Naamloos

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 

He reached for his phone, flipping it open and blinking in the light from the small screen as his thumb pressed down on the button to move through his contacts. There was Morgan, who probably fell asleep hours ago after picking someone up from the bar. Then Hotch, who was almost definitely asleep next to his wife. His thumb stopped when his eyes scanned your name, realising that you might be the only person that he couldn’t be sure what you were doing. The probability that you were asleep was high, and that the phone call would wake you up before a long day did cross his mind. He didn’t want to wake you, he didn’t expect you to answer, he just needed to feel, even for a moment, that someone might. His thumb pressed onto the phone button, and held the phone to his ear, counting the rings as they vibrated against him. One. Two. Thr-

“Spencer?” 

Your voice was quiet, sleepily soft and raspy, his back straightened at the sound of it. His chest tightened with guilt, immediately regretting his decision, that he had interrupted your night’s sleep. 

“I’m sorry,” Spencer stammered, his voice cracking slightly as he squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose as he cursed his insomnia fuelled decision making. “I didn’t think you’d answer. I’m so sorry, I just… I couldn’t sleep, and my probability calculations for waking you were much lower than reality, and I should let you go back to sleep-”

“Hey, Spencer… breathe,” you interrupted gently, and he could hear the shifting of your comforter as you sat up against your pillow. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. No… Physically, yes. Cognitively, I’m at a standstill.” He murmured, dragging his hand down his face as he flopped back against his bed, his free hand resting on his stomach. “It’s been four days. I just… I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Your heart dropped at the profound exhaustion in his voice, the tremor of defeat that bled through. Spencer had opened up to you about his insomnia before, and you recognised how bad it had gotten. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” You said, pinning your phone between your ear and your shoulder, already pulling on your sneakers.

“Wait, no it’s-” He sat upright, his fingers curling into his t-shirt as he heard the jingle of your keys through the line. “It’s past three in the morning, the safety risks of driving at this hour-”

“I’ll lock my doors. See you in fifteen, Spence.”

The call ended with the dial tone and he pulled it away from his ear, staring down at the phone as he flipped it closed. A warmth spread through his chest as he realised how quickly you had helped, without even needing to be asked. And the way you had called him “Spence”.

When you arrived at Spencer’s apartment twelve minutes later, he opened it after your soft knock, and your heart ached a little at the sight of him. Dark circles bruised the skin under his eyes, his hair mussed at the back where he had been tossing and turning against his pillows. His eyes dropped to your pyjama pants, green and white striped with little cartoon characters dotted around the fabric, and the oversized hoodie that hung from your shoulders. “You didn’t have to come.” He said, though he stepped aside to let you in, his eyes fixed on you as if you were a holy being. 

“Well I’m here now.” You smiled softly, setting your keys on the counter as he closed the door with a gentle click. “You eaten anything? Had something to drink?” 

“I had tea. It didn’t help.” He said, shuffling awkwardly behind you as you moved to his worn velvet couch. He sat down stiffly beside you, his hands tucked between his knees, looking like a nervous guest in his own home. 

“Talk to me.” You said. “Or don’t. You don’t have to explain anything.” 

Spencer looked at you, his brown eyes wide, and glassy with fatigue. He paused for a moment, his shoulders losing some of their tension as he watched you sitting comfortably in his apartment, as if you belonged there. “Can I just…?” He gestured vaguely towards you, a rare moment of hesitation from someone who usually had all the words.

You nodded, lifting your arm along the back of the couch. He didn’t need to be told twice. Spencer shifted, sinking sideways against you, hesitating for a fraction of a second before letting his head drop onto your shoulder. His long legs tangled awkwardly on the small couch, but as your hand dropped back down to his shoulder, you felt him sigh, finally letting go of the tension he’d been holding onto for days.

“Your heart rate is remarkably steady,” Spencer mumbled, his eyes drooping slightly from the warmth of your body, the comforting scent of you enveloping him. “It’s roughly sixty-five beats per minute.” You smiled at his calculations, even when he was suffering with insomnia, his mind still wouldn’t stop noticing things. “It’s very soothing.” He added quietly, almost as an afterthought. 

“Good.” You said gently, resting your cheek against the top of his head, tracing slow, lazy patterns against his arm, just below the hem of his t-shirt sleeve. “Focus on that.” You hummed. 

