a moment too long. In all honesty your brain had completely stalled. He was just… not what you were expecting at all; attractive, young, attractive, tall, attractive. You almost recovered yourself enough to talk but he soon shot a warm smile at you and your brain turned back to mush. “Can I help you?” He eventually prompted.
“Oh erm,” pulling yourself together, finally, you smoothed a hand over your clothes and answered with as much charm as you could muster; “I think I’m here to help you, actually.” The words came out a little more suggestive than you had intended but you enjoyed the immediate effect they seemed to produce.
His eyebrows raised, mouth fallen open as a nervous squeak escaped him, and you caught his eyes sweeping over your figure. “Oh?” Was all he managed to eke out before swallowing thickly.
“Your printer?” You offered.
“Oh! Oh, yes.” He straightened out his jacket as he nodded a little over-eagerly at you. “you- you’re here to help with the printer?”
Stepping a little further into the room, the door clicking softly shut behind you, you nodded. Normally, you would be a little more reserved with the professors. Waiting instead for them to invite you in, but Professor Reid’s awkward stuttering somehow put you at ease. “Yeah, that’s kinda my job.” You smiled plainly at him, and he returned the gesture in kind.
Pointing at you, he confirmed, “you’re the IT tech?”
“That’s me,” you affirmed, holding a hand out to him as you told him your name.
Placing his palms out before himself, he leaned back and away from your offered palm. “Oh, I don’t really shake hands.” His lips twisted almost apologetically, as he clasped his hands in front of himself. “It’s actually more hygienic to kiss.” Immediately his face flushed as he caught the innuendo too late and he rushed out a babbling explanation, “not that I- I didn’t mean-“
Feeling generous, you saved him with a wave of your hand. “It’s okay, I know what you meant.”
Sheepish, he nodded. From the twist of his lips you gathered that he was still internally chastising himself, but he eventually managed to introduce himself more appropriately. “I’m Dr Spencer Reid.”
For his sake, you breezed past this deliciously awkward introduction with a tone filled with professionalism. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.” Raising a brow, you looked to the computer tucked away, almost forgotten, in the corner. “What’s the problem?”
Eyes following yours and landing on the offending laptop, he gestured for you to move over to it. Following behind you, he explained. “I was trying to print out the handbook but… it’s not working.”
Leaning over his computer, you nodded with a crumpled brow. “That’s like a hundred pages, Dr Reid.” You looked back to him but he didn’t seem to get your point. “You know you don’t actually have to read all that, right? It’d take the whole day.”
Eyes averted to the floor he gave you a strange, almost cocky, little smirk, “I think I can manage it.”
The side of your lips twitched upwards as you gleaned some strange amusement from his words. He spoke them as though they were some inside joke with himself. It was oddly charming. From anyone else you likely would’ve condemned his tone to arrogance, but his demeanour was so open and strangely sweet that it was hard to tar him with such a brush. “Well,” you sighed, narrowing your eyes at the screen, “is there a reason you can’t just read it from here?”
You looked to him for a response and he visibly grimaced at the suggestion. “I prefer a more traditional medium.”
Raising an eyebrow, dissecting his words to find the truth, you smirked. “You and technology don’t get along, huh?”
Nodding confirmation with a laugh, he wryly replied; “we’re colleagues of necessity.”
You breathed a laugh, surprised by his quick wit but eager to experience more. “Okay,” you let out, leaning closer to the screen and immediately detecting the problem.
You wanted to laugh, you really did, but you had the decency to provide him his explanation first. Biting your lip, in an almost fruitless attempt to hide the amused smile pulling at your features, you turned back to face him.
His eyes widened at the sight of you. His gaze unsure whether to settle heavily on your bitten lip or respectfully on your eyes. In the end his gaze settled somewhere in the middle. A cough fell from him before he managed to ask; “what’s the problem?”
“How many times have you tried to print this?”
The corner of his eyes crinkling, he cryptically answered, “a few.”
You giggled helplessly, spurring an answering laughter from him that was interspersed with his continued questioning, “what did I do?”
Recovering yourself, you conspiratorially leaned in closer, whispering the answer to him. “You’ve sent them to print in Professor Friedman’s office. He’s a couple doors down.” A giggle interrupted your explanation, “so he’s probably got a hundred copies of that handbook printing out and no idea why.”
“Oh,” he gave, turning quickly to look at the door, as though Friedman himself were about to burst through demanding an explanation. “That’s not… ideal.”
“No,” you agreed. When you held his attention once more, you asked; “do you want me to show you how to do it right or… shall I just do it for you?”
His lips twisted and a husky laugh escaped him. That was answer enough.
“I’ll just do it for you.”
A few clicks later and his own printer had hummed into action, spitting out paper rather slowly. The pair of you watched the whirring machine for longer than was likely necessary. Every now and then it seemed Dr Reid was about to speak, face turned to you and lips parting, but each time his attempt stalled.
After the silence had stretched just a little too long, none of his attempts coming to fruition, you sighed and turned to him. Your tone was less than enthused. “Well, I guess I better get going.”
His eyebrows rose as though surprised at this turn of events where you were not able to loiter with him in his office all day. “Oh- of course…” he gestured to the door and kindly opened it for you, “I - uh-“ you were quite thrilled, really, at how flustered he was getting. This excitement dulled just slightly when he seemingly gave up on what he had been trying to say and settled instead on; “thank you.”
Stepping across the threshold of the door, you turned back to him. “Anytime, Dr Reid.”
“Spencer, call me Spencer.”
Grinning, sure a telling blush was painted over your cheeks, you affirmed. “Spencer it is.”
