“Where is it?” You mumbled to yourself as you walked out of your bathroom with a bald mannequin head. The same mannequin head you could’ve sworn you had did your due diligence on the night before and hooked up with a brand spanking new 14 inch black wavy curled wig pre-plucked and ready to go.

Padding over to your grand vanity you find nothing but your hair products waiting to be used. You glanced at yourself in the mirror. An expression of confusion on your face as you stood in an old oversized shirt, mismatched socks, and a bald cap that you had painted with foundation.

“Am I going insane?”

That was the question.

You stared at yourself reflection as you thought back on last night. Wondering if you had done anything else with your hair and misplaced it before bed.

You ate dinner with Michael.

Told him not to stay in the studio too long.

Took a shower.

Sent Michael a text to came to bed.

Got dressed for bed.

Physically went and got Michael from the studio.

Started working on the wig.

Said ‘thank you’ when Michael complimented the wig.

Finished the wig.

Went to b-…

Wait a damn minute.

Snapping out of your thoughts you sped walked to the kitchen to see Prince, Paris, and Bigi all eating breakfast.

“Where’s your daddy?” You asked with narrowed eyes and a determined tone.

“Recording studio.” They answered in unison without looking up from their food or devices (teenagers).

As stormed off in that direction Paris held her hand out to her brothers, “Told you it was hers. The curls were too bouncy.” She said smugly.

But that didn’t matter to you as you burst into the studio earning you a small scream. Your face fell flat as you just started at Michael whose hand was now over his hand, “Girl! You scared me half to death.” He laughed.

You squinted, “I’m about to came back in and finish the job cuz why is my wig on your big ass head right now Michael?” You stared at his head.

He had the nerve to look shocked. His eyes wide and his hands coming up and playing with the curls you worked so hard on.

“This is yours?”

“Yes!”

“Are you sure?”

“You watched me work on it last night!”

He tilted his head just a bit, “I don’t know…it looks a lot like one of mine.”

“You mother-I already put foundation on the part! Your scalp is not that dark!”

He pulls an offended face, “that’s a sensitive subject for me (Name), you know that.” A facade of sadness on his face.

You huffed and crossed your arms. It was time for the big guns.

“Either give it back…or I’m taking the one you wore to Elizabeth’s birthday.”

He straightened up.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Gimme my curls and you keep your birthday bayang…” you challenged with a raised brow.

He held eye contact seeing if you’d fold before throwing his head back and groaning, “fine!”

He removed it before walking over and handing it to you, “I don’t like synthetic hair anyways.”

Maxine left him a while ago after she couldn't really let go of the whole Cat thing. She acted way too chill about it on the day because of the adrenaline and then realised a week or so later that it was too big of a deal for her to wrap her head around. There would have been a sense of grief around Reid if that had been the case.

The catalyst of this change was that a pipe burst in his apartment and, thanks to that pipe, Spencer needed to find a new place to stay for a couple of weeks while it was fixed. Reid knew his coworkers would help but they had other things going on in their lives that he didn't want to intrude upon.

Morgan would be busy with his family, Simmons with his, and JJ with hers. And it would be weird constantly being around JJ and Will after she confessed - seriously, why did she do that? - so it would cause him a lot less emotional stress if he just skipped out on that.

Garcia was going through a period of serial dating and he didn't want to be there to witness that because she was like a sister to him and he'd definitely weird out her dates.

Whatever Rossi was going through with ex-wife number whatever, he didn't want to get in between. It hadn't been long since they got married, but with David's track record, everyone wasn't entirely under the belief that the newlywed bliss would last long.

Alvez and Prentiss were still getting to grips with their new relationships and, as well as he got along with them, Spencer knew he would never be comfortable encroaching on their couple's private space. He didn't want to walk in on something he definitely wouldn't want to see.

This left Y/N. She was an old neighbour that he kept in touch with even though she'd moved into a new apartment a few streets over. She was always friendly, always happy to see him, and had forced him to stay in her spare room all those years ago when he broke his knee so she could take care of him. He didn't speak to her as much as he used to but Spencer was sure that if there was a chance to help, she would.

Yeah, it was an adjustment. Reid had been independent for just about all of his life, but this was something he really wanted to adjust to. The comfort she provided was intoxicating - day by day, his walls were coming down - and he soon found out that coming home to find someone else there was really nice. He hadn't really had that (other than with his mother) since Maeve died, and Cat managed to scare Maxine away before he ever got to that stage with either of them. It was a no-brainer who he wanted to stay with from the get-go, if he was honest.

Y/N owned a bakery and that meant that he got fresh baked goodies whenever she came home from work, or if he made the journey downstairs to her shop and snatched a croissant from the display whenever she wasn't looking. Spencer Reid stealing croissants from his friend? Prison had changed him. She'd also told him he could, but he didn't like constantly asking for them, so he used his sneakery to get around that.

