Spencer Reid Fanfic - Tumblr Posts - Page 2

I need him between my thighs. Eating me so good. Legs shaking. Overstimulated. He doesn’t stop. He’s relentless. Hungry. It’s almost cannibalistic the way he consumes me. Drinking every last drop. Kissing his way up my hips just to go back down again.

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Seven

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Seven Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 4306 Warnings: major angst, major fluff, mentions of murder, graphic descriptions of dead bodies, crime scenes, near-death experiences, slow-burnish romance, death, canon violence, rape, swearing, guns, knives, prostitution, canon cuteness of the team. Spoilers: Maeve's death, mentions of previous cases or canon events from seasons 1-10.

Spencer and you have an unspoken connection with one another. Nothing has ever happened between you two, especially since everything went down with Maeve, but your love has grown and overcome and is now clear as day to everyone. However, just when Spencer builds up enough courage to ask you out officially, you're requested on an undercover mission that halts your budding relationship in its tracks.

Months go by without a word from you until bodies of prostitutes start showing up in New York and the BAU is brought in to help. Spencer and you finally reunite as both your cases collide, but your lives and your love are both on the line now.

Will you and Spencer be able to find the way back home this time?

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Epilogue

~~~

Spencer's foot tapped incessantly as he sat in the conference room waiting with Derek, Rossi, and Hotch. JJ and Kate were conducting the interview with the eldest of the group - Ellie, Spencer thought he heard her say when they were first brought in.

It was both a miracle and a heartbreaking sight to see the small group of girls - no older than seventeen, but no younger than thirteen, Spencer deduced - walk through the station with dirty clothes, some even in pyjamas. Their hair was all knotted, and their bare feet were bloody and dirty from running for miles through forestry and along the railway to find help.

To find safety.

Spencer looked out through the glass walls to see other officers talking with the other girls, no doubt trying to contact their families. Again, that double-edged sword of relief and heartache pierced his heart at the sight.

'Being so young, they would be recent abductions so their orphanages and foster homes should be looking for them. There should be filed reports,' Rossi said, as if reading Spencer's mind.

'But what about the homeless ones?' Derek asked, his tone thoughtful as opposed to pointed and angry. 'The ones that have no one looking for them? We can't just put them back on the streets.'

'No,' Hotch answered. 'However, for some of them, the streets are all they know. We can't force them to accept what we believe is help. All we can do is just give them that offer anyway.'

Derek and Rossi hummed in agreement, but Spencer kept his thoughts to himself. There was a raging war inside him that was happy to see so many young girls be saved from Khan, but the duality to that happiness was a heavy fear that you were now his target for all things sadistic and murderous.

'Pretty boy.' Derek's gentle hand clasped his shoulder, forcing Spencer to look up into Dereks' worried face. 'You okay there?'

Spencer nodded, forcing a tight-lipped smile that he knew wasn't convincing in the slightest. He just couldn't get out of his head the last image of you, crying, hanging helpless as Khan put his hands all over your exposed body. And all the while talking to him, reassuring him.

I would've said yes.

Who knew what he was doing to you now.

Derek squeezed his shoulder. 'We're going to find her, pretty boy,' he said softly, kneeling down to meet Spencer's eye level. 'And when we catch the son of bitch, I'll let you have the honour of taking him down.'

From the look in Derek's eyes, Spencer knew he didn't need permission. But knowing that Derek wouldn't stand in Spencer's way in exacting his revenge on Khan for all he has done - not only to you, but all the girls, too - lifted a little of the fear from him.

Their conversation ended when JJ and Kate barged through the door, and Spencer was on his feet before his brain registered he was significantly taller again. 'What did Ellie say?'

'She couldn't tell us much about where exactly the complex was,' JJ started, 'but she remembers smelling intense pine and cut steel when they exited the building. That they never heard cars or trucks so they must be a fair way into the woods south, possibly over state lines.'

'But Penelope and I looked over every map of those woods,' Spencer said, his tone desperate, borderline upset. 'The properties there either check out in names or don't match what we are looking for.'

'What else did Ellie say?' Hotch interrupted.

'She'd been there the longest of the group,' Kate answered. 'First it was just her, then another girl, then soon they were being brought in twos and threes.'

'He was escalating,' Rossi said. 'Probably because he now has goons of his own to help speed up the process.'

'We talked Ellie through her abduction,' Kate continued, 'and she said she was just sleeping behind a garbage container when he approached her, saying he worked for a homeless centre and had some blankets and warm food in his car just down the street.'

'That's how he got her,' JJ added, 'and she did confirm it was Walter personally who abducted her. He abducted most of the others too. He knocked her out the moment no one else could see or hear them with chloroform, but she woke up sometime before they arrived at the facility and she heard him talking to someone over the phone. From what she could gather, he said the name "Arthur" and sounded pretty upset when he did.'

'Arthur...' For the first time in hours, Spencer's brain fired at the speed of light, turning and calculating and digging back through mental files of all he knew about Walter Khan. He suddenly pulled out his phone and pressed the number one speed dial option.

'How can I help? I want to help,' Penelope answered, her voice tight and anxious and scared.

'Garcia, by any chance, was Walter adopted or in a foster home as a kid, perhaps under a different name?'

Penelope's fingertips flew across her keyboard, then stopped when's he found something. 'There was a Walter in a small orphanage in Pennsylvania about thirty-odd years ago. He was adopted by a Wendy and Arthur Kè Hán - Wendy was a prostitute and Arthur was a carpenter who owned his own business but it went under a few years after they adopted Walter.'

A few more clicks of her fingertips had her murmuring, 'Oh.'

'What did you find?' Rossi asked.

'Turns out Wendy wasn't too happy with Arthur's lack of business, and mentally and physically abused him for not supporting the household. After he took his own life, her anger was directed at Walter. There were never any witnesses so reports were never filed. Once he was eighteen, Walter left home and went completely off grid. He hasn't existed in almost twenty years.'

'Except Kè Hán is the native Chinese translation for Khan,' Spencer explained. 'Garcia, can you look up if any of the properties we checked were under the name Arthur Kè Hán, or some sort of alias with the same letters?'

'Of course,' she said, tapping away at her keyboard before stopping with a gasp. 'Yes! Yeah there is. A lot of one-hundred acres right in the middle of the woods south of New York.'

Spencer hated himself for not seeing earlier, smacking his forehead with frustration. 'He obviously had a strong relationship to his adoptive father, and so half of these killings have got to be some sort of revenge for Arthur. He put the property under his name not only out of respect, but because who would look for a dead man?'

'And if he views the girls he grooms and then kills as his mother...' JJ started.

'Then Y/N might not have a lot of time,' Kate finished grimly.

'Garcia,' Hotch said, but Penelope didn't need anything else.

'Address already sent to your tablets and phones,' she replied, voice cracking with what sounded like tears. 'Now bring our girl home, please!'

'We will, Garcia,' Spencer said and ended the call. He ran after his team as they headed out of the room to rally other officers and a S.W.A.T. team to head out to the property. He was the calmest he'd been in the past few hours. Because he knew where you were. He was coming to get you.

And he was going to make Walter Khan bleed when he saw him.

~~~

You woke up to darkness and cold.

You don't remember when you fell asleep, you were just glad that you did, and that it had been a dreamless sleep. But then again, how could you have had anything in your head when you'd just been through a living nightmare?