“There you are!” Came a booming voice from down the hall. Turning to look, your eyes widened at the sight of Professor Friedman barrelling down the hall towards you. “I’ve been calling your line for half an hour! My printer has been hijacked! It’s printing dozens of copies of some kind of handbook and it’s still going!“
Taking a deep breath, you nodded with a polite yet tight smile. “Of course, Friedman, I-“
Sternly, he interjected with an arrogant correction; “Professor Friedman, thank you.”
Spencer cut in, surprising both you and Friedman, before you could even think to apologise. “You know, I read an interesting article recently about individuals who obsess over the use of their proper titles. Especially within inappropriate social contexts,” the glint within his eye as he snuck his gaze over to meet yours was almost playful. “Apparently,” he prefaced dramatically, “the obsession with the formality is deeply rooted in a collection of physical, mental, and sexual inadequacies.”
You choked on your laugh, desperately trying to conceal your peals of laughter with unconvincing coughs. Professor Friedman said nothing, seemingly entirely blindsided and unsure how to even respond without seeming as though he were protesting a little too much against the subtle accusation.
Still fighting back your laughter, words coming out markedly more uneven than usual, you said; “That’s very interesting, Dr Reid.”
Smiling down at you, gaze filled with this secret victory the pair of you were sharing, he answered quickly. “Oh, please call me Spencer.” After a sly glance at Friedman beside him, who still looked as though he were picking through Spencer’s quick words in search of a viable response, he continued, “I’m not worried about formality.”
God, he was going to kill you.
Your face was burning hot with the effort of containing your laughter and you couldn’t even look Spencer in the eye anymore; the amused sparkle in his chocolate eyes surely enough to send you tipping over the edge into joyful hysteria.
“Well,” Friedman eventually let out, grimly, “I will wait for you in my office.” He nodded to you before sending a disdainful look of annoyance towards Spencer who, to his credit, did not seem affected in the slightest. “It was… interesting to meet you, Dr Reid.”
Spencer nodded in response, already turning to look at you as Friedman hurried away.
You couldn’t contain yourself anymore. Hurried hands pushed Spencer backwards and into his office, the door swinging shut behind you, and you entirely broke down into a fit of giggles.
You vaguely hoped the office door was enough to keep your raucous laughter from reaching Friedman’s ears but you weren’t especially concerned enough to stop. At one point you had successfully recovered yourself but, one shared glance with Spencer, and the both of you were sent spiralling once more into laughter.
Eventually, you managed to huff out; “is that- is that even true?”
Almost cheekily, he grinned with a shrug. “Not exactly.”
Straightening, having hunched over in the depths of your laughter, you wiped the tears from your eyes. “Oh god,” Spencer was still looking at you. Now that your laughter had subsided to a more reasonable level, you realised how strangely intense his attention upon you was; he was looking at you as though you were some fascinating specimen whose every move deserved his rapt attention. “That was so funny.” You eked out.
Eyes now focused on your shoes, feeling shy under his attention, you mused. “I’ve gotta go help him now, how am I supposed to look at him without laughing?”
He laughed breezily, “sorry.” Looking back up, you found his head ducked and his right hand rubbing the back of his neck.
“Oh, don’t be,” you assured lightly, a wave of your hand dismissing the apology, “that was amazing.”
He nodded, lips twisting as he shoved nervous hands into his pocket. “Good,” he told you, resolute. “I- uh- I hope to see you around?“
Hand settled on the silver door handle, ready to face Friedman with an extra spring in your step, you agreed. “Yeah, you too.”
As you walked away and down the hallway, following the sound of Friedman’s poor overworked printer and the aggrieved grumblings of the man himself, you found yourself hoping Spencer’s technology would fail him again soon.
As though the gods themselves were listening, or perhaps just because technology really did hate Spencer, the very next day you were called to fix his email.
Summary: After breaking up under difficult circumstances, you and Spencer have carved out a friendly relationship. When your boyfriend plans a birthday party, you and Spencer have to face your feelings.
A/N: A warning, this is longggg. I had this idea and just couldn’t stop writing! Please let me know what you think! ❤️
Part Two
Masterlist I Requests
It was a rainy Tuesday, ordinary in a boring type of way, when Spencer was asked to the party. You had been stood by his desk, looking down to him as the pair of you chattered; your hair shining like a halo beneath the amber lights of the office. Such divinity suited you, he had thought.
The chirp of your phone distracted you, an almost imperceptible jump of your shoulders as you looked down in surprise. “Oh, Alex is here,” you explained, lips twisting awkwardly at this mention of your boyfriend. “He’s -uh - he wanted to pick me up.”
The explanation was unnecessary. If your boyfriend wanted to pick you up from work there was no real need for Spencer to know about it; despite the jealous coil that wound through his stomach at the revelation. The fact that you had thought to tell him at all, with that guilty glint in your eye, did give him some hope. Surely, your continued guilt could only be thought indicative of your remaining feelings for him. Surely.
Despite the best efforts of his logic, he harboured all these small hopes that you offered him. Clung to them as though they were a refuge and he supposed, in fact, they were.
You were awaiting a response. There was nothing for him to really say, no need for him to give any real response past an amicable nod of understanding. You, however, wanted words. Did you recognise, he often wondered, these small hopes you offered him? “I’ll walk you out,” he eventually eked out, voice strained beneath the words he could not say.
You were meant to be together, he was sure. Tales of four legged humanoids separated by unsettled gods and souls tied by the red strings of fate were mere portions of the expansive mythology of soulmates. And that, truly, objectively, was all soulmates really were; remnants of mythology. And yet, Spencer believed.
You nodded your acceptance with a grin. Shoulders sagging in relief as you watched him collect his things. As the pair of you meandered to the building’s exit Spencer talked, likely too much. He knew the subjects you enjoyed and basked in your wide-eyed grin as he doled out every piece of somewhat interesting information he could muster. He hoped, as he always hoped, that the conversation would linger in your mind and overshadow any attempts Alex could make.