He hadn't told anyone about this new arrangement yet. He knew that if any of his coworkers heard he'd gained a roommate, and an attractive female roommate at that, they'd have a reason to ask him intrusive questions that he didn't want to answer. He didn't want to jinx anything. If he was being really truthful, he probably wouldn't be able to keep the coy smile off his face whenever Y/N was mentioned. He always thought she was pretty and, back in the day, he was far too nervous to ever act on it so they stayed as friends from that point on.

After a particularly long and depressing case - child murder is never a fun time - Spencer was drained and grumpy when he got home. All he wanted was to slump headfirst into the couch and not get up until the next morning. That's how it would go down when he lived alone. Yet, he couldn't do that because Y/N was lying on the living room couch. She was dressed in a sweater - one that was designed to be oversized and she'd also bought two or three sizes up for maximum comfort - her cheek squished on a cushion as she watched some cheesy reality show.

"Hey," she greeted, her voice so sleepy that it came out barely as a whisper. He grunted his greeting.

Could he spread out on the sofa like he wanted to while she was still there? It had been a while since he'd been embraced by anyone. And he knew Y/N would indulge him. Why not? Two birds, one stone. He was a lot more confident these days so, yeah, why fucking not?

To test the waters, he lifted her feet and sat in their place, letting her rest the bottom half of her person against his thighs. He let his palms gently slide up and down her shins as he looked at the TV - he wasn't watching it, his eyes were just in that general direction - and he came to the conclusion that this touching another person thing was nice when the person was Y/N.

"You're back late. How was the flight? I can see you didn't get any sleep," she asked, rubbing at her eye with the back of her hand.

The bags under his eyes were getting heavier. He hadn't slept well for a while now. Prision does that to you, she'd heard. And his job took so much out of him. She had no idea how he did it, how he was still functioning. But he was. He was managing.

"I had so many cups of coffee just to get through it."

As he said that, he let all of his weight fall to the side, and he flopped his head onto her chest. Y/N was shocked into momentary quiet, her mouth opening in surprise, but once she got a hold of herself, she softly asked, "Hey, you okay? Was the case... bad? I mean, more bad than usual?"

"...A kid."

It was only two words, but they told her everything she needed to know. "Oh" was all she could possibly think of saying. It encapsulated everything she could about the subject. It was a surprise. It was sad. And she was sure there wasn't anything she could say to make it better.

He snaked his arm around her stomach in an effort to bring her closer to him, to bring him even more of the comfort he desperately needed right now. Her hands hovered an inch away from his shoulders for just a moment, taking a second to consider whether touching him any further would cause him discomfort, before she made her mind up and began stroking his back with long soothing circular strokes.

Pastry. Jam. Honey. And a hint of mint from her toothpaste that she'd accidentally dropped onto her jumper. She smelt so delicious that he wondered if she would actually taste as good as she smelled. His stomach growled as that thought popped into his head.

"You hungry? I've got some leftover pasta if you want me to warm it up for you."

"Just wanna stay here. You're warm."

If it was warmth he wanted, it was warmth he was going to get. Y/N shimmied the edge of her jumper from beneath Spencer and lifted it over him, entrapping them both in the comfort of her sweatshirt. He shifted upwards to poke his head out of the neck opening and rested his cheek on top of her collarbone.

"This kinda feels like I'm a kangaroo with my little baby joey in my pouch," she teased, drawing squiggles between his shoulder blades.

"Did you know that 95% of kangaroos are left-handed?"

"I didn't know that."

"If a kangaroo gets pregnant again while nursing their previous joey, a phenomenon called embryonic diapause occurs, which is when an embryo stops growing to keep itself in a sort of stasis. It has to wait 235 days before it can be born," Spencer rambled, letting himself sink further into Y/N.

Being bombarded with facts about just about everything was one of Y/N's favourite new past times. She always let out a hum of acknowledgement, even though she sometimes didn't understand half of the stuff he was talking about. She was just happy that he was talking to her at all.

"I like you like this, Spence," Y/N cooed, brushing a curl away before it fell in front of his eyes with a tentative fingertip. "All wrapped up and cute like a little joey. You're like my little baby - a tall baby - but still my little big baby."

A snort came out of his nose and he pressed his lips into a thin line. "I'm not a baby, Y/N."

"I know that, dumbass," she laughed, squeezing him a little tighter. "I'm just saying that I like babying you, I guess."

"I'm a grown man. I don't need to be babied."

Her fingers found the crown of his hair as she scratched his scalp. He let out a weak hum, almost like a quiet purr, as he closed his eyes and surrendered to the sensation.

"I know," she smiled, "But just because you don't need to be taken care of doesn't mean you shouldn't be."

Lifting himself onto his forearms, Spencer peered down at Y/N, and even though he didn't realise it, his big brown eyes were brimming with tears. Y/N was quick to thumb away the wetness that was about to fall down his cheek. She didn't know why she felt the need to confess her thoughts. Maybe it was to make Spencer feel better. Maybe she was just tired of seeing him lose himself to the void.

"I want to look after you," Y/N stated, tilting his chin up with her forefinger so their eyes met, "If you'll let me."

