dear reader ✐ᝰ.ᐟ

1: “...His eyes, Penelope, they’re so pretty and round, like I could drown in them. I want to drown in them.”

He overhears her talking to Penelope as they walk past his desk.

His hand freezes over the case file he’s writing in. She has a crush. A crush that, from that description, can’t be him.

He’s never really thought about his eye color, but now he wishes that they were blue so she could drown in his eyes. Whatever that means? The only conclusion he could make from her words is that her apparent crush must have blue eyes that look like water. That’s what she has to mean by it?

2: “...And he’s so smart, which is so attractive for some reason! And the way he looks when he plays chess? Why do I find that hot?”

He catches part of a conversation she’s having with Emily in the break room as he’s walking by.

He thinks he’s smart. He knows that he’s smart. He wants her to find him attractive for any reason.

And so what if this guy plays chess? It’s not that impressive! What should impress her is all the plays and strategies that he has had memorized since he was 6 years old.

He thinks he could beat this mysterious crush of hers in chess with his eyes closed. He knows he can. He doesn’t want to think about having to meet this guy, though, because soon he’s imagining her comforting him after losing a game to Spencer. “You’ll get ’em next time,” she’d say, because she’s always so encouraging.

Then, the thought of having to be face-to-face with a man who she’s this enamored by makes him feel like he’s losing something he never even had the chance to hold.

He doesn't think that anyone could ever find him hot. Most people can barely look past his awkwardness long enough to notice him at all. The thought of her noticing someone else in that way is devastating.

He’s forgotten where he was even headed before he passed by the break room.

3: “...He’s so good with kids, I can't help but picture him with his own. I mean, you've seen the way he is with yours and JJ’s kids! I just know he’ll be a great dad someday.”

The team is all together in Rossi’s backyard, and she’s talking to Hotch. He feels his heart drop in his chest. He feels his fingers tighten around his glass. She’s really imagining an entire life with someone else. 

As the godfather to JJ’s kids, he feels that he should know who this mysterious man is who has been hanging around them and being so great that she’s thinking about having children with him. Things must be going really well with her apparent crush (no, lover, apparently) for her to already be talking about their future children. 

It must be a serious relationship if she’s talking to Hotch about it. 

He wants to disappear into the bathroom to try to calm himself down, but his mental spiral is interrupted by Henry asking him to show Michael a magic trick.

*ੈ✩ He drives her home after a team night out at the bar. She’s completely wasted, so he cracks the window for her to feel the fresh night air on her face. He has to force himself to keep his eyes on the road and not admire how she looks in the moonlight, her hair twisting and twirling in the wind, her chest lightly rising and falling in a top that really accentuates her—

He’s clenching his jaw and gripping the steering wheel to keep himself grounded. He really needs to get over this crush he has on her. It’s absolutely crushing his soul to think about her and the fact that she belongs to someone else.

He pulls up to her apartment, and she slightly stirs in the passenger seat. “We’re home?” she whines out. He has to stop himself from picturing an actual shared home with her. He’d get her any house she wanted. 

“You’re home. I’ll help you up, just… stay there.” He holds his hands out to gesture at the seat, and she grabs at his fingers. Every nerve in his body feels like a live wire at the feeling of her touch.

“You have pretty hands, did you know that?” She says it like she’s solved a mystery. Her eyelashes are fluttering, and her eyes are glazed over. His brain knows that he shouldn’t take what an extremely drunk woman is saying at face value, but his heart doesn’t care.

“Um… no, I didn’t know that. Thank you.” He reluctantly slides his hands out of her soft grip before he does something stupid, like intertwine their fingers together and never let go, and opens his door to step out of the car.

“Wait! Where’re you going!” She’s wide-eyed and pouting, literally pouting: her lower lip is jutted out, and she’s literally pouting at him. He’s starting to think that offering her this ride was an act of self-harm.

“I’m coming to help you out, honey. Just stay right there, okay?” The endearment just slipped out of his mouth; he didn’t even think about it. How could he not call her that when she’s looking at him like that?

“Ohhhh, okay!” She settles back into the seat and crosses her hands in her lap, patiently waiting.

He opens her door for her and holds his hand out to help her out of the car. She places her hand in his and tries to get up, but she’s still buckled in, so she doesn’t make it very far.

“Oh, oops,” she whispers before reaching for the clasp to try to fiddle it open.

“Help? Please?” Of course, she’s still polite even when she’s like this.

He bends down and leans over her to unbuckle the seatbelt for her, and he purposefully keeps his head facing away from her. He doesn’t trust himself to look at her in this close of proximity and not do something irresponsible like count the freckles on her nose or, worse, kiss her.

“You smell good.” She announces. He wants to jump in front of the metro. He can’t handle this. 

“Oh, um, thank you.” He responds, slightly too late. He dares to make a quick glance at her, and his heart skips a beat. She’s staring at him so intensely, and her eyes are sparkling. She’s smiling and nibbling at her lower lip.

He quickly diverts his eyes from her lips and meets her eyes again.

“Your eyes are so, so pretty, Spence, I could definitely drown in them.” His mind is absolutely reeling.

“But they aren’t blue?” he dumbly says. He’s immediately cursing himself for shying away from her compliment.

“They don’t have to be blue, silly! It’s just a vibe, I don’t know.” She shrugs as she’s ending her sentence, and he’s still so close to her that he can barely breathe.

“Oh, uh, good to know.” He nods. “Thank you.”

He straightens back up and helps lift her from the car. Her knees nearly buckle on the way up, so he quickly grabs her waist to keep her upright.

“Oops! This is so embarrassing,” she whines out and scrunches her nose. Her cute, freckled nose that he was trying so hard not to think about.

“It’s okay, you’re not embarrassing, don’t worry.” He shakes his head at her in a way that he hopes is reassuring. She leans into his touch, so he gathers that it was. He reaches into his pocket to lock the car before guiding her arm around his neck, keeping his grasp firm on her waist. He’s starting to feel dizzy from the feeling of being surrounded by her.

Eventually, they make it to her front door. She reaches into her bra for her key, and he averts his gaze; a blush creeps up his neck to his cheeks.

“Whaaat? It’s a secure place!” she giggles.

“More secure than, say, your pocket?”

“Mm, it could fall out, or someone could steal it from my pocket, and I wouldn’t even know!” She laughs and leans even further into his side as she unlocks her door.

“Fair enough, that’s smart.”

“Wow, the smartest man on the entire planet just called me smart!” He can’t help but chuckle as she says this like she’s talking to an audience.

He had originally planned on just making sure she made it inside safely, but he realized less than halfway to her door that she would probably need help getting settled into bed. That feels entirely too intimate for him to witness, though. Just seeing the inside of her apartment from the hallway feels too personal.

“Is your boyfriend awake? Could he help you get into bed?” he reluctantly asks her, not wanting to trigger a conversation about the mysterious lover she’s been raving about for weeks.

“Boyfriend?! I don’t have a boyfriend!” She laughs at him. Well, not at him; he guesses she just finds everything to be funny right now. He’s extremely confused by her admission. Maybe she’s too drunk to remember the guy she’s clearly been falling for? Regardless, he’s relieved that there isn’t a man inside of her apartment.

“Oh, okay, sorry, uh… is it okay if I come in to help you?” He really doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable or cross any boundaries. He also doesn’t want her boyfriend-not-boyfriend to catch wind that another man helped his girlfriend (-not-girlfriend?) out like this. Spencer wouldn’t love to hear that about a woman he was with, and he doesn’t really know anything about the mysterious man. What if he wants to fight him? Or worse, challenge him to a game of chess that Spencer would have to let him win to appease him. 

“I’m fine, Spence, really, thank you though.” She waves him off and pushes her door open and stumbles through the doorway. He instinctively grabs her waist again to steady her so she doesn’t faceplant into the wooden door.

“Okay, maybe I could use a little help,” she admits.

He nods and enters her dimly lit apartment. She points in the direction of her bedroom, and he leads her there. He gently sits her on the bed, and she immediately flops backwards, giggling at the way the bed bounces under her. God, she’s so cute and endearing, he’s so screwed.

“Okay, so, where are your pajamas?” He glances around her room and finds himself smiling at the way it’s decorated. It’s so perfectly her.

She points in the general direction of her dresser, and he follows.

“This drawer?”

“Mhm.”

She doesn’t even look up when she hums at him, but he has his back turned to her, so he doesn’t know.

He opens the drawer and is swiftly met with an eyeful of her underwear: a mixture of lace and cotton and light and dark colors. He quickly slams the drawer closed.

“That was not the right drawer.” She props herself up on her elbows and sees his hands on the handles of her top drawer. She laughs and covers her mouth with one hand.

“Oh my god, Spencer Reid just saw my underwear.” He’s certain that his entire body is flushed red and pink.

“I didn’t see anything!”

“You saw enough to know that it wasn’t the right drawer!” She’s teasing him, he can tell by her sing-song tone and her raised eyebrows. She’s so precious like this, he can’t help but think.

“Please inform me of the exact location that contains your nightwear, ma’am.” He’s fighting a smile. This entire situation is so ridiculous.

“They are enclosed in the bottom drawer, sir.” He’s slightly afraid this is a trap, but he doesn’t know why she would have two drawers full of her undergarments, so he decides to trust her. He’s very slow about opening it, though.

Luckily, she was not pranking him, and he found her pajamas. When he turns to face her with them in his hands, he sees her struggling to get her shoes off.

He sets her pajamas on the bed next to her. He kneels on the floor in front of her and gently unties them before gently slipping them off of her feet. After, he looks up at her and finds her so beautiful that he’s speechless. Her hair is windswept from the window being down in the car, falling slightly in front of her eyes. Her eye makeup is slightly smudged, and the way she’s looking back down at him makes his breath catch in his throat.

She soon lowers her hands to the hem of her shirt and starts lifting it up her torso. It’s a miracle that he doesn’t choke and cough.

He quickly covers his eyes with his hands and squeaks, “Uhm, I don’t think you want me to witness you undressing.”

“And what if I do?” He can hear her smirking as she says it.

“Then I’d rather for that to occur under… different circumstances.”

“Ugh, you’re such a gentleman.” He’s never been complimented with such an irritated undertone before.

“I’m going to get you some water so you can change. Can I open my eyes so I can do that?”

She says, “Yes,” so imagine his surprise when he slowly moves his hands to see her shirtless, with just a lacy bra covering her breasts. He quickly moves them back over his eyes.

“Ughhh, you’re killing me.” She giggles at him.

“Okay, okay, I am sufficiently covered now.” He slowly peeks through the gaps between his fingers to see her covered by her sleep shirt.

“Your face is a bit red.” She’s smiling, and her fingers are in front of her mouth.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he quickly retorts before scampering out of her room and towards her kitchen. He holds the cool glass to his forehead and cheeks to try to subdue the heat there, but every time he closes his eyes, he can still see her lace-covered—

He shakes his head in shame. He feels like he’s being tortured by some higher power tonight. He can’t blame her for drunkenly flirting with him, so he’s resorted to blaming gods that he doesn’t believe in.

When he gets back to her bedroom, she’s beneath the covers and looking at her phone with one eye closed. He’s a tad confused by this method, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

When she sees him standing in the doorway with the glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen, she opens both eyes and makes grabby hands at him. Somehow, her eyes are still sparkling in the soft light of her bedroom.

After he helps her take a sip of water and as he’s placing the items on her bedside table, she says, “See, I knew you’d be a great dad someday, you’re so good at taking care of people.”

He freezes in his movements. She’s directly referred to two of the three instances that he overheard her talking about her mysterious lover. He’s replaying the other qualities she described in his mind, which leads him to say possibly the dumbest thing ever.

“Do you think it’s hot when I play chess, too?” He dares to look at her, and he knows that any progress he made in soothing his blushed face has been completely undone. She’s also laughing, which is not reassuring.

“Um, yes? Why?”

“No reason!” He wants to disappear. “Okay, well, I’m gonna go now. You should take some of the medicine when you wake up.” He gently takes her phone from her grasp and plugs it in for her. “I’d recommend not using this until you wake up, either.”

He’s halfway to her bedroom door when she says, “Wait! No goodnight kiss?”

He has his back to her, and he looks up at the ceiling. Maybe this is all a punishment because he doesn’t pray. Maybe he should start. Right now.

He turns around to face her, and she’s pouting again. Fuck.

He slowly approaches her and gently places his hands on the sides of her head before lowering himself and pressing a kiss to her forehead. He really hopes that she doesn’t have a boyfriend. “I’ll give you a real one if you ask me tomorrow, okay?”

She eagerly nods. “Okay!”

“Alright, sweet dreams. Call me, and only me, if you need anything.”

“Sweet dreams, Spencer, love you.” She says sleepily with her eyes closed. She probably doesn’t even know that she said it, he thinks. She definitely didn’t mean it, he thinks. He thinks he might burst into flames if he doesn’t get out of her apartment right this second.

He’s halfway back to his car when his phone starts ringing. Nobody ever calls him at this hour. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, and it’s her.

“Hello? You okay?” he says, concernedly.

“Come back,” she whines.

“I- I really shouldn’t. We should both get some sleep.”

“You should sleep here. So I can get my kiss when I wake up.”

He doesn’t have it in him to argue with that logic, so he turns around mid-step and heads back to her door.

“Okay, I’m coming.”

“Yay!”

When he gets back inside, he tries to tell her that he’ll sleep on the couch, but she’s not having that. She tries to convince him to sleep in her bed next to her. He, sort of, complies. He lies next to her in the bed, over the covers. He strokes her hair until she falls asleep, then moves a blanket and pillow to the floor next to her side of the bed. He tells himself that he should be close by just in case she gets sick or something.

When she wakes up in the morning, she thinks that he has left. The bed is cold where he was lying, and her couch is empty when she looks through the doorway of her bedroom. It’s not until she sits up and flings her legs over the side of the bed that she sees him asleep on the floor.

She gently pokes him with her foot until he starts to stir awake. “Spence, Spence, what’re you doing here?”

His blood runs cold. She doesn’t remember anything from the night before. He knew this was a possibility with how drunk she was, but he doesn’t know how to ask her if the mysterious man was actually him all along. He was really hoping that he’d get to kiss her.

“You asked me to stay? Remember?” he grumbles and wipes at his eyes.

“No, I know, I mean, why are you on the floor?” she giggles. He audibly sighs in relief. Okay, she at least remembers asking him to come back and stay.

“Oh, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He sits up, and she’s never seen him like this before. He’s in a t-shirt, first of all. One he must have had on under his dress shirt. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him without a tie on. The shirt is rumpled, and his hair is sticking in about 14 different directions. He’s still wearing his dress pants. At first, she feels bad that he didn’t feel comfortable enough to take them off, but then she smiles at the realization that he didn’t want to freak her out. If he wouldn’t sleep in the bed next to her, he definitely wouldn’t strip down to his boxers.

“Ah, you are such a gentleman." She softly smiles. "I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night.” Oh fuck, she does remember. Oh fuck. Oh god.

“No, no, you were fine. Uh, how much do you remember, exactly?” He reaches a hand up to the back of his neck; it's warm under his touch.

Their cheeks now have matching pink splotches on them.

“Um, everything, I think.” She looks down at her feet and starts shyly rubbing them together.

He slowly rises from the floor and gently squeezes her knee. She’s tracking his every movement like she’s afraid he’ll sprint out of her apartment and straight to HR. He grabs the water and painkillers that he left there and hands her the glass before opening the bottle. 

He’s shaking two pills into his hand when he finds the courage to say, “I thought you had a crush on someone. Someone who isn’t me. I actually thought you were in a relationship with him.”

He gently deposits the pills into her palm when she asks, “Why would you think that?”

Shit, now he has to admit that he’s been eavesdropping on her conversations for a month, maybe even more. But he didn’t even do it intentionally! He genuinely just happened to be nearby whenever she was gushing about this man. 