All too soon, the front door approached. The yellow street lights shone brightly through the glass doors but were quickly dimmed by a tall figure waving at you through the glass. Surprise halted you for a moment before you gave a brief smile and continued forward. Unreasonable annoyance lanced through Spencer.
Spencer walked with you to the door every night after work. This was his time with you and Alex had chased away the last remaining seconds. Poorly, Spencer attempted to chasten himself; he had no right to lay such a claim over your time. He had given it all up in a haze of weakness and narcotics. A haze that, once he had pulled himself through, he realised had left him with nothing. When his sobriety became more trustworthy, he had wanted nothing more than to grovel his way back to you. But he couldn’t. What if he wasn’t ready? What if he let you down, fell off the horse and destroyed your relationship all over again?
He had waited too long, it sometimes seemed.
Spencer greeted Alex coolly. Not cold in his words but lacking any true warmth. The best that Spencer could manage. Strangely, the man turned quickly to you in an effort to usher you away; “honey,” Spencer wrinkled his nose at the pet-name, “you mind if I talk to Agent Reid a second.”
“It’s doctor,” the pair of you responded in tandem. Spencer’s words harsher than he intended whilst yours were almost distant as you blinked back surprise at this strange turn of events.
With too much confidence to even be amicably embarrassed, Alex turned his gave over to Spencer. “Sorry,” he gave half-heartedly before turning an insistent gaze back to you.
You floundered. A darting gaze seemed unsure who to focus on. Spencer understood the fear flashing in your eyes; as far as he was aware, you were yet to share the true nature of yours and Spencer’s past relationship with Alex. As much as some strange foreign part of him wanted Alex to know, he enjoyed this secret. Another thing Spencer knew that surely Alex did not.
After another round of insistence from Alex, alongside a quiet nod from Spencer, you relented and left them. Bracing himself, for whatever was about to happen, Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets and let his attention wander to his shoes.
“So, er…” Alex started, awkwardly. “It’s her birthday this weekend.”
Eyebrows raising, but gaze remaining on his feet, he bit out a reply. “I know.” Of course I know, he thought spitefully.
Encouraged, somehow, by Spencer’s stern agreement, Alex continued. “Well, anyway, I’m throwing a party for her on Saturday - It’s a surprise!” He quickly added the last part, emphasising it strangely as though Spencer had been on the cusp of running across the parking lot to tell you. Knee jerking as he stood and listened to this man, Spencer felt increasing agitation needle at him. “I- she’d love for you to be there.”
Finally, Spencer looked at the man before him, suspicious. “That’s short notice.”
Rubbing the back of his head, Alex ducked his head. “Well,” for once, Alex sounded sheepish, “I wasn’t sure if it might be awkward… you know…”
Spencer swallowed a lump in his throat. So, he did know. You had told him. Of course, you were more than within your rights to tell him, but… there had been hope in your attempt to keep him a secret.
Alex floundered before him, seemingly unsure how to rescue them from this awkwardness he had steered them into. Spencer, was not going to help.
Finally recovering from his stuttering, Alex began babbling mindlessly. “Well, you know, my family came down to visit so they’ll be there.” Nervously, Alex wrung his hands together. Somewhere, distantly in Spencer’s psyche an alarm bell rang out in warning. Before he could hope to process it, the chatter of Alex before him drowned it out. “And she thinks of you guys as family, so… it’s important.”
He couldn’t take it anymore, he cut the man off. “I’ll be there,” he told him, before sharply turning away.
As he journeyed home, as he prepared a dinner for one, as he brushed his teeth, and even as his tired mind refused to sleep, he replayed the conversation verbatim over and over in his mind. Turning the conversation over, he found no explanation for the instinctive dread pooling in his stomach.
Over the next days, every second up until the evening of your party, the dread remained.
He had agreed to take you, the pair of you bundled into his car as he meandered to the location. As far as you were aware Rossi had invited all of you to a soirée at some grand hall in the city; although, considering the way you were gnawing on your nails, Spencer was sure you knew that something was amiss. Admittedly, he had not been entirely engaged in keeping up the charade. You hated surprises, on your birthday even more so, and he had endeavoured to make it as obvious to you as Garcia would allow him.
“You okay?” He asked, stopping the car to allow a pedestrian cross.
You hummed a little, high pitched, noise of agreement before turning sharply in your seat. “Spencer,” you began, voice wavering with nerves, “you would tell me right? If this is a surprise party for me?” He didn’t say anything, he opened his mouth a few times but all that escaped him was a stutter. Sure, he wanted you to know, but Garcia would tear into him if he ruined this.
But, looking at you, he deflated. Your wide eyes were fixed on him, blinking up at him with such panic that he couldn’t bear to keep anything from you. Relenting, he confirmed. “It’s… a surprise party for you,” you rubbed tired hands over your eyes. “Alex,” he wondered if you caught the disdain that laced that word, “was adamant about it being a secret.”
You groaned into your palms, still covering your face as you rubbed at your temples. “I told him I hate big parties,” you moaned, peeking at him between your fingers.
You sighed, cast a wandering gaze from the window, and dropped your arms heavily into your lap. Hands now picking at the hem of your skirt, you timidly asked a question that sent that strange alarm ringing through his mind. “Did he mention anything else?”
Eyebrows scrunched together, he leaned closer - concerned but unsure why. “Like what?”
You worked your bottom lip. Normally the action would stall his mind, sending his entire attention rapt upon the temptations of your lips, but your intense emotion overshadowed any errant desire. “It’s just-“ you began, only to be immediately interrupted by a car horn blaring behind you.
The pedestrian had crossed the road, and disappeared from sight in the time the pair of you had been talking. Spencer was still stopped in the middle of the road, the car behind him clearly losing its patience.
