privacy, interrupted
waking up next to spencer on vacation is the perfect morning, until rossi walks in without knocking
pairing: spencer reid r x shy!reader warnings: fem!reader, post prison spencer, reference to sexy time the night before, reader is naked, kissing, established relationship, fluff prompt: here wc: 0.8k
You sense him stirring beside you, all cautious and considerate, like he’s navigating some delicate truce neither of you signed but both seem bound to uphold. Your limbs protest with sleepiness, practically begging you to ignore it, but your brain has other ideas, wide awake simply because it’s him.
Your subconscious has apparently decreed that Spencer Reid isn’t permitted to be awake alone without your awkward, fumbling company.
And, honestly, you can’t bear the thought of him quietly awake, probably counting obscure facts or memorizing solitude, so, inevitably, your internal clock (diligently trained, very Spencer-oriented) kicks in every morning like some sort of lovesick, overly attached alarm.
Your eyes blink sluggishly open, and yeah, you’re already mentally cursing about the loss of precious sleep.
That is, until Spencer comes into view, giving you a sleepy-soft smile as soon as he sees that your awake that somehow justifies this sappy morning ritual you’ve cultivated.
“Hey there, beautiful girl,” Spencer murmurs, warm enough to render you mushy.
You manage exactly one very brave, extremely fleeting glance into his eyes — long enough for you to panic at just how intense his adoring gaze feels — before you promptly conclude that the only dignified response is burying your burning face straight into his chest.
“Morning,” you mumble, barely audible, and okay, sure, it's a weak greeting, but you're pretty sure he knows that your social capabilities are severely limited before coffee.
“How’d you sleep?”
His fingers leisurely map trails along your stomach, occasionally dipping lower, grazing along your thigh. Your breath stalls at his touch, instantly bringing you face-to-face with the very naked reality (literally) of your current state, and you're vividly aware of why you slept better than you have in years.
You squirm against him awkwardly, deeply thankful your mortification is safely concealed in the crook of his neck. You’re fairly certain there’s no scenario, no alternate timeline or parallel universe, where you’d confess out loud just how blissfully Spencer can apparently knock you out.
“Fine,” you mumble evasively.
Spencer’s fingers move to cup your chin, lifting your face until you’re forced to meet a pair of amused eyes.
“Just fine?” He eyes you skeptically. “You were snoring pretty loudly for someone who slept just fine.”
You splutter out a laugh, embarrassed and giggling all at once, shoving lightly at his shoulder.
“Spencer!” you squeak indignantly. “I absolutely, categorically, undeniably do not snore. Take it back right now.”
“Oh, I’m afraid the science disagrees,” he begins casually, hands running absentminded passes over your side as he explains. “Almost everyone snores at least occasionally. It happens when your throat muscles relax during deep sleep. It’s completely normal.” He pauses. “Some might even say cute.”
He punctuates his little speech with a tap on your nose, grinning when you wrinkle it at him.
“Spencer’s, that’s —” you begin to argue, reader to counter his science, when he suddenly silences you with a kiss, stealing your voice mid-protest.
You try valiantly (well, sort of) to keep arguing, words stubbornly squeezing out between soft kisses that blur your logic.
“I’m serious —” kiss “— you don’t get to —” kiss “— to win arguments —” kiss “— like this,” you mumble, dissolving into breathless laughter as he continues, smugly aware he’s already won.
You’re giggling into yet another stolen kiss when a brisk knock at the door startles you apart, no time to process before Rossi strolls into the room.
“Hey, kid, we’re making coffee downstairs if you —” Rossi stops midsentence.
You barely have a second to manage a yelp before Spencer moves quickly, positioning himself like a very protective, and slightly panicked, human shield in an attempt to salvage your rapidly disappearing dignity.
“Oh my god, Rossi,” you groan from your makeshift hiding spot behind Spencer’s shoulder.
Rossi lets out a thoroughly entertained chuckle, clearly relishing in your horror. He doesn’t immediately move to leave, instead pausing in the doorway.
“Well, it appears you’re both quite awake already,” he remarks, mouth curving into a smirk. “But just in case you decide to join civilization at some point, I’ll put another pot on. Take your time.”
Spencer clears his throat awkwardly.
“Thanks, Rossi,” he deadpans. “Maybe next time knock and actually wait for an answer?”
Rossi grins shamelessly, lifting his hands in exaggerated innocence as he backs toward the hallway.
“I’ll consider it, right after you two consider hanging a do-not-disturb sign.”
The second Rossi shuts the door, you collapse against Spencer, sighing miserably, “That’s it. Vacation over. Social life destroyed. We’re never leaving this room again until the end of time, or at least until everyone forgets what just happened — which, spoiler alert, they won’t.”
“End of time feels a little excessive,” he teases gently, nudging your jaw with his nose. “But if it means I get to spend a few more uninterrupted days with you, I might just let you have your way.”
You roll your eyes internally, half-heartedly pretending to be annoyed at Spencer’s ridiculously charming response. Honestly, it doesn't make sense how easily he dismantles your panic with one sentence and that stupidly cute smile.
Still, your pride demands at least some resistance, even if your heart is enthusiastically voting yes to the bed-hibernation plan. So, fine — maybe hiding here forever (or at least for a couple days) wouldn’t be the absolute worst way to spend your vacation.
Actually, scratch that, it might just be your ideal outcome.
join me at the beach for my 1 year/4k event!
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