The more you woke up, the quicker you realised something wasn't right. You hurt all over, like you'd been pressed by a thousand fingers over and over again. You tried sitting up, but your legs shook with exhaustion, and your groin-

You froze in terror as you looked down your body. Your underwear was still in place, but the memories came flooding back in too quickly. Tears streamed down your face as you recalled how you hadn't always been covered, how Khan had stripped you of your clothes, and with them your dignity. Your stomach churned as the ghost of his touch brushed over your lower body, and you could only throw up stomach acid when you smelt the remaining evidence of what he did to you.

It was smothering: the memories, the touch, the scent - his scent. Your heartbroken cries came out as sad squawks from your already damaged throat. You remembered how he'd laughed at your screams, all the while defiling you for his own pleasure.

Once your stomach was empty even of acid, you curled in on yourself, hoping to bring your exposed limbs some flicker of warmth, of hope. But isn't that why you'd said that to Spencer? You knew he had to have been watching - there was no way Penelope wouldn't have found the server, not found it odd, and not have opened it. While it was Khan's way of taunting your team and he was smart to an extent, he was no match for the mighty Penelope Garcia.

Spencer had been watching, you knew it in your guts. And the moment Khan had opened up your dress and started touching you, you had accepted you would never see him or any of the team again. You would never see his goofy smile, or hear him rant about Star Trek or the many wonders of Halloween. You would never have movie nights, or go out to dinner with him and the team and brush legs in the booth or sitting by the bar. You'd never steal another longing glance at him, or kiss him; and you'd never get to see what you two could've been if you hadn't been such a coward.

You'd never get to tell him you loved him.

It wasn't something people usually told someone on the first date, but you didn't need to date Spencer to know he was it for you. That he had ruined you for anyone else, no matter how handsome or smart or caring or brave they were. No one could beat him. You'd known that since the first time you met him, and had tried to let him know that everyday since.

You shivered, curling into yourself in a feeble attempt to rid yourself of the cold that seemed to sink permanently into your bones. It all seems silly now, you thought, a moment of clarity breaking through your heartache, to have wasted so much time not loving him openly, consequences be damned.

I would've said yes.

It was your last attempt at telling him how you really feel. Whatever happened to you now, you just hoped he understood that one thing.

The door to the Warehouse creaked open, but you didn't move. There was no point. There was no escape. And with the stinging pain of vulnerability and violation coursing through you, you didn't have it in you to defend yourself anymore.

Walter Khan had already taken all he could from you except your life.

Someone pressed a button, and the chain cranked upwards, pulling you to your feet again. Exhaustion weighed on you, and so you just hung by your wrists, numb to the strain in your shoulders, numb to caring about showing Walter Khan he did not hurt you.

The man himself pulled on your hair so you looked up at him, cold, unfeeling eyes meeting your tired ones. 'Look at you,' he said, voice too soft and intimate for your liking, 'all numb and pliant. What? No retorts? No teeth today, sweetheart?'

Anger boiled deep within you. He had no idea how much you wanted to show him some teeth and rip his lips right off his ugly, dumb face. But your body wouldn't let you. It had been put through the ringer a few too many times, and you were well and truly being counted out.

He leaned in close, brushing his nose over your cheeks, your forehead, your lips. His sharp inhale of you had your stomach churning again, had your hands twitching with the impulse to claw his eyes out.

'I'm offended,' he whispered, his hot breath vile as it fanned across your cheeks, invaded your nostrils. He pulled back enough so you could see his grin that could only belong to the devil. 'That's okay. I know how you can make it up to me.'

He let go of you and walked to the table. The foggy cloud of confusion cleared from your brain when he picked up a knife, its pointed edge curved sharp. He held the knife in such a way that it looked moulded to his hand, fitting too perfectly between his fingers as he walked back over. The image of Roxy's mutilated body flashed in your mind, along with the other girls' you'd found, and that seemed to be the trigger to kick your need to survive back into gear.

You struggled to stand flat on your feet, tugging with all the strength you had at your restraints as Khan stepped closer to you. 'Get... away,' you said, but your words came out weak.

A sadistic laugh slipped past his lips, the cold sound rattling your spine, your spirit. 'No one is going anywhere, sweetheart,' he said, and he pulled you close again, keeping you still with a painful grip on your hair. The tip of the knife ran cool along your exposed stomach, grazing softly from just above your belly button to underneath it. He grinned as he followed his actions, his smile showing that he had done this before, but his breathless sighs demonstrated how what he was about to do would feel just like the first time. 'Not until we're done, that is.'

A whimper bubbled in your throat, knowing what was coming next. You just hoped it would be quick and as painless as possible. You sucked in a breath, bit into your lower lip - you would not give him the satisfaction of hearing you scream.

Khan pulled back the knife, holding it for a second before he-

Both doors to the Warehouse slammed open as people in FBI vests came running through the doors, guns at the ready.

'FBI, Khan!'

Not just people - your people.

Derek was the one who'd shouted, coming in through the front door and followed by Rossi and Spencer. The exit door to your right was being blockaded by Hotch, JJ, and Kate. If you weren't in such a state of shock, you would've cried with joy. They'd found you.

'Put the knife down, Khan,' Hotch commanded, tone calm and collected as he and the team circled around him, other FBI agents circling them. With the doors open now, you could hear the struggle and gunfire as no doubt other FBI agents took on the rest of the goons in the facility. 'We have you and your entire operation surrounded. There's no escape.'

Khan looked around at the team, eyes blowing wide with that same wildness of a caged animal. But instead of doing what Hotch said, he grabbed you, pulled you to his chest, and pressed the knife to your throat.

The team stepped closer.

'You don't want to do that, Khan,' Hotch warned.

'Why not?' Khan spat back, the knife pressing hard against your neck. You felt it start to pierce the delicate skin there, causing you to hiss in pain. 'Because you'll shoot? I'm not afraid of some bullets.'

'What about a hundred?' Derek asked, eyes trained on Khan like a hawk, hands steady on his gun. 'Come on, man. You know the only way you're getting out of this alive is if you drop the knife.'

A trickle of blood dribbled down the column of your neck, between your breast, and down your torso. Your heart threatened to beat right out of your chest it was pounding so hard, so fast.

'No,' Khan said defiantly. 'I have worked too hard for too long just for it all to be taken away from me. All because of this slut!'

'You brought this upon yourself, Khan,' Spencer interjected, his tone steelier than usual. You looked into his amber eyes and saw a dangerous fire lurking there.

Dr Spencer Reid was mad.

'That very well may be,' Khan responded, and the pressure of the knife on your neck eased only slightly. 'But you brought this upon yourself, too.'

He raised the knife, and you closed your eyes because this was it, this is where you died.

Then a shot fired, the sound echoing for an eternity in your mind. Then- Nothing.

No piercing pain, no screams, just nothing.

And so you opened your eyes just as Walter Khan collapsed to the floor, a bullet embedded in the middle of his forehead. You looked towards where the bullet came from, and saw everyone also looking at Spencer, whose steely gaze showed no remorse as he holstered his gun.

The realisation that Khan wasn't getting back up - that it was over - had your knees buckling out from under you as uncontrollable sobs wracked your body. Before your wrists could take any more of a beating from holding you up, someone caught you, their arms weaving underneath yours and holding you against their chest. Their scent hit you immediately, and a half second later you recognised the arms that held you.

'Spence,' you sobbed out, tears finally falling from your eyes like twin dams suddenly broken. 'Oh, Spence.'

His long fingers cradled your head softly, pressed gently into your back as you heard someone else undo your chains. 'I'm here, Y/N,' he cooed, breathless almost in disbelief. 'I'm here. You're safe now.'