There was a wealth of emotion behind his eyes. Even Y/N, who knew him better than most, didn't feel like she understood all of them. Was it fear? Was it sadness? Was it some kind of guilt? Motormouth and serial rambler Spencer Reid had no idea how to internalise that and what to say to that. He was speechless. He was silent for so long, Y/N thought he might've gone into shock. She expected him to bolt from her like a wild horse freed from a rider's grip. But he didn't.

"Let you?" he eventually choked out. "Yeah, I'll let you. I'll admit there are certain things that I have to do in a very specific way or I won't be able to function properly but - overall - that sounds really nice, Y/N. Thank you."

Y/N felt her lips twitch into a smile. "We can talk about it more tomorrow, yeah?" He nodded so she went back to scratching his head until he settled down into the crook of her neck and let himself get closer and closer to the edge of sleep. He was cocooned in a bubble of physical and emotional warmth that enveloped him with ease.

Spencer really could get used to this.

Tomorrow came and the pair had a very open conversation where Spencer admitted that he would like to be, for lack of a better word, pampered. It was a relatively new concept to him, and the brief insight he got of it was really relaxing. But, he didn't want to feel incompetent. Tasks that take a certain amount of concentration and brain power were fine for Y/N to do for him, yet he didn't want to take her kindness for granted and turn her into his maid. That was a step too far.

He also confessed, with a few word stumbles along the way, that he had felt the need for this to be reciprocal in some way. Yes, Y/N had been the one to bring up the subject and had expressed the desire to take care of him, but that created an imbalance between the two of them - Spencer getting whatever he wanted done for him, and Y/N getting jack shit (and presumably tired from doing everything) - and their friendship wouldn't last like that.

To pay her back, he'd help out in her bakery. He could help out on the financial side of things since was so much faster than her at the admin and accounting work - maths to Spencer Reid is like breathing - and (he's never really told anyone before) he would really like to know how to make doughnuts and croissants and all the sweet treats that he craves so much. Awesome FBI profiler by day. Mediocre maker of jam tarts by night. That was the dream.

Ever since he was a kid, he always felt a little weird whenever he was in someone else's personal space. For some people, it was their home. Or their office. Or the bathroom that they have breakdowns in. Personally, Spencer's was the poetry section at the library he frequented. Y/N's was her patisserie kitchen. And, bizarrely, Spencer didn't mind hanging out in Y/N's patisserie kitchen. Maybe it was because it was filled with sweet treats. Or maybe it was because of what always happened if Spencer managed to get home before Y/N had decided that her work day was over.

As quiet as a mouse, he'd creep down the stairs from their apartment - he means her, her apartment - to the kitchen of her bakery, and he'd stand in the doorway watching. Just watching. Watching as she hummed to herself while she worked. Watching as she moved about with confidence and ease. Watching as she reached for the measuring cups and jugs of ingredients. Watching as she stirred, whisked, mixed, and kneaded whatever needed to be prepared for tomorrow.

If one of her employees was still hanging around, they'd look at him knowingly so he always hoped she was alone to save himself the embarrassment.

Spencer's eyes would drink in every single part of her - the way she moved and the way she held herself, the way her white apron hung loosely around her, the way her messy hair looked tied back with a yellow ribbon - and at first, he wouldn't want to disturb her. But, over time, he'd realise that he was being a bit of a creep.

And then he'd get up the courage to walk right in, do his best to pretend that he hadn't been ogling her from afar for who knows how long, and give her a big grin as he entered her space. She'd jump out of her skin every time his presence became suddenly known - every single one - and lightly hit him on the shoulder.

Tonight was no different. It happened step by step as it always did until she asked, "Do you want me to show you how to make Chelsea buns?"

"Yeah, I would like that."

"Put an apron on then," she urged, pointing to the set of hooks with her employees' aprons on, and he did exactly as she said straight away. "Let's make our dough first."

She walked him through the process, told him about all the ingredient amounts, mixed it for him, and didn't stop talking for the entire time. It was cute. It always is whenever you get someone talking about something they're passionate about, and Y/N seemed to know exactly how to reel him in.

Despite the fact that her instructions were very clear and he was a smart guy, he couldn't seem to get a grasp on how to knead the dough. Y/N had shown him what to do, let him fumble for a few minutes, then said, "Can I move your hand for you until you get the hang of it?"

"Be my guest."

So, she did. Y/N placed her palm on the back of his hand and guided him how to properly knead the dough, and he did it, and he did it properly. Yet, when she went to let him do it by himself, he pulled her hand back on his, mumbling an unconvincing, "I don't think I'm quite there yet."

Y/N didn't quite believe him. She still indulged him, though. They essentially recreated that scene from Ghost but with baking instead of pottery. She didn't laugh or push him away. She just smiled.

"I think that's enough. Now we should wait at least 2 hours so the yeast rises and it doubles in size."

"What? I can't wait that long."

"Well, it's a good thing I made some earlier then."

Pulling the same move that TV cooks use, Y/N retrieved her previously made risen dough so he could flatten it out, sprinkle on the cinnamon and spice and everything nice, and roll it up into a cute - albeit a bit wonky - swirl of tastiness.

