BloomKings

“Peter” she called from the kitchen that sat adjacent to the living room, giving him the perfect view of her cooking. “Could you hand me the spatula please?” She turned her head to look at him, with doe eyes and a smile.

He smiled, the same crooked teeth smile that made Y/N’s heart melt. He walked towards her, grabbing the spatula from the second draw before handing it to her. “Thank you” she responded softly, kissing his cheek.

Peter leaned back against the kitchen island, arms bent slightly as he watched her cook. It was one of his favourite things to do, watch her. Even when doing the most mundane things, looking effortlessly beautiful no matter the task. Even now, sweat forming in her brow caused by the steam coming from the pot, sleeves pushed upwards on her arm as not to get them dirty. She looked so in her element, so focused.

“Stop staring” she giggled, snapping Peter out of his daze.

He shook his head with a smile. “Not staring, admiring” his voice was soft, gentle.

“Well, stop admiring then!” she was still smiling, face heating up from his stares.

Peter took a step forward, arms wrapping around her waist as he pressed his chest into her back. He placed a kiss on her cheek, similar to the one she gave him a moment ago. “Gonna have to make me, princess” he whispered before pressing his lips to her neck, distracting her from the dish she was making.

“Are you hungry or not?” She asked, caressing one of Peter's arms that were snaked around her.

“Only for you” he hummed against the nape of her neck, pressing another kiss to her soft skin, missing her sweet spot by an inch.

She swatted him away, finally untangling herself from his grip. “Buzz off bug boy,” she joked, the nickname always made Peter annoyed, and loved watching him huff away in defeat.

Peter did as he was told, plopping himself back down on the couch where he sat before. He watched her continue to cook, hiding behind a book to make sure she didn’t notice. She noticed, she always did.

It didn’t take long until she had finished cooking, dishing it out into two bowls. She handed one to Peter, placing herself next to him as she turned on the TV.

“Looks delicious, Baby” he kissed her cheek, something he did often.

They watched TV in a comfortable silence as they ate. It was moments like these that stained Peter’s mind, holding onto the little things in case one day she’s no longer around. His heart ached at the thought, memories flashing back to the one had lost before.

Y/N looked over at him, aware that his kind was elsewhere. His face told her everything she needed, he was thinking of Gwen.

She didn’t mind sharing Peter’s heart with her, knowing that the love they shared was one hard to replace. A love that was ripped away too soon.

When they first started dating, a few years had passed since Gwen's death. At first, Peter told her it was a car accident as Y/N at this point was unaware he was Spiderman. It took him a while to tell her that, not wanting her in harm's way and ending up like Gwen.

But he knew he couldn’t keep it from her, not forever. All the late nights, sneaking away at random times, and coming home with his body littered with cuts and bruises. She needed to know.

She took the information better than Peter expected, smiling softly before placing a kiss upon his lips. “I already knew” she whispered, receiving a wide-eyed look from Peter.

“What do you mean you already knew?” He asked, hands holding hers with intertwined fingers.

“I’ve known for months” she confessed, smiling at the memory of how she found out. “It was before we started dating, not officially anyway.” She started, “You had stayed the night at mine, and I had felt you creep away when you thought I was asleep. It worried me, so I stayed awake. Unbeknownst to you, I was still awake when you got back. I saw you creep through my window, in your spiderman suit trying your best to keep quiet”.

Peter shook his head, laughing to himself. “Why didn’t you say anything?” He questioned, smiling up at her.

“I knew you had your reasons for not telling me, and I had a feeling it had to do with Gwen” she shrugged, “I wanted you to tell me when you were ready”.

He loved that about her, how generous she was. How much he cared for him and his feelings. How understanding she was when it came to Gwen, who was permanently scarred onto his brain. Tears swelled in the corners of his eyes, which often happened.

Y/N reached her arm over, scratching the back of his head as the two were still seat on the couch. “Are you okay?” She asked with a soft and low tone, almost a whisper as not to startle him. Peter looked up, teary eyes meeting her dry ones. He faked a smile as he nodded.

She placed her bowl on the coffee table in front of them, doing the same with Peters before shifting her body closer to his. She allowed his head to fall into the crook of her neck, her arms wrapped his shoulders as he did so. Soft, mumbled sobs escaped Peter's lips. Y/N played with his hair, comforting him as she let him cry against her.

This happened often. Y/N never complained, all she did was comfort him, be there for him when he needed. He didn’t know how he got so lucky.

“I’m sorry” he sniffed, lifting his head from his girlfriend's shoulder. He always apologised, Y/N not understanding why. His feels were nothing for him to apologise for, and she would tell him that every time. “You’re too good to me”.

“I love you more than anything, Pete” she placed a kiss to his temple, wiping his tears away with her thumb. “I’m forever here, forever yours”.

Peter smiled, in awe of the beauty before him. He pressed a rushed kiss to her lips, catching her by surprise. She laughed at his action as he pulled away. “I love you so much, baby” he kissed her again before resting his head against her chest.

