pairing: garcia!reader x smitten!spencer
summary: while you're giving your best performance at karaoke spencer is considering to tkae the risk to finally step out of the friend zone.
c.warnings: not proofread ; fem!reader ; alcohol consumption ; mentions of vomiting (if i missed something, please let me know).
a/n: it's been a while since i brought you these too love birds. been reading a lot of romance lately and all i could think abvout where these too pining idiots, so ejoy !! if you have any requests, rememeber you can drop them at my inboz at any time <3
hope you enjoy it <3 likes & reblogs are appreciated !!
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it’s friday night and the team is free for the weekend, which can only mean one thing: it’s a night out with the garcia sisters.
the bar is full to the brim, noisy as ever. you’re sitting at a small round table with the rest of the girls, enjoying a fruity drink that definitely contains too much alcohol camouflaged under the sweetness.
“no way he tried to play the fbi card on you,” you say, giggling as emily tells you about one of their funniest experiences in this same bar.
“oh, you bet he did.” she nods. “you had to see his face when we pulled out our own badges.”
“he looked so embarrassed, oh my god,” says jj, taking a sip of her own drink.
“as he should,” adds penelope. nodding, the four of you drink to that.
“i should definitely slow it down. this is starting to taste like water to me,” you say, licking your lips.
“so, how’s it been at work lately?” jj asks you suddenly.
“oh, the usual. one of my kids vomited on my brand new shoes today,” you confess with a sigh.
“so that’s why you were in such a bad mood when i went to pick you up!” penelope exclaims. “please don’t tell me it was the new pastel blue beauties.”
with a downward curve on your lips, you nod.
“oh, my god. no!” she puts a hand to her chest, gasping. “weren’t those the really expensive ones you had to save up for, like… months?”
“damn, garcia. rub it in deep, why don’t you. jesus.”
“oh, you don’t understand, em. they were so pretty.”
“that they were.” you nod. “but anyway. best part is, he made me a drawing to apologize, and i think it’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever done for me, if i’m being honest. he used purple for my hair, though. i’m starting to think he might be colorblind. but at least he drew me wearing the blue shoes.”
jj smiles fondly at that. “what a cutie.”
“he is,” you agree, smiling lovingly.
you adore each and every single one of your students—even when they destroy your newest pair of baby blue shoes—and you don’t think you could be any happier than you are when you’re working with them. you love your work more than anyone in this world, even when you have to stay up all night cutting out geometrical shapes from cardboard and painting the same four letters of the alphabet over and over again for your next class project. you know it’s all worth it when you arrive at your classroom the next day and see their excited grins, their hands covered in paint.
“what are you doing over here?” penelope asks suddenly, looking over your shoulder.
“morgan kicked me out of his booth. said i was… sabotaging him?” spencer’s voice comes from above you.
tilting your head back, you look up at him with a bright smile on your glossy lips.
“hi,” he says, his voice almost an adoring sigh as he smiles back at you.
“i was wondering when you’d grow tired of third-wheeling morgan and come have some fun with us. come sit down.”
you pat the empty spot next to you, and spencer squeezes himself between you and penelope without hesitation. almost instinctively, his body leans toward you. emily notices first, elbowing jj, who only nods, smiling cheekily.
“what were you guys talking about?”
“this kid in y/n’s class vomited on her today,” emily says, nodding toward you.
you groan. “can we talk about literally anything else? please?”
“was it elliot? is he okay? it’s stomach flu season. maybe he’s got it. maybe you got it too now.” he frowns. “have you been feeling ill?”
he’s worried. very much so. you think he looks adorable when he’s worried. smiling, you pat his cheeks.
“i’m very healthy. don’t you worry about me. and elliot only had an upset stomach after lunch. he’s fine now, i talked to his mom this afternoon.”
he nods slowly. “good. that’s good.”
penelope looks at you over his shoulder, raising one eyebrow. she’s convinced their little genius boy has a crush on you, and has for a while now. she’s convinced he fell the moment he first met you.
it happened almost three years ago. you had decided to pick up penelope from work one evening to take her out for dinner. it had been a long time since you last spent an evening together, yapping about work, life, love, and all things in between. she’d walked out of the building beside a guy you’d never met in person, but you knew well because of penelope. spencer reid. he was saying something that made her laugh—a loud, head-tilted-back, clap-your-hands kind of laugh—but he looked completely serious, so you weren’t entirely sure if he’d told her a joke or what.
when penelope saw you standing next to your car, she waved, a bright smile on her lips. she started running to you, and, not knowing what to do with himself, spencer followed.
“spence, this is my sister. sis, this is the genius boy i told you about.”
“are you the one that got out of a life-threatening situation with a serial killer by just… talking?” you asked, eyes wide with curiosity.
spencer didn’t know if it was the street lamps’ glow or the cool spring air making your hair dance around your face, but he thought you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.