For a few minutes, he kept talking in a low, drowsy monotone, his voice vibrating softly against your collarbone. “There’s a biological phenomenon known as physiological synchrony.” He mumbled, his eyelids fluttering as he fought to keep them open. “When two individuals are in close physical proximity, especially during moments of shared trust… their autonomic nervous systems begin to mimic one another.” He paused as your hand moved up into his hair, slowly brushing your nails along his scalp. “Your steady heart rate is effectively acting as an external pacemaker for my overstimulated amygdala… lowering my cortisol levels… by approximately…”

His voice trailed off, the precise percentage losing its battle against his exhaustion. The spaces between his words stretched longer, turning into quiet, shallow breaths.

“...it’s very…efficient.” He sighed deeply. You held your breath for a moment, listening. The frantic, nervous energy that usually radiated off him had completely evaporated. His breathing had deepened, turning into a rhythmic, peaceful rise and fall against your chest. He was asleep. Truly, deeply asleep. 

You gently leaned back, holding his head in careful hands as you maneuvered it into your lap, his cheek pressing against your thigh as you let go. You ran your fingers through his hair again, looking down at him, completely safe, using you as a pillow. And you had no intention of moving until morning.

The pale glow of afternoon light filtering through the blinds was what finally woke Spencer. He didn’t move at first. His brain, usually firing at a mile a minute from the second he opened his eyes, was blissfully quiet. He became aware of three things in record timing, even for his brain: the heavy weight of exhaustion lifting from his chest, the faint scent of familiar perfume, and the fact that he was still completely sprawled against you on his narrow couch. You were awake, propped up against the arm rest, your eyes watching the muted TV while your hand was still tangled in his hair. 

You looked down as Spencer slowly lifted his head from your lap, and let your hand drop from his hair. He looked away as his cheeks flushed, finding the textbook on the coffee table more interesting than it should be. You pushed yourself more upright from the slouched position you had been in for the last ten hours. “How are you feeling?” You asked, leaning forward slightly in an attempt to catch his eyes, but they were fixated on the book. 

“Yeah-” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, shaking his head in embarrassment before trying again. “Better. Um… I’m sorry for essentially using you as a human sedative and trapping you against the couch.” He said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“There are worse places to be.” You laughed softly. That made him look at you, his eyes quickly moving between yours as if trying to deduce a deeper meaning from your statement. “Besides, you desperately needed sleep.” 

His fingers twisted together between his knees, and his gaze dropped to his fidgeting hands. His lips pursed as he chewed on the inside of his cheek, his brows creased in thought. The blush on his cheeks didn’t fade, if anything, it crept down his neck. Finally, he spoke. “I didn’t just sleep because I was tired.” He murmured, his voice dropping to that quiet, vulnerable tone he rarely used.

“What do you mean?” You asked, meeting his brown eyes as he looked back up at you, searching your face with the analytical precision of a profiler, but stripped of all professionalism. “I’ve tried prescription medication, cognitive behavioral therapy, white noise machines, sleep deprivation techniques…” He said softly, gesturing his hand as he listed his methods. “Nothing overrides the hypervigilance. But last night… my brain calculated the highest probability of safety simply because you were in the room…” He looked down at his hands again, swallowing thickly. “Because I was holding onto you.”

You felt your breath hitch a little, your eyes darting between his. “Spencer… you don’t hav-”

“No, I-” He started, running his hand through his hair before realising how abruptly he had cut you off. “Sorry… I just- I noticed it months ago, how my anxiety decreases significantly whenever you’re around, how my heartbeat increases when I can see you from afar,” he continued, taking a slow, shaky breath. Unconsciously leaning in a fraction closer as his thumb picked at the skin around his finger. The slight shift had the space between you feeling charged, and you dipped your head to attempt to meet his eyes. He noticed, and lifted his eyes to you, they moved slower than usual, lingering on your mouth before finally meeting yours. “There was nothing statistical about the way you comforted me last night.” He admitted, the honesty of it hung in the quiet afternoon air. 

The corner of your mouth lifted slightly, watching the way Spencer anxiously chewed on his lip. Your arm lifted, reaching out to brush your fingers against his jaw, before your hand settled against his face. “Spence..” You murmured, your eyes dropping to his lip as his teeth finally released it, his throat bobbed as he swallowed, his lips parting as he leaned forward another inch. His skin goose-pimpled underneath your fingertips as you mirrored the action, bringing your faces inches apart. His eyes fluttered closed, and nose brushed yours as his head tilted slowly, your breaths mingling in the minimal space between you. His lips brushed yours gently, not a kiss, but more of a question, asking for permission. Your fingers moved into his hair as you finally closed the gap, sliding your lips between his. The sigh that he let out against you was one of relief as his hands moved to cradle your head, his long fingers holding you against him as if he never wanted to let you go. 