Wait…

“Have you been describing me around me?”

She just shyly smiles and says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She swallows the medicine and places the glass back on her nightstand.

“Yes, you do! You talked about a man with drownable eyes, who’s smart and plays chess, and has been hanging around Hotch and JJ’s kids! I haven’t heard them talk about a random man who’s been near their children, so I’m struggling not to conclude that the man is me!” He’s sure he sounds hysterical, but she’s smiling and giggling at him with that glistening look in her eyes as he rambles, so she at least doesn’t think what he’s saying is ridiculous. 

“I’m almost grateful for my overall embarrassing-ness last night,” she admits. “I was trying to get your attention all along, Spencer. Literally everyone knows that I’ve been crushing on you except for you.”

Spencer just stares at her.

Literally everyone knows?

He thinks his brain might actually be short-circuiting. Weeks of jealousy and longing suddenly rearrange into something warm and dizzying. He needs to sit down, so he lowers onto the bed next to her.

“You—” he starts helplessly. “You were talking about me?” He points at his chest.

She snorts. “Spencer, you're the only man I know who fits into all of those categories.” 

His face feels like it’s on fire. He’s opening and closing his mouth, and for once in his life, he doesn’t know what to say. 

He’s looking at her like she’s said something life-altering, which she has. He’s looking at her like she just said the sky is actually purple, and it always has been, didn’t you know?

She smiles a little shyly and says, “So… I think I was supposed to ask you for something?”

Spencer immediately nods. “Yes. Of course. Anything. Anything at all ever.”

She laughs quietly. “A good morning kiss?”

His breath catches. He’s surprised that his lungs are still functioning at all. The last 12 hours have completely rewritten his miserable existence that he’s been trying to cope with.

“Yes,” he says softly while nodding. “I can do that.”

He moves toward her carefully, like she might disappear if he goes too fast. His hand rises to rest against her cheek, warm and tentative, and she leans into it. He’s afraid that he’s dreaming. Maybe he slipped and hit his head at the bar last night, and he’s actually in a coma. Yes, this all has to be an amazing coma-dream.

She reaches out for his other hand and messily intertwines their fingers together. That nearly kills him. Maybe he is actually dead, and this is all a creation of his brain trying to peacefully transition him into nothingness.

He slowly moves closer to rest his forehead against hers. A few moments pass, and they can feel each other's breath tickling their lips.

“You’re sure?” he whispers, searching her eyes for any signs that this is all fake, a joke, a fluke.

“Yes, Spencer. Please.”

He finally closes the gap. Her lips are so warm and soft against his. She slightly tightens her grip on his hand, and he lightly squeezes back. There’s no tongue, no heat, it’s just pure affection. He never wants this moment to end, but he’s been breathless since she first got into his car last night, so he has to pull away.

He doesn’t go far; he can’t bring himself to, so he rests his forehead back on hers. 

She laughs, and for a moment he’s afraid that she wasn’t happy with the kiss. “I can’t believe you were jealous of yourself.”

Spencer softly groans and shuts his eyes. “Please don’t say it like that.” 

She leans in and kisses him again.

2 She’s only been working at the BAU for a few weeks when Spencer scrambles into the bullpen 45 minutes late. He’s never late. He was awake until the early hours of the morning, too wrapped up in a new book to notice the time. When his alarm sounded at sunrise, he turned it off and accidentally fell back to sleep. 

His hair is ruffled and his tie is crooked and his dress shirt isn’t all the way tucked in. Even his messenger bag is half open and on the brink of spilling papers everywhere. He feels so discombobulated, and he just knows that this is going to ruin his entire day. 

She’s the first to see him. great. She’s so beautiful, and she’s seeing him as a sloppy mess. 

“Hey, Spencer! You okay? We were worried about you.” He knows that she said we, and that means it wasn’t just her who was worried, but his heart feels warm at the thought of her missing him. 

He nods and tells her, “Yeah, I overslept.” He’s embarrassed and shakes his head before ducking it down. He takes in his messy appearance and wishes he could start the whole day over. 

She reaches out to him and carefully tightens and straightens his tie. She then reaches up to his collar and gently folds it over. He can feel himself blushing at the feeling of her fingertips brushing against his chest and then his neck. 

She almost reaches down to the hem of his shirt before she whispers, “I’ll let you take care of that part,” while shyly giggling.

“Right, yes- Um… Thank you.”

“No problem, Spence.”

“Uh… does my hair look okay?” He dares to ask her, pointing up at his head. 

She’s about to reach up to smooth some pieces down when Emily calls her over to speak to her. 

“You look good, Spencer. You always do, don’t worry,” She smiles before she leaves him. 

He’s left gazing after her as she treads towards Emily’s desk. He’s cursing Emily in his head for pulling her away from their moment together. He smooths his shirt down and tucks it in properly as he walks to his desk. 

As he traverses through the bullpen, he just barely catches his name in the conversation she’s having with Emily. 

“...Spencer doesn’t really like being touched. Something about the germs bothers him.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize.” Her brows furrow, “Thank you for telling me,” and she sadly smiles.

He really wants to curse at Emily, now. 

3 Weeks go by before she touches him again. Spencer is sorely missing the day that she fixed his tie. He’s starting to consider coming into work with it crooked again to see if that can tempt her to fix it for him, again. 

Luckily, he doesn’t have to do that or anything more extreme. 

They’re inspecting a scene together, and he’s crouched down over some papers scattered all over the floor. A piece of his hair keeps falling in his eyes as he reads them, but he’s wearing gloves, so he can’t push it back properly. He keeps trying to use his air to blow it out of his eyeline, but it keeps falling back down. 

She comes over and crouches next to him, “Need any help?” 

He looks over at her and sees that she hasn’t put both of her gloves on yet – she has one on and is about to put on the other. 

“Actually, could you help me with this?” He blows air at the piece of hair again and gestures toward it. He’s so proud of himself for asking her. 

“Oh, are you sure?” She says as she reaches toward him with her bare hand, freezing mid-air. 

I hate you, Emily, he thinks. 

He nods with a shy smile, so she completes her movement and tucks the piece of hair back for him. 

They have twin blushes on their cheeks as they look away from each other and focus back on the documents in front of them. 

4 They’re packed into the backseat of an SUV, Spencer, her, and JJ, in that order. 

She climbed into the backseat after him and before JJ, and pressed her entire side against him – their arms and legs completely fused together. 

After JJ climbs in, he looks over to see if she’s also touching JJ like this, and they must have at least 6 inches of space between them. 

He’s absolutely basking in the feeling of her body pressed against his. He can barely contain his smile. 

She softly nudges her leg against his at a red light, so he’s absolutely sure that it wasn’t an accident or a result of the car jostling. He gets the confidence to nudge her leg back, and she looks over at him with a smile. He blushes and ducks his head down. 

5 He gets a call in the middle of the workday about his mom's health declining. The center needs his consent for a new medication. 

He’s sitting and crying in a random hallway with his knees to his chest. He never sees anyone near here, so he thinks he’s safe to do so, just for a little bit. 

“Spence! There you are, I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

He looks up at her with red-rimmed eyes and tears streaming down his cheeks. 

She crouches down in front of him and places her hands on his knees, rubbing soft circles against him. 

“Spence, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” A few more of his tears fall at the endearment.

He frantically wipes his tears away. He doesn’t want her to see him like this. “I’m okay, it’s just my mom… she’s sick.”

She wordlessly moves to sit next to him, and he feels guilty that she’s settling onto the cold, hard, dirty floor. 

That is, until she wraps an arm behind him and starts rubbing his back. Her hand rubbing up and down his spine is the most comforting thing he’s ever felt. 

He whispers, “She has schizophrenia and lives in a treatment facility.”

She shifts her arm to wrap across his shoulder, then pulls him in closer to her. She places a hand on his head and guides it to rest on her shoulder, soothingly rubbing circles with her thumb. 

♡♥♡  He finds her outside of a local precinct, sitting on a bench. As he approaches, he sees her shoulders shaking. Without even thinking, he starts unraveling his scarf to put it around her neck. He’s not sure why she’s out here at 9 pm, but he surely doesn’t want her to be cold. 

He stands in front of her with the scarf draped over his hands, ready to place it around her neck, when she looks up at him, and he sees tears streaming down her cheeks. 

He’s immediately reminded of how caring she was to him when she found him in a similar position, and hopes he can take care of her half as well as she took care of him. 

As he drapes the knit around her neck, she whispers, “I don’t really want to talk about it. Is that okay?”

“No-yes, I mean, of course.” He’s disappointed that she doesn’t want to confide in him, but he would never push her to talk when she doesn’t want to, so he accepts that her wearing his scarf is enough of a win. 

He turns on his heel to walk back inside when she stops him, “Wait, um, would you mind just sitting with me?”

“Of course,” He immediately replies. 

He lowers himself on the bench next to her and thinks about when they sat side-by-side in the SUV. He wonders if he should press his leg against hers or if it isn’t the right time. That was more of a silly thing that they did, and he doesn’t want her to think that he’s not taking her feelings seriously. 

“Thank you, I’m sorry, this is kind of embarrassing.” She feebly says.

“No, no, you’re fine, don’t worry,” He really hopes that he’s being reassuring enough for her. He knows how to calm down unsubs and victims and his mother, but this feels like entirely new territory. 

As they sit in silence, he looks down and sees her wringing her hands in her lap. His own fingers twitch as he debates what to do. Normally, he’d fill the silence with questions or facts or statistics.

He tentatively reaches over and places his hand over both of hers. 

They don’t talk much, as she requested, and normally that would make Spencer uncomfortable. Typically, he tries to avoid silence and fills it with his rants and ramblings. He even avoids silence in his own head by constantly having a book or headphones in his bag available.

This is different, though. Just her presence makes him feel calm and comfortable. 

Eventually, she pulls one of her hands out from under his to wipe away her tears with her sleeve. His heart sinks at the thought that their moment is over. 

That is, until she turns her remaining palm over and he realizes she’s trying to hold his hand properly. 

She scoots closer to him and points up at the shining stars in the night sky. 

“Are there any constellations we can see?” She asks. 

He smiles at the opportunity to share his knowledge with her; this is something he knows that he’s good at. 

He points out the various constellations above them and tells her about the ones that are present at other times of the year. He doesn’t notice that she’s shifted even closer to him on the bench until their hips touch and she’s lowering her head onto his shoulder. 

“Is this okay?” she whispers 

“Definitely,” He replies, and he bends his neck to place his head on top of hers, gently squeezing her hand as he does. 

pretty pls comment and reblog if u liked! i love talking to u guys and seeing ur cute rambles in the reblog tags <3

(tagging those who asked for this part!)

While attempting to hold a conversation with Rossi about the evolution of forensic science over the last decade, a beautiful woman who looks suspiciously like his girlfriend appears in his periphery. 

Dave has only had a respectable two glasses of Scotch, so he notices that the genius has tuned him out almost immediately. 

“Looks like your keeper is here.” Dave cheekily teases. 

With his head in his palm, Spencer says dreamily, “Yeah, the keeper of my heart.”

Spencer was banished to the aisle seat of the booth after clambering over Emily to go to the bathroom for the third time in thirty minutes. The second she’s within his arm's reach, he grabs her waist and tugs her toward him, resting his chin on her stomach. He looks up at her adoringly, his eyes rounded and sparkling, as she laughs. “You’re here!” he exclaims, beaming.

Tucking a piece of his hair behind his ear, she giggles, “I am!”

“I was trying to text you.” He pouts.

“It’s okay, Hotch told me you were ready to be picked up?”

He doesn’t remember telling Hotch that; how did he know? As he ponders what his girlfriend said, Penelope squeals her name from the corner of the booth.

As the women converse about… well, Spencer doesn’t know, because he’s too distracted by the feeling of her body under his palms.

At first, his thumbs rest in her belt loops, and his slender fingers span down the curve of her ass. 

As she continues talking with his coworkers, his hands sink down her hips and to the curve of her ass. His fingers just barely brush her back pocket when she reaches behind her to grab his wrists, halting his movement, and lifts it back up to her waist.

He whines as she stops his movement and juts his lower lip into a pout. His desperate expression only gets more pathetic when she glares down at him. 

After a few minutes, once she’s invested in her conversation again, he tries a new method. Placing a hand on the back of her leg, he slowly drags it up to the crease where ass meets thigh. 

He internally cheers when she doesn’t stop him this time. Getting bolder, he slides his palm over to the inside of her thigh, gently squeezing the plushness. If he just slightly stretches his fingers, he can brush them against her–

“Okay! Time to take this one home before he falls asleep on me.”

That pushed her too far. He groans in denial, grumbling, “I’m not sleepy.”

“Mhm,” she hums as she pulls his arms to lift him from his seat.

He collapses against her body with the majority of his weight, and she groans as she tries to hold him up, “Spence, baby, I need you to help me.”

His head perks up like she’s said a magic word. She needs him to help her? Okay! With what? Right now? How can I help? It’s like she’s sounded the bell, and he’s one of Pavlov’s dogs.

They wave their goodbyes to the rest of the BAU. On the way out the door, he’s scuffling his feet and tripping every few steps – getting him into the cab should’ve counted as a workout. 

He only gets more handsy in the back of the taxi. Straining on the seatbelt to pepper kisses down her jaw and neck. Fingers trailing higher and higher up her thigh. 

Spencer really doesn’t drink often, and is rarely this bold in public, so she looks over to ask him, “You okay, honey?”

A flush paints his cheeks and fades down to his collar, partially due to the alcohol he’s ingested tonight and mostly due to her. “Mm, I like it when you call me honey.”

She lightly giggles at him, “I know you do, honey…” Grabbing his hand that’s getting dangerously close to between her legs, she intertwines their fingers. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh! Well, I do have a little problem…” He moves her hand to guide it over the bulge in his pants. 

Side-eyeing the driver, she leans close to his ear, “That is not a little problem, and you know it,” as she gently squeezes. 

He whines at her touch and tilts his hips forward. The driver looks back at them through the rear-view mirror with furrowed brows. She gives him a polite smile as if her palm isn’t pressing on her boyfriend’s semi in the man’s backseat. 

Spencer continues to try to touch her and have her touch him throughout the remainder of the car ride. Her promises to take care of him once they get home fall on deaf ears. The only thing on his mind is her, her, her, her, her. 

He eventually huffs and leans back in the seat with his arms crossed, pouting. She’s torturing him. It’s not fair. 

He’s vibrating with excitement as she pushes their front door open, finally. The second they’ve crossed the threshold, he’s grabbing her face and pulling her into a frantic and messy kiss. She gasps into his mouth, and he smirks against hers.

With one hand on the base of her neck, he skims down her back and waist with the other until he reaches her ass, unapologetically squeezing her. He pulls her flush with his body, lightly moaning when his aching cock presses against her hip.

He needs her.

She tries to retreat from the kiss, but he follows her fleeing lips until she rests her palms on his shoulders, gently pushing him back. “Spence, we shouldn’t.”

With hands sadly falling to his sides, he frowns, “What? Why not?”

“You’re drunk, it’s not right. I’ll feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

He tries to lean in to kiss her again, to convince her that he wants this, needs this. Her grip on him only tightens, causing him to emit a protestful whine.

“Please, baby. I want you. Please?” He shamelessly begs.

“I don’t know, honey…” She bites her lip as she trails off. Is she trying to kill him?

“Please? I consent. You won’t be taking advantage of me.”

Her head tilts as she gazes into his pleading eyes, “What if you regret it in the morning?”

His brows furrow in confusion. “I could never regret you. You’re the love of my life.” He rebuts, like it’s obvious. It should be, he thinks. Has he not made his devotion to her evident enough? Should he show her the ring in his–

“Okay.” She concedes. “But I’m only gonna do this,” She slides her hands down his chest to tug at his belt. 