Holding a hand up, a silent apology to the driver behind, he pressed the accelerator. As your destination neared, he watched you shrink further into your seat from the corner of his eye.
———————————————————————
Despite your nervousness, you gave an excellent performance of surprise. Spencer was sure even the profilers of the room would have been fooled by your faux excitement. As much as he had hoped to hold onto your attention a little longer you had been whisked away by your boyfriend and presented like a trophy to a pair of people he assumed were Alex’s parents.
Morgan patted him on the back, murmuring some kind of encouragement, and directed his sullen figure to the other agents in attendance. They cheered him up well enough, providing some relief in this crowd of unfamiliar people, but unease returned each time he caught sight of your figure.
But what was it setting him so on edge? Why did the overelaborate decor feel like a warning? Why did the abundance of expensive champagne wash dread over him? And why were Morgan’s eyes fixed on him so closely?
“I feel like a show pony,” your arrival beside him distracted his thoughts. It was hopeless trying to concentrate with you beside him. “Everyone’s looking at me, it’s weird.”
“Cmon,” JJ reassured, an excitable tone to her voice as though you would mirror her emotion, “you’re the birthday girl! Everyone’s supposed to look at you.”
Sidling beside you, Garcia trilled with more enthusiastic excitement. “Plus you look smokin’ in that dress,” a rosy blush painted your cheeks at that, the brief ‘thanks’ that escaped you immediately drowned out by Garcia’s next words; “where’d you buy it? Do they take coupons?”
A pair of large hands gripped Garcia’s shoulders,
Tugging her back slightly from where she huddled closer to peer at the label, Morgan spoke. “Okay, okay. How bout we leave the birthday girl in tact, yeah?” Garcia huffed but immediately brightened at his next words. “Dance with me, hot stuff?” As she tugged him away he craned his neck back to the group with a whispered “you’re welcome,” that sent a lovely chuckle past your lips.
Will and JJ soon joined them, sharing a look and a laugh over making the most of a child free night before sweeping away. Rossi dramatically held out a hand for Emily, cocking a brow when she merely crossed her arms. It took surprisingly little needling to convince her, a roll of her eyes and a scoff before she joined him in a dance. As the final pair swept away, Rossi sent Spencer an obvious wink.
Hands firmly in his pocket, worried you’d say no but panicked to lose the chance, he looked to his feet again. “You’re not gonna dance with the birthday girl?” You asked lightly.
Stupidly, he avoided the question. “Did you know in Vietnam everyone celebrates their birthday on the same day?” You smiled at him, the sweet uplift of your lips you always offered that he could never hope to decipher. He barrelled on, “It doesn’t matter when you were actually born because-“
“Spencer,” you cut him off, a hand on his arm, “just dance with me?”
Shutting his mouth, keeping his obscure knowledge of east-Asian birthday traditions to himself, he took your hand and led you to the small square set aside for dancing.
You turned to face him, a nervous apprehension colouring each movement you made. Somehow, your nervousness made him feel better. At least you were both floundering under the gaze of the other. Your hand was warm in his, fingers soft as they laced through his own, and the curve of your waist fit perfectly beneath his palm.
The rigidity of your anxious figure softened beneath his hands, your feet effortlessly following his lead and your lips upturning in one of the few true smiles of the night. “How are you finding the party?” He asked quietly, using the guise of conversation as an excuse to press closer to you.
You followed his lead and pressed closer still. “Well,” your eyes darted about the lavish environment, “it’s… yeah it’s nice.”
Spencer gave a hushed laugh, that was the least convincing lie he had ever heard, and you laughed alongside him. Between your giggles you coyly chastened him; “Spencer, it’s not funny!” You were still laughing even as you said it, “it’s-it’s a nice gesture, at least.”
He nodded sternly, fixing his features into an over dramatic stoicism that was reminiscent of Hotch. A few seconds were all the expression was given before his face broke into amusement at your answering giggle.
After a few small circles of the dance floor, your shared laughter had subsided enough for conversation to continue. “I don’t know,” you murmured listlessly, “it’s just not for me, I guess.”
Humming in agreement, thumb absently swiping over the hand that he held, Spencer replied. “I know,” he said lowly. And he really did know, the moment he had learned of the party he had known you wouldn’t enjoy it. You would grit your teeth throughout the evening and lie to protect the feelings of a boyfriend who should really know better. “You’d like breakfast in bed and scary movies and popcorn for dinner.” Just like that last birthday when we were together.
Your eyes widened as they met his gaze and he could understand this show of surprise. This was the first time either of you had dared make mention of the time you had been a couple. Spencer likely hadn’t picked the best occasion to remind you of your days with him but he felt a strange anxious gnawing in his stomach that time was slipping through his fingers.
You blinked a few times, your hand in his gripping more tightly, before you nodded and spoke in a melancholy kind of way. “Yeah,” you swallowed thickly, “something like that.”
The pair of you continued to carve a small circle into the dance floor, continued to gaze at the other, but it was a long while before you spoke again.
“Spencer, do you still-“
Your voice was cut off by another. “Hey, mind if I cut in?”
Spencer had half a mind to tell Alex that yes, he really did mind. His hand on your waist was now clutching you in a way he wouldn’t be able to explain away if you asked. You squeezed his hand and forced him to let you go by stepping back and telling him; “I’ll call you later, okay?”
Even Alex had the decency to seem a little threatened by that promise, looking at you with a mix of confusion and agitation. Spencer nodded, seeing the emotion still welled in your eyes, and let out a raspy “okay.”
He wandered back to where he had stood before, finding the others stood there as the dance floor cleared. “Deep breaths, man.” Morgan told him, voice careful as though he were speaking to a caged animal.
Unsure what Morgan was even referring to, Spencer asked with a crinkled brow; “what?”