Once your wrists were free, your arms flopped down in jarring manner that brought on another wave of tears, this time in pain. The pain was just a cruel reminder of what you weren't anymore - pure, whole.

'He touched me,' you managed to get out, your sobs making it hard to breathe let alone speak. 'He touched me!'

'Oh my God,' JJ said, and you felt Spencer wrap his arms around you tighter, his lips pressing softly against your forehead and in your matted hair.

You simply dissolved into a blubbering mess of tears, snot, and pain in Spencer's arms. You stayed like that for what felt like an eternity; and when your tears had all dried up, you passed out, falling into a dreamless sleep as Spencer held you all the while.

~~~

'Medic!' Spencer cried as you fell limp in his arms suddenly. Your paled face made the bruises and remaining blood on it stand out grossly. He pressed two fingers to your pulse. It was weak, but it was there. No doubt your body was finally giving out after enduring hours of torture and pain. You needed help right away.

'Is she okay? What happened?' JJ asked, the rest of the team joining him as the paramedics ran in through the exit door with a gurney.

'She just passed out. I think her body's shutting down on her,' Spencer said.

One of the medics also checked your pulse. 'We need to get her to a hospital now,' she said, then looked up at Spencer. 'Get her on the gurney.'

As Spencer placed you gently on the gurney, he kept hold of your hand, running alongside you as you were wheeled to the ambulance. The medics placed an oxygen mask on you and pushed you up into the back of the ambulance.

'Go with her, Reid,' Hotch directed. 'We can take care of things here.'

'Just keep us updated,' Rossi added.

'You got it,' Spencer said before leaping into the ambulance as they closed the doors.

~~~

Spencer sat up in the small seat he'd made himself at home in almost...

He rubbed at his blurry eyes. The red numbers of the electronic clock on your hospital nightstand flashed 01:34am.

Roughly seven hours. That's how long since you'd been admitted. Six had been spent in the room he currently resided in. Only two of those had he actually slept, not wanting to sleep in case you woke up and needed to see a familiar face.

His bulletproof vest he'd been using as a pillow slipped to the floor as he straightened up, his bones cracking as he untangled himself from the awkward sleeping position he'd put himself in. Exhaustion weighed on his eyes, but he rubbed at them, hoping it would go away. But it didn't, and with those tired eyes, he looked over at your sleeping form in the white, hospital bed.

You'd been cleaned by the nurses and doctors that helped stitch you up and pop your dislocated joints back into place. An IV drip was attached to your arm, as well as a chord that attached to a heart monitor, and the steady beep that sounded from it was the only thing keeping Spencer from losing it completely.

She's okay. She's alive. You found her.

It didn't matter how many times he told himself that - or anyone else on the team - because you were still hurt, still lying unconscious in the hospital bed.

All because you were a good person.

He leaned forward in the chair and took one of your hands in his, and it frightened him how cold your fingers felt in his. He observed your face; you looked so peaceful despite the bandages covering the cut on your neck where Khan's knife had almost taken you away from Spencer for good.

The mere thought had tears burning his eyes.

A soft knock brought Spencer back to the present, to see Derek holding two coffee cups by the doorway.

'Hey,' Derek greeted gently, walking in and offering one of the coffees to Spencer. 'Thought you might need it. Extra extra sugar, even.'

Spencer smiled appreciatively, but he felt it didn't reach its usual brightness. 'Thanks, but I'm fine right now.'

'Okay,' Derek said, placing the sweetened coffee on the bed tray that was currently situated to the side as you slept. He then pulled up another seat on the opposite side of the bed to Spencer, taking a sip of his own coffee as he sat down. He gave you soft look as he watched you. 'She's one tough cookie, huh.'

A lump formed in Spencer's throat with both pride and terror as he nodded his agreement. 'Can't believe we actually got her back.'

'Well, you better believe it, pretty boy, because we did, and she's right there.' Spencer didn't reply, prompting Derek to put his coffee down and face Spencer properly. 'You know it's not your fault, right? Y/N knew what she was getting into when she agreed to the mission. She knew the potential outcomes when she decided to stay behind and help those girls. I bet you she also knew we would come looking for her - that's what kept her going, Spencer. The thought of us finding her, of you finding her.'

Tears welled in Spencer's eyes as he finally looked away from you and looked at Derek, his hands never leaving yours. 'I just... why did it have to be her? I know its selfish of me to say, but why did they have to drag her back into the very unit she left behind? She could've died!'

'But she didn't, Spencer,' Derek countered, but he was gentle with his words. 'She is here with us. And I don't know about you, but I would take this as a sign.'

'What kind of sign?' Spencer asked.

'To make sure she doesn't slip through your fingers again.'

As if the universe had been listening, a soft groan came from you that had both men looking at you in disbelief. 'Y/N?' Spencer asked softly, holding your hand with one hand while the other stroked back loose, H/C hairs from your face. 'Y/N, can you hear me?'

'Spence?' you said, your voice groggy with exhaustion and sleep. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, and you blinked a few times until your eyes lit up with recognition as you spotted Spencer. Tears welled up, making the E/C of your pupils twinkle with joy. 'Spence...'

'I'll go get the others. And a doctor,' Derek murmured, then quickly zoomed out of the room, leaving Spencer and you alone once more.

Spencer squeezed your hand, a bright, relieved smile splitting his lips apart for the first time in days. 'Hey there,' he said quietly, smoothing your hair down not only to comfort you, but himself - and remind himself that you were real.

His heart soared when he felt you squeeze his hand back. It was weak, but it was something, and the smile that split your face was something he would've gone to hell and back to see on your face everyday. 'You found me,' you whispered, tears falling down your cheeks, but these time they were of joy and relief.

His thumb subconsciously grazed over your knuckles a few times, then he brought them to his lips where he placed a hard, grateful kiss there. 'Of course I did,' he murmured back. 'I will always find you.'

Before you could respond, the relieved sighs of the team entered the room, forcing Spencer to step back as they took turns hugging you. A doctor came in to talk to you as well, but Spencer didn't mind. Not as your eyes sparkled and your voice rung through the room.

He'd brought you home. There was nothing more he could've wanted.

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Epilogue

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Epilogue Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 3707 Warnings: major angst, major fluff, mentions of murder, graphic descriptions of dead bodies, crime scenes, near-death experiences, slow-burnish romance, death, canon violence, rape, swearing, guns, knives, prostitution, canon cuteness of the team. Spoilers: Maeve's death, mentions of previous cases or canon events from seasons 1-10.

Spencer and you have an unspoken connection with one another. Nothing has ever happened between you two, especially since everything went down with Maeve, but your love has grown and overcome and is now clear as day to everyone. However, just when Spencer builds up enough courage to ask you out officially, you're requested on an undercover mission that halts your budding relationship in its tracks.

Months go by without a word from you until bodies of prostitutes start showing up in New York and the BAU is brought in to help. Spencer and you finally reunite as both your cases collide, but your lives and your love are both on the line now.

Will you and Spencer be able to find the way back home this time?