He groans theatrically. He really should take what he can get, but he wants way more than just her hand, albeit beautiful, wrapped around him.

Halting her fiddling with his pants, she asks, “Do you not want me to?”

“No– I mean, yes– I mean, no, I want more.” He stammers, shaking his head.

“Do you want my mouth instead?” She offers.

He wants to bang his head against the wall. Never could he have predicted that he’d be turning down a blowjob from her.

He shakes his head, “No.”

“Spence…”

“I want you to ride me in our bed.” Her eyebrows jump at his bluntness. “Please. Could you please ride me in our bed, please?” He tenderly runs his thumbs over the backs of her hands.

She sighs, “You’re drunk.”

"I don't want you because I'm drunk. I'm drunk and I want you." He looks at her in that impossibly earnest way that melts her heart.

“Plus!” He holds up his pointer finger. “I started thinking about it before I was drunk. Now, I’m just not embarrassed to bring it up…” He trails off, the blush on his cheeks getting darker.

He continues, “And you can say no. I’ll be a little sad and will probably sulk just a tad, but no means no… That’s all.”

She takes a step closer to him, “That’s all?”

His breath catches in his throat, and he quickly bobs his head, “Mhm.”

She nods, “Okay,” and takes another step towards him.

His heart is pounding in his chest, his eyes dart back and forth across hers. Breathlessly, he asks, “Okay?”

She moves close enough to brush her nose against his, and their breaths fan each other's faces. Spencer’s still has its usual strong minty aroma with only a tinge of whiskey peeking through. The scent of her cherry lip balm lingers and makes him feel light-headed. It’s taking all of his control and strength to not just kiss her.

She whispers, “I did promise to take care of you in the car,” before finally pressing her lips against his, gentle yet firm. 

Spencer follows her lead, letting her set the pace, but his veins are thrumming with excitement and anticipation.

Once she deepens the kiss, slowly sliding her tongue against his, a desperate whine escapes him, but he still maintains his composure. Not pushing her or, rather, pulling her any closer towards him.

Gratefully for him, she moves his hands down to her hips, encouraging him to touch her. He can’t resist circling them around to her backside, squeezing and pulling her pelvis flush with his. He sighs at the relief of pressure from his throbbing dick; he’s been half-hard for her since she got to the bar to pick him up. 

As the kiss continues, she wraps her arms around his neck, threading the fingers of one hand through the back of his hair. He unabashedly moans into her mouth, and her lips turn upward into a smile.

“Bedroom?” She whispers against his lips, and he immediately nods, eager and needy.

When she separates from him, leading him with their fingers tangled, he desperately keeps his other hand on her waist, not wanting her to get too far from him. He follows her into their bedroom, kissing her neck and whispering, “Thank you,” over and over.

Once they’re in their room, she rotates to kiss him, with immediate passion and fervor. He doesn’t notice that she’s steered them to the edge of the bed until she’s pushing him with a hand on his chest, and he drops backward onto their mattress. 

As she yanks off her shirt and unbuttons her jeans, he intently watches with blown pupils. Biting his lip, he palms himself through his slacks at the vision of his girlfriend stripping for him. This is far from the first time that he’s seen her do this, but each time he witnesses it, he’s filled with gratitude and reverence. How did life lead him here? To her?

Left in just her bra and panties, she steps between his dangling legs, placing her hands on his cheeks. For the second time that night, she asks, “You okay, honey?”

He doesn’t answer. As he grabs her hips and pulls her on top of him, he falls on his back against their mattress. She giggles as they tumble, and the sound makes his heart sing a matching harmony. God, he loves her so much.

Their lips met again in a hungry kiss. As they retrace each other’s mouths, Spencer slides his hands up her back to skillfully unclasp her bra. It gets tossed to the floor, and he kneads and squeezes her breasts, swiping his thumbs over her nipples. 

She lightly moans against him and grinds her hips down against his bulge. His head tilts back, and he grumbles a low, “Fuck.”

She bites her lower lip, concealing her entertained smile produced by his cursing. Drunk Spencer really has no filter. 

Placing her hands on his chest, she continues circling her hips against him, and his palms tighten on her waist. 

He inches his fingers across her thigh to the hem of her underwear, slipping under them until he’s met with her soaked folds. 

As his fingers slide and caress her, she leans back to grant him better access, stabilizing herself with her hands on his knees.

“Baby,” she whines, tilting her hips upward in an attempt to show him where she needs him.

“I know, baby, I know.” He gruffs, frustrated with the constraint of her panties.

In a split-second decision, he tells her, “I’ll buy you new ones,” and before she can ask what he’s talking about, he’s tearing the lace. She looks down with a gasp at her now shredded panties.

“Oh my–” She cuts herself off with a moan; he’s sliding a finger in her entrance before she can fully process or say anything about what just happened.

He continues fingering her, eyes locked on the rapid rising and falling of her chest. Her head is tilted back, exposing her neck, and he wishes he could reach up to lick and kiss her there. She looks so beautiful and glorious like this.

One finger becomes two, and they can hear the wet squelching noise of her pussy with each thrust. As he curls his fingers upward, her arms get shaky from the pleasure.

“Fuck me, Spence…” She groans.

His lips twitch, “That’s the plan, baby.” 

She rolls her eyes in mock annoyance, huffing out an amused laugh. A deep tension blooms in her belly as he continues his ministrations.

When he reaches his thumb up to her clit to rub smooth, slow circles, her thighs tremble against his hips.

She leans forward and grabs his wrist, “Fuck– Okay– I need you,” halting his movements.

Leaning down to kiss him, she unbuttons his pants and shimmies them down just enough to free his red, leaking, aching cock. 

He groans as she wraps her soft hands around him, thrusting upward into her grip, “Mm, baby, please.”

After smearing his pre-cum over the head, she holds her hair back with the other hand and lets a string of spit drip onto him. His mouth falls open as she does this, eyes tracking the descent until it meets his dick. He’s so sensitive and desperate and enthralled that the slide of her saliva down his shaft has him moaning and whimpering. 

Tossing the scrap of fabric that has become her panties onto the floor, she guides his tip to her entrance and slowly sinks down. They moan in tandem at the slick stretch. 

Stabilizing herself with hands on his chest, she drops down until he’s buried deep inside of her, brows furrowed, and neck tilted back. 

She then realizes something entirely stupid: he’s still wearing his tie and button-up. She groans and yanks on the fabric around his neck, throwing it, before making quick work on the buttons of his shirt, “Why are you even still wearing this?”

He can barely respond, his dick is finally where it’s meant to be, and she’s too frustrated with the barrier of his shirt to actually fuck him. He’s dizzy from the alcohol and the sensation of her tight, wet walls wrapped around him. He doesn’t know which variable is most responsible for making him feel this way anymore.

“You could’ve taken it off whenever you wanted,” he manages to gripe.

After unbuttoning just enough of his shirt to get her hands on his bare chest, she finally slowly rises and falls on his dick. His hands grip her hips, fingers pressing firmly into her ass. With a slack jaw, he groans, “Fuck– Yes– Thank you, baby.”

He continues babbling as she finds a steady rhythm, “Thank you so much, I love you so much, oh my God.”

His head rolls back and forth against the bed as she rides him into the mattress, broken moans and whimpers and whines escaping both of them with each plunge. Spencer soon guiltily realizes that he’s not helping her at all, so he assists in the movement of her hips with his hands and thrusts upward to match her pace.

Her nails scrape down his chest as the heat in her belly catches fire again. He hisses at the scratches, but he loves it when she does this, loves when the sharp pain blends with the intense pleasure. 

“Shit– Baby– Not gonna last long–” He moans.

“Mm, ‘m close,” She agrees, moving a hand between her legs to sloppily rub her clit. He can feel the pulsing of her tight heat as her orgasm crests, and he’s clenching his jaw and hands to stop himself from cumming before she does. Even in his drunken state, her pleasure prioritizes his own. 

“Fuck– Fuck– Fuck–” she chants and cries as everything starts to feel like too much. Her release coincides with a long, drawn-out, “Spencer…” and her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

Falling against his chest, panting, she continues a slow roll of her hips as he bursts inside of her with a raspy groan.

His body twitches and shivers as he cums, fingers slowly unlocking their tight grip on her waist. She won’t be surprised nor perturbed to find the shape of his fingerprints embedded in the skin there later.

His arms wrap around her back as his orgasm descends, caressing her warm skin. Burying his nose in her hair, he mumbles, “That was amazing. You’re amazing.”

She lightly laughs in agreement, pressing a sweet kiss to his collarbone.

They lay as a panting tangle of limbs until she hears his breathing even out, and she glances up to see his eyes closed, “Spence?” She croons.

He doesn’t respond.

“Honey?” She chuckles.

Still nothing. If she couldn’t feel his breathing against her skin, she’d be worried.

She gently shakes his shoulder, and he inhales sharply, “Mm?”

“Did you seriously fall asleep? You’re still inside of me!” She feels his dick twitch ever so slightly against her walls.

“No, ‘m not asleep.” His voice is rough and croaky.

“Mhm,” She indulges his blatant fib.

They both wince as she rises off of him. He feels cold without her warm heat wrapped around him, and she feels empty. She slides off the bed, grimacing slightly at the stiffness in her hips. 

He’s quite the vision lying like this: hair a frizzy mess, a pink tinge to his cheeks, shirt halfway unbuttoned, softening cock peeking out of his pants. The floor only adds to the scenery, clothes scattered about like the frame on a piece of art – Spencer, of course, being the art. She catches a glimpse of her torn underwear (she honestly forgot about it until she laid eyes on it) and shakes her head in amusement.

After slipping on a new pair of underwear and changing into one of his old tee-shirts, the hem falling to her mid-thigh, she gathers pajamas for him. He peeks his eyes open as she unbuttons the rest of his shirt, murmuring, “You’re so beautiful,” when he sees her in his clothes.

“Thank you, honey,” she grabs his hands, “Can you sit up for me?”

He groans, but lets her pull him upright. Slumping against her body like a rag doll, he wraps his arms around her waist.

She manages to maneuver him limb by limb until he’s changed into his sleep clothes. While they’re in the bathroom, lazily brushing their teeth, he whines about going to bed without a shower after being in the sticky bar. She placates his concerns by promising to shower together in the morning – his favorite.

After he’s between the sheets with a glass of water within reach, she finds his phone and plugs it in for him. The screen turns on as the charger connects, and their text thread is displayed. She sees his barely legible attempt at messaging her and smiles, shaking her head fondly at how much he loves her. Warmth grows in her chest as she glances between the i lov nd mis u text and her boyfriend snoring softly into his pillow.

Leaning down to kiss his forehead, she whispers, “Goodnight, honey,” against his soft skin.

⋆ he first discovers how much he likes cumming on her by accident, she’s in his lap and grinding on him, and they’re both naked, and he’s so pleasantly overwhelmed at the sight of her like this:

her lips and nipples are red and swollen and glistening with his spit.

she has wet hickies littered all over her neck and chest.

they both have a thin layer of sweat on their bodies.

he is so so insanely turned on.

so when he sees her lick her palm, and she wraps her hand around him to guide him inside of her, he accidentally cums immediately.

some of it splashes up to her stomach, dripping down her pelvis and through her pubes, some even reaches all the way up to the underside of her breasts.

the rest of it coats her hand.

he’s so obsessed with the sight that he can’t even think to apologize for cumming too soon and getting her all messy.

“fuck, baby, look at you.”

and when she starts licking his cum off her hand, he’s already getting hard again.

this sparks a fascination with seeing his cum on various parts of her body.

⋆ he’s fucking her in missionary, and he begs her to let him pull out and cum all over her breasts.

he’s been sucking and licking on them as he fucked her. they’re all shiny with his spit.

“please, let me cum on them, baby. please, can i?” he says to her between kisses.

she whines and nods, his thick cock stretching her and leaking hot beads inside of her has her awestruck.

he watches as it flows around the swell of her tits, and he slowly licks the warm and sticky mess off until she’s clean, thanking her profusely and telling her how hot she is.

“you look so beautiful and so divine like this, baby.”

⋆ when she’s on her knees for him, his dick and her lips a deep red and glistening with her saliva, he gets an idea:

he warns her that he’s about to cum and she maintains her pace, knowing that he loves watching her swallow all of him.

he gently pulls her head off of him, “wanna cum on your beautiful face, baby. can i?”

she just nods, breathless from just having him down her throat.

he starts jerking himself off and she swats his hand away to take over.

he doesn’t last long at the vision of her kneeled in front of him, her fingers and hand looking so small around his thick cock, eyes wide and shiny, expectantly waiting for him to cum all over her.

he’s entranced with each spurt of his cum that paints her face, dripping from her eyelashes, down her cheeks, some on her nose and forehead, some mixing with the spit on and around her mouth, some even reaches up into her hair.

she’s completely covered in his cum.

she even opens her mouth for him as he’s cumming, tongue slightly protruding out, so he gets to watch as it lands on her lips and tongue, as well.

“oh fuck… such a good girl.”

he still gets to watch her swallow some of him and he’s completely enthralled, groaning at the sight of her.

⋆ and when he has her on her hands and knees for him, a thin layer of sweat on her back from pushing backwards into his thrusts:

her head is turned sideways and he can see the proof of their messy kisses on her mouth, lips shining and red and slightly bruised from his teeth catching on them.

her loves this position so he can watch her ass jiggle against his hips with every thrust.

he asks if he can cum on her asscheeks (still so respectful even after drenching her over and over again with his cum).

she says yes, knowing and loving how much he loves it at this point.

he thinks about marriage as he watches his spend spurt all over her gorgeous ass and lower back, wanting to get to do this with her for the rest of his life.

his absolute favorite is watching his cum drip out of her pretty little hole, though.

seeing it mix with her juices and his saliva that’s either there from eating her out or spitting on her in the middle of fucking her.

he’ll get between her legs to spread her pussy lips with his thumbs to get the best view of it flowing out of her.

he can’t stop himself from leaning in to lick her clean once it’s all dripped out.

⋆ he knows it’s respectful to ask her where she wants him to cum, so he does.

and when she responds with, “wherever you want,” his brain short-circuits; he loves her so much.

he’s learned to let himself start cumming inside of her so he can watch it flow out of her, then he pulls out mid-orgasm and paints the rest on any body part he wants.

-

⋆ she tells him that some people like spitting into their partners' mouths off-handedly, thinking he might find it completely disgusting and maybe even laugh at the concept:

until he’s fidgeting in his seat and pulling at the crotch of his pants at the idea.

the next time they’re fucking, he holds her chin with a thumb on her bottom lip.

“open up, baby.”

she does, and he slowly lets a long string of spit fall onto her tongue, and the sight of it has his thrusts faltering.

he then experiments (he’s forever a man of science, after all) with watching his spit drip onto her collarbones, her breasts, her stomach, and, of course, her pretty pussy.

⋆ he encourages her to do it to him when she’s sucking his cock, he’s lying on his back, and she’s between his legs.

he’s entranced by the look of her spit slooowly stretching down to his tip.

⋆ he asks her to spit in his mouth when she’s on top, swallowing it with a smile on his face.

⋆ when he’s lying on top of her, and they’ve been messily making out, and he reaches between her legs to caress her clit and finger her:

she’s absolutely dripping for him, so what he does next is completely unnecessary, but he just can’t help himself.

he pulls his hand up to her mouth and asks her, “can you get ‘em nice and wet for me, baby?”

he watches in awe as she sucks them between her lips, cheeks hollowed.

the feeling of her warm tongue and mouth around his fingers has him grinding against her hip.

when he pulls them out to get back to pleasing her, he can barely handle the way they look: glistening and shining with her saliva.

a string of spit connects his fingers to her lips, and he’s so painfully hard.