The buns cooked for 25 minutes, and during that time, Spencer asked all about Y/N's day and if she had any customers from hell recently. Y/N urged him to tell her about his day at work - but only the parts he felt comfortable about saying, like usual - and he was lucky that he'd mostly been doing paperwork. It was boring to talk about and even more boring to fill out, but it wasn't traumatic, so that was good.

By the time they had to come out of the oven, the pair were so deep in a conversation that they forgot they were baking and were rudely interrupted by the timer Y/N had set. She was quick to hand Spencer a set of oven gloves so he could behold his masterpieces.

"These smell so good," he hummed as he took a deep whiff of the warm buns, the scent filling him with a sense of accomplishment. Just after he placed the hot tray on the side, Spencer attempted to pick up a bun to eat. "HOT! HOT! VERY HOT!"

"You literally just got it out of the oven!"

Through her chuckle, Y/N caught his wrist and lifted to see if accidentally touched the scorching hot baking tray and burnt the tips of his finger. He hadn't, luckily, but she still rubbed the pain away with her thumb.

"That was a silly thing to do. I thought you were supposed to be a genius," she reprimanded playfully

"I am a genius."

"Are you though? Are you really?"

"Yes. I am."

"Hmmm...I don't believe it."

He frowned, then he realised she was just messing with him and reached to give her hips a quick squidge, which was an affectionate gesture that should've felt foreign, but it didn't. Y/N giggled and let herself fall back against his chest, his arms wrapping around her like second nature.

If there was one thing Y/N had learned these past few weeks, it was that Spencer Walter Reid was one touchy guy. And she was probably the only person other than his mother that knew that. He'd been touch starved for all of his life, so it wasn't much of a surprise that he was a bit greedy when it came to physical contact, but it was adorable regardless.

"You still have to glaze the buns. Or do you want me to do it instead."

"Can you do it please?" He mumbled, pushing his face into the fabric of her shoulder.

"It won't take long."

As she moved to quickly make some sugar water and brush it onto the buns, she had a cling on. Wherever Y/N moved, Spencer was attached to her back like a sloth on a branch with his lazy, heavy limbs. It was cute but a little awkward when she needed to lean or walk. He was really putting the cling in clingy.

"I'm almost done, lovely. What do you want for dinner?"

"We're going to order."

"We are, are we?"

"Uh-huh, you deserve a break from kitchens so you're going to let me buy us a bunch of Chinese food that will keep us fed for the next two to three days," he informed her, his voice making it very clear that this was non negotiable.

To appease her even more, he rubbed his cheek against the side of her jaw, nuzzling against her face like a cat. His stubble was rough and scratchy, so she gently pushed his head away.

"You need a shave."

"I don't wanna," he whined. "Don't you think I look more manly like this?"

Y/N chuckled, "Oh yes, very manly." She finished what she was doing and turned in his arms, her fingers coming up to feel the coarseness of his 5 o'clock shadow. "I could shave your face for you if you'd like."

"You would?"

"Well, I mean I could try. If you'd like?"

"Please?"

His eagerness made her giggle, and she felt an overwhelming desire to please him, if only to get rid of his five o'clock shadow.

"Let's go upstairs then, Spence."

"Can you use that fancy moisturiser that you have on me?" He asked on the way up the stairs. "It smells nice and always makes your skin really soft."

Sharing skincare? Surely that was asking for an uncountable number of germs to be passing between them. For some reason, Spencer was completely fine with that.

Soon, Y/N was perched on the bathroom sink with Spencer standing between her legs as she covered his face with shaving cream. With one hand, she held his face ever so gently, and the other was focused on moving the razor so slowly to ensure that she didn't accidentally cut him. It was a very tender moment, one that she could've spent hours doing.

"What are you going to order?"

"Hmm..." He hummed. "Maybe a Chicken Biryani."

"I thought you wanted Chinese tonight."

"I changed my mind. I want Indian food now."

"So indecisive." She turned his chin to the side. "Why don't we order before you change your mind again?"

"Okay, okay."

She finished up the shave as he used her phone to order through an app - his phone didn't have the option for downloading apps. He may be a Luddite but any way around calling the restaurant and placing the order that way, he'd do.

"There we go! You've got the bareface of a prepubescent kid," she teased as she finished up.

"Moisturise me!"

With such a light touch, she did whatever skincare treatments he wanted her to do. His skin had a healthy glow to it that it hadn't had before and there was no stubble, just smooth, sexy, soft skin. The final touch was to slide her chapstick against his lips, his chin resting between her thumb and forefinger.

"So pretty," she whispered, running her hand along his jaw.

Something more could've happened if the doorbell hadn't gone off.

"Go sit down, I'll get our food," she urged, quickly pecking him on the cheek on the way out of the bathroom and towards the front door. Pink took over his whole face and it was impossible to hide his coy little smile.

From that day on, Spencer knew what had once been a crush turned into something deeper. It had a while ago, but this was his confirmation. It was as if there was a large neon sign right in front of her face saying 'Spencer, you're in love with me,' and he didn't need an eidetic memory to remember that forever.