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Epilogue

~~~

The water ran hot against your skin as you lathered your body in soap. The bubbles formed quickly from how fast you scrubbed yourself. You didn't like taking showers. Actually, that wasn't entirely true. Showers were both simultaneously the best and worst part of your day since returning home from the hospital.

Your fingers barely brushed across your skin, swiping the soap over and back a few times before you washed it off. You didn't like the feel of fingers lingering too long on your skin. Objectively, you were much better than you were before. The first time the nurses tried showering you, you almost screamed the hospital down as flashbacks and phantom touches invaded your brain.

You turned the shower off and stepped out of it. You didn't look in your mirror, immediately reaching for a towel to cover yourself up with. The towel helped you feel less... vulnerable, even if you were all alone.

Only then did you look in the mirror. It had already been one month since you'd left the hospital after being cooped up in there for two weeks. Today actually marked the day you were told you had to leave for the mission - exactly one a year ago. You were now back in your old apartment in DC - Hotch had pulled in a favour from the FBI to keep paying your rent until you came back, and you had almost choked him to death with the strong hug you'd given him when the team had brought you home.

Home.

The word brought a smile to your face. Well, it wasn't so much the word as it was the images that came to mind with it. Your apartment, the BAU, the team, the Italian restaurant downstairs you always used to visit before you left. A certain genius with unruly hair and the brightest smile in the world...

After this weekend, I'll be seeing that smile everyday, you thought as you quickly dried off and rushed to pull some casual shorts and an over-sized gym t-shirt on. Just the thought of being exposed for too long freaked you out.

You walked out to your lounge room where you were greeted with the afternoon light that would no doubt be setting soon. For a moment, you just allowed yourself to take in your street, standing so close to your floor-to-ceiling window that if you leaned forward you would bump your nose against it. The golden light of the setting sun reflected in fragments off the windows of other apartments; people were already home from work and walking the streets with their loved ones or dogs. The hardware store across the road was closing up, but the lights for the Italian restaurant downstairs flickered on, telling the world they were ready for business.

It had been killing you to stay away from work - Hotch and Penelope had made it very clear they didn't want you anywhere near the office until you had taken your month off to recover and readjust back into life. But, in hindsight, you were glad they had. You'd found a new appreciation of where you lived, reacquainted yourself with what you liked to do and liked to eat and liked to go watch at the movies.

This past month had almost wiped Serena Vanderguff from existence... and you couldn't tell if you liked that yet or not.

A sudden knock at your door knitted confusion in your eyebrows as you looked curiously at the entrance to your home. You spared a glance at the clock hanging on the wall. What's someone doing here at quarter-to six on a Friday afternoon?

You softly padded over to the door and peeped through the spyglass that allowed you to see whoever it was that knocked at the door. You couldn't stop your wide smile of delight at who greeted you outside. Without wasting another second, you unlocked the multiple locks on your door and swung the blasted thing open to welcome the one and only Dr. Spencer Reid.

'Spence!' you exclaimed. 'What a lovely surprise!'

'Hey!' he replied just as enthusiastically. 'I was on my way home from the office and thought I'd stop by.'

It was only then you noticed he was holding a big and beautiful bouquet of your favourite flowers. 'Goodness, Spence, you didn't have to bring me flowers again.' He'd been bringing you flowers once a week every week since you'd been found. Even when you were still in the hospital, those two weeks he had brought you the same flowers, the ones you loved.

He just smiled that adorable smile of his before responding. 'I read somewhere that florals can produce a high level of endorphins and serotonin,' he explained as he offered them out to you, lips still upturned in a crooked, adorable smile. 'And ever since that sewerage pipe break in your building, there's always been a lingering smell that I thought you could use help covering up.'

'That was over a year ago, though!' you argued weakly, but took the flowers from his hands anyways. Your fingers briefly brushed, and it sent a jolt of electricity through you. It was gone as quickly as it came.

You gestured for him to come inside and he did. From your front door the kitchen was easily accessible, which is where he walked to and leant against the counter. You quickly closed the door and followed after him, heading straight for your flowers from last week sitting wilted in their vase.

'And in all that time, they still haven't managed to fix it,' Spencer added jokingly, but the upward pull of his lips wasn't as high now.

You heard what he really meant as you pulled out the dead flowers, filled the vase with fresh water, and placed the new flowers in. All that time...

A lot has happened in that time. Upon your release from the hospital, Khan had been put in jail alongside many of his goons. Madame Lacroix and the other New York club managers were found guilty of human trafficking and dealing in illicit drugs and contraband, and were all thrown in jail and their clubs were shut down. Turned out it was a national operation that Khan was running, and other units of the FBI in other states were currently hunting them all down.

What made you happy though was that the girls you saved were going home, and for those that didn't have homes, they were being found homes of their own. The older girls that worked at the clubs were a different story. Some packed up and left town, wanting to travel or find new work elsewhere. The rest bought up the clubs and were rebranding themselves, taking ownership of their lives. Now they were the ones in charge.

You looked at Spencer, leaning casually against your counter, the light of sunset haloing him as it reflected off the opposite building into your apartment.

And a lot still hasn't happened.

'So, what's the occasion?' you asked, turning to face Spencer, finally finished with the flowers. You crossed your arms and couldn't help the soft smile that pulled at you lips. 'To what do I owe the pleasure of the great Dr. Spencer Reid in my apartment this evening?'

He chuckled at my posh delivery, and the loose curls dangling across his forehead bounced with the sound. It had grown in the time since he'd found you, but he'd cut it once or twice since then to keep it at that perfect length of long-short - long enough to style gorgeously but short enough to be considered clean-cut and suitable for work.

The urge to rake your fingers through the curls itched at your fingertips, and you were so glad your hands were crossed under your armpits.

'I was meant to come in earlier this week like I usually do,' he started, pushing off the counter to wander past the kitchen and into the lounge, ultimately ending up looking out the window as you had been just before. 'But the amount of paperwork we've had piling up this month has been ridiculous, even I was starting to hate looking at endless towers of paper to read then sign.'

'Oh no,' I drawled out, following him to the window with a teasing smirk on my lips. 'Has the great Dr. Reid finally met his match?'

'Not quite,' he replied, still staring out the window.

It was hard not to look at him as the sunlight lit up his amber eyes,. He was simply... ethereal.

'I finished it all, finally,' he continued, 'and thought I'd pay you a visit. Seeing as it's Friday and there are no new cases, I'm not expected in the office tomorrow.'

I blew out a low whistle. 'Wow. A whole weekend to yourself? That's unheard of.'

'Yeah.' His voice was breathy, and you noticed the emotion in his gaze shift as he turned away from watching the world to look at you. A sad smile appeared on his lips, eyes glazing over with a mixture of relief and exhaustion. 'I've missed you.'

'You saw me last week,' you countered, like a mother placating a child. 'And we text and call like everyday.'

'I know. It's just like old times again, but...'

He paused, as if gathering his next words carefully. Spencer always thought about his words so that people understood him the best possible way. It was one of the things you positively adored about him.

'The office is, I don't know, empty somehow,' he said finally, slowly. 'I know that's a silly thing to say when Morgan and JJ and Penelope and everyone else is there, but... Your desk still sits there, waiting for you to come back. And I kept it clean for over a year, almost willing you to come back any of those days.'