⋆ she’s not sure if it’s pushing it when she’s riding him and she puts her fingers on his lips, but she had a feeling he wouldn’t object.

he takes three of her fingers into his mouth with absolutely no hesitation, sucking and licking all over and in between them until they’re completely dripping with his spit.

she reaches down to rub at her clit, and he can still see her fingers shining as she does, making him cum deep inside of her with a groan.

⋆ when she’s sucking him off and a string of saliva connects her lips to his flushed tip, he has to focus on not cumming on the spot.

-

⋆ the first time she cries during sex, he is sooo conflicted:

he immediately stops his thrusts because he’s worried about her first and foremost.

but, he can’t stop the twitching of his dick inside of her.

“shit, are you okay, baby?”

“yeah, spence,” she nods, “feels too good.”

“oh, fuuuck.” he groans as he continues his deep penetrations.

he kisses her cheeks where her tears fall, and licks his lips between each one.

⋆ when she gets teary-eyed while sucking his cock, he can’t stop himself from pushing his hips forward to send himself deeper down her throat.

when he finishes by cumming all over her face, he’s enthralled by the look of it mixing with her tears.

-

⋆ when she’s all sweaty, he loooves licking it off of her:

in the summer months it acts as a part of foreplay.

he loves it most when she’s all sweaty after fucking him, though, and the way he licks it off of her after is so so sensual.

-

⋆ oh and he’s so obsessed with pulling her panties off of her and she’s so obscenely wet that they stick to her folds on the way down.

and when he can see her creamy discharge on them.

he has definitely brought them up to his lips to taste her there, and will suck on her panties until she’s whining and rubbing her thighs together, so so desperate for him.

-

⋆ god help him the first time he makes her squirt, he almost cums completely untouched at the sight.

and don’t even get me started on how he feels about period sex and food play

2. Rossi hosts a birthday party for Aaron and encourages the team to bring anyone and everyone. So I can send more people home with leftovers, he’d said.

Spencer brought his best friend, and it’s the first time he’s introducing her to the team. As is every event that Rossi throws, the dress code is formal, so she’s wearing a dress and heels. Spencer has a suit on, with a tie that matches the color of her dress. She holds onto his arm as they ascend the front stairs to the house.

Emily and JJ are in the foyer, helping each other remove their coats, as she and Spencer enter. He introduces her to them, and she shakes their hands while keeping one on his forearm.

Emily asks, “How long have you guys been dating?” and they laugh like she’s told a joke.

She looks over at JJ with perplexity. The blonde woman just shakes her head.

3. At the FBI/Secret Service softball game, she comes to cheer them on wearing a shirt that says Go FBI! on the front and Reid on the back. She shouts and claps for everyone, but she’s especially loud for Spencer. After his first attempt at bat results in him striking out, she shouts, “It’s okay! You’ll get ‘em next time!”

Spencer’s cheekbones are flushed, certainly just from being out in the sun, as he sheepishly waves at her from the dugout.

A woman next to her in a Secret Service T-shirt leans over and asks her what it’s like to be married to an FBI agent, and she laughs and shakes her head, “Oh, we’re not together.”

She misses the bewildered gaze the woman gives her. She’s too busy wordlessly asking Spencer if he needs more water.

4. They’re sitting on a quilted blanket in the park, pulling sandwiches and cubed fruit out of a picnic basket. It’s a beautiful Spring day, one of the rare ones where the frigid Winter cold has worn off and the deep heat of Summer hasn’t set in yet. They both brought books to read, but they’ve been abandoned next to them as they talk and laugh around bites of their lunch.

An elderly couple approaches them and tells them how sweet they look, and the man shares that this park is where he took his wife on their first date fifty years ago.

They smile politely and inform the couple that, no, we’re not dating, and they chuckle and shake their heads at them. 

The man looks pointedly at Spencer, “Don’t waste any more time, son.”

Spencer stutters, “Y-yes, sir.”

5. Spencer is away on a case, somewhere. He can’t remember where. The last thing he can recall is trailing behind Derek as they entered an abandoned house. There was a loud noise, possibly a gunshot, before Spencer collapsed and everything went dark. 

When he opens his eyes, everything is blurry. He’s surrounded by EMTs, being wheeled on a gurney, and the bright flashing lights of the ambulance are hurting his eyes. Around the oxygen mask, he starts mumbling unintelligibly.

A woman near his head tries to stop him from pulling the mask off and hears a woman’s name coming from his mouth just before she reorients it. 

“You’re okay – someone will call your girl at the hospital.”

He’s so out of it that he doesn’t think to try to correct her – he just nods and sighs in relief.

*** She steps off the elevator at FBI Headquarters and looks around for Spencer. A smile rises on her face once she spots him, and he hurriedly packs his satchel before rushing out of the glass doors to greet her. Bending down to kiss her cheek, he takes her hand in his before leading her back into the sliding silver doors, talking animatedly about the new spot he wants to try for lunch.

The team watches the scene unfold, and Penelope is exasperated as she throws her hands up and asks, “Are we all seeing this?”

When they return from the new sushi restaurant, they don’t notice that JJ and Emily have just pulled into the parking lot, as well. Their eyes track Spencer as he leads her back to her car with a hand on her lower back, murmuring things in her ear that have her giggling. 

The two women climb out of JJ’s SUV, and they can’t tear their eyes away as Spencer softly closes her door and leans his forearms in her open window. Emily gasps as he juts forward to press his lips to hers, and JJ grabs her arm when they hear him say, “I love you. Drive safely.”

They stand a few spots away, frozen in place, as she pulls out of the lot and Spencer waves goodbye. With his hands in his pockets and his head tilted downward, he doesn’t notice his coworkers staring at him until he’s a few feet away. His eyes squint at their incredulous expressions, and he shrugs, “What?”

Emily points to where her car just was, dully saying, “Best friends don’t act like that.”

He laughs and informs them they’re not just best friends anymore. Well, we’ll always be best friends, but she’s my girlfriend now, too.

JJ sighs in relief, “It’s about damn time.”

lil short and sweet 5+1 fic! hope u guys like!!!

taglist: @sabbiabbydabbywabbie // @siriuslyval03 // @amobigode // @the-floatingotter // @angelstatistic // @themoonandthesunandstars // @tostellify // @aphyrna-mokarran // @roaryxoxo // @feliasrchive 

─── ♡ ───

When her Soulmark ignites, signifying that her Soulmate is nearby, she’s packing into a busy Metro car at seven in the morning. She’s on her way to work, and the skin above her ankle starts tingling as she funnels inside. A quiet gasp escapes her as she carefully analyzes each person in the car, but none of them seem fazed. 

Everyone around her is in their own little bubbles. Men and women dressed in corporate attire stare out the Metro windows with their eyes glazed over. A handful of teenagers have headphones on. A man is flipping through the pages of a book, sitting diagonally from her. There are older people scanning newspapers. Nobody’s day has been irrevocably changed like hers has. Maybe there’s been a mistake? But the universe doesn’t make mistakes…

She’s hoping to meet the eyes of the beautiful stranger that she’ll get to call hers for the rest of her life, but nobody is as alerted as she is. Tearing her eyes from the crowd, she glances down at her leg, seeing the golden and slightly glowing SR.

Little does she know, her SR is too engrossed in his book to have noticed his Soulmark activating, so distracted that he was supposed to get off three stations ago. He’s capable of getting so lost and entrenched in a novel that a sinkhole could appear underneath him and he wouldn’t notice until the sunlight withered and dark shadows were cast over the pages.

Her heart aches as the Metro pulls away from the station and continues its ascent through the Line. She’s heard about this happening to people, but she never thought it would happen to her. She tries to self-soothe by reminding herself that some people never meet their Soulmate, but it has the opposite effect on her nervous system. 

She’s fighting back tears as she exits the car at her stop, pulling at a loose string on her cardigan until it unravels and frays at the edge of her sleeve. As she pulls open the door to her work, the light chime of the bell contrasts with how heavy her heart feels. She barely acknowledges her boss, Beth, as she clocks in and pushes the cart of returned books through the aisles.

Beth is an older woman who reminds her of her grandmother, who died a few years ago. She corners her a few hours into her shift, crossing her arms and intently staring at her over her glasses. “Why the long face?”

She lifts the hem of her dress enough to show the woman her Mark and tears up as she tells her what happened. Beth insists that she’s not doomed, that at least her Soulmate lives in the city. Then, she feels guilty as she recalls Beth’s story of her Soulmark igniting while she was on vacation in a foreign country.

─── ♡ ───

Spencer is in the work bathroom, shirt slightly lifted, staring at the reflection of his Mark on his hipbone. He doesn’t even know when it appeared. It must have happened sometime between leaving his apartment and arriving late to work, but he didn’t feel it ignite. Rubbing a hand over his face, he’s incredulous as he stares at the golden initials.

Derek barrels into the restroom, stopping in his tracks as he catches a glimpse of the golden writing on his coworker’s skin. Spencer yanks his shirt down as the door swings open, but he doesn’t cover himself in time.

“Reid… Is that…?”

As he tucks his shirt back into his slacks, he quickly mutters, “It’s nothing.”

Derek crosses his arms over his chest. “It didn’t look like nothing.” Spencer tries to slip around him, but he’s blocked by the large expanse of Derek’s body. Staring at him pointedly, he asks, “Did you meet your Soulmate?”

Spencer huffs and crosses his arms too. “No.”

“No?”

“No! I missed the Mark igniting and I don’t know when it happened or who was nearby and I might never meet them, okay?!” Derek’s lips part in shock, and Spencer takes the opportunity to escape the restroom.

─── ♡ ───

A few weeks pass before she regains any hope of meeting her Soulmate. She’s been wearing long pants to cover the mark, as catching glimpses of it fills her with dread and despair. Even as it’s gotten warmer out, – a humid Spring settling into the Virginia air – she couldn’t be paid to wear her floral dresses again.

She’s running the register one evening when a cute man enters the store – donned in glasses, a tie, and a leather satchel. Her head had been bored, resting in her hand until he walked in, but the sight of him had her perking up.  Even if he’s not her Soulmate (which he likely isn’t), he’s extremely attractive, and she’d love to talk to him. He does look slightly familiar, but she can’t quite place him.

He swiftly approaches the counter, hands gripping the strap of his bag. “Hi–”

“Hi–” she says at the same time.

They both chuckle and duck their heads.

With a flush on her cheeks, she continues, “Hi, how can I help you?”

He adjusts his glasses as he inquires, “Um, I was wondering if you guys have a book I’m looking for? The shop on 4th said you might?”

“I can check for you,” she says as she shifts over to the computer, tapping the keyboard to wake the screen. “What was it called?”

“Thank you, um, it’s Mutus Liber. I really need the first edition.” He nervously bites his lip. “Not even Georgetown or George Washington has it, and I kind of urgently need it for work.”

Her eyebrows shoot up at his obscure request, but she continues typing. “You might be in luck. Beth, the owner, is obsessed with old books and first editions…” She glances up at him as she waits for their dinosaur of a computer to load, and he’s bouncing on his heels and glancing around the store in wonder. He’s even prettier up close.

The computer dings as the results pop up, and she smiles as the book appears in the first line. “We have it downstairs. I’ll be right back.” 

His eyes light up, and his shoulders sink in relief. “Wow, thank you so much.”

She nods and turns around to head to the basement door, shifting through the keys on her lanyard until she finds the right one. Glancing back at him again, taking in his pristine appearance and polite attitude, she decides to bend the rules for him. “Do you want to come with me?”

Cocking his head, he asks, “Am I allowed to?”

She purses her lips. “Not technically, but maybe you’ll find something else that could help you?”

His lips turn upward, and he adjusts his glasses again. “I wouldn’t want to upset Beth.”

She chuckles and waves him over. “Please, she will be ecstatic that a customer is interested in her collection.”

Pausing to think for a moment, he fiddles with the strap on his bag some more. Finally, he nods and says, “Okay,” before circling the counter and standing behind her as she unlocks and opens the door. He reaches over her head to grab the edge of it as it swings towards them, holding it open for her. 

She whispers, “Thank you,” as she tries to be normal about him being so close to her – so close that she can smell his woodsy cologne.

As they descend the rickety stairs, she flicks the light switch, and the bulb flickers on. He quietly gasps as the shelves come into view, books blanketed in dust cover them from the floor to the ceiling.

She heads to the shelf of first editions as he scans the room with wide eyes and parted lips. Pulling it down, she tells him, “So I can’t let you take it home, unfortunately. But you can stay here and look through it for as long as you need.” 

Approaching her from behind, he leans over her shoulder to look at the book. She turns her head to look at him, and she stops breathing as she takes him in. With smooth hair and freckled skin, he’s incredibly beautiful. 

She’s forgotten that she said something until he responds, “That’s not a problem, actually. I’ll only need to look through it once.”

“Oh?”

His cheekbones have a dusting of pink as he shyly tells her, “I have an eidetic memory. Once I see it, it’s all stored up here,” and he taps his head and turns to face her.

Their faces are terribly close, and she forgets what she was about to say as her eyes flit over his face. His warm brown eyes and rosy cheeks make her knees feel weak. She catches herself glancing down at his perfectly pink lips and sharply inhales as she takes a step back. Handing over the book, she racks her brain for something to say. “That’s, um… That’s really impressive.”

He gently takes the book from her hands, as if it were made of glass. With pursed lips, he flips the cover open.

As she recedes towards the stairs, she says, “You can bring it upstairs, if you’d like. It’s so dark and gloomy down here.” He nods and follows her back up.

A customer is waiting at the counter as they emerge from the basement, and she beelines for the register to check them out as the cute boy lightly flips the pages behind her. 

It doesn’t take long before he’s handing the book back to her and thanking her sincerely for her help. “Oh, no problem. Feel free to come back if you need anything else.” He nods and heads for the front door. She finally introduces herself just before he pushes the door open, telling him her first name, and he mumbles it under his breath before informing her of his name, as well.

“I’m Spencer.”

She smiles and nods, “Bye, Spencer.”

It’s probably just a coincidence that his first initial matches the one near her ankle, she tells herself. But she can’t help from hoping that she’ll see him again, anyway.

─── ♡ ───

The team is grateful and impressed that Spencer managed to find the exact edition they were looking for, and Aaron asks him where he went.

As he explains that he went to the shop across town — a shop that has an archive of old, first edition books in their basement — nobody is surprised at how his expression glows. 

Derek watches him carefully, though. Something seems off about his story. Nothing about him going out of his way to find the book is abnormal, but as Spencer recalls the woman who let him see the basement, Derek interrupts the story. 

“And who was this woman who led you to this creepy-sounding basement?”

Spencer rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t like that. She was really great- extremely helpful.”

Derek inquires, “Hm, what was her name?”

Spencer sends him a scowl, silently begging him not to bring up his Soulmark in front of their coworkers, as he shares her first name with him. 

Derek’s eyebrows shoot up as he smirks, “Interesting name.”

─── ♡ ───

Over a week passes before he comes back to Sherwood Books. She’s in the middle of a conversation with Beth as the doorbell chimes, and her eyes widen as she realizes who it is. Beth gives her a pointed look as she tunes out the woman and watches Spencer walk inside. She waves at him with stars in her eyes, and he returns the gesture before heading for the book displays. 

Her boss snaps her fingers in her face, making her flinch and redirect her eyes back to her.

Beth points at her ankle and asks, “Is he the one?”

Shrugging her shoulders, she replies, “I don’t know, probably not… But I wouldn’t be mad if he was…”

Tutting at her and peering over her glasses, she realizes, “Oh, he’s the one you broke the rules for.”

Her heart races as she reminisces on their time in the basement – him standing so close to her and smelling so nice and being so nice and-

“Is that a yes?” Beth interrupts her thoughts.

Sighing, she rolls her eyes and confirms, “Yes.” Beth affectionately squeezes her shoulder before she walks away to her office. 