That achy feeling in his heart got worse when Matt's kids accidentally gave Spencer lice. He'd gotten home from a get-together at the Simmons residence, and after entertaining all the young ones with a magic show, his head was surprisingly itchy.

"Do I have a cobweb or something in my hair?" He asked Y/N, scratching at his scalp.

Y/N couldn't keep her face neutral as she got to her knees on the couch and peered at the top of his head. She grimaced and visibly shuddered at the sight of the little bugs.

"You might want to tell your friend that his kids have lice."

"LICE!?"

Spencer freaked out, his eyes bugging out of his head and his body stiffening. "I'm going to shave my head!" He squealed, flinging his hands up in the air. "I'm going to! All my hair!"

"It's okay, lovely. I'll go down to the corner store, pick up some Nix, and be back in a little over 5 minutes," Y/N soothed, trying to get his mind off of his potential baldness.

"Please hurry!"

8 minutes later, Y/N returned from the store and Spencer stared at her expectantly.

"There's nothing to worry about. Come on, bathroom time."

Once Y/N had so lovingly shampooed his hair and followed the instructions step by step, she was brushing his hair and getting rid of any pesky nits that had stuck around. On the inside, his mind was circling - it would go from 'gross, lice' to 'Y/N's taking care of me' to 'Y/N's taking care of me because of gross lice' and would repeat over and over again - but on the outside, he was beaming up at her with puppy dog eyes and a little pout.

"What would I do without you?"

"Shave your head, apparently."

"I'm going to miss you, Y/N," he admitted. "When my apartment is fixed."

Luckily for him, Spencer's landlord had messed up. The burst pipe spewed water everywhere. That water splashed into a plug socket. So, that needed to be replaced and rewired, and Mr Landlord thought his buddy who'd offered to do it at a heavily discounted price had the skill set to do it correctly. They did not. A completely different electrician had to come in and redo everything.

"I'll just force you to stay here forever."

"You don't have to force that on me. I'll stay, willingly."

"Okay then, move in."

She said it so casually, like it was nothing and not the life changing decision that it was. It was an enticing offer. A life with her. Her support. In constant domesticity. And with a steady flow of baked goods. It was too good to refuse.

"You're serious?"

"Uh-huh." He could see it in her eyes that she was. Despite how she was still brushing through his hair, he knew her focus had shifted. "You've already got your room set up, why not?"

"Yeah, I'd like that. I'd like to move in."

All of his stuff was moved in within the week. His landlord had been told and if the guy made a fuss, Spencer had informed him that he was prepared to sue for damages - a hefty portion of his books had been drowned in the flood - and he did work for the FBI so he had a wealth of really good lawyers that he could talk to and hire. He was released from his tenancy agreement after that.

Every day was a sleepover. Well, every day when Spencer wasn't on a case where he'd have to be on the other side of the country for a week or so.

Life with Y/N was easy, blissfully so. They were happy and content, and he was so, so in love. And that was the only problem really: love. He didn't want to be too obvious about it because if she caught on and didn't feel the same, it would get really awkward, and he'd probably move out as soon as he could. Yet, he wanted to express it. He wanted to make her feel loved and special.

Because she was loved and special.

Spring came around and was weirdly warm - that's climate change for you - and Y/N had ditched the oversized hoodies and sweatpants for something less fabricy. T-shirts and shorts, tank tops and skirts, there was a lot more skin on show, and it was, in a word, distracting.

So, Spencer had also decided to start spending a portion of his downtime in his bedroom. Whenever he wanted to look at casefiles or plan his lectures, he needed to not have Y/N anywhere in his field of vision. If she was, he'd get absolutely nothing done.

A gentle knock on his bedroom door interrupted him mid thought, and he called out, "Come in."

Y/N poked just her head in and smiled "Would you like a coffee?"

"Yes, please."

"Good, cause I've already made you one."

Armed with his drink and a cookie on a plate, Y/N made her way into his room and set it down on his desk. He looked up at her in mild curiosity.

"Why is that cookie bright blue?"

"I intended to slightly turn it blue but I added too much food colouring."

Sipping coffee, he leaned back in his chair and began watching her with a slight frown on his face. The frown wasn't at her, specifically. He had a headache. The last case had been incredibly drawn out and took them far too long to solve. One of his best students had decided to drop out because they were busy looking after their sickly mother, and that was a loss of such potential. And he'd generally just gotten up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.

"A few customers have complained that they wrongly bought blueberries instead of chocolate muffins, cookies, whatever so, I thought, why don't I turn them blue to make it obvious," Y/N explained, her eyes scanning all over his room.

His room was a mess. Books everywhere. His duvet was crumpled in a heap on the floor right next to a splattering of clothes. There was yesterday's towel draped on the bed. The curtains were still closed. And there was a general stale-ness in the air.

No hesitation whatsoever, Y/N grabbed his laundry bag and began to tidy up.

"I'll do that later, Y/N."