You smiled softly at him. 'Well, you don't have to wait much longer. Monday morning, bright and early, I'll be at my desk ready to go.'

Your eyes met and you could tell he was holding back tears. Your words came out quiet but true. 'I've missed you too, Spence.'

You had always been attuned to each other, the team sometimes joking that you both shared the same brain cells (even though, as Spencer claimed continuously, that was not anatomically possible). The sentiment remained true as you and him reached out to one another and wrapped your arms tight around each other.

Reflexively, your breath caught in your throat, and you were thrown back to that night where Khan defiled you in the most brutal of ways.

Spencer noticed you tense, and he pulled back slightly. 'Is this okay?" he asked gently. He had been there when you had your meltdown at the nurses; he knew what Khan had done to you, and how you would never be same because of it.

His arms were warm and gentle around you, and that horrible memory disappeared. You were with Spencer. You were safe. You were home.

You took a moment to catch your breath, to stabilise yourself in the present once more, and pulled him in tighter. 'Yes. This is okay.'

After your permission, his arms tightened around you, and there you stayed for a while longer. Just hugging while the rest of the world passed you by. With your ear pressed to his chest, you knew both your hearts were beating in time with one another.

Synced. Linked. Two halves of a whole.

Your heart practically screamed for him when he and the team had found you, saved you. It had been screaming for over a month since that day, and you knew it would never stop screaming for him.

I would've said yes.

Neither of you had said anything about what you'd said, what you had confirmed. Everything had just happened so quickly, and then Spencer had been busy with work since the team was a man down until you returned.

You'd stolen what you could in your brief touches, the laughs you shared, the scent of the flowers that hung in your apartment for a week before he brought a new set. And despite all he had done to get you back, despite that night at the Chateau - What would you have said? - you'd just been too much of a coward to see if he still felt that way for you.

Because nothing had changed for you. It never would.

You had two days before your life would go back to semi-normal, and by then it would be too difficult, too complicated. Oh screw it, it's complicated already.

You pulled apart from Spencer, disentangling yourself from him completely. As much as you wished to hold him forever, you needed to have your space if you had any hope of finally getting the words out.

'Hey, you okay?' he asked, noticing your tensed form, your fidgety fingers.

'Yeah, I just...'

You took in a deep breath, closed your eyes, and let out that breath. Now or never, Y/N.

Opening your eyes, you spoke. 'I just don't think I've ever thanked you for checking in on me. I know how busy you can be.'

'There's no need,' he replied, a soft smile adorning his face. 'I'll always come to your aid. You're... so dear to me, Y/N.'

Hope sparked in your chest, the only driving force for you to keep speaking. 'I mean it. You literally saved my life in the Warehouse. I had resigned myself to my fate: that I would never see you or Pen or Derek or JJ or the rest of the team again. I knew you'd find me, but I had made peace with dying before that point.'

You sucked in a steadying breath as the dark memories started to claw their way back into your brain, into your heart. Phantom fingers ghosted over your skin, causing you cross your arms again in attempt to protect yourself from them.

'And then Khan... used me,' you managed to get out, words strained and voice croaky as tears formed at the rim of your eyelids.

Spencer's expression turned into one of concern. 'You don't have to talk about this if you don't want to, Y/N,' he offered, amber eyes scanning me all over for signs that I would breakdown.

I shook my head. 'No. I need to tell you this. I need you to understand.'

'Understand what?'

'That this past month I have had to learn to re-love myself again, to re-love my body and what it did for me that day.' I forced my arms down beside me, opening myself up completely to Spencer. 'It hasn't been easy, and sometimes... I've hated myself, instead. And the scars run deeper than my skin shows and may last for a long time - possibly for the rest of my life.'

You tell yourself to be brave for a moment, and you look directly into Spencer's eyes, which shine with unshed tears and something else you can't quite figure out.

'But you... Dr. Spencer Reid,' you started, tears finally falling from your eyes as the brightest smile spread across your face. 'You have made me believe in hope again. Hope, that I might one day be rid of this hatred for myself and my body. Hope, that I can carry this trauma and still live a full life. Hope, that I can be more than what Walter Khan made of me that night.'

A hysterical chuckle escapes you, and you wipe some of the tears away. There was a silent voice in the back of your head saying how ridiculous you are for crying over this. But that voice was all of hatred, of jealously. It has been the voice you've let dictate your feelings for over a month.

But, today, you were done listening to it.

'Hope, that... you love you me as much as I love you, Spencer.'

There, you said it. Relief bombarded the space where the weight of those words had held a huge place in your heart for the longest time. Since before the mission, before Maeve, before you even knew you were in love with him. It was out there, now. There was no going back.

Spencer remained silent, staring at you like you had three heads. Slight panic coursed coldly through you, and suddenly your mouth was motoring, words just flying out one after the other.

'That's not me asking you to say it back or anything. I just... oh my goodness, screw it. I have been in love with you forever, Spencer, and I just wanted to let you know because you have taken up such a huge part of my heart that will never belong to anyone else, and-'

'You love me?'

You paused at Spencer's question, locking eyes with the boy genius and seeing a mixture of disbelief and that same emotion again, the one you couldn't put a finger on. Perhaps it was terror, and that one thought had your heart sinking like the Titanic.

'Yeah,' you replied quietly.

'...How long?'

'Sorry?'

'How. Long.'

You rubbed at your eyes, suddenly avoiding his gaze by looking simply anywhere else. It was all going so horribly wrong. But he'd asked a question. And you would do anything, answer anything, if he asked.

'I think I've loved you since the day I met you,' you said, and it was only when you'd spoken the words did you realise how cliche you sounded. A humourless laugh escaped you at your misery.

'I didn't realise until a few years later, though,' you continued. 'But by the time I did, I found out you had a secret girlfriend in Maeve and you were just so happy I couldn't possibly ruin what we had because of that. And I never tried after because you were grieving and I didn't want you to think I was rushing you or pushing you too soon. But then you asked me, and I was so happy, but then it all just went downhill from there. Goodness, this is all coming out horribly wrong-'

'Stop talking.'

'Wha- Mph!'

Your question was swallowed by Spencer Reid's lips as he cradled your face in his hands and pulled you to him, pressing his lips passionately against yours. He tasted like Halloween sweets and fresh air, and that just made you close your eyes and melt into him more. The kiss wasn't frantic. Rather, it was sweet and loving and you couldn't get enough of him. Even as you weaved your fingers into his luscious hair and tugged on them gently, eliciting a deep growl of approval and want from deep within him.

As he kissed you, your doubts faded away, leaving only your love for another that could not be any clearer now. As he kissed you, another mental, emotional scare healed and vanished.

You both finally pulled apart, heaving for breath as your noses brushed one another's. When you looked up at his eyes, you finally recognised the mystery emotion that had been burning ever since he'd stepped into your apartment.

A relieved, genuinely happy smile split his lips wide as tears of joy ran down his cheeks. His thumb swept over your own tears, causing you both to chuckle at your silliness.

'If you hadn't guessed already,' he said, his words only for you, 'I love you, too. I know that's an odd thing to say before you even date someone, but I do, and I have for a while even if I didn't know it before. I'm just so so sorry for making you wait, for being an ignorant, stupid coward.'

You brought your hands up to wipe away his own tears, heart immensely full for the man in front of you. 'Dr. Spencer Reid stupid? Now you're just making stuff up. I thought you didn't do that.'

That pulled a laugh from him, and he pulled you into another hug, this time more bone-crushing. As if he couldn't express how much he loved you enough. You hugged him back just as desperately though. It seemed as though you shared the same sentiment.