“it’s an honor to finally meet the professional yapper in person. hi.” you offered him your hand, introducing yourself, and he shook it.
he didn’t know if you had felt it too, that electric zap when your palms connected. now, spencer reid is a man of science, of logical statements and empirical data. but what he felt that night when he touched you… it made him wonder if that was a sign of what people usually call destiny. that night, as you had dinner with penelope and she teased you about the way you’d blushed while talking to spencer, he did his research on predestination, fate, and ancient love stories first told by the stars.
after that first meeting, it didn’t take long for you and spencer to become good friends. he realized it was easy to be around you, and he especially enjoyed the afternoons he spent at your apartment, reading in silence while you painted or knitted or corrected your kids’ homework. he also liked the fact that, unlike some people he had met in his life, you didn’t seem to be annoyed by his eternal diatribes on the most random topics ever. actually, you joined him whenever you had another fun fact to add.
“what are you drinking, spence?” you ask suddenly, bringing him back to the present.
“here.” you offer him your cocktail, pointing the pink straw in his direction. “try it.”
under the surprised eyes of the other three women around you, spencer closes his lips around the thin straw and takes a gulp of your drink, frowning. you smile, nodding as he takes a second to decipher where that undertaste is coming from.
“mango?” he asks after a few seconds, and you nod quickly.
“yes! it’s so good, isn’t it?”
all he can do is nod as he stares at your lips, wondering if they’ll taste like mango too. maybe raspberries, since that’s the flavor of the lip gloss he knows you favor on nights out like this one.
“not bad for a germaphobe,” emily murmurs, her eyes still on the straw.
penelope’s eyes, though, are on spencer’s hand, which is still encircling your own around the glass. she’s about to make a snarky comment that could most definitely lead to both you and spencer blushing and stuttering, but a voice from the small stage at the end of the bar snaps everyone’s attention away, ruining her moment.
“hello, hello.” one of the bartenders is now speaking into a mic. “i just wanted to let everyone know that karaoke hours are officially open for the night. now, if you want to win a free round of shots for you and your friends, write your name on this list and give us your best performance.”
people around your table hoot and whistle, celebrating the beginning of tonight’s best show. this was yours and penelope’s favorite place for a reason. her eyes immediately jump to you, and you don’t need her to say anything. before she can even open her mouth, you’re already on your feet, rushing after the bartender to write your name down.
“oh, those shots are already ours,” emily says as she watches you move through the crowd.
“yep.” jj nods knowingly.
“what?” spencer asks, blinking. “why?”
spencer’s gaze doesn’t leave you as you lean over the bar, laughing at something the bartender says. it’s just a laugh, he tells himself—something you share freely with almost everyone. but his stomach twists anyway, because he wants to be the one who earns that smile, that bright spark in your eyes. he wants it to be his.
the sound of your laughter carries even above the chatter and music, and he finds himself straining toward it, like it’s the only thing in the room worth hearing. the bartender hands the clipboard back, and spencer has to press his hands into his knees to stop himself from scowling at how easily the guy gets to stand close to you.
when you return, dropping back into your seat beside him, the tightness in his chest eases. penelope notices, of course—she always does—but she doesn’t comment on the way his shoulders settle, or how his eyes follow you like you’re gravity itself.
“do you know what you’re singing?” emily asks.
you take another sip from your drink, nodding eagerly.
“abba,” you say, penelope’s voice echoing yours.
“of course,” jj nods, smiling softly.
“i was thinking… maybe honey, honey?” you ask, looking around the table.
“which one is that?” spencer asks, raising his brows.
you start humming the tune, leaning toward him instinctively so he can hear you better. he tilts his head, listening as if it’s the most important sound in the world.
“that’s the one you were singing the other day in your kitchen, right?”
“right!” you nod, delighted that he remembered.
jj hides a smile behind her glass, and emily raises her brows at him.
“when have you been to her apartment?” emily asks.
“last friday,” spencer answers, too casually.
“yeah, i was testing out a new brownie recipe,” you add. “since i was doing a new batch, i invited him over so he could learn.”
penelope glances at spencer over the rim of her glass, sharp as ever. spencer just presses his lips together in that faint, private smile he only ever gives you.
your name is called, and the table erupts with cheers. spencer stays silent, caught in the way you light up, bounding toward the stage as if you were born for it.
the music starts, and you’re radiant—bathed in warm light, mic in hand, swaying with the melody.
honey, honey, how you thrill me.
spencer can barely breathe.
penelope leans close. “so, baking, huh? since when do you like baking, reid? last i checked, you said it was as exciting as watching paint dry.”
he doesn’t look at her. he doesn’t take his eyes off you.