"It's okay. You're busy, lemme do this for you."

"I'm not a child, Y/N! I can clean my own room!"

In all of their time as friends, he'd never raised his voice at her, and they were both shocked that he just did. Y/N froze as she was mid-push of putting the duvet back into place and looked at him in genuine confusion. He sighed and got up from his chair, moving over to wrap himself around her and slump them both down on his bed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. I had a shitty day and my shitty day is not your shitty day, I know that. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please don't be mad at me."

"I'm not mad, I promise, just a little surprised." Y/N laughed, "You've never yelled at me before. We can tick that experience off our friendship to-do list. If anything, it was a little weird that we've been friends for so long, and that hasn't happened before."

She rubbed the back of his head and gave him a small smile, joking, "I think it was about time you showed your 'grr, I'm an FBI agent. I carry a gun' side to me."

Rolling his eyes, he let out an amused groan. "I've never said 'grr' in my entire life."

"Well, you just did."

"Yeah, I did, but-"

He stopped before he'd start a meaningless argument over it and laughed instead. Spencer let himself squish Y/N into the mattress a little bit, smiling when all she did was pat his back in a soft consistent rhythm.

"I'm judging by the lack of light that you have a headache?"

"Don't profile me," he jeered lightheartedly.

"Too late."

Before he could decline, she was massaging his temples and trying to will away his headache. It was a losing battle, he knew it would be if he tried to pretend that he was okay, and just let her. Five minutes of her fingers moving on his forehead and the pressure was starting to subside.

"You're too good at this," he groaned.

"I don't know why, maybe I'm just naturally good at giving massages."

"You've got magic hands."

A huff came out of her nose. "Yeah, that's what my ex boyfriend said too," she muttered under her breath, talking more to herself than to him.

Jealousy spiked in him, just a little bit, but enough to make his stomach twist and his heart beat faster. He didn't want to care about that. But he did. The mere mention of an ex-boyfriend was enough to make his chest feel tight.

He cleared his throat and shifted under her hands. Her eyes flicked down to his, and he met them unflinchingly. They looked at each other for a few seconds, and a million thoughts ran through his head. A soft smile curved at the edges of his lips.

"Can I ask you something?" he finally said.

"Yeah, sure."

"It's kind of a random question."

"Go for it."

"Do you think... I mean, um, do you think we'd make a good couple?"

There was a long pause. The room was quiet, aside from the hum of the air conditioning and the muffled sound of traffic outside.

"Yeah," she said softly. "I think we would."

"Would you like to try to -"

"Are you asking me out?"

"I would've if you let me finish my sentence," he replied, his sass barely hiding how genuine he was. She laughed. It was a genuine, happy sound that made his chest feel lighter than air.

"I would like to try."

That was so much easier than he'd ever expected it to be. He let out a relieved sigh and very goofily did a little air punch that caused her to laugh some more.

"Follow up question."

"Hmm?"

Since he knew that she was willing to date him, based on that he assumed that she would have a positive reaction when he hinted, "Would there be kissing in this 'trying to be a good couple' situation?" and made it very clear where his eyeline was. His tongue came out to wet his bottom lip. "Would that be something you would be into?"

To answer, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. It was a chaste, almost awkward press of lips to lips. It wasn't long, but it left him yearning for more.

"You've got work to do, Doctor Reid."

Teasingly, Y/N got out from under him and gestured to the case file that he'd been reading when she arrived. Y/N crouched down to be eye level with him still on the bed and swiped some hair behind his ear as she added, "And I've got more bright blue blueberry cookies to make."

He made a face at her, but he knew she was right.

"Come find me when you're done," she told him, winking.

With that, she was gone. He heard her humming as she descended downstairs to her shop. He looked at the case file some more, his mind distracted for a completely different (but also kinda the same) reason now. Whatever bad mood he had been in was completely turned on its head.

He was still grinning the next morning when he went into work and told them all about the new insight he had on the case. Obviously, his coworkers were a little confused about why Spencer was in such a good mood but he was tight lipped. No matter how much he wanted to gush about Y/N and his new relationship, he kept his mouth shut.

The team would only know this new new development in the good doctor's life a few weeks down the line. They managed to convince him to actually attend an evening Rossi was hosting at his house. Spencer tended to only go to the cooking lessons and special occasions at Rossi's.

Once or twice a month, the members of the BAU would get absolutely pissed on expensive wine together. It was Emily's idea at first, but Rossi ran with it. And with the knowledge that he had someone at home willing to look after him if he got into a state, Spencer thought, why not? He deserved a night to let himself get all dizzy and stupid.

There were parts of his recent memory that he'd like to forget and drinking copious amounts of would remedy that for a while. There is not much chance that it would actually 'kill' those memory cells, but they would fade into the background for one night.

Was it any surprise that Y/N got a late night call to come and pick him up? No, she'd been expecting that. He had always been a lightweight primarily because he rarely ever touched alcohol in any way. Even if they were at a restaurant, he'd purposefully pick another dessert if he found out there was a smidgeon of booze in it. What Y/N wasn't expecting was a female voice to be on the other line when she picked up Spencer's call.