In another moment of bravery, you spoke over his shoulder where your chin rested. 'You know... my answer still stands. That is, if your offer still stands.'

Dr. Spencer Reid. Are you asking me out on a date right now?

Spencer pulled away from the hug, with the biggest smile on his face. 'It will always stand for you, Y/N. Always.'

What do you say, SSA Y/N L/N? Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?

It was you this time that pressed a bruising kiss on Spencer's lips, the kiss being answer enough for what you had been holding onto for exactly a year.

Sweet, sweet music wafted up from downstairs, the faint sound of a beautiful violin sparking an idea in your head. You forced yourself to pull away from Spencer and said, 'I know a great Italian restaurant that is super close, by the way.'

'Sounds perfect,' Spencer replied, kissing you quickly again before crouch and picking you up by your underarms and twirling your around in the air. Laughter echoed through your apartment as you clung to him but also rejoiced at the feeling of flying. For the first time in over a year, you were finally feeling like yourself again.

Spencer eventually put you down, saying, 'As much as I find you the most beautiful girl in the world, I don't think t-shirt and shorts are going to cut it downstairs.'

'Oh. Right.' You quickly dashed into your room and put on something more suitable.

And finally, one year after being asked out, Spencer held your hand in his and took you downstairs to have your date, where you both had the best night you'd had in a long time. It might've taken a few twists and turns to get to where you both belonged: with each other. But as you ate your pasta, drank your wine, danced with and laughed with and kissed Spencer, you realised it had only made your bond stronger, that it had been worth it.

You'd finally found your way back home.

You’re the Risk, I’ll Take it

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times Spencer followed advice and the one time he didn't (or as I'd like to better explain it, the three times Spencer fails to flirt and the one time it worked)

Warning: fluff! Just fluff!

A/n: I wanted to write something cute this time with Season 1 Spencer in mind--one of the best eras if you ask me. Hopefully I did him justice in this. The idea of this cute baby boy trying to flirt is too precious honestly. Also, if a guy did the last act for me, I'd fold like a lawn chair, yep. Risk by Gracie Abrams was on repeat while I was writing this and no proof reading was done. Let me know what you think!

Main masterlist

The first move Spencer tried was advised by Derek Morgan, the renowned ladies man

“Kid, admit it. You like her,” Morgan pestered him with a slight smile on his face. 

Spencer scoffed, trying to throw him off from the truth but monumentally failing. “S-she’s my closest friend. We joined the team at the same time, of course I feel most comfortable with her,” he noted his companion’s eyebrows raising higher and higher with each word. “Plus, she likes hearing what I say even if it has no relation to the case. She asks me questions and genuinely remembers.”

Now it was Morgan’s turn to scoff. “You could be talking about Star Trek and it’s physics mistakes and she’ll still hang on to every word you say.” 

“Actually, there aren’t that many scientific errors in Star Trek. Especially considering—”

“Reid.” 

“Right,” he nodded once, trying to push away the urge to continue further. “That still doesn’t mean I like her.” 

Morgan tapped the wheel twice before turning to face his partner. “Then answer me this. How do you feel when she walks through the office doors?” 

“Happy, I get the same feeling when I see you or Elle come in too,” he found his fingers very interesting then. Like they held the key to unlocking the mysteries of Dark Matter and the answer to the controversial scientific theory ‘Do parallel universe exist?’. He wasn’t telling the whole truth—didn’t want to because how could he, a man of science, explain the other bodily reactions he has when you walk in a room. How he hears his heart stutter in his chest with just a glimpse of you—the first time it happened, he thought nothing of it, but by the third, he considered making an appointment with a specialist for possible heart arrhythmia. How he sees the room brighten when you smile in his direction—perhaps light sensitivity, and how he feels his body heat up when you utter the words ‘Good morning, Spence.’—possibly hot flashes. Self diagnosis that he ruled out once he found you to be the common denominator. That left him with a riddle, a personal conundrum he lost countless of sleep over trying to solve.

“That’s a lie, Reid. You can’t be that happy to see me. You never blush like a tomato when I enter the room. For Greenaway, I could see it but for me, nu-uh,” he argued back. “Okay, what about when she’s not there, what do you feel then?” 

“Sad, similar to how I’d react with you and Elle,” he blurted out another half truth. Another surface level answer that doesn’t fully cover how lost he feels without your comforting presence beside him, how gloomy any room he enters in without you in it, and how incomplete his days were without hearing your voice. 

Morgan snickered. “Lies, you have to learn how to lie better to fool an FBI profiler, Reid. You don’t think I—the team, notice that you’re quieter when she isn’t on the case with us?”

“Wait. Wait, the whole team?” His voice goes up an octave. You were part of the team, did that mean you knew of the effect you had on him too? “D-Does everyone have the same idea as you do? Everyone?” 

“Not everyone, kid. Your secret is still safe,” He smiled wide like a cat that caught the canary. “So it’s true then, you like her.” 

Spencer knew there was no escape from trap, he was just glad that his secret still remained classified from the other party involved. His shoulders sagged as he nodded to confirm Morgan’s findings.

“So what’s your play then?”

His head whipped to face his companion so fast he felt his meticulously styled hair escape the confines of his ears. “Play? There’s no play. Nothing. I’m not going to do anything and this conversation stays between us.” 

“Oh c’mon lover boy, you have to do something,” Morgan challenged. “Y’know she likes you back, right?” 

“No she doesn’t! I mean, why would she?” Spencer rambled on, unable to comprehend what Morgan was saying. “She’s her—beautiful, smart, and cool. Every case we get, there’s at least one police officer hitting on her. And I’m me—I talk too much and get awkward in every situation. The exact opposite!”

“Reid, don’t sell yourself short. She likes you, trust me on this.” He paused, listening to the update on the intercom before continuing on. “So here’s what you’re going to do. Compliment her outfit, girls appreciate that. Easy enough, don’t you think?”

Spencer really didn’t think so after all he had the tendency to go off on a tangent whenever he talks to you but he agrees nonetheless. If Morgan believes he could do it then he couldn’t mess it up, right?

———

Wrong. It was wrong to take Morgan’s advice. Never mind he can recall everything he has ever read, never mind he has an IQ of 187. What good were his talents if he, Dr. Spencer Reid, couldn’t string the proper sentences along?

It started when you walked into the office wearing this light yellow blouse that made you more radiant than he thought possible. It was as if the a ray of sun had graced the bullpen and stunned his mind into silence, rendering him tongue-tied. All his monologues and hypothesis bouncing around his overactive brain fell away and the only thing he could think of was how pretty you look.

Morgan cleared his throat, bringing him back to the living. Spencer averted his awestruck gaze and busied himself with an imaginary lint on his red sweater. 

“Hey Y/N, did anything good this weekend?” Morgan asked as you settled into your desk adjacent to his.

You shrugged nonchalantly and teased back. “I bet it wasn’t good as yours, Morgan. Picked anyone up last Friday or are your charms no longer working?”

“Huh, i see where this is going. Somebody woke up on the wrong side of bed today.”

Morgan chanced a peek at Spencer and internally groaned. How you didn’t notice the kid’s crush on you was beyond him—all the staring and blushing he does when you’re near was a dead giveaway.

“Reid. Reid,” Morgan called out.

He closed his mouth and gulped. “Hm, what?” 

Morgan pointedly stared at him and titled his head towards your direction. A movement lost to you as you noted Elle leaving Gideon’s office.

Spencer opened his mouth to catch your attention but before he could even utter your name, Elle intervened. “Question for you, the foot path killer. Why’d he stutter?”

You swiveled to face her, not having caught Spencer’s intent to speak to you. The unit chief then called them in for a case—an arson case in a university campus. His shoulders drooped as they rushed to the jet afterwards with no chance of small talk. 

When there was a lull in the plane—case discussion finished, he steeled his already apprehensive nerves and took the chance, quickly wishing he hadn’t.