Morgan gave no further indication of what he meant, eyes moving respectfully to where Alex was making some kind of speech. Beside Alex, you almost shrunk into yourself. Eyes wide, arms crossed over your front, and gaze avoiding everyone. Spencer didn’t need to be a profiler to know you were incredibly uncomfortable.
As much as Spencer tried to listen, give Alex at least this subtle politeness, all he could hear was the question you had been about to ask. What had it been? Was he overanalysing it? Was it something simple and filled with banality? Or would it change everything?
As Alex, rather gracelessly, dropped down to one knee his attention snapped back to the present. No, no, no, became his internal monologue. He must have made some kind of physical reaction as Morgan’s hand was now tightly gripping his shoulder. “Keep it together,”he distantly warned.
You were looking down at Alex, mouth opening and closing as what he severely hoped was panic overtook you. “I-I…” you stuttered and stumbled as a discontented murmur spread through the crowd.
You squeezed your eyes shut and forced a breath through your nose. Panic was still evident on your features as you reopened your eyes, but your gaze eventually settled. Your gaze settled on Spencer.
Some silent question shone in your eyes. Spencer felt the tears threatening to spill over as he shook his head at you, as subtly as he could muster. As his gaze poured over you he repeated an internal mantra that he hoped you could somehow hear; please say no, please say no, please say no.
You didn’t say no.
But, in some small relief, you didn’t say yes either.
Instead your gaze broke from Spencer, sending nausea swirling through him in dreadful anticipation, looking down to the man on his knee before you. You backed away slowly, hoarsely proclaiming that you needed some air. With a hand pressing against your stomach, you looked to the left and darted to the fire exit. The crowd parted eagerly for you, everyone hoping to see the distress upon your features as you fled the scene, and you left the door clattering behind you.
Spencer moved immediately, instinctively following you. Morgan harshly pulled him back, gripping him tightly and murmuring “give it a second.”
Morgan, thinking much clearer than Spencer feasibly could in this moment, was right. A second later and the crowd had burst into an excitable rabble and chatter. A group had descended on Alex, surrounding him with reassurance, whilst the rest moved about the room almost wildly. Now, at least, Spencer’s desperate clamour to follow you would be less obvious.
“I hope you know what you’re gonna say, kid.” Morgan told him, stern as an older brother, before releasing his hold.
Spencer took no time to reply, darting through the rabble of the crowd and to the still clattering fire exit.
Summary: Reader is trying to be subtle in their flirtations with Garcia. They quickly learn that subtlety will get them nowhere.
A/N: Hope everyone had a great holiday season! Thanks so much to the anon who requested this! Let me know what you guys think. ❤️
Masterlist | Requests
“Gee, Garcia,” you began, the side of your mouth upturned in what you hoped was a smouldering smirk, “your hair looks so soft.” In a gesture that was probably a little over the top, you licked your lips, “I bet it’d feel nice if I ran my fingers through it.” You paired this suggestion with waggling eyebrows. In this pursuit, you had quickly learned that subtlety would get you nowhere with the woman. Although, so far, being extremely obvious had not served you much better.
She smiled, waving a dismissive hand and entirely missing the suggestive overtone of your words. “Oh, I know.” Garcia’s astounding self-confidence was something entirely attractive about her but it was beginning to get in the way of your attempts to flirt. How were you supposed to make her blush when she was fully aware of everything amazing about her? “I’ve got a super secret conditioner but,” playfully, she extended the last word into a sing-song warble, “if I shared it with ya I’d have to kill you.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. The idea of Garcia, who squirmed in the wake of admittedly gruesome crime scene photos, committing a murder of her own in an effort to conceal her hair-care secrets was adorable in a wonderfully strange way. “Well” you began, fingertips trailing along her desk towards her as you slipped into the most charming tone you could muster, “I’m sure we could come to some…other arrangement.” In order to cement your flirtations as unmistakable you added an over dramatic wink.
She squinted her eyes at you. With baited breath, you waited for realisation to strike. For her playful eyes to widen, soft lips to fall open, and a hushed ‘oh’ to fall from her. Much to your excitement, realisation. Unfortunately, it quickly became apparent that she had once again misread your efforts. “Oh fine,” she playfully threw a fluffy, pink thing at you before wheeling back to look at her computer. “Email me the deets of your skin care routine and I’ll let you borrow my favourite coconut and lime intensive conditioner.”
Your shoulders drooped. How was she this blinkered to your clear advances? Everyone else in the office, no the entire building, seemed aware of your attraction to Garcia’s whirlwind of a personality. Your hopeless puppy dog eyes impossible to misread for everyone but the bedazzling object of your affection. You blamed Morgan. The constant, somehow platonic, flirting between them had made her immune to the real thing. On a particularly frustrating day you had shared this hypothesis with Morgan himself, much to the man’s amusement.
Throwing in the towel for today, doubting Hotch would appreciate your hiding in Garcia’s fantastical office, you said your downtrodden goodbyes and left.
The next day, refreshed and ready, you stepped up your game.
Entering Penelope’s lair, the fragrance of oranges and strawberries hitting you like a pleasant breeze, you strode purposefully to her desk. “Hey there,” you greeted, voice sultry and low as you gracefully hopped up onto the desk.
The red mini-skirt you had worn was perhaps not entirely work appropriate. It didn’t seem weather appropriate either considering the shivering you had suffered on the walk from your car to the office but that was beside the point. The only thing it needed to be appropriate for, was Garcia. The skirt itself was less an invitation for her to ogle you, although that would be most welcome, but more a prompt for her to see what you were trying to achieve. The red skirt a metaphorical flashing sign; ‘look at me! Notice me hopelessly flirting with you!’ It would say.