Penelope, who had a few too many as well, was giddy with delight when whoever this Y/N was that her buddy had been talking about all night answered the phone with "Hey baby, you okay?"

"I knew he had a girlfriend!" Penelope yelled to the team, her voice a squeal of excitement. "I knew it! Oh my god, hi! I'm Penelope. I work with your boyfriend."

"Hi, Penelope," Y/N said. "How's it going?"

"Reid is so drunk he can barely stand up," she informed Y/N. "Yoo hoo, Reid, drink that water Simmons gave you!"

That got a groan from him. He was slouched on Rossi's couch with his head in his hands.

"It's not my fault you tried to go drink for drink with Prentiss!"

Emily Prentiss has a glass of wine for breakfast. One at dinner. And one before bed. And that's only on her work days. She knows how to hold herself together while her blood has been replaced by red wine.

"If I text you the address, can you come and get him?"

"Of course I can."

"Good, I can't wait to meet you!" Before she pressed the button to hang up, Y/N heard Penelope playfully tease, "Spencer, your girlfriend that you've been hiding from us is coming to pick your drunk butt up."

With that, the call ended and Y/N was grabbing her car keys. The journey to Rossi's was fairly simple and quick, mostly because there were far fewer cars on the road at this time of night. She pulled up to the grand house - mansion, let's be fair - and the door was opened just as Y/N was about to knock.

"You're pretty!" Penelope greeted, her face pulled into a huge, stupid grin. One of the shoulders of Penelope's dress was hanging down her shoulder so Y/N slid it back into place for her. "Come on in, come in. Ha, look at me, acting as if I own the place!"

Thanks to the drunkenness of his coworkers, Rossi did what he always did at these types of gatherings and retreated to his backyard the moment JJ and Emily got all touchy feely with each other.

Currently, Spencer had moved from the couch and was now lying facedown on the living room floor with Luke and Matt throwing pens and pencils and anything lightweight enough to not hurt but be annoying at his head. It was a funny sight to see.

Y/N knelt on the rug beside her boyfriend and reached out to run her hands through his hair as she cooed, "Is the floor comfy enough for you, lovely?"

The sound of her voice immediately perked him up, and he was able to open his eyes and look at her, albeit with a confused look on his face, to ask, "Honey?"

"Hi, babe. Do you want to go? It's late."

"You came to get me."

"Of course I did, dumdum."

"187 means I-I'm not a dumdum dumdum," he mumbled and tried to sit up, but quickly gave up and rested his head in her lap. He huffed an annoyed, "I'm a drunk dumdum" and pouted. She stroked his hair and listened to the other two guys laughing at them.

Not attempting to hold it back, Y/N joined in on Matt and Luke's laughter. She didn't know these guys, but she assumed if Spencer was actually so drunk that it was a concern, they'd be taking this more seriously. He was fine. He was just a little more stupid and less conscious of where his limbs were than usual.

Eventually, she lifted his head up from her lap and held him upright with her palms on either of his cheeks. He looked at her with a dizzy, but happy, smile and her heart melted a little, but she tried to keep a serious expression on her face or they'd stay on his coworkers floor for the entire night.

"Are you ready to go home?"

"You s-so, so pretty," he slurred, leaning forward since he intended to press his lips to hers.

He missed. He actually managed to catch her jaw with nose and he was off balance enough that he fell forward and they ended up in a sloppy, drunken hug where Y/N was holding up all of Spencer's weight with her arms under his armpits and his face was buried in her hair.

"Wuv you," he whispered in her ear, his pronunciation a bit off, but she knew what he'd intended to say. It was obvious.

"I know," she whispered back. "I wuv you too."

A blush was very evident on Y/N's cheeks as she hauled Spencer into her car, and while his friends had no idea what he'd whispered, they knew it was something to gossip about. Her goodbyes were short and she'd given Penelope her number just in case this happened again and Spencer hadn't charged his phone, which happened so often despite the fact he had an eidetic memory and had to be contactable thanks to his job.

Spencer became more and more sober on the drive home. He'd been alternating between sipping from the water bottle Y/N had brought for him and babbling about a type of fox named Fennec foxes that there's been a rise of people keeping as pets, and while he was definitely a lot more coherent and more aware of his surroundings, he wasn't exactly acting like his normal self.

Then she realised he was avoiding any phrasing that could be misconstrued as romantic or sexual or the barest bit affectionate, even if it was the scientific terms for whatever processes he was explaining. He'd mumbled his way through the way people breed and raise the big eared pups before trailing off when he realised she knew exactly what he was doing.

"Lovely, it's okay. I can forget that you said - "

How could she phrase it? He hadn't exactly said those three words but it was close enough that his drunken slurring had the same implication. After consideration, Y/N came to the conclusion to keep it simple.

"I can try to forget that you said 'that' if you'd like me to."

"I don't want you to forget. I'm just trying to gather up the courage to say it coherently this time."

"Take as long as you need," she responded softly as she parked up.