She tries not to stare at him as he peruses the shelves – she really does, but she just can’t help herself. The sleeves of his button-up are pushed up to his forearms, and she desperately scans his skin in search of a Soulmark, but finds nothing. When he senses the weight of someone’s gaze on him and peers around a display, making eye contact with her, her eyes widen, and she quickly turns around, pretending to be busy with a box of books.

Eventually, he approaches the register, and she races to help him before Beth can. 

Slightly breathless, she greets him, “Hey.”

With a polite smile, he returns the greeting before placing a book written in Russian on the counter. “Just this for me, please.”

Impressed by his selection, her lips purse as she flips it over and scans the barcode. She asks, “You know Russian?” then immediately feels stupid for asking. Obviously, he knows the language; why else would he be buying a Russian novel?

He chuckles and shyly shrugs, “Yes. I can understand seven languages currently.”

Her eyebrows rise at his admission. “Oh, wow.”

“I do struggle with the pronunciation sometimes, though.” She appreciates his attempt to be humble. 

“Well, there goes my plan to impress you by reciting some obscure text in a foreign language,” She jokes, with a smile.

His cheeks flush as he laughs and replies, “You don’t have to try that hard to impress me.”

She’s certain her heart has stopped beating. Was that flirting? Was he flirting with her? She was definitely trying to flirt with him – was that him flirting back?

With parted lips, she feels her face heat as she stares at him. He’s staring back at her with his impossibly beautiful eyes, and she knows she needs to say something. Looking down, she realizes he’s holding his debit card, and she remembers where they are — that she has a job to do. 

After rattling off his total, their fingers brush as he hands the card over to her, and her veins buzz. She feels dizzy. This is ridiculous. 

Swiping his card, she holds onto it for a moment as the register processes his payment. She looks down at it and freezes as she reads the name. Spencer Reid. SR. 

She doesn’t notice his receipt printing and stares at the piece of plastic, dumbstruck. 

He asks, “Is everything okay?” waking her up from her stupor. 

Quickly, she replies, “Yes. Sorry,” and tears the receipt off the machine, handing it and his card back to him. 

He thanks her as he slides them into his wallet, but his voice sounds distant, like he’s underwater, to her clouded brain. 

He could actually be her Soulmate. His initials are SR. What is she supposed to do? How is she supposed to bring this up? How does she ask him if he’s gotten his Soulmark yet? Are her initials displayed somewhere on his body? What if he hasn’t? What if it’s just a coincidence? 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

She realizes she’s been staring downward at the register with her fingers gripping the counter for an unknown amount of time. She tries to wave it off and replies, “Yes, sorry. I, um, I’m not feeling very well all of a sudden.” It’s not a complete lie. She does feel dizzy, and her stomach is full of knots. 

His expression softens with concern. “Don’t be sorry. I hope you feel better soon — I was just saying that you guys have a remarkable selection here and I’ll be back soon.”

Soon. He’ll be back soon. This is good. This is terrible. This is- 

“We’d love to have you back. I’m just gonna…” She points vaguely behind her, quickly squeaking, “Have a good day!” 

He flinches and steps toward the door, replying with a confused, “You too…” 

She bolts into Beth’s office, slamming the door behind her and resting her back against it. Her boss jumps at the intrusion, and the wheels of her chair roll against the tile as she faces her frazzled employee. 

Before an inquiry can be made about what happened, her chest heaves as she says, “SR. His initials are SR.”

Beth’s face lights up with a grin as she lifts her glasses to her head. “And you told him?”

Her expression quickly drops as she’s met with the shake of a head. “What if it’s not him? What if he doesn’t have his Mark yet? What if he does, and the initials aren’t mine? Oh my god, I think I’m dying…” She keels over with a hand on her chest. 

Beth rolls her eyes and stands up from her chair, resting her hands on the desk, “You’re acting like you’re the first person to go through this. You need to talk to him.”

She straightens her posture and nods her head. “I know. I will… if I didn’t just scare him away.”

─── ♡ ───

Luckily, she hadn’t scared him away. He returns to their store a few days later, and when she catches a glimpse of him walking through the door, she sends a wide-eyed, terrified look to Beth. 

She still doesn’t know how to ask him about the existence of his Soulmark. She’s anticipating that he’ll have to let her down. She’s sure he’ll be nothing but polite as he does – as he informs her that he’s not the SR she’s looking for. 

Petrified to talk to him, she begs Beth to check him out as he approaches the register. Of course, her boss refuses and gently shoves her towards it. 

With a French novel in his hands and a soft smile, he says, “Hey, are you feeling better?”

Her mind blanks. “What?”

Spencer sheepishly raises a hand to the back of his neck. “Um, L-Last time? You said you weren’t feeling well?”

“Oh!” She remembers, awkwardly laughing. She is, in fact, not feeling any better than she was the other day. Honestly, she feels even worse. “I am, thank you,” she lies. “How are you?”

“I’m alright. I haven’t had to travel for work for a few days, so that’s been nice.”

“That does sound… nice.” She wants to bang her head against the register keys. Why is she so incapable of being normal around him?

He chuckles, “Yes.”

As she scans his purchase, she asks, “Do you travel a lot for work?”

Nodding, he says, “I do. All over the country, actually. And I rarely ever know where we’re going until we’re headed there.”

“Oh, wow.” She astounds. “I don’t know if I could do that. I try to go with the flow, but… I prefer if the flow follows a schedule.”

His lips curve upward as he tells her, “I don’t know if that counts as going with the flow.”

Laughing and rubbing her forehead, she replies, “You’re probably right.” She interjects their conversation by relaying his total, and she hesitates before she takes his card from him. 

As she swipes it, she realizes she hasn’t asked him what he does for work, even though it’s come up twice. “What do you do, exactly?”

“I, um, I work for the government.”

“Gotcha, so you can’t tell me exactly what you do?”

Tittering, he says, “No– I mean, yes, I can. I’m with the FBI. We use psychology and behavioral analysis to catch serial killers.”

Her lips part in surprise as she rests her hand on the receipt printer. “Oh, wow. That sounds intense.”

His mouth purses as he nods, “Yes.”

As their casual chat comes to a close, the lull brings her inner panic. This is the part where she’s supposed to ask him about his Soulmark. 

Okay, here it goes. “Do you… um…”

He gives her an expectant gaze while tilting his head. “Do I…?”

“Sorry, do you need a bag?”

Spencer glances at his singular book that definitely doesn’t require a bag, then shakes his head. “I’m good. Thank you, though.”

Bashfully smiling, she hands back his card and his receipt. “Right. Well, thank you for shopping with us.”

He tells her, “Have a great day,” as he turns to leave, and she wants to disappear as she recalls their last interaction.

Muttering, “You too,” she rotates to face Beth, whose face is full of anticipation. After the door chime rings, she tells her, “I’m a coward.” 

Her boss laughs as she agrees, “Yes.”

─── ♡ ───

Derek tells Penelope that Spencer met his Soulmate. Derek told Penelope, and Spencer is pissed. He wanted to deal with this on his own. He didn’t even want to tell Derek, but he was cornered into it twice. He doesn’t even know if she is his Soulmate. 

Penelope goes behind his back and finds her social media accounts — solely by knowing what her first name is and where she works. Her skills are frightening at times. 

She storms into the bullpen like a neon tornado, racing to Spencer’s desk, gripping a piece of printer paper. Slamming it onto the wood, she screeches, “Is this her?!”

The intrusion has him flinching galvanically, and he scrambles to grab the sheet, holding it to his chest, as he balks, “…No.”

She smiles like a Cheshire cat, “Then why are you holding it to your heart like it’s something precious?”

He grumbles something about privacy and boundaries as he shoves the screenshot of her Facebook into his desk drawer, hoping that Penelope can’t see him biting the inside of his cheek, hiding a smile. 

It’s probably not her, he rationalizes. There are thousands of people in this city, and there’s no statistical way she’s the only one with initials that match the ones on his hipbone. It’s incredibly unlikely and would be entirely too lucky for him to have found her. Maybe this is the universe righting its wrongs for putting him through-

There’s no way it’s her. 

─── ♡ ───

It’s definitely not her, but Sherwood does have a great selection of books. It’s definitely not her, but maybe they can be friends.

Spencer starts spending more and more time at Sherwood. He’ll pile up a stack of books in his arms and sit in the armchair by the window, reading, until they close and Beth lovingly kicks him out. 

The first time he did this, she approached him with a shitty cup of Keurig coffee made from the machine in the office. He accepted it gratefully, fingers curling over hers around the mug. She nodded to the stack of books and asked him if he was planning to get through all of them before they closed in a couple of hours. He laughed and informed her that yes, he was planning to, and that he can read twenty thousand words per minute. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head.

It became a routine. A few times a week, he’d pop by, meandering through the shelves while picking his selection. After he settled into his spot, she’d bring him his cup of coffee, carefully blowing at the steam while she carried it over to him. He’d sincerely thank her, pretending to be surprised that she’s done it again. She’d ask him about what he’s chosen that day, and he’d animatedly tell her about each book: what he knows about them and what he’s looking forward to. He’d give her thorough reviews before he left, as he returned each one to its rightful place. She insists that he doesn’t have to do that, that he can leave them on the returned books cart and she’ll take care of them for him – it’s literally her job – and he’d refuse.

He asks her what her favorite books are, and when she shyly tells him that her favorite genre is romance, his heap of books becomes a mixture of his selections and ones that she’s mentioned.

She avoids Beth’s gaze when she comes into work one morning with a brand-new coffee machine tucked under her arm. He deserves better than shitty Keurig coffee.

─── ♡ ───

The BAU has a case in Bumfuck, Utah and they’re about to board the plane and he has no way of telling her that he’ll be gone for an unidentified amount of time. He wonders if she’ll worry about him – if she’ll glance at the door each time it chimes, hoping it’ll be him. 

JJ watches him forlornly stare out the jet window, narrowing her eyes in confusion.

When they return from Bumfuck, Utah, he goes straight to Sherwood before even heading to his apartment. It’s two in the afternoon, and he’s never gone in at this time. He hopes that’s okay. His duffel bag is hanging off his shoulder, and he feels a little ridiculous walking around like that.

She lights up like a Christmas tree when she spots his chestnut hair and sweater vest in the doorway. He apologizes profusely for disappearing, explains that he had to go to Bumfuck, Utah, and shyly asks for her number. 

Giggling and pulling a sparkly green pen off her lanyard, she scribbles the digits into the palm of his hand.

─── ♡ ───

He told himself that getting her number was solely for logistical purposes. It was only so he could inform her when he’d be out of town and to ask about the books in the basement. At first, that’s all it was.

Then, she started sending him pictures of new releases and views from the bookstore window that never failed to put a smile on his face. He started sending photos from random states and the jet window in return.

Eventually, he found himself texting her first thing in the morning and right before he went to bed. He’d do so throughout the day, sporadically, as well – as long as Derek or Penelope weren’t nearby.

“Do I want to know why you’re smiling at your crotch?” Derek saunters up to Spencer with a twisted grin on his face.

Spencer shoves his phone under his thigh and purses his lips in feigned confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

─── ♡ ───

It’s raining, and multiple spots on the ceiling are steadily dripping into buckets. She’s spent half of her shift setting up and moving wet-floor signs, and she wishes that she could curl up with a book and a cup of tea by the window. The soft sky and gentle pattering of droplets normally bring her comfort, but today they’ve only brought chaos.

She’s not even as excited to see Spencer as she normally would be. Her hair is a frizzy mess from the humidity, and her mind is completely frazzled.

He’s perusing the shelves for something he hasn’t read yet – a difficult feat – when a customer informs her that the ceiling is leaking in another spot. With a sigh, she goes on a hunt for an additional bucket, passing Spencer as she does. 

Her feet skid across the floor behind him, and he just barely sees her lose balance in his periphery. Instinctively reaching his arms out for her, if he hadn’t had an eye on her, she would’ve slipped and fallen backwards. 

She gasps. “Oh my-” As he pivoted, his hands found her waist to steady her, and hers landed on his chest. “Thanks,” she continues, winded.

Their faces are incredibly close, and she can feel his breath fanning over her face as they just stare at each other. “You’re welcome,” he replies, whispering. Her eyes flicker down to his lips as he speaks, lingering there as they move. His tongue darts out to wet them, and she quickly meets his eyes again, only to find them pointed towards her mouth. His palms feel warm around her hips, and her fingers find the edge of his jacket.

Her heart jumps as he gets closer, seemingly leaning in to kiss her. Is this really happening? Maybe she’s dreaming. Maybe she did slip and she smacked her head and this is a weird concussion dream.

Spencer murmurs, “Could I-”

“Excuse me, ma’am, do you work here?” She flinches and turns around to find an older man awkwardly staring at them. Spencer’s hands slowly fall from her hips, and he takes a step away from her. If her entire body weren’t on fire, she’d feel cold from the absence of him. 

She’s breathless, and her mind is reeling as she smooths her shirt, hoping to calm the butterflies wreaking havoc in her stomach. 

Clearing her throat, she shakily responds, “Yes.”  

The customer is holding a children’s book that has a Jolly Rancher stuck to the front cover. “Can I get a discount on this?”

She flattens her lips to smile politely, “I’m sure we can find one that isn’t damaged,” and leads the man to the kids’ area. She can’t help herself from looking back at Spencer one more time, where she sees him watching her wistfully. 

─── ♡ ───

It’s getting too hot for her to continue wearing pants, so she wears her dresses again, but with socks long enough to cover her Mark. She’s standing on a ladder, stocking the top shelves, when he comes in again. He doesn’t stray from his usual uniform as Spring fades into Summer. The most of his skin that she’s seen is his forearms, and she feels like a creep wishing to see more of him bare. 

He always smells so good, and his clothes look so soft. She wonders how they would feel against her skin – how it would feel to lay her head on his chest, inhaling his cologne and listening to his heartbeat.

His eyebrows furrow as he glances around the store, looking for her. He smiles and waves politely at Beth when he catches her eye, and her heart flitters as she watches this from above. He’s so courteous and sweet and lovely. When his eyes trail up the ladder and find her, they soften and glisten. 

Walking up next to her, he cranes his head to see the books she’s stocking and asks her about them. “Cookbooks?”

Glancing down at him with a smile, she says, “Yeah. We just got a new shipment.” She has to force herself to look back at the box in her arms. He looks especially pretty from high up. “Do you cook?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, he replies. “I can, but I don’t do it enough.”

She tsks at him and jests, “Busy FBI agent too busy to boil water?”

As he laughs, she bites her lip to hold back a celebratory grin. He replies, “Something like that. It’s just easier to order in… Do you cook?”

She nods and says, “As often as I can. I’m often only cooking for myself, though, so it can be hard to get the servings right. I find myself begging Beth to take some of my leftovers like every other week,” while giggling. She’d love to cook for him sometime. She wonders what he would like, what he grew up eating. 

As she descends the ladder, he holds out a hand for her to hold. She quietly thanks him, slightly lifting the hem of her dress as she steps down. She doesn’t see his eyes flicker to her ankle, where the top edge of her Mark is peeking above her sock.

“I- Um- I have to go.” He abruptly announces, with a perturbed look in his eyes.

“Oh-”

Rubbing his mouth, he murmurs, “Sorry- I… Bye,” before bolting out the door. 

She glances over at Beth in confusion, who’s looking back at her with a similar expression. 

─── ♡ ───

“She has her Soulmate already,” Spencer tells Derek while sulking at his desk. 

Derek frowns and squeezes his shoulder, “I’m sorry, man.”

Spencer shrugs, “It’s fine. I don’t care about it anyway.”

Derek stares at him while he maintains his focus on his desk. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m not lying,” Spencer defends, pursing his lips.

Derek narrows his eyes and tilts his head accusatorily. “Then why do you look like a kicked puppy?”

“I don’t,” Spencer responds too quickly.

Derek pesters him, asking what happened, until Spencer folds and tells him. 