“people change,” he mutters. “opinions change.”
penelope only hums, amused, sipping her drink.
the way that you kiss goodnight. the way that you hold me tight.
“so, when are you going to tell her?” penelope asks, breaking into his reverie.
spencer swallows, eyes still glued to you. “tell her what?”
how he feels. the words nearly knock the wind out of him. because it’s not that simple. what he feels… it’s terrifying. it’s the kind of thing that steals the ground from under his feet when you smile at him like you do now, flushed and laughing into the mic.
“i don’t… i can’t,” he manages.
emily groans. “what exactly is keeping you from telling her?”
he fumbles for an answer and finds nothing but the frantic beating of his own heart.
penelope softens, just slightly. “spence, this isn’t some impossible love story like the ones she usually reads. no family feud, no doomed tragedy. it’s just you and her. and the only thing standing in your way is you.”
he wants to argue, but the thought that claws at him. what if you don’t feel the same way?
penelope looks at him like she knows exactly what’s going through his mind. “you know, for a genius, you really are an idiot when it comes to love.”
before spencer can answer someone interrupts him, a heavy hand falling on his shoulder as morgan take the empty seat next to spencer. without question, he takes the glass penelope is offering him.
“what are you doing here?” spencer asks.
“she had a boyfriend,” he declares and then proceeds to talk about how the girl hadn’t stoped looking at her phone and then decided to end whatever had been going on between her and morgan because she needed to take her boyfriend’s call.
“oh, poor you,” penelope coos with a mocking glint in her eyes.
“you shut it.” he takes another sip. “hey, genius boy, your girl is killing it.”
the words die on his tongue as he realizes how wrong they feel. and then it all clicks. he looks at the stage. you’re glowing. cheeks flushed, eyes bright, your voice carrying through the bar like it was meant for him alone. the song ends, and you bow slightly, laughing as some people cheer for you.
you hop down from the stage, weaving your way back through the crowd, and spencer can’t help it, his heart lifts, his lips curve, his chest feels too full. and when your eyes find his, sparkling, beaming straight at him, he thinks he could live off that look forever.
you practically bounce back to the table; cheeks still a bit flushed, hair a little messy from all the jumping and dancing around the stage. you stand between him an penelope and spencer doesn’t realize he’s leaning toward you until your shoulder brushes his, and the faint scent of your perfume settles around him like a trap he doesn’t want to escape.
“you were amazing,” he says before he can stop himself, voice softer than he intended.
“thank you, spence,” you beam, still catching your breath. “so what do we think? can i add abba to the list of songs to play in your car?”
“sure,” he simply answers, incapable of denying you anything. you grin.
“i’m going to claim those shots. i’ll be back in a second.”
before spencer can stop you, you scurry away again and, once again, he’s left to stare at you from his seat. his heart thumps in his chest. penelope notices, because of course she does, and hides a smirk behind her glass.
“you know, she could be,” penelope murmurs.
“she could be your girl.”
no body says a word as spencer processes the words and the shot of adrenaline they give him. maybe she’s right. maybe he just needs to… act. maybe he’s been sabotaging himself all along.
“shots! ”you cheerfully announce, setting down a tray at the table.
the sound of your voice is so warm, so alive, that spencer feels it like a pulse in his chest. you grab one of the tiny glasses, offering another directly to him. when he seems reluctant to take it you assure him you asked for an alcohol free shot specially for him. that only makes his heart jump with joy.
your fingers brush as you hand it over, and it’s nothing—just a fleeting touch—but he feels it like fire, sparking down his arm. his hand lingers half a second too long against yours, his eyes flicking up to meet your smile.
the girls cheer, clinking glasses, throwing theirs back in one go. morgan laughs at the grimace in jj’s face. spencer, though, hesitates, distracted by the way your throat moves as you swallow, the way your lips glisten afterward when you lick a drop of alcohol away.
penelope catches him staring. she doesn’t even try to hide her grin this time.
“so,” emily drawls, “what are we thinking? duet next time?”
“spence doesn’t sing,” you laugh, nudging his arm gently.
“i could… try,” he says suddenly, and everyone’s eyes snap toward him.
“oh my god,” penelope whispers, delighted. “i need to record this.”
“really?” you ask, eyes widening, soft and earnest, like this is some gift he’s offering just to you.
he swallows hard, already regretting the words, but the way you’re looking at him, like this truly means the world to you, like even if he gave the worst performance ever you’d thank him a million times for even trying… it makes him think he’d sing a thousand songs if it meant keeping that expression on your face.
“maybe,” he murmurs, ducking his head, his ears pink.
you lean just a little closer, your voice low and teasing. “i’d love that.”
and that’s it. that’s all it takes for him to know he’s doomed, because there’s no universe where he doesn’t fall a little more every time you look at him like that.
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