It didn't take him long at all. He got himself out of the car with no trouble, no stumbling or swaying or dizziness. He had reverted back to a light buzz, a little happy tipsiness. They made it through her front door, and he decided that he didn't want to go to bed just yet, so he flopped on the couch and turned the TV instead.

"Let's watch something," he suggested, patting the space beside him on the couch.

The second Y/N was sitting down, Spencer was tugging her to lie down so he could use her boobs as pillows as he watched the random show he'd selected. Honestly, he'd just clicked on the first one that looked mildly interesting without even really thinking about it.

Halfway through a rather graphic sex scene began to play. During their relationship, they'd always been interrupted before things got spicy. A case. Spencer gets an update about his mum. Y/N's friend stops in to say hello. Lecture notes need to be written and papers graded. Employees phoned in sick. Or they were both just too tired and not in the mood.

There were no interruptions in sight tonight. And the show had made him imagine certain things. Spencer went from enjoying Y/N gentle caresses up and down his spine to feeling like they were going to make him catch a flame in seconds.

"Is something wrong?" she asked as he squirmed and flipped onto his back so she couldn't feel what was wrong pressing against her leg.

"I.." He couldn't even form a sentence. "...Nothing."

"Spencer?"

"Nothing wrong. I'm...I'm fine. No problems, honey."

"I can see the tent in your trousers."

It was obvious. Just in the way his breathing got shallower with every movement of the actors in the scene. The way he bit down on his lip as he watched. The way he tensed up and let out a staggered groan when a particularly explicit sex act was performed. And she was in the exact same position.

"Baby, you want a hand?" Y/N offered, fully intending the double entendre. She tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and placed a kiss upon his cheekbone. "I've got magic hands, remember?"

"Oh," Spencer breathed. "Yes, yeah please."

"Get comfy then, handsome."

After some wiggling and shifting, he let his weight rest against his girlfriend and relax his temple against her jaw. When he was ready, he looked over his shoulder to give her a little nod.

Y/N took her time to get him worked up. She kissed her way down his neck as her hand drifted under his shirt. She explored his ribcage and his sides, his stomach and his thighs, before she finally settled on the bulge in his trousers.

She let her lips rest on his ear and whispered to him, "This feel good?"

"Uh huh," he rasped out.

"You want more?"

"Oh god, yeah."

"Do me a favour and unzip your pants for me, will you?"

Spencer was quick to comply, pulling down his zipper with a solid clunk and pulling his trousers down his thighs, exposing his underwear to her. She teased her fingers along the stitching on his underwear before letting them dip beneath the elastic band and caressing the broad length of his cock.

But before she took him into her palm, Y/N was sweetly ordering, "Spit into my hand please." He did as he was told, spitting into her cupped palm and watching her face intently did the same. She closed her fingers around his cock, coating him in the saliva and making him slick for her.

Slowly, she began to pump her fist up and down his shaft. The friction made his hips buck up into the air, but her other hand came to push them back down. "Let me do all the work, baby," she cooed in his ear, her breath hot against his skin. "You're going to be good for me, aren't you?"

"Gonna be so good," he promised, eyes wide, watching her stroking his cock with her slickened hand. She pumped her hand up and down his shaft a little faster, making him whimper and his body twitch.

Then he started to get restless. His legs kept sliding and jolting so Y/N ended up pinning them down with her thighs and hooking her foot under his calf in the process. She began to pick up the pace along with him, his breath getting ragged and his entire body going into overdrive.

"Look at you, lovely." She smirked, enjoying the way he was squirming and squealing. "So pretty. So wonderful." She gave his cock a few final pumps before pausing to watch his face.

He was flushed, his eyes bright, his chest heaving, and his hair a mess of sweat -soaked curls. "Please keep going," he begged. "I'm almost there."

"I just wanted to take a mental picture of you like this," she whispered. "I'm so glad you let me take care of you."

Once she resumed, he was whining and pleading and begging for release. He was getting loud and messy, and Y/N loved every second of it but "Don't want to wake our neighbours. Can you be quieter for me, baby?"

Sluggishly, Spencer nodded. Y/N could see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to get himself under control. It didn't work. He was soon making even more noise.

"Do you mind if I put my hand over your mouth, lovely?" Y/N asked him, settling a soft kiss upon his cheek. Spencer agreed with a loud hum, so she placed her palm over his mouth and held it there, watching his face as it contorted with pleasure. "Good boy, good boy, baby. That's it, feel good for me. Feel so good."

His whole body shook, and his eyes rolled back in his head. Y/N watched his every muscle and vein tense and release as he came. She kept her hand over his mouth until he went still, and his head slumped against hers.

When Y/N finally took her hand away from his mouth, he was completely spent and mumbling a totally fucked out, "I love you. I really love you, Jesus. I love you and your magic hands."

Y/N stroked his hair and kissed the side of his face. "I love you too, handsome. Let's clean you up then go to bed now, yeah?" She guided him to the bathroom for a quick shower while he mumbled incoherently about how much he loved her and how he was going to repay her in the morning.