Derek speaks slowly, and it makes Spencer feel dumb, which greatly annoys him. “So you didn’t see the initials properly?”

“No.” He confirms.

“So, for all you know, they could’ve been yours?”

“Not likely, but yes, I suppose.”

Derek flicks him in the forehead, and Spencer yelps in pain. “What was that for?!”

“For being an idiot,” he replies, rolling his eyes before walking away while shaking his head.

─── ♡ ───

Almost two weeks after last seeing him, she runs into him at the grocery store. The store closes in thirty minutes, and she’s only there to buy ice cream. 

She’s certain she’s hallucinating when she sees the back of his head at the end of the aisle. How pathetic is it that she misses him so much that she’s seeing things — applying his caricature to someone else?

Her breath lodges in her throat when he turns around, and it actually is Spencer who’s staring at the frozen waffles. 

She’s as frozen as the food around them as he makes eye contact with her. For a moment, they stare at each other like two figurines trapped in a snow globe. 

He raises his hand to wave perfunctorily before turning on his heel to walk away. She frowns and finds herself chasing after him. 

“Spencer- Wait-“

Part of him wants to ignore her and just keep walking, but she didn’t do anything wrong and doesn’t deserve that. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself for treating her that way. Halting his movements, he slowly turns back around to face her. How does she still look so beautiful under the harsh fluorescent lighting?

“Hey, we’ve missed you at Sherwood.”

He winces, “Yeah… I’ve, um, I’ve been busy,” and raises a hand to the back of his neck.

She nods, averting her gaze to the wall of sliced cheese behind him. “Right, of course. I didn’t mean-” Wringing her hands, she looks back at him to ask, “Did I do something wrong?”

His heart wilts at her inquiry. Her voice sounds so small and timid, and he hates himself for causing her to feel this way. Eyes softening, he takes a step towards her as he says, “No, you didn’t do anything wrong.” She really didn’t. It’s not her fault that she’s already met her Soulmate. It’s his fault for naively thinking that she could be his.

She absentmindedly nods, and they both know she doesn’t believe him, but she’s trying to absorb his words anyway. “Okay… good. That’s good.” Turning to point at the breakfast foods aisle, she dumbly says, “You didn’t get your waffles.”

His lips part, then shut, then open again. “Um… I realized that I already have some.” He’s lying, and they both know it.

The words fall out of her like a torrential downpour. She can’t control it, and she doesn’t have an umbrella to protect them with. “I have this recipe that makes exactly two waffles – I could send it to you if you’d like? I put a dash of cinnamon in mine, but you don’t have to, but I’ve found it adds a nice flavor-” 

“Sure.” He interrupts her nervous rambling with a tense, closed-lipped smile. “I have to go. I’ll try to stop by Sherwood soon.”

Before she can respond, he’s already turned around and bolting to the checkout. Her eyes burn as she watches him go. She sends him the stupid recipe with blurred vision. He doesn’t respond. 

She buys two pints of ice cream and eats half of both.

He does make the waffles when he gets home. It was the main reason he went to the store that late — a need for something sweet to drown his sorrows in. Something to drown in syrup while he tries to pay attention to a documentary. 

His waffle maker sucks, so the first one comes out burnt and ruined. He only gets to eat one. It’s the best waffle he’s ever had, yet his chest aches with every bite.

He remembers when she said that she mostly cooks for herself, and thinks that her Soulmate is an idiot for not enjoying her cooking. 

─── ♡ ───

Beth has had enough. She’s had enough of the sulking, downturned expressions, and half-hearted conversations with her employee. Books are being shelved incorrectly, and the front door didn’t even get locked last night.

She approaches her with her arms crossed. “Call him.”

She doesn’t even look up as she mumbles, “He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

Beth scoffs, “Look, honey. This has gone on for far too long. You need to tell him about your Mark. You’ll regret it if you don’t,” and she stands there, eyes flicking down to her dress pocket, until she relents and yanks her phone out of it.

“Fine. But I’m not doing it out here,” She says before walking towards the office door.

Her thumb hovers over his contact as she shuts the door behind her. Closing her eyes, she dials him and begins pacing as it rings, biting the skin around her thumb.

It rings for so long that she’s certain it’s about to go to voicemail when his light and airy voice enters her ear: “Hello?”

She takes a rattled breath. “Hi.”

For a few moments, the only sounds they can hear are each other's breathing.

He clears his throat before he asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Well, no. I think we should talk.”

He hesitates before he answers, thinking that she’s going to continue, but when she doesn’t, he says, “Okay-”

“Can you meet me at Shady Park today? After work? I mean…” She shakes her head and drops into the desk chair with a hand on her forehead. “Are you in town?”

“Yes, I’m in town,” Spencer confirms. “And yes, I can meet you at the park. Is everything okay?”

“I just need to talk to you, and I don’t want to do it over the phone.”

“Okay… That makes sense… I’ll meet you at seven? Or does it need to be after Sherwood closes?”

“Seven works.”

“Okay.”

She rushes to conclude the call, “Okay. I’ll see you then. Bye,” and hangs up before he can respond.

As she emerges from the office, pale and breathing shallowly, Beth looks at her expectantly from across the store. She tells her about their plans and tries to pull out her phone to cancel on him three times before Beth takes it from her and hides it.

A few hours later, she’s sitting on a bench in the park, watching the ripples in the river as it rushes by. The sky is gray and lifeless, and she should’ve checked the weather before planning to meet here. 

Spencer approaches her from the side, and she catches a glimpse of him in her periphery before she stands to greet him. Why is she standing to greet him? That’s so strange. This is so strange. 

He looks tired and sad, and she hates it. Pointing to the empty side of the bench, he says, “Hi. Can I sit?”

She overexerts a nod as she sits back down, whispering, “Please.” 

They sit in silence for a while because neither of them knows how to start the conversation. They haven’t spoken in weeks, and the air between them feels abnormally heavy. Or maybe it’s just the humidity from the impending rain. They’re sitting close enough that she could lean over and rest her head on his shoulder, but there’s a metaphorical boulder separating them.

She blurts out, “I got my soulmark a few months ago.”

Spencer sighs, adjusting his posture on the bench. “I know. I saw it.”

She wasn’t really sure what he was going to say to her confession, but that wasn’t it. 

Turning to face him, she’s appalled. “Wait, you saw it? So you know?” His gaze remains straightforward. 

His voice remains flat and even, as if he’s sharing a mathematical equation. “Yes, I know that you already met them.”

She stutters, “W-Well, I’m not entirely sure who it is.”

He finally turns to look at her with furrowed eyebrows, “What?” and a raindrop falls onto his shoulder. 

She focuses her gaze on the damp circle as she tells him, “I don’t know if you’re my SR, but I really wanted you to be.”

His heart sinks at her use of past tense. Wanted. 

He barely heard her say his initials before she’s pushing down her sock and gesturing to her Mark. Spencer’s lips part as he stares at it properly. He’s certain his heart has stopped beating in his chest. He can’t wrap his head around this; his brain is struggling to make any conclusions, especially as more raindrops fall from the sky –  getting caught in her eyelashes and rolling down her temples.

He suddenly starts loosening his belt, and her eyes widen. “What are you doing?”

Spencer frantically mumbles, “I need to show you something.” Her eyes dart around them as he pulls on his waistband. Surely he’s not- “Look. Please.”

Looking back at him, she finds him carefully watching her. Her eyes trail down his body to his waist, where he’s exposed a sliver of skin by his hipbone. A sliver of skin that has her initials branded into it.

Her jaw falls open. She can’t tear her eyes away from it. The rain is pouring down around them now, and she’s barely taken notice of it. She’s unsure if her eyes are burning from the droplets, her makeup, or tears brewing. Her voice trembles as she asks, “When did you get that?”

“A few months ago. I was running late for work, and I didn’t notice it until I got there. I was-”

“On the Metro? The Purple Line?” She frantically asks.

“Yes,” he sighs in response, while readjusting his pants.

“Spencer, I-”

Boom! A crack of thunder crashes around them. They both flinch at the intrusion, suddenly hyperaware of the downpour surrounding them. Spencer rises from the bench, grabs her hand, and leads them under a nearby tree. The covering of leaves does little to protect them from the rain, but the damage has already been done anyway — they’re soaked to the bone. 

She asks, “Should we be under a tree when it’s storming?” glancing around at the sky in search of lightning. 

His hands lift up to her cheeks, angling her head towards him. Stepping closer, he murmurs, “We’re fine.”

Her breath hitches as his face nears hers. Electricity crackles under her cheeks where his thumbs brush the skin. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands. Surely, she shouldn’t leave them just hanging by her sides, but before she can decide anything, he’s pressing his lips to hers. 

She completely melts into him. Somehow, her arms end up wrapped around his neck, and she’s pulling his body into hers. She can feel him everywhere. 

Another crack of thunder sounds throughout the sky, and this time it’s closely followed by a flash of lightning. She gasps, and he takes the opportunity to swipe his tongue into her mouth, sending heat into her belly and numbing her fingertips. 

Finally, Spencer wises up when he sees another flash behind his eyelids, and he reluctantly separates his lips from hers. With a sly smile, he grabs her hand and points toward the parking lot. “C’mon, I drove here.”

She giggles as they run through the damp grass, puddles splashing up their ankles and their bodies drenched. 

Once they reach his car, he mumbles under his breath as he sticks the key in the door, fumbling to unlock it. She thinks she hears him say something about a stupid old car. 

They fall inside as the rain patters against the roof and windows, and he quickly starts the ignition to get the air blowing. They’re shaking and shivering, and she has goosebumps on her arms. She’s not sure if they’re from the rain or from him. 

Looking over at him, she laughs at the sight of his hair matted to his forehead and his soaked clothes. She’s sure she doesn’t look much better. The warmth in his eyes floods her bloodstream, thawing her from the inside out as he turns to look at her. 

He leans over the center console and grabs both of her hands in his, thumbs rubbing over the backs of them. With averted eyes, he tells her, “I’m sorry for how I acted.”

She had almost forgotten that he’d iced her out for weeks prior to this. She’s grateful he didn’t let her. Whispering, she responds, “It’s okay,” and he immediately shakes his head. 

Making intense eye contact with her, he asserts, “No, it wasn’t. I-I really missed you — please know that…” He squeezes her hands. “I really liked you. I really like you. And I tried telling myself that I didn’t care about Soulmarks, that if ours didn’t match then we could at least still be friends, but when I saw yours I… I panicked.”

“I really missed you too. I wanted to ask if you had gotten yours, but I chickened out every time.” She purses her lips, then lightly laughs, “Beth wanted to strangle me each time you left Sherwood, and I still didn’t know.” He chuckles at that, too. 

For a moment, he just stares at her, unashamedly. Her eyelashes have clumped together from the rain, and her hair is a mess, honestly, but it’s endearing, and he can see the reflection of the droplets smacking and rolling down the car windows on her skin. He notices the chills on her shoulders and urgently sits straighter, letting go of one of her hands to search his backseat. “I think I have a sweatshirt back here…”

“Oh, that’s okay-“ She’s interrupted by him presenting it to her, a tattered grey thing with CalTech embroidered on the front. Gratefully accepting it, she slides it over her head and revels in the comfort it brings her. 

He gives her an imploring gaze. “You look beautiful.” 

She rolls her eyes. “I’m sure I look like a wet rat.”

He chuckles and shakes his head, lifting his palm to the side of her neck. Without thinking, she leans into him. Tilting her head towards him and leaning closer, his lips brush hers as he says, “Not at all,” before softly kissing her again.

─── ♡ ───

The following day, Beth watches as she flits around the bookstore. Her employee is biting back a smile and humming under her breath, and the woman’s eyes fill with tears.

Down the road at FBI Headquarters, Derek nudges Penelope’s arm as Spencer walks past them. Derek gestures at his own neck and nods his head in Spencer’s direction. Penelope’s eyes drag from Derek’s collar to Spencer’s, where the edge of a lovebite is peeking above his shirt, and her eyes widen as she squeals.

 ─── ♡ ───

hiii i started brainstorming for this back in may and it's finally done! i hope u liked!! pretty pls interact if u did!! reading y'all's comments and reblog tags make my entire day <3

taglist: @sabbiabbydabbywabbie // @siriuslyval03 // @amobigode // @the-floatingotter // @angelstatistic // @themoonandthesunandstars // @tostellify // @aphyrna-mokarran // @roaryxoxo // @feliasrchive 

Also, like she said, that’s her favorite tree. She sits there with her Walkman and makes friendship bracelets in the evenings, and now she can’t, because this weirdo stole her spot!

Why is he even here if he doesn’t want to be?

Just how many books did he bring with him? His duffel must weigh a million pounds.

She can’t judge him too harshly for that, though. She did bring the majority of her CD collection.

Oh, and did this kid bring any summer-appropriate attire with him? It’s been half a week, and she hasn’t seen him in anything other than slacks and a button-up.

When he first sees her across the lawn, he’s a little scared and intimidated. She’s beautiful and seems so carefree, for one. Her ears are riddled with piercings (a minimum of ten per ear), arms littered with threaded bracelets, a fanny pack clipped over her denim overalls, and a few beaded necklaces around her neck. She’s definitely excited to be here, and he’s definitely not. He has zero plans to speak to her.

Wait, why is she walking towards him?

“Hey! This is my tree, I’ll have you know.” She stops right in front of him and crosses her arms over her chest.

He’s looking up at her like a kicked puppy. It sends a pang of guilt to her heart. She was just messing with him. 

“Oh- I-I didn’t know…” He scrambles to shove his books into his bag.

“Oh, no, I was just kidding,” she tentatively chuckles. Nodding her head towards his books, she asks, “Whatcha reading?” 

His hand flies over the cover of his book, “It’s just for school.”

She looks incredulous, “School? But it’s summer!”

“Yeah, I, uh, I like to prepare.”

She laughs, “I could’ve guessed that about you.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 

The following day, she sees him stepping out of his cabin. She doesn’t know his name, so she just shouts, “I stayed in Radiance three summers ago!”

He flinches at the noise and looks around before his gaze falls on her. With a small smile, he just nods.

Approaching him slowly, she continues talking, “This year I’m in Stardust. My bunkmate is this girl named Dani, she’s really nice, and her best friend Ellie is in the other bunk.” She leans against the porch railing as she continues talking, gesturing with her hands as she does. “Sometimes I feel like a third wheel, though. They don’t, like, specifically exclude me, quite the opposite, really, they invite me to hang out with them all the time, but I don’t know… Who’s all in your cabin?”

He’s noticed that she talks a lot, but that’s not a bad thing. It makes up for his lack of conversational skills. “Um… My bunkmate is this guy named James. The other one has Simon and another guy I don’t know the name of – I’ve only seen him twice so far.”

She squeals, and it startles him, “James is Dani’s camp crush!”

“Camp crush?” He inquires.

“Ugh, I have so much to teach you! A camp crush is a temporary fling that both people know won’t last once camp ends. The first time I woke up in the middle of the night and Dani was gone, I was afraid the bears had gotten to her! But the next morning she told me that she had just snuck out to go makeout with James by the lake.”

“There are bears here?” He squeaks out. He’s pretty certain there aren’t any in this area, but she has him worried.

“Oh, no.” She waves off his concerns. “But were you listening?! I think that James is more than just a camp crush for Dani, the way she lights up when she talks about him is… kind of sickening, actually…”

“Okay…”

“So, we have to play matchmakers for them! We could give the best speeches at their future wedding.”

He tries to just laugh her off, but she’s being deadly serious. She gave him an assignment to talk to James about his feelings for Dani. 

“I’m sorry you have Simon, too, though. I’ve heard he’s not very nice.”

“Oh… Yeah… It’s fine.”

“He’s a douche. You can say it.”

He looks over at her incredulously, “No!” and she just laughs.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 

She approaches him again a couple of days later, with a towel draped around her neck and an oversized camp shirt covering her bathing suit, “Do you want to go swimming with me?”