“S-so, your shirt’s yellow,” he stated out loud like it was some sort of revelation. 

“Yes,” you drawled out, unsure as to where he was going with this. “That’s right, Spencer.”

He drummed his fingers on the table and continued on. “Did you know that airplanes tend to avoid the color yellow as it causes dizziness and nausea? A number of studies have shown those exact results and that’s why it’s almost never used in interiors of various forms of transportation and rarely use in advertising. It’s like how the red is the most common color used by restaurants as it psychologically makes the viewer hungry.”

You looked down on your top. Yellow was one of your favorites and you specifically chose this as Penelope said and you quote, it looks good on you, brings out your eyes. Boy genius would probably react to it too so naively you splurged on it. But this—this wasn’t the response you were hoping for. “Spence, are you saying my shirt is making you feel nauseous?”

He blushed and stammered out a strong refusal. “What, no! No! I—I meant to say—you, you look nice.”

You giggled under your breath, finding his long-winded route to giving you a compliment cute. “Nice nice or airsickness nice?” 

“Nice! Just nice!” He defended on, his voice cracking at the end. He caught Morgan’s wide eyed gaze then as if he couldn’t believe what train wreck he just witnessed. 

Cheeks heating up further, Spencer slouched in his seat and busied himself with the files wishing that he could build a memory eraser so he could wipe the events from his and the team’s minds or better yet, a time machine to redo the whole thing all over again.

The second move Spencer tried was advised by Elle Greenaway, the new recruit

“Do you think it’s weird that I knew that ballad?” He questioned during one of their cases in San Diego. It bothered him since the start of the case. How Morgan had teased him about his incapability of asking out the opposite sex. Never mind that you defended him right back, that’s a lie, it made him feel special that you did but the joke was still true. A cold stone truth. 

Elle laughed, flipping her phone repeatedly on the table while waiting for the unsub to take the bait. “I don’t know how you know half the stuff you know, but I’m glad you do.”

“Do you think that’s why I can’t get a date?” He asked as he fiddled with the unfinished Rubik’s cube in his hands.

“Have you ever asked her out?”

There was no need to ask who Elle was referring to, everyone knew of his innocent—well maybe not so innocent at times specifically during his state of dreaming—crush for the second youngest member of the team. He shifted his eyes to focus a few tables before his—at you, sitting beside JJ. “No."

“That’s why you can’t get a date.” 

One of the precincts phone then rang, it was the unsub, causing him to table that conversation in his vast memory. 

———

There’s an English saying that states ‘the second time is the charm’ and Spencer was hoping there were some truth to the idiom even with no scientific explanation to back it up. 

A few cases after San Diego, he got an opening that he was unexpectedly looking for. The team was on their way back from a case in Virginia. It was late and the profilers were all tucked in their little corners of the jet decompressing while you and Spencer were huddled on the sofa quietly discussing Doctor Who. 

“How could you say your favorite is the Ninth Doctor when you haven’t even seen the older episodes?” He rambled, clearly he would have to do something about your limited knowledge in the great universe of Doctor Who. He’d like to explain it all, 695 episodes of the classic era to you. He’d take any topic really just to have your interest.

You stared into his hazel speckled eyes and smiled, amused by his reaction. “It’s a bit hard to catch up on a show that’s been around since the 70s. Plus, it’s a challenge to look for copies.” 

“Actually, the show started in the 60s—1963, to be exact,” he clarified. “Garcia has copies we could borrow and watch together. If that’s—” he cleared his throat and clenched his fists closed, feeling his nails dig into his palms. “—that’s alright with you. If—if not, there’s a convention happening this weekend. I have an extra ticket, if you want to come with—only if you’re not busy, I mean.”

“And risk you spoiling every episode to me? I’d rather watch it alone, if you don’t mind.”

That dragged his optimism to a crash as if a twenty ton weight landed on his chest, rendering him immovable. Of course you were going to say no. There was no proof that you’d reciprocate his interests—he inwardly cursed himself for believing otherwise.

“But, I’d like to go with you to the convention,” you said and silently added as your date to yourself, shifting in your seat with a blush blooming on your cheeks at the thought. “Always wanted to go to one. If you’re fine with me not being in a costume. I think it’ll be too late to find one, don’t you think?”

Just like that, the weight on his chest lifted, making him feel weightless with glee. A wide smile grew on his face, threatening to burst his cheeks as he shook his head. “That’s alright! But you—you can always dress up as Rose!”

You titled your head to the side. “Rose?” 

“You know, the Ninth Doctor’s companion?”

“I know who she is, Spence. I just thought you didn’t watch the revived series?”

He softly scoffed. “I never said that! I watched it too, mainly to compare it to the classics but I’ve seen it.”

You leaned in, wanting to ask about his opinion on it. “Well, what do you think? I happen to be part of the minority who think the actor who reprised the role did alright.”

He liked seeing you like this. It made him feel like a puppy who had his owner’s undivided attention. All wide eyed and interested in his conjectures as to why the actor was alright himself but the problems were his short stint—making people vilify him over that decision—and the material some of the writers came up with. He appreciated you nodding along and supplying your own thoughts on the subject. It warmed his heart that here was a beautiful, smart, and cool person—way out of his league, he might add—giving her precious time away to discuss a nerdy sci-fi show that he could not rant and rave to about to anyone on the team, except for Penelope, and she’s rarely on the field with them. 

Your show of interest made him feel seen. Not as an agent with 3 PHDs, not as a genius with 187 IQ, but rather as a person with a right to express himself and occupy space. He wasn’t Agent Spencer Reid with you nor Dr. Spencer Reid, he was just Spencer who likes to watch Doctor Who and read literature in their original language. 

The third move Spencer did was proposed by Penelope Garcia, the spirited tech analyst 

“What do you mean you took her to a convention? For a date?” Penelope squeaked out, unable to comprehend the logic behind the genius’ actions.

“She said she always wanted to go,” Spencer stated as the elevator stopped on the fourth floor. He had fun over the weekend. Going around booths with you, listening to invited guest panels talk about the behind the scenes, explaining the reference every costume that you’ve pointed out, and just basking in your presence beyond cases. It was a memory he had replayed over and over after it had ended. It occupied his whole mind, and that’s saying a lot, causing him to do nothing and sit in his leather sofa and smile like a lunatic during the rest of the weekend.

“Well yeah, but that’s not date material! A date is supposed to be intimate—you and I go to conventions together, do you count that as a date?” 

“What? No! No, of course not!” 

“Exactly, boy wonder. Then what makes you think she’ll count that as a date?” She countered back as she entered her office with Spencer in tow. 

Silence. Oh.

Penelope sighed, having read the despair painting his face. “Did you at least dress up as the Ninth Doctor?”

“What? No. No, I went as the Fourth Doctor. I even hand-knitted the scarf myself.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before repeating what she just heard. “You didn’t dress up as her Doctor?”

“No,” he paused, unsure where she was going with this. “Should I had?”

“Yes! Yes, you should have!” Penelope slapped his arm out of frustration. “Why didn’t you call me once she said yes? We could have talked game plan or strategy or at least have gotten you a leather jacket to match her choice of companion.”

“Oh, I messed up then, didn’t I?” He slumped despondently on the office chair. “You—you don’t think she thought of it as a date at all?”

She played with her feathered pen, trying to find a way to salvage it for Spencer. “Did you take her out to dinner after?”

He shook his head, finally realizing his mistake.

“Oh Spencer,” she approached gently. “I can scoop for details with Y/N later on and report back to you?”

He shook his head. It didn’t feel right to have Penelope betray your trust and go behind your back over a mistake that he made. You were a honest person and you deserved to be treated with respect and reverence even though all he wanted now was peer into your viewpoint of the date—not date—and figure out once and for all if you saw him as anything beyond a co-worker and a friend. 