When you had first joined the BAU, Garcia would punctuate each of your appearances in her office with a witty and quick-fire greeting. A charming introduction to her personality that had sent you spiralling helplessly head over heels for her. Nowadays, however, your appearance to her was so routine you were as much a part of the furniture as her favourite computer monitor. “What can I can do for you, fire-cracker?”
You scrunched your nose and jerked your head to the side. With a bemused smile, you watched her fingers fly over her keyboard and asked; “Fire-cracker?”
She waved a hand towards your skirt, eyes still glued to her screen even as she smirked through her words. “You’re almost setting the place on fire in that skirt.” Luckily, she didn’t notice the rosy flush that coloured your chucks in response to her words. And then, in a sudden and surprising burst of excitement she took a sharp breath, waved her hands, and whirled her chair to face you. Through her beaming smile, she asked conspiratorially; “Are you trying to impress someone?!” You stuttered over your breath at how spot on she was with her quick-fire assessment of your behaviour; begrudgingly you wondered how much else Garcia had so slyly picked up from her colleagues.
Your stuttering clearly gave at least some of the truth away to her. Suddenly beaming, she squealed. “You are!” She wheeled closer to you, looking up at you with devilish eyes that only intensified the pink of your cheeks. “Who is it?”
You smoothed over your skirt, trying to come up with something, anything, to save your pride. This whole endeavour had been in the hopes of making her realise that you were hopelessly flirting with her, but you had hoped it would happen under circumstances not involving your intense embarrassment under her scrutinising gaze.
“Well, uh…” you stumbled over your words, not convincingly confident in the slightest.
Giggling, she winked at you. “Morgan?” She asked, with raised eyebrows. “Could put a good word in for you,” she waggled her eyebrows at you, but deflated when you shook your head adamantly. Fresh excitement overtook her a mere half a second later, “or is it our resident genius?”
I can work with that, you resolved quickly. Sliding down from your seat on her desk, you folded your arms and leaned in closer to her. “Isn’t that you?” You murmured the words, the hush of your consonants forcing her lean into you slightly. You flicked your hair over your shoulder, confident the smell of your carefully selected pineapple shampoo would meet her nose. By the way she leaned a little closer, you were hopeful she had noticed and appreciated her favourite scent emanating from you.
Like music to your ears, she giggled and finally, finally after all this time she blushed. “Come on,” she encouraged, eyes darting from yours in what you hoped was a nervous gesture, “spill it.”
“Garcia,” you told her sternly, dropping your chin in an effort to look more seductive. Something was beeping aggressively in the background, but she ignored it in favour of narrowing her gaze at you.
“I won’t tell anyone!” She assured, although you were sure it were not entirely true.
Widening your eyes, you fixed a gaze on her and very slowly enunciated her name. “Garcia”. She blinked a few times before her eyes widened in what you hoped was recognition. Wordlessly, mouth opening and closing like a fish, she pointed at herself. A little amused, but also a little terrified, you nodded with a grin that felt more like a grimace.
“Oh,” she finally uttered, “Oh! Me!” You were still nodding, unsure how to make yourself stop until she either denied or confirmed any reciprocated interest. “You’re interested in me!” You finally stopped nodding in order to cringe as your eyes darted to the ajar door. In your mind’s eye you could imagine Morgan hiding behind the door, ear pressed to the wood and chuckling to himself as he heard the proclamation. Although, considering how loudly she had spoken you wouldn’t be surprised if everyone at their desks had heard.
“Yes,” you confirmed, in a voice much softer than hers had been. “What-uh,” your mouth was suddenly entirely dry, this admittance of your feelings stealing both the courage from your veins and the moisture from your lips. Eventually, you were able to ask; “What… do you think?”
Bemused by the question, she mirrored you and folded her arms. “What do I think?” You nodded like an overeager child. “Well, frankly I think you’ve got fantastic taste.”
A little settled by Penelope’s positive response, you chuckled and agreed. “Of course,” the return of your boldness prompted a wink that you instantly regretted. “Erm…” you were’t entirely sure how to ask for the greater clarity you desired. Luckily, she sensed your uncertainty.
“Let’s talk about it more tonight?” You assented, hands still nervously wringing before you. She smirked as her gaze swept over the nervous action. “Tonight…on our date.”
“Yes!” You all but yelled, much too eagerly. Coughing, averting your eyes from her giggling features, you attempted to make your next words seem a little more collected. “I mean… “ you shrugged dramatically, “sounds good.”
She scoffed at your late show of stoicism and began ushering you from the room. “Oh, honey, I’m gonna show you a night you’ll never forget.” Your stubborn feet worked against her efforts to remove you.
“I don’t doubt it,” your giddiness was clear in your words.
“Now get outta here,” she insisted, “stop distracting me with that cute little skirt.”
I literally JUST sat down - Take Me Back, I guess (on Wattpad) https://my.w.tt/ORfHOZ5LL9 A year after leaving the BAU, Y/N gets pulled back in to the world of UnSubs and mystery when a dead body turns up in her bookstore, along with a cryptic message left on her bed. But, it's been a year, can she really get back into the groove? And, more importantly, does she really have what it takes to leave again?
Summary: No longer 15 years old and off to college, you make a surprise visit home to see your God father and the rest of the team.
You sat in the taxi your eyes on the photo in your purse. It was taken a few days before you had flew off to college. It was of the whole team, your family. The people who had taken you in and thought you everything they knew. They were smiling, even Hotch, Emily was crouched on the ground in front of Derek. You smiled at the jumper Spencer wore, you had bought it for him the Christmas before, the same with Derek’s shirt he was wearing.
Being Spencer Reid’s God daughter had meant that whatever you needed help with academic wise, he had you covered, which meant you excelled in school. That meant you had your choice pick of colleges, even top league colleges. You knew Spencer couldn’t have been more proud of you.