He politely declines.

She huffs, “Wow, so you hate me?”

“What?! No! Not at all!” He’s flushed and frantic. “Lakes are full of germs and bacteria that can cause various illnesses, some of which can even be life-threatening.” She wonders how he’s capable of speaking so quickly without tripping over his words.

She smiles, “I was just messing with you, no worries,” before reaching forward to ruffle his hair. His eyes squint, and his shoulders rise, but he doesn’t pull away from her.

He watches her walk away until she rounds a corner and disappears.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 

Week 2

She found him reading in a corner of the mess hall. The sound of her tray smacking the table makes him flinch, but his shoulders relax once he sees that it’s just her. 

The monotone chatter of their campmates fills their ears before she breaks their silence by asking,  “So what do you wanna be when you grow up?”

Nobody has asked him that in years. He’s amazed at the way she makes it seem like being a grown-up with adult responsibilities is so far away. “I’m not sure exactly, maybe a professor. What about you?”

She doesn’t answer his question. She just laughs, nods at his book, and says, “Professor Paperback.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 

She’s learned not to overwhelm him with too many questions at a time, so the next day, she asks him if he knows where he’s going to college next year.

“I’m actually already in college.”

She purses her lips outward and nods, “Oh, cool! Like Dual Credit?”

His lips purse, and he looks down at his tray, “No, I’m a full-time student at CalTech. I’m almost done with my first bachelor’s.”

Her eyebrows shoot up her forehead, “Your first?!”

He scratches the back of his neck, “Yes. I want to get at least one doctorate, and then I’ll go back for another Bachelor’s.”

“And what kind of doctor would you be? One for books? Doctor Paperback?”

Pushing up his glasses, he clarifies, “Well, I wouldn’t be a medical doctor exactly…”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 

She introduces him to Oreos dipped in peanut butter. 

He doesn’t really like it, but he pretends like he does.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 

She didn’t know why he was reading books about schizophrenia, and figured it was too personal to ask. He’s clearly very introverted, and she didn’t want to make things weird or uncomfortable. She did briefly fear that he was reading them for himself, but then she felt guilty for assuming.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 

One night, they’re cross-legged on her bunk and playing poker, sour candy being the tokens. Ellie and Dani are out, so it’s just the two of them. They’re laughing and eating popcorn, and Spencer’s having a really good time. He does feel normal, for once. And he’s won three times already, so that helps.

He randomly decides that he’s going to tell her about his mom. He’s never talked about her with anyone, so he doesn’t know how to naturally bring it up in conversation. He waits for a lull and says, “My mom wanted me to come here.”

“Woman with great taste, I must say. I love it here.”

He softly smiles, “Yes, she is.” The good memories of her reading to him and cooking his favorite meals come to the surface, before the scarier ones follow behind them. “She, um, is sick. I’ve been really good about taking care of her, and she wanted me to have a normal summer where I didn’t have to worry about her for a little while.”

She lightly smiles at him and adjusts her cards. “Let me guess, you’re still worrying about her?” 

Spencer nods, looking down at his own hand. “All the time. It’s become habitual, you know? I barely remember a time when I wasn’t taking care of her, so I wake up every day here feeling like I’ve forgotten to do something.”

“That’s really sweet of you, Spencer. You’re a good son.” A rare occurrence of her calling him by his actual name. “I do agree with her, though. You do deserve a fun, normal summer… I get what you mean –not fully– obviously, but I helped my mom take care of her dad when he got cancer. He moved in with us and everything.”

“...it’s not cancer.”

“Oh, can I ask what it is? You don’t have to tell–”

“It’s schizophrenia. Please don’t tell people. It’s something I’ve always kept to myself.”

She waves her hand, “You don’t have to worry about that. I don’t tell anyone what we talk about, not even Dani.”

“Really?”

She nods and looks up at him with intense sincerity, “Yeah, of course.”

He briefly fears that their interactions will now be awkward with the weight of his admission. He knows her better than that by now, though.

“I really should tell everyone that you cheat at poker, though.”

“I do not!” He exclaims.

“Then how have you won each game?!”

His eyes sparkle with mischief. “Haven’t I told you that I’m from Vegas?” 

“Oh. My. God. You are a cheater!” She exclaims, smacking his arm with her pillow, sending popcorn and sour gummy worms flying across the mattress.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 

She asks him what his favorite color is. He tells her that it's purple. The following day, she hands him a friendship bracelet with various shades of purple thread braided together. As she helps him tie it on his wrist, he bashfully tells her that he doesn’t have one to give her. She laughs and points to the dozens that decorate her wrists, “That’s okay. I have enough.”

He asks for her favorite color anyway and heads straight to the gift shop to buy string and a tutorial book. They didn’t have a book, but they had a lot of string, so he bought more than he thought he would need, just in case.

All night, he experiments with the thread, attempting to interlace it into something that resembles a bracelet. The majority of the night, his fingers are tangled in the string, and he’s created nothing but knots, but as the sun rises past his window, he finally has something he’s proud to give her.

She sees him slumped over his breakfast tray with periwinkle dusted under his eyes. “Jeez, rough night?”

At the sound of her voice, his head perks up, and he digs in his pocket for the messy bracelet he made for her. “It’s not much, and it’s not as good as the one you gave me, or any of the ones you already have, but-”

She snatches it from his hand, beaming. “I love it.”

He helps her tie it around her ankle, since there’s no more room on her wrists. Spencer wouldn’t have minded if his creation were sandwiched between the others, but knowing that it gets to live on its own makes him feel special. At least twice a day, she’ll see it every time she puts her shoes on or takes them off. If she has to retie them at any point, she’ll see it again. He can’t help but smile at the thought.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 

Week 3

They’re walking laps around the lake, talking about everything and nothing.

She asks him things like, “What do you think are the three worst things to bring to a deserted island?”

And, “What’s your favorite skit from All That?”

He asks her to give him time to think about the first question, wanting to ensure he suggests the truly worst things.

For the second, he winces and tells her that he has no idea what that is.

“You’ve never seen All That?!”

He shakes his head.

She drags him all the way to the common area and sits him on the couch before grabbing the TV remote. She mumbles, “I really hope it’s on right now,” as she channel surfs.

It was on, and she laughed the hardest at Vital Information. Spencer didn’t really understand the sense of humor, but caught himself staring at her three separate times. She looks really pretty when she laughs.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 

They’re sitting together under their tree. He has a book abandoned in his lap, and she has her Walkman. She insisted on sharing one of her favorite albums with him, Wild Mood Swings by The Cure. They’re sharing her earbuds, one in each of their ears. He did hesitate before putting one in his, but she was looking at him so expectantly and excitedly that he’d be foolish to miss out on this opportunity in fear of germs.

“You do know who The Cure is, right?”

“Of course I do!” It’s not a lie; he’s heard of them and has heard a couple of their songs, but he’s never listened to one of their albums start to finish like this.

They sit with their shoulders pressed together, the rough bark of the tree against their backs. Sunlight flitters through the gaps in the leaves, and a soft breeze kisses their skin.

It’s not really the type of music he’d usually listen to, but it does make sense that she’d like it. 

His favorite song was Mint Car. It was eerily accurate to their situation.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 

She manages to convince him to try archery with her, swearing that it’ll be really fun and worth his time. 

Spencer is not having a good time. It’s the hottest day of the year so far, and he’s sweating buckets. His shirt is damp, and beads of perspiration keep rolling down his forehead and into his eyes. He’s barely strong enough to pull back the bowstring, and his arm is sore, aching, and trembling. Only one of his arrows has made it to the target board, and it stuck into the exterior edge that surrounds the circle. 

He hates this. He’d rather hang out with her under their tree, or literally anywhere other than here.

And, to make matters worse, Simon, Spencer’s bunkmate, has been picking on Spencer all afternoon.

“You know the target is the giant circle over there, right?”

“Maybe you should just stick to reading.”

“It’s like he’s scared of everything.”

“Why do you dress like an accountant?”

She told Spencer to just ignore him, tried helping him with his stance, and whispered little jokes into his ear in an effort to make him feel better. It sort of worked.

“She only hangs out with you because she feels bad for you, you know that, right?”

Spencer slowly lowered the bow and dashed away after Simon’s last remark.

With his back facing them, he didn’t see her stomp over to Simon and shove him backwards, making him fall into the grass. He didn’t see the finger she pointed at his face while screaming. He was too far away to hear most of what she said, but “What the hell is wrong with you?” traveled across the field.

Once their tree is in his eyeline, he stops running. With tears streaming down his cheeks, he crouches at the base of it and buries his face in his hands. He can barely breathe, and it’s only partially from running. His heart hurts.

She knows exactly where to find him, so it’s not long before he hears her scoff, “I can’t believe that guy. He’s such an asshole.”

Spencer hurriedly wipes his cheeks on his sleeves and stammers, “It’s fine.”

She sighs and lowers herself next to him, fidgeting with her hair, before she asks, “You don’t think what he said was true, do you?”

He doesn’t respond. He sniffles and tilts his head upward to stare at the covering of leaves above them.

“Spencer?”

“...I don’t know.”

“I haven’t gone out of my way to find you every single day because I feel bad for you. I haven’t skipped most of the camp activities because I feel bad for you. I haven’t spent three weeks trying to get to know you because-”

“Then why have you?!” He cuts her off, exasperated.

“I don’t know! Because I like you!”

He slowly turns his head to look at her, wide-eyed and mystified, “You like me?”

Scoffing, she says, “Obviously, genius,” and lightly shoves his shoulder. “You’re my best friend here.”

“Oh…” Spencer averts his gaze to the grass below them, “You’re my best friend, too… Here, I mean, of course, also…” His cheeks gradually transition from pink to red, and he hopes she either doesn’t notice or attributes it to the hot summer day.

She sharply nods, “Cool. Good,” before rising back to her feet and holding a hand out for him. “Wanna go get Icees from the mess hall?”

Wiping his hands on his slacks, he grabs her hand and lifts himself from the ground.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 

They take their usual seats in the dining hall, nibbling on sandwiches with slightly stale bread for lunch. She has a sketchbook sprawled on the edge of their table, displaying a half-done drawing of the lake at sunset.

While chewing, she asks, “Can I give you a tattoo?”

He flinches, “What?! No?!”

She amusedly rolls her eyes, “Not a real one, silly.” Pointing to the back of his hand with her marker, she adds, “A temporary one.”

“Oh,” he sighs in relief, then smiles, “Sure.” 

She grabs his hand and holds it flat against the table, before slowly and carefully sketching out various lines on the back of it.

He lightly laughs, fingers twitching, “It kinda tickles.”

She gives him a stern look, “You have to stay still, or your ink will be botched.”

The corners of his mouth turn upward as he tries to stay serious, “Right. I’m sorry, tattooist.”

She draws a sun and a moon in the center of his hand, surrounded by various-sized stars and swirls. He loves it. He loves it so much that he delicately wipes the skin there each time he washes his hands for the next few days.

He gets distracted by the sight of it while he’s reading, and will halt his skimming to trace a finger over the fading lines.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 

He does really like the nights out here. Being so far away from the city limits makes the stars the most prominent he’s ever seen them. They definitely don’t look like this in Vegas.

They’re sitting on a log by the campfire, faces painted golden by the flickering flames. There are a few other campgoers scattered around the firepit, but they’re the only ones on their log. There’s a boy softly strumming his guitar a couple of logs over – Nathan, Spencer thinks his name is.

She’s positioned her skewered marshmallow as close to the embers as possible, waiting until the exterior is crispy, exactly how she likes it.

He purses his lips and points to the fire, “Um, I think you’re burning it.”

She rolls her eyes, “This is objectively the best way to cook it.”

When she recedes the stick, the marshmallow is ablaze, and she pulls it closer to them to blow it out. Spencer flinches and scoots away from it.

She eats it right off the stick – perfectly crunchy on the outside and gooey in the middle.

Some of the goo remains on the branch, so she positions it back into the fire to burn it off and prepare it for another one.

“I believe it’s your turn, Professor Paperback.”

He really doesn’t love the idea of eating food off of a stick, but he carefully plunges the marshmallow on the edge of it and scoots forward to hover it over the fire.

It takes him three tries to cook it how he likes it. The first one is barely torched, the second was too burnt, but the third was perfectly golden and delectable.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 

Week 4

He finds her laid out on a hammock with a baseball cap lying over her face. It’s unclear if she’s sleeping or just resting her eyes, so he approaches her slowly. She seems to sense his presence and moves the hat away as she sits up.

He gestures at the hammock next to her, “Can I sit?”

She wordlessly pats the intertwined rope next to her.

He grips the edge of the hammock and carefully lowers himself down, but his weight tilts the entire thing forward and sends them both flying to the ground.

Spencer lands on top of her with a light groan. 

His eyes flit all over her face. He’s never been this close to a girl before. The freckles on her nose are more visible than usual, and he’s tempted to count them all. Unintentionally, his gaze lowers to her mouth. Her lips are shiny and slightly tinted by her strawberry lip balm.

Quickly glancing back up at her eyes, he adjusts his arm to push himself off of her. He whispers, “Sorry.” His heartbeat stutters when he realizes her eyeline was on his lips, too. He anxiously licks them and bites his lower lip.

She moves a hand to the back of his neck and brings their lips together. His breath catches in his throat as they touch. It lasts all of three seconds, but they slot together perfectly.

She laughs and gently shoves his chest, “Now get off me, you’re heavy.”

He can taste a faint hint of strawberry on his lips after they’ve pulled away. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 

She comes up with an elaborate plan to come by his cabin after lights out to pick him up, so they can carve their names into their tree.

She said they should meet at 11:43, so it’s not as suspicious. 

The screen door screeches as he steps out onto the wooden porch at 11:42, and he can see a tiny circle of light coming from her flashlight as she approaches.

She whispers, “Ready for our secret mission?” and he lightly chuckles and nods, carefully avoiding the step that’s broken as he descends the stairs.

They’re both in their pajamas, and the handle of a knife sticks out of her pocket – he’s sure it doesn’t get more suspicious than this.

It’s dark, really dark. Her flashlight only allows them to see a few feet in front of them. Spencer is freaked out by how little they can see. He’s afraid they might get caught. Every shadow looks like a counselor waiting to bust them.

Spencer wants to hold her hand as they walk to the edge of camp, but he’s too nervous.

He whispers, “What if someone sees us?”

“Then we run.” She says simply. “Or we could start making out as a diversion.”

“What?!” He whisper screams.

She laughs, “Relax, I’m kidding.”

As they get closer to the tree, the flashlight does little to illuminate the full expanse of the bark and leaves. She pulls the knife out of her pocket and scans the light over the trunk, “Where should we do it?”

He points to the gap in the roots that they always sit between, “Near there?”

She nods before crouching down. Spencer stands a few feet behind her, stiff and alert – frantically looking around as she carves.

Once she’s done, she shines the light in his face, and he winces, lifting a hand to cover the gleam. She laughs, “Oh, sorry,” and lowers it.

Squatting next to her, their shoulders brush as he glances over her etching. As he holds his palm out for the knife, their fingers graze, and a shiver runs down his spine.

Spencer engraves his name right under hers. He finds comfort in the permanence of what they’re doing. Long after they leave camp, long after the summer ends, many years from now, their time together will be marked permanently in the bark.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 

They’re perched on the edge of the dock, shoes behind them with their socks tucked inside, feet dangling in the water. Spencer still isn’t over his fear of the bacteria-filled water. 

As the sun sets over the edge of the lake, she tells him, “I really don’t want this summer to end.”

“Because you love it here so much?”

“Yeah, it’s my one escape from the real world... And I’ll miss you.”

Spencer blushes, “I’ll miss you too,” and ducks his head. “What do you wish you could escape from?”