“Hm, I think I might just a solution,” Penelope blurted out of the blue. 

He looked up with a sliver of hope blooming in his chest. Maybe third time’s the charm. Besides, Penelope was the colleague you spent most of your time out with. You once mentioned that you considered her your best friend, besides from him of course. 

“You can bake her a batch of cookies! No one can say no to that,” she excitedly explained, believing it to be full proof—except for the fact that he doesn’t know how to bake. He wants to ask you out on a date but not to the expense of burning his whole apartment building down. 

“I can’t—I can’t bake, Garcia,” he squeaked out. “Did you know that 44% of all reported home fires are caused by cooking and baking. Those fires have resulted in an average of 470 civilian deaths and 4,150 civilian—”

She interrupted. “I’ll give you my recipe and detailed instructions to follow. That’ll make it easy peasy for you, boy genius.”

“C-can’t I just buy from her favorite bakery instead?”

“No can do, Doctor. Her favorite cookies just so happen to be my creation. She told me so herself.”

“Well, can’t I just ask you to make it for me? I’ll buy the ingredients!”

“Nope,” she dragged out her refusal. “Think of it as an act of service to her. Plus don’t you think it’s highly romantic when she finds out that you baked them yourself?” She swooned just thinking about it.

“Romantic? It won’t be romantic when I burn my apartment down, Garcia.”

She sighed. “Fine, I’ll supervise if you want. This weekend, granted if we’re free. But you—” she pointed her feathered pen at him. “—better be prepared and I’m just supervising, okay? I’m not baking it myself.”

He sighed. At least having Garcia around would make it easier.

———-

It did not in fact make it easier. Spencer burnt two batches before six pieces were considered edible. Garcia couldn’t understand, hell, he also couldn’t. Baking was precise and from his scientific viewpoint, it was a lot like chemistry. He loved science and anything academic, so how is it that he failed miserably, twice, when it came to baking? 

He shook his head as he entered the office. The first one—he stole a glance at Hotch’s office and saw movement—correction, the second one arriving early. Sometimes he wondered if the unit chief ever goes home, first in and last out.

He settled in his seat before promptly fidgeting from anticipation. Statistically speaking, you arrive earlier than Morgan or Elle which gave him enough time to gift the paper bag of cookies sitting hidden in his satchel without bringing attention to and embarrassing himself. He’d like to have little to no audience if he ever does mess it up for the third time. 

He brought out the cookies, afraid they’ll get crushed between his hardbound books, and placed them on your desk before standing to wash his clammy hands and make coffee. Counter intuitive of him to do as he was already a bundle of nerves and by drinking caffeine he was doubling that but maybe the smell would calm him before shooting up his energy by drinking.

As he exited the mens room, Penelope stepped out of the elevator and squealed. “Is she here? Is she? Did I miss it?”

He shook his head vigorously, trying to silence her excited glees. “No, she’s not here yet. She’ll—” he looked at his watch and ran the numbers. “—be here soon. I’m about to brew coffee. Do you want some?” He opened the door for both of them to enter the bullpen.

“Ick, no thanks,” Penelope said, scrunching her nose at the thought of drinking even a sip before scurrying away to her cave. “I’d rather not ruin my taste buds on bad coffee.”

He laughed and turned towards the kitchenette. With the coffee brewing, he drummed his fingers on the counter and mentally rehearsed what he would say to you. If he practiced, there’s less chance of messing it up like the first time, right? In his state of concentration, he missed you entering the office in all of your beautiful glory.

“Ooh cookies!” you exclaimed as you opened the unknown package on your table.

Spencer abruptly turned, hitting his side on the corners as he did. His eyes widened as he registered you holding the unsigned paper bag of treats on your desk. 

“They must be from Penny,” You continued on, oblivious to his presence and the devastation your remark caused him. Of course, he’d find another way to mess it up. You glanced around and your smile widened as you took in his handsome presence. “Oh hey Spence! Look, Penny made me cookies!” You tip-toed out of excitement. 

He smiled at your enthusiasm for something as simple as treats in the morning. The giggle you gave out as you entered the kitchenette was enough for him to slightly care less for the truth. He loved bringing out the happiness in you. It was like his own personal sunshine shining down on him, soaking him with vitamin D and boosting his overall sense of wellbeing. “Do you want coffee with that? It’s still hot,” he offered. 

You tapped the side of your hips with his as a sign of good will. “Thanks, Spence! This is turning out to be a great day, don’t you think?”

He watched as you busied yourself with putting cream and sugar in your of cup and sighed wistfully. “I think so too.”

And the last move Spencer did was recommended by no one but himself, the awkward 187 genius

With all three acts not delivering, he promised to try one last time without any outside interference besides from yours in his memory. You always did tell him to be himself in any situation, no matter how much he stumbled through any awkward situation—always there giving him a pat on the back for encouragement. 

Over the weekend, he spent his time reading two of your favorite books—which didn’t take much but he did read them again and again, regardless of his eidetic memory, trying to understand why these specific books were your comfort. Always pushed within the confines of your go bag, dog-eared and brown from age. He wanted to know how they’ve become an extension of you and how it had shaped you to the woman he has fallen in love with. 

He found himself hunched over his dining table, underlining sentences that made him think of you, scribbling away on the margins (and sometimes on post its too), and tabbing the written pages with a variety of colors that each represent an emotion. The act in it of itself made him feel closer to you than he thought possible. Lines in the books that made him think, ah so this was what formed your kind spirit. This is why your empathy knew no bounds. And this is why your beauty is inside and out.  

Spencer laid down to rest, anxious for the next day, Monday, to come. His heart threatening to beat out of his chest but his mind oddly calm as if it had a precognition that everything would turn out just right.

———

You arrived earlier than he did, throwing him off balance. 

“Hey Spence!” You greeted with a smile. “I got you a croissant and some coffee from that shop near my place.”

He blushed and stammered out a thank you. You were wearing a deep purple blouse that matched the scarf around his neck—the birthday gift you’ve given. He was no believer of the mystics but he took all of these as a sign from the stars. There was no way he would mess this up now.

“I—I got you something too,” he looked inside his satchel, hands shaking from it all. Gods, he wished this would go well or else, he might just die from embarrassment. “It’s nothing much but—I read your two favorite books and just—I wanted to discuss it with you,” he brought out the tabbed copies and presented them to you. “These are for you. I know you have copies of your own but I-I put my own notes on which lines reminded me of you.”

Your face turned red at the notion behind it all. Here was the BAU genius, the certified lover of the classics and the academia, the man who had your affections since day one, reading two contemporary literatures just for him to present you a gift like no other. You reached out and hugged the precious copies to your chest. 

“Thank you, no one’s ever done this for me before,” you breathed out, falling deeper into attraction with the perfection in front of you. “ Hey Spence, I may sound delusional asking this and you can say no if you want to but—” you visibly gulped, unaware of the audience nearby. “—would you like to have dinner with me? I make a mean lasagna.”

He turned red and vigorously nodded. “Y-Yes. Yes, I’d love to have dinner with you.”

You giggled, sounding like wind chimes to his ears. He did too, giggle I mean, from the triumph of finally knowing that his feelings were willingly reciprocated.

“Finally, you love birds!” Morgan shouted as he swung his arm around Spencer. “Didn’t know how much we could take from this pretty boy—” pointing at him “asking for advice and you—” pointing at you “—pretty girl is as dense as a rock. Tell me again how’d you end up as profiler with those observation skills.” 

A hand whacked him at the back. “Way to ruin the moment, Morgan.” Elle chided before turning to Spencer with a smile. “See told you, you could get a date.”