You sighed. You hadn’t seen him in over a month, sure you had talked and seen each other on webcam but you hadn’t been with him, or any of the team for that matter and you missed then. There was only so much you could see and say through a computer screen, and you missed all the bits you were missing out on.
The cab pulled up in front of the apartment. You climbed out and grabbed your bags from the trunk. ‘Thanks’ You smiled at the driver as you paid him. You looked up at the building knowing that the whole team was inside there. You had spoken to Rossi last night and he told you he’d leave the door on the latch so you could come in.
You were thankful they had fixed the elevator remembering last time you were hear and you had to walk all the way up those stairs, it would have been a chore with this suitcase. You felt your stomach flipping as you bounced on your toes watching the numbers count up to the floor you want. The smile permanent on your face. The box dinged and you almost ran out and down the hallway towards the white door.
Stopping outside you took a deep breath opening it as quietly as you could. Rossi was talking extra loud and laughing and you couldn't help the smile get bigger, he had heard you and was covering up the noise before the others could notice. You left your bag by the door and crept into the apartment. You stopped and looked at them as they crowded around the counter. Rossi smiled.
‘Not interrupting anything am I?’
Everything went silent and they all turned towards you eyes wide. ‘Not at all’ Rossi laughed. Spencer was the first to recover. ‘Y/n!’ He shouted a smile spreading across his face. ‘Hey’ You beamed as he rushed towards you. You held open your arms and he stooped picking you up in a bone crushing hug. You laughed as he spun you. ‘What are you doing here?’ Derek laughed doing the same when Reid put you down. ‘Well, I came to see my favorite people’ You smiled as Emily pulled you into a hug. ‘And you knew?’ He turned to Rossi as you wrapped your arms around JJ.
Rossi laughed and nodded. ‘Spencer told her we were going to be here. She rang and asked if I would leave the door open for her’ Garcia swayed from side to side when she hugged you pressing kisses to your face. You giggled and swatted at her but she just laughed. ‘You knew she was home and didn’t tell me? I need to buy more food’ Spencer groaned. Hotch wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pressed a kiss to your head. ‘Good to have you back kiddo’ You beamed up at him.
You patted Spencer’s shoulder as you slipped in beside him by the counter. ‘We can go shopping tomorrow’ You smiled up at him and the wrinkle between his brows disappeared a smile replacing the frown. You reached across grabbing a glass of wine and taking a drink. ‘Hey’ Derek exclaimed taking it from you. ‘You’re underage’ He scolded. You smirked up at him. ‘What you gonna do, agent, arrest me?’ You cocked an eyebrow at him and he grumbled handing you back the glass. ‘Ah live a little’ He chuckled.
Spencer took the glass from your hand. ‘No, the brain continues developing until your mid-late twenties and drinking before it has fully developed can risk altering the structure and func-’ Emily groaned and grabbed the drink from him. ‘One drink won’t kill her, plus she’s in college, what do you think she does in her spare time?’ She handed you back the glass. You smiled and raised the glass at her taking another sip. Spencer just rolled his eyes and pretended not to see. In the last few years he was really nailing the whole Dad thing, especially with the rest of the team helping him.
You leaned across the counter. ‘What are we having it smells amazing’ You took in a deep breath. ‘I’ve been living off cheap noodles for the past two weeks’ You complained. ‘Why? Why aren’t you eating properly?’ Spencer jumped in his eye widening. You chuckled. ‘First, I’m in college,second, I wanted to surprise you’ You smiled and leaned your head against his shoulder and you heard him huff. ‘You shouldn't skip on your meals. What happened to the meal plan I drew up. It had all the necessary nutrients you needed’ Derek scoffed and laughed. ‘You made her meal plan?’ Even Hotch chuckled a little at that.
You nodded at them and Garcia let out one of her famous massive laughs. ‘How long did you stick to that?’ JJ chuckled. ‘I’m obliged to say I still am’ And that caused them all to laugh again. ‘I don’t see what’s so funny, of course I sent her with a meal plan’ Spencer defended himself. Derek patted his shoulder. ‘Kid, easy knowing you did not get the full college experience’ Spencer frowned and you wrapped one of your arms around him. ‘My roommate was proper jealous though, I was always perfectly fed’ You smiled up at Spencer and a proud look covered his features. Emily raised an eyebrow at you and you made a face. She knew you were lying.
You laughed as Morgan remembered the time they had brought you to New York on a case. You had ended up getting lost while they were looking for the unsub. Spencer had arrived back at the hotel you were all staying in and freaked when he had realized you weren’t back. You had actually only been down the road in a café talking with some students about the college nearby. Spencer had tried ringing you but your phone was dead. He had freaked. Emily still teased him about it. He kept ranting about how you were dead, how the unsub had gotten you, completely forgetting that you did not fit the victimology.
You giggled. ‘Or-or the time Derek let me try use his gun’ At that the team had laughed. A few months after you had arrived you had been over at Quantico. The team had just come back from a case and Derek had the fantastic idea to let you shoot a gun.
You nodded and smiled up at him. ‘No’ Hotch shook his head. You looked up at him frowning. ‘Oh, come on Hotch, we’ll all be there’ Derek argued. Emily chuckled. ‘Come on, why not?’ Hotch crossed his arms. ‘She’s fifteen’ You quirked your eyebrow. ‘Wouldn’t it be safer if I knew how to use a gun? What happens if someone broke in when I was at home alone and I didn’t know how to aim? I’m only fifteen there’s no way for me to overpower anyone’ With that Hotch’s eyebrows unfurrowed. He frowned even more. ‘I know what you’re doing’ He grumbled. ‘But it’s working right?’ He just grunted and turned walking away. ‘Think that’s a yes’ Rossi smirked.