“My parents just fight a lot, is all. This is my last year having to deal with it before I move out, but I’m worried about leaving my siblings behind.”

He completely understands what it’s like to have combative parents. “What do they fight about?’

She acerbically laughs, “Anything and Everything. It’s this weird, toxic cycle, and neither of them will leave the other, for some reason.”

He whispers, “I’m sorry.”

She shrugs, “It is what it is,” and kicks her feet in the water. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 

Every year, the last night of camp features a Goodbye Formal Dance. Spencer didn’t plan on going, but she insisted that he be her date.

Spencer got dressed in his normal attire: an ironed button-up and slacks. The only difference was the addition of a tie and a blazer. James clapped him on the shoulder and told him that he looked nice, which slightly calmed Spencer’s nerves. Simon sat grumpily in his bunk in his pajamas and rolled his eyes at his roommates for caring about the stupid dance.

James is obviously taking Dani to the dance. Simon asked Ellie, and she laughed in his face.

Spencer’s heart feels like it could beat right out of his chest, and he’s shocked that it didn’t when he laid eyes on her.

There aren’t words to describe how she looks in her dress. Beautiful isn’t strong enough, gorgeous and elegant get close, but not close enough. The only thing he’s sure of is that she’s breathtaking.

She’s standing on the porch of her cabin in a glittery, emerald green dress. She’s traded her usual bracelets for a variety of mixed metal bangles. Her usual necklaces and rings decorate her as well, along with the anklet Spencer made for her. Her white, high-top Converse have been traded for sparkly heels. 

Spencer is frozen in the dirt as he takes her in. The setting sun reflects off of her dress and shoes, making her look like a disco ball. She reminds him of the way the lake shimmers when the sun reflects off it. She’s luminescent.

“You’re gonna catch flies, Professor.”

He hadn’t even realized his lips were parted, so he quickly clamped them closed, as a flush rose on his cheeks. “Sorry. You look… amazing.”

She feels warmth spread up her face as she smiles. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

His feet finally separate from the ground, and he takes a few steps towards her, holding his hand out to guide her down the rickety, wooden stairs. She intertwines her fingers with his, and his breath catches in his throat. 

As they walk towards the field where the dance will be, Spencer rummages his brain for something to say. “Oh, James told me he’s going to ask Dani to try long-distance.”

She gasps, glancing over at him with an amused expression, “No freaking way. I told you!”

He chuckles, “You did.”

As they walk, Spencer can’t take his eyes off their joined hands. He carefully guides her around tree roots and divots in the dirt. He wants to ask her what’s going to happen with them after tomorrow – if they’ll keep talking, or if it will be the end of their relatio- friendship.

The sound of her voice interrupts his thoughts, “I don’t know if I could do long-distance.” 

His heart sinks into his stomach. He hears the sound of his own voice respond, “Oh- Yeah- Me neither…”

As they get closer to the field, they see string lights hung in the nearby trees, connecting branches to each other. The corners contain tall speakers that emit music Spencer doesn’t recognize. On one side, there’s a long table with a punch bowl and snacks, and various circular tables litter the span of the lawn. Groups of their fellow campmates are scattered around – some are dancing, some are standing stiffly. Everyone’s dressed up, even the camp counselors and staff. 

James is dancing with Dani in the center of the field, spinning her out and around. They look unbelievably overjoyed, and Spencer is pushing down a boiling jealousy. He looks over at her, and she’s watching them with a small smile on her face that he doesn’t know how to read. 

He tells her, “They look really happy.”

She turns to face him with a soft expression, “They do.”

Ellie comes barrelling towards them and grabs her arm, pulling her towards the lake, “We’re taking a girls picture, c’mon!”

Spencer reluctantly releases her hand and gives the girls a slight, polite smile. His heart aches as he watches her walk away.

“Hey, man.” James materializes behind him and makes him flinch.

“Hi.”

It’s silent for a moment as they watch the three girls grin and pose. Spencer can’t help the way the corners of his mouth raise at the vision of her.

James nudges his arm, “Are you going to tell her?”

“Tell her what?”

James just gives him a knowing look.

Spencer shrugs, “There’s nothing to tell.”

James hums in acknowledgement, but dismissively. He gestures to Spencer’s wrist, “That’s the one she made you?”

Spencer self-consciously pulls down his sleeve and nods with a quiet, “Yeah.”

The girls head back towards them, arm-in-arm and laughing.

“I think you should say something – you may regret it if you don’t.”

She skips up to Spencer’s side and loops her arm through his. He revels in the weight of her palm against his forearm and fights the urge to pull her in closer to his side. A part of him wants to keep her tucked into him and never let her go.

“Wait– is that you guys’ roommate?” Ellie asks, pointing towards the edge of the field, by a tree.

Spencer and James follow her aim, where they do, in fact, find their fourth roommate heavily making out with a curly-haired boy against the tree. Spencer’s jaw drops, and James chortles.

“I thought he left!” James says.

“I wondered why he left all of his stuff, though,” Spencer adds.

“I’m so glad we never got a fourth roommate,” Dani laughs.

The music fades into something soft and low-tempo, and Dani starts pulling James into the center of the field. Ellie announces that she’s going to get some punch, leaving Spencer alone with her.

Spencer is haunted by what James said to him, and feels his cheeks heat.

She unlinks her arm from his, and a small, quiet protesting noise releases from the back of his throat. She’s soon offering him her palm and asks, “May I have this dance?”

He accepts her hand without thinking, and doesn’t say anything until they’re halfway across the grass. “Wait– I don’t know how.”

She lightly laughs, “You’ll be fine. Just follow my lead and don’t step on my toes.”

He whispers, “I’ll try,” and tries to swallow his nerves.

Once they reach the edge of the group of people dancing, Spencer stands stiffly as she wraps her arms around his shoulders. Her head tilts, and she smiles as she tells him, “This is the part where you put your hands on my waist.”

He raises his hands and mumbles, “Oh– Yes– Right–” before gently placing them on her sides.

As they slowly sway, she’s so close to him that he can see the glitter brushed on her eyelids and can smell her vanilla-lavender perfume. He attempts to slow his mind, to really focus and savor this moment with her, but all he can think about is how he may never see her again after tomorrow. 

He didn’t even want to come to this stupid camp. He was miserable for the majority of the first week and was counting down the days until he could go home. Multiple times, he considered arranging a way to depart early. If only he could go back and tell himself to slow down and delight in the limited time he had at StarShine. The limited time he’d have with her. 

His eyes burn with unshed tears, and his gaze shifts around the field. Then, he’s even more upset to be wasting his last moments with her not being able to look at her. 

When he glances back at her, she’s looking up at him through mascaraed lashes and with confusion and concern. “Why so glum, chum?”

His lips only slightly twitch into the ghost of a smile at her quip. 

With a shaky voice, he tells her, “I just can’t believe it’s our last night,” and a lone tear falls down his cheekbone. Before he can reach up to hurriedly wipe it away, her tender fingers delicately brush it away for him. 

“I know. It’s like this every year. When you first get here, it feels like a month will last forever.”

He’s reminded of the fact that she’s used to this saddening feeling coinciding with relief and anticipation for next summer. Thinking about not coming back next summer is hard enough for him, but it must be insurmountable for her. “I’m sorry. It’s probably harder for you than it is for me.”

She squeezes his shoulder, “Hey, don’t do that. It’s hard for everyone. I actually feel sadder for you since you only got to come here once.”

He nods and concentrates his attention on the feeling of her silky dress under his fingertips, slightly firming his grip in an attempt to ground himself. 

His voice is small and tentative as he asks, “Can we please try to stay in touch?”

Her fingers stroke the hair at the base of his neck as she responds, “Yeah, honey, we can try…” Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head, “Sorry, I don’t know why I said that.”

Spencer has a twin blush on his face as he smiles. “It’s okay, I liked it.”

They continue their slow swaying until the song comes to a close. Spencer can’t grasp that all good things must come to an end. He’s never had to until now.

As the night persists, they flit from the punch bowl to a table, and back to the dance floor. They meet up with James, Dani, and Ellie for the upbeat songs, and Spencer moves rigidly. His wish for the night to slow down seems to only make it speed up.

Eventually, the Goodbye Formal comes to a close, and Spencer finds himself walking her back to her cabin. As they reach the rickety porch stairs, she steps up to the first step before he grabs her hand, “Wait…”

She turns to face him and is eye-level with him. As she moves, the breeze flits through her hair and sends the aroma of her shampoo and perfume towards Spencer. It makes him feel lightheaded.

With raised eyebrows, she squeezes his hand. “Hm?”

“Um… Can I– Could I– Maybe– Kiss you?”

She smiles, “I thought you’d never ask, Professor.”

Her hands rise to his shoulders, and his lift to her cheeks. The moonlight reflects in her lip gloss, and their breaths intermingle in the space between them. Slowly and tentatively, Spencer leans in and brushes his lips against hers. The contact tingles and feels electrically charged. She pulls him closer, and their mouths slot together.

This is only the second kiss Spencer has ever had, but he already feels more confident, especially since both have been with her. Hesitantly, he deepens their kiss and sighs in relief when she’s receptive to it.

Despite his begging and praying to the universe, their kiss and their subsequent night come to an end.

He walks back to his cabin with his hands stuffed in his pockets. His joy from their kiss conflicts with his dread for the morning to arrive. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 

Spencer barely sleeps. He loses track of how many times he wakes up throughout the night. By the time his alarm goes off, his eyes have a dull burning sensation.

Looking around his cabin, he takes in the lack of decor and personal items that had littered the room for the past month. He, James, and Simon have packed up the majority of their things into their duffel bags and suitcases. Their fourth roommate’s area has been completely cleared out, as if he was never there. The early morning sun refracts off the oak wood, painting the furniture a honey brown. Maybe Spencer could just unpack his possessions and refuse to leave.

The buses leave in an hour, so he reluctantly gets out of bed and gets dressed for the day. When he gets to the bathhouse to wash his face and brush his teeth, he’s taken aback by his disheveled appearance reflected in the foggy mirror.

When he gets back to his cabin, he takes his time carefully writing his phone number, email, and address onto a piece of notebook paper. After meticulously folding it into a square, he writes her name in loopy cursive on the outside and tucks it into his pocket.

There are still thirty minutes until he needs to be at the bus loop, so he thoroughly scans the room to ensure he hasn’t left anything behind and waves goodbye to a sleepy James, who’s only just woken up. The boy sits up in bed to offer him a fistbump, and Spencer clumsily obliges. Simon nor his belongings are anywhere to be seen, but Spencer wasn’t planning on exchanging any pleasantries with him, anyway.

Slinging his bags over his shoulder, Spencer exits the cabin for the last time. He turns to face it and takes a moment to savor the memories of staying there for the last month. He definitely won’t miss Simon, but James was always affable. It’s too bad he never got to know his mysterious fourth roommate.

He decides to head towards their tree to kill some time reading before he has to head to the camp entrance. Restless, he only lasts a few minutes of reading and re-reading the same page in his book before he gives up and sets it down. His eyes keep glazing over, and he feels sick.

Her voice permeates his overwrought thoughts, “I figured I’d find you here.”

Glancing up, he feels his lips turn upward out of habit. His uneasiness seeps through, however, so it appears as a half-smile, half-grimace. She’s dressed in a tank top and sweatshorts – something comfortable for the journey home. 

He huffs out something that could almost be considered a laugh. “I had to say goodbye to our tree.”

“Oh yes, of course.” She lowers herself to sit next to him, their shoulders pressed together. 

Spencer digs in his pocket for the paper and gingerly passes it over to her. “Um, this is for you… Obviously, since your name is on it… It has my phone number, email, and address.”

She giggles, “All three?”

He nods, a light pink flush rising on his cheekbones. “Yes. Just in case.”

Setting it in her lap, she reaches into her pocket and retrieves a similar piece of folded paper. His name is written neatly on the outside, and he unfolds it to find her phone number, email, and address.  

Pursing his lips, he carefully refolds the sheet and tucks it into the front pocket of his shirt, right over his heart.

They sit in a comfortable silence for a while. Eventually, she wraps both of her arms around one of his and rests her head on his shoulder. In the distance, a whistle blows, and someone shouts a fifteen-minute warning for the buses.

Spencer asks, “Where’s your stuff?”

Her voice is soft and gentle as she responds, “It’s still in my cabin. My parents are coming to pick me up.”

Spencer hums in acknowledgement.

Closing his eyes, he focuses on the feeling of the light breeze on his skin, the weight of her against his body, and the scent of her perfume. He knows he’ll never forget this or her, even without an eidetic memory. Even when he’s old, and his memory starts to falter.

“Thank you.” He murmurs.

“For what?”

He inhales deeply, “For a good and normal summer. For being my friend. For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me. You made it easy, anyway, since you’re the one who stole my tree.” 

He lightly laughs and can almost feel their inscription in the bark on his back. “Now it’s forever our tree.”

With a light squeeze to his arm, she confesses, “I’ll really miss you, Spencer.”

He whispers, “I’ll miss you more.”

A voice calls out a final warning for boarding the buses. Spencer’s heart plunges.

She warily separates her body from his, and his arm feels cold without her holding onto it, despite the late July heat. After rising to stand, she holds her hand out to help him up. 

With a sad smile, she says, “Well, this is it.”

Without thinking, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her in for a hug.

“Don’t forget me,” he pleads into her hair.

She runs her palms up and down his back. “I don’t think I could if I tried.”

They slowly separate, and she presses a quick kiss to his cheek. “Bye, Professor Paperback.”

He jestingly rolls his tearful eyes, “Goodbye.”

She turns and walks away, and he watches her go until he can’t see her anymore. With one last glance at their tree, at their names carved into the oak, he lifts his bags and trudges to the buses.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 

They kept in touch for a while; a steady string of emails and occasional phone calls kept Spencer sane and steady for almost a year. Then, her responses had increasing gaps between them. 

He told himself that she was just busy with work and college, but those self-reassurances became progressively difficult to absorb. Eventually, it had been an entire year since he had heard from her.

In the end, the only tangible proof of their time together that summer lived in the fibers of the friendship bracelet she made for him. He wore it until the knot and threads unraveled. Now, it lives buried in a pocket in his satchel. He feels an electric pang in his heart every time his fingers brush against it while he’s digging for a pen or a paperclip, but he can’t imagine getting rid of it. He probably never will.

He thinks about her all of the time. More often than he’d ever admit to anyone. Every time he looks down at his black Converse, he remembers her quirkily doodled white ones. 

Sometimes the sunset looks exactly the same as it did setting into the lake.

He wanted to tell her that he had gotten a job with the FBI. He wonders what she would’ve thought about it or said. Would she have been proud of him?

He bought Wild Mood Swings on vinyl and listens to it every few months. It’s now Jupiter Crash that reminds him of her. If he closes his eyes when Mint Car plays, he can still feel her shoulder pressed against his and the soft breeze whispering onto his face. He can still smell her body spray with an undercurrent of sunscreen. He tries to follow the advice given in Gone!, but how is he supposed to get up and get out when the best person he ever met stopped returning his emails and phone calls? He knows the world is passing him by, but knowing doesn’t make acting any easier.

Five years after meeting her, he returns to his apartment after a grueling case over state lines. The soles of his feet ache, and he wants nothing more than to collapse onto his couch with a box of takeout. On his way inside the vestibule of his complex, he stops by his mailbox and collects the small stack of letters from the metal tin. Lazily flipping through it while he walks up the stairs, he passes his usual journal subscriptions and his water bill, before he freezes in the stairwell.

The letter has a sticker with his name and address in the center, surrounded by little flowers. Glancing up to the top left, his heart races as he reads the names there:

James Parker & Daniella Price

Turning to sit on the step, he tosses the remaining stack of mail next to him and tears the letter open. He’s being told to save the date for their wedding.

i lowkey hate this but it's probably bc i worked on it for too long lol pls be nice to meee