The two of you had stuck by each other’s side the entire night. Partially because it feels like you and Spencer were the only ones who didn’t get the memo about bringing dates. You would feel that hollow ache of loneliness behind your ribcage at the sight of all the affection if it weren’t for the comforting presence of your best friend. Everything was just better when you two were together. You give Spencer a small smile before bringing your attention back to the conversations in front of you.

“Okay, but don’t leave me hanging when the ball drops,” Derek cheekily jokes as Penelope starts to walk away, likely to spread the news of the imminent countdown to the other guests.

“Oh sugar, you’ll always get loving from me, don’t you worry,” Penelope remarks back, their flirty banter like a familiar game of table tennis. Derek grins unabashedly at the promise.

“Damn, everyone’s a couple tonight, huh?” You half-joke, bringing your cup to your lips as you watch Emily’s date saddle up behind her, arms wrapping around her waist.

“It’s the New Year, L/N. Everyone’s looking for that special someone to kiss when the ball drops,” Derek grins.

“Hear, hear,” Emily agrees, giggling under the adorations from the woman behind her. Penelope returns next to her, ever the ubiquitous, with empty cups in hand. Emily nods and the three of them start to walk off in search of more alcohol.

“I’ve never had a New Year’s Eve kiss,” Spencer admits, staring down into his drink. Penelope stops, grabs Spencer’s arm.

“Don’t you worry, boy genius. I’m sure you’ll get one sooner than you think,” Penelope reassures him, a playful glint in her eye, before getting back to her quest for more drinks. Her tone of voice stirs something in you, but you’re not quite sure why. You shake it off, turn back to the group in front of you, only to find that everyone else had since become absorbed into their own conversations. You and Spencer were out of the loop. You could listen in on someone else’s story, but the look on Spencer’s face at the reminder of how alone the two of you were made you want to comfort him. You nudged his shoulder, prompting a shy smile from the man. You think back to what he said, swirling the drink in your hand before speaking.

“Neither have I,” you reveal. Spencer furrows his brow.

“You haven’t—”

“Had a New Year’s kiss? No. It’s just never worked out, I guess,” you mumble as you take a delicate sip. The two of you lock eyes before quickly turning away, cheeks heated in embarrassment. You register someone yelling Thirty seconds! when suddenly you have an idea. A horrible idea, really. A terribly stupid idea that could only end badly. But something in you, potentially the buzz from the party, wants to speak it into existence anyway.

In this moment, you’re thankful for the liquid courage.

“We could kiss at midnight…” you tread. Spencer snaps his head toward you.

“But we’re not—”

“I know,” you reassure him. “Just a New Year’s kiss. As friends. Two friends who don’t want to be alone when the ball drops and it gets a bit too couple-y in here.” You watch his face for a response, scanning every quirk, every line, every slight micro expression on his face. Putting those profiler skills to use to determine whether or not you just seriously crossed a line and possibly ruined your friendship and oh, God what were you thinking—

He twitches his lips in response. “Okay.” You smile, trying not to let the nerves get the best of you.

“Okay.”

And abruptly, it all feels too real. Everyone seems to have dispersed in search of their date, crowding around the TV, watching the ball drop, edging closer and closer into the new year. The room buzzes with anticipation, with the promise of a fresh start, of a night to remember. This year will be better, this year will be great. You watch the backs of your friends, all turned to the screen before you. Counts turn into yells as midnight creeps near.

“10, 9…”

You and Spencer look at each other. An unreadable expression on both of your faces.

“…8, 7, 6…”

Crap, you’re going to be kissing your best friend. Is it going to be awkward? Weird? Gross? Well, there’s no time to back out now.

“…5, 4…”

You tentatively place a hand on his shoulder. He leans into the touch, and you’re grateful for the steady and easy comfort.

“…3…”

He locks eyes with you.

“…2…”

You glance down at his lips. The air tingles, an impending storm.

“…1…”

You close your eyes and lean in, feeling soft lips brush against yours for the briefest moment, mouths closed in a chaste kiss. It should be strange. It should be cold and awkward and weird. But it’s warm and tender and sweet, if only for a moment.

It’s…nice.

After a few seconds, you pull back, watching Spencer’s eyes flit open as he licks his lips again. You can’t help but follow the motion with your gaze before looking back up into his determined stare. You hear cheering and scattered Happy New Years, but it hardly captures your attention when Spencer is still looking at you like that. A once foreign gaze becomes all-at-once familiar. Something stirs within you, like a match lit in a bone-dry forest. A realization of what’s to come.

A realization that, actually, you don’t want to spend another second not kissing him.

And suddenly your lips are crashing into each other again, the thundering boom of a dark sky opening and releasing the downpour. Noise and cheers and laughter fade into the background as all you can think of is Spencer, Spencer, Spencer.

This kiss is nothing like the first one. That first kiss was like a friendly greeting.

