RAINY MORNINGS
series masterlist‧₊˚✧
previous part ➛ "Daydream"
author's note: if you have already read "Lunch break", well...nope, you didn't. I've looked through it, and honestly think it's a bit rushed. Since I'd like to explore the dynamic more, I decided to exclude that part from the series. It's my first time writing a series, so I'm sorry that I didn't properly plan it through. I'll do better, promise. Hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it<3
summary: The familiar chill of a rainy morning is softened when you find that Spencer Reid has been quietly cataloging your every quirk, turning a simple trip to the office kettle into a revelation of just how closely he’s been watching you.
pairing: spencer reid x shy!secretary reader
warnings: fluff
wc: 0,8k
Only a few weeks had passed since you set foot in the office for the first time, yet Spencer Reid already knew your habits down to the smallest quirk. One might have called it a personal fascination, but Spencer insisted it was merely a professional instinct — a profiler’s brain that refused to switch off. Still, he could only lie to himself for so long.
When the familiar clack of your heels echoed through the office one chilly morning, Spencer didn't need to look up. He knew it was you long before that splash of crimson from your umbrella caught his eye.
You made a beeline for the kitchenette the moment your coat was off, only to find that Reid had already turned on the kettle.
He hadn't timed it because he knew your routine on the mornings like this involved a large mug of black tea with honey — he told himself it was simply a coincidence that his own craving for a second coffee hit at that very time. Purely a statistical anomaly.
"Oh, hi!" The sound of your voice drifted through the small space, and Spencer felt his heart skip.
"Hi," he murmured, casually pulling your favorite mug from the shelf — the one reserved strictly for rainy mornings — acting as though he hadn't been anticipating your arrival since he’d stepped into the office that day.
When he passed you the mug, your fingers met against the cool porcelain and the heat of the contact sent a spark through your skin. You felt the color rise in your face.
"Thank you," you murmured, averting your gaze.
Mirroring your soft smile, Spencer let his gaze linger. Your cheeks were flushed from the wind — and perhaps his closeness, though he didn't need to know that — and your hair was still damp, as if the rain had caught you off guard. His fingers ached to reach out and brush away the stray strand clinging to your forehead.
Attempting to cut short his train thoughts, before they could spiral, Spencer busied himself with his coffee.
"Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?" he remarked, his tone dry.
"Absolutely wonderful," you laughed, tossing a tea bag into your mug.
The silence that followed was strangely comforting. You let your gaze linger on Spencer’s profile, tracing the elegant features, a familiar flutter stirring in your chest.
Catching your gaze, Spencer’s smile only grew. Flushed, you ducked your head into the cupboard to hide — only to find a fresh bottle of honey waiting on the shelf. You were positive you’d scraped the last of it at the end of last week, yet there it sat, brand new.
Spencer, meanwhile, simply stood there, looking far too innocent for a man who supposedly had nothing to do with it.
"That’s the third time in two weeks." Spencer noted after a moment.
Deep in your thoughts, you practically jumped at the suddenness of his voice, nearly losing your grip on the handle. "What is?"
Spencer nodded toward the mug in your hands. "You only pull that one from the back of the shelf when it’s raining. Every other morning, you just take the plain 'FBI' one."
A fresh wave of heat washed over your face. You hadn’t realized you were being so predictable.
"Are you keeping count or something?" you teased, though the humor felt thin even to your own ears. You tried to remain composed, but your heart was pounding.
Spencer’s head tilted to the side as a subtle, knowing smile touched his lips.
"I’m a profiler," he noted softly, taking a step closer to you. "It’s my job to notice things. But I have to confess, I find significantly more joy in observing your morning routines than I ever have analyzing geographic profiling."
You felt your breath hitch in your throat. While you struggled to find the right words, he took another sip of his coffee as if nothing out of ordinary was said.
"So, what’s the secret?" he asked, nodding toward the cup.
"It’s just...cozy," you murmured after a pause. Your fingers curled tighter around the mug as you tried to find a way to justify your little tradition without sounding silly. "When it's gray out, I feel...I just feel the need to hold onto something warm I guess. Something that feels like summer."
"You’re subconsciously compensating for the lack of sunlight," he said with a faint nod of his head, — as if that alone explained it all — his voice dropping. “It’s actually a perfectly rational survival strategy for a weather like this."
He took another small step forward. And while he didn’t quite bridge the gap, the air between you thickened — as if the rest of the world had suddenly narrowed down to just the two of you.
His eyes held yours, steady and warm. "I like this habit of yours. I never much cared for rainy days before, but you’ve given me a very good reason to look forward to the next storm."
He gave you a wink — so effortless, it felt like the most natural thing in the world — and slipped out the door, leaving you alone with the sound of the rain and a heart hammering in the back of your throat.