You had stood the way Derek showed you. He tilted your hands a little. ‘Okay, you should be looking down the length’ He muttered and you nodded. Pursing your lips you pulled the trigger. There was a loud bang and you jumped. The team laughed and you sent them a slight glare which only made them laugh more. Spencer reached out and patted your shoulder. ‘I was worse’ He smiled down reassuringly. You smiled up at him before looking back at the sheet at the end of the lane a new confidence inside you thanks to Spencer.
You chuckled. ‘I was so bad’ Rossi nodded. ‘It took you almost 20 minutes to even hit the sheet even’ You giggled. ‘But I’m an expert now’ You wrapped your hands around Spencer’s arm and laid your head on his shoulder. ‘Thanks to my favourite God Father’ Spencer laughed at you and reached over patting your hand laying his head on your shoulder. ‘WAIT’ Garcia screamed and jumped out of her seat. You both went to sit up. ‘No’ She screamed at you both. ‘Stay’ You giggled as she reached into her bag pulling out a camera. ‘For your collage board’ She bounced back over to you
You nodded and looked up at her as she stood across the table raising her camera. You had a massive board in your dorm above your bed. The team had spent a week on it seemingly making it for you before you left. It was full of photos from your life, they had gotten photos of your parents from when they were younger even to put on it. There was a few photos of the team when they were younger. Then there was you and your parents and then a lot of all of you.
The time they had taken you to the carnival and you had dragged Spencer on the bumper cars, he was so tall he looked so cramped that Derek had taken a photo, it was a little shaky from him laughing so much. There was the time Hotch had thought you how to drive. JJ had captured the look of pure horror on Hotch’s face as you drove. There was more of the team just sitting around relaxing, there was one of them on the plane, in the bullpen, there was a few of Penelope in her office, and then them working a case or two. Then there was them just being them, one or two of you all out for dinner, one you had asked the waiter to take, another of you all just hanging out in JJ’s with Will and Henry.
There was Rossi at a book promotion in a little bookstore in Chicago. He had brought you and Derek along and you had gone to visit his family. There was another photo of you and them. Then there was a few of you with Spencer's Mom. You liked her, she was really sweet.
Your favourite one was the one of Thanksgiving last year. It was taken the day after when you all came back and decided to have your own thanksgiving. It was you all sitting in the conference room smiling widely with food covering the table. You were perched on Spencer’s lap and Derek had his arms wrapped around Garcia as she laughed at something he had whispered to her.
It was in the centre of the board and slightly bigger than the rest of them, they knew it was your favourite one, you had it on your nightstand at home.
You sat with your knees hugged into your chest a cup of tea in your hands. A blanket wrapped around your shoulder. ‘Is there a reason your home?’ Spencer’s voice came from your left. You looked up from the window towards him. He stood in a plaid pants and a white top. His hair was getting longer now, again. ‘I wanted to see you all, I missed you’ You told him as he rubbed his eyes walking over to you. ‘I didn’t wake you did I?’ You asked remembering your rush to the kettle as it began to whistle.
Spencer shook his head and sat across from you. ‘We haven’t been here in a while’ Her nodded to the seat. ‘Yeah, I remember the first time we did’ You smiled and he nodded. ‘It was your first night here, you couldn’t sleep’ He muttered. ‘Yeah, every time I closed my eyes I could just see it’ You whispered His head shot up. ‘You never told us that’ You shrugged. ‘You guys helped me deal with it, even though you never noticed’ You gave him a find smile and took a sip of your tea.
He nodded but kept his inquisitive stare on you. You let out a long sigh. ‘I decided I was coming home after that case Derek ended up in the hospital’ You told him with shrug knowing he didn’t exactly buy your first answer. It was true but it wasn’t the real story. ‘It’s just, you guys are my family. You’re all I have and I know you do a dangerous job but it really hit me then’ Spencer nodded understandingly. ‘I just needed to come home and wrap my arms around you know you were okay, I just needed to know my family was okay’ You shrugged.
Spencer smiled. ‘I needed to come home and tell you all I loved you and see you with my own two eyes’ Spencer stood from the chair and walked over to you. ‘We’re okay, and we love you too. You’re our family too’ He bent and wrapped his arms around you. You smiled leaving down the cup. You stood and wrapped your own arms around him burying your face in his chest. ‘I love you all too, you’re the best family anyone could ask for’ You whispered.
A week later the whole team was there to see you off on the plane. You groaned as they tried deliberately to embarrass you in the middle of the airport. Derek especially. ‘That’s my flight’ You jumped up with a relieved smile and Derek chuckled pleased with himself. You turned to them giving them a serious look. ‘You all promise me you’ll be careful yeah?’ They sobered up a little. ‘Of course we will’ JJ smiled with a nod. ‘We always are’ Emily took your hand. You gave Derek a look and she laughed. ‘Most of us are’ The team chuckled slightly
Derek just shrugged and wrapped his arms around you. ‘I ain’t ever leaving ye kiddo, remember that’ You smiled and wrapped your arms around him too. ‘Good’ You muttered. ‘Group hug’ Penelope giggled. You groaned as they all began wrapping you. Hotch groaned but did it anyway. ‘I love you guys’ You muttered. ‘We love you too’ You heard them chorus. You let out a happy sigh and closed your eyes relaxing into the hug.
This was it, this was where you felt whole again. Coming home was a good idea, this was your home. And these people were your family. The best family you could get.
I’m so sorry that this wasn’t up earlier, I broke my laptop earlier in the week and haven’t been able to connect to the internet.
Imagine Spencer not feeling well and being worried about the mission you're going on, because you look alike to the women the unsub kills. "Stay safe (Y/N)..", he mumbles and looks into your eyes. "Don't worry spence, I will be okay and I will get back to you", you try to calm him down and give him a quick kiss.