This one is frenzied, electric, all lightning strikes and fireworks.

You focus your attention on his bottom lip as you thread your fingers through his hair. He returns the gesture with a stifled groan and a hand on your face. He can’t seem to get close enough to you. Can’t seem to get enough of you. God, you never knew that kissing your best friend would feel so euphoric. Spencer has always been a source of comfort to you. Dependable and solid. You liked to think that you gave him the same. But right now, he was kissing you as though you would slip through his fingers at any moment. Like if he were to stop and take a breath you might just vanish into the air. Each grip of his hands on your arms, your back, your neck only drove you to return the gesture with just as much vigor.

Spencer hums into the kiss, tongue grazing your lip, asking for permission. You grant it easily. Enthusiastically, even. At that moment, your brain shuts off and you give in to the sensation of kissing your best friend. Every swipe of his tongue sends shivers down your body. Your senses are overwhelmed by the tickle of his breath, the smell of his soap, the taste of shirley temples and Spencer Reid. You ball your fist in his shirt as you push him against the wall, something steady to lean against in the absolute whirlwind of this moment. He lets out a small groan – almost a whimper – as his back meets the solid surface. The noise sets off a chain reaction deep within you, a sense of urgency, as you continue the heated kiss. Spencer brushes his hand against your cheek, lightly gripping your jaw as though memorizing the shape of your lips, the taste of your tongue. You can feel the effect you have on him, his knees going weak. You smile into the kiss with the knowledge that you are currently rendering the incredibly capable and intelligent Dr. Reid utterly helpless.

Fiery passion eventually dwindles into slower, softer pecks as the kiss reaches its natural conclusion and the need for air trumps the need for each other. Spencer’s lips move lazily against yours, gentle, leisurely, before pulling away. You feel him exhale before he leans back, head hitting the wall with a gentle thud. You angle yourself in an effort to stay close to him, bracing your hand on his chest. Without hesitation, he reaches up and tangles his fingers in yours. You look up to see Spencer’s caramel coffee eyes staring at you in some mixture of admiration, disbelief, and desire. You meet his gaze, and he narrows his eyes, quirks his lips. Almost as if to say did that just happen? And it did. You let out a breathy laugh as you squeeze his hand. Yeah. That just happened.

You card your free hand through his utterly ruined curls, trying your best to smooth out the frazzled honey locks. He leans into the gesture, eyes closing from the simple pleasure of your nails scratching lightly at the base of his scalp. You’re stuck between wanting to memorize this look on his face and wanting to kiss it off. You lean ever so slightly in, breaths mingling…

“YEAH, PRETTY BOY!”

The two of you jolt apart at the sound of Derek yelling in your direction, Clearly, neither you nor Spencer had any sense of awareness of the fact that you were just making out – pretty passionately, you might add – in the middle of Rossi’s living room. For way longer than the acceptable New Year’s Eve kiss dictates.

Spencer blushes a deep pink as Derek slaps a hand on his shoulder in congratulations. You clear your throat at the thought of everyone getting a front row seat to you and Spencer’s first kiss. You can’t tell if the dizziness you feel is from the embarrassment of being watched or the absolute whirlwind of a kiss you were just subject to. Maybe a bit of both.

“Hey! Wha–” Spencer sputters in disbelief. You turn toward the subject of his gaze. Emily schools her expression into an attempted poker face as she quickly pockets some money. Penelope giggles into her shoulder. Realization settles in.

“Did you…did you all bet on us kissing tonight?” You ask, staring down each one of your team members. And not even one of them looks all that guilty about it.

“Sorry, pumpkin! But you two were just so oblivious. I mean, it was only a matter of time, really.” Penelope explains, her gaze flitting between you and Spencer, unbridled glee in her features.

“Seriously, you just make puppy dog eyes at each other all day long,” Derek chimes in.

“We do not!” Spencer objects. But then you feel a laugh overtake you, hunch your shoulders inward as the reality of the situation hits you.

“Oh, my God. We’re like the subject of every romantic comedy ever,” you get out between giggles. Spencer chuckles as he grips your hand.

“Does that mean?” You look up into his hopeful gaze, the unspoken words hanging in the air. You shake your head before grabbing him by the face and planting an enthusiastic round two (three?) kiss on him. Just as electric as the last. A few cheers and wolf whistles prompt you to pull apart before either of you can get too invested.

“Absolutely,” you confirm, relishing in the dazed expression on Spencer’s face. His subsequent smile sends a mass of butterflies fluttering in your stomach in the best possible way. You release his face and grab his hand, its warmth a familiar comfort, its intention entirely new. He squeezes tight in reassurance. And as you feel that warmth tingle up your arm, echo through your chest, you have the breathtaking realization that you’re going into the new year with someone you truly love by your side. In a whole new way. That hopeful buzz in the air didn’t lie. You feel the optimism settle in your bones, its words ringing true. This year will be better.

This year will be great.

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‘It didn’t work out.’