The way his lips slotted against yours grew more heated, his fingers curling into your hair as his apprehensive trembling faded. He gasped as your tongue flicked against his, one of his hands moving from your hair to the back of your neck, before his fingertips moved down the line of your spine, the motion sending a shiver through you. You began to lean back, using both  arms wrapped around his neck to pull him down with you. He scrambled against the couch to a more comfortable position as he leaned down over you, the hand that had been tracing your back dipped underneath your hoodie, his thumb gently brushing your hip, as he braced himself on the other arm to hold himself above you. His tongue traced against yours, letting out a soft hum in satisfaction of the feeling of you against him. 

Your hands tugged at his hair softly, tilting your head as your lips moved against his in a slow, sensual rhythm. His lips pulled away momentarily as he repositioned his head, his eyes stayed closed, his nose brushed against yours, his breath hitching as he leaned back in. His hand traced up your side, his thumb gently caressing the dip of your waist as his body settled flush against yours, melting against you. “Spence.” You mumbled against his lips between kisses. He pulled back, his brow furrowed in concern, his mind racing with the possibilities of what you were about to say, had he done something wrong? Had he taken it too far? 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” He panicked, his voice quivering with both want, and nerves. You smiled gently, tucking a stray hair behind his ear before resting your palm against his face. 

“Nothing.” You shook your head, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth, watching his eyes drop to the movement, his pupils dilating and his breathing growing more laboured. “Just wondering if you own a bed, or whether you just sleep on the couch every night.” You hummed, twisting his hair around your fingers absently. He let out an amused exhale, half his mouth lifting into a sheepish smile, ducking his head and squeezing one eye closed as he nodded. 

“Yeah… Yes I-” He sat back, letting his thumb brush against your waist slowly. “Yes, I own a bed.” He finished, his voice dropping to a quiet, almost shy tone. You stood from the couch, Spencer's hand still on your waist, tilting his head to look up at you for a moment before following suit. 

His bedroom was what you would call an organised mess. Books scattered across every surface, empty abandoned mugs around the room. The glow from behind the orange curtains made his features look softer, and the smell of a burnt out candle enveloped you, comforting and warm. Spencer’s hands wrapped around your hips as yours settled against his shoulders as his mouth lowered back to yours, more sure now that he knew you wouldn’t pull away. His fingers toyed with the hem of your hoodie, silently asking for permission. You broke away to pull the hoodie over your head, your shirt coming with it, leaving you in only your bra. Spencer swallowed, an involuntary, breathy “wow,” leaving his lips before he could stop it. You smiled softly, lacing your fingers through his and pulling him with you as you backed towards the bed. 

He kneeled on the bed as you lay back, pulling his shirt off before settling over you, his body between your thighs. His skin was warm against yours, his lips catching yours in another deep, deliberate kiss as your fingertips traced down his back, the contact pulling a soft moan from his throat as his hips shifted against you. His lips moved down to your jaw, pressing a line of soft kisses along your neck towards your collarbone, the soft brush of his mouth combined with his breath against your skin had your back arching, pressing your chest against his. 

“Is this okay?” He asked as his lips moved down over your chest, pausing just above the line of your bra. You nodded, lifting yourself up slightly to unclasp your bra, and pull it from you. Spencer swallowed thickly, before lowering his mouth back to your skin, slowly moving his lips down toward your nipple. He closed his mouth around the sensitive bud, his hands steady on your ribs as he dragged his tongue over your sensitive skin, his confidence growing with the breathy moans that left your lips. He lifted his eyes to watch the way your head tilted back, the way your lips stayed parted around sighs and gasps as he continued, responding to when his actions gained an arch of your back or a tightening of your fingers in his hair. 

Eventually, he brought his mouth away from your chest, only to press soft kisses along your stomach, shifting backwards on the bed as he brought his mouth lower. His shaky hands moved to the waistband of your pyjama pants, eyes flicking up again, his brow creased in a question you answered by lifting your hips to give him the space to drag them down. His tongue moved out to wet his lips as he pulled your pants down your thighs, placing them gently on the floor as if he would hurt the fabric by throwing it carelessly. He inhaled unevenly, his eyes still locked on yours as he lowered himself down towards you. His lips landed on your hip first, his fingers gently tracing your inner thigh as he moved his mouth down further with each kiss. You gasped when his mouth finally closed around your clit, a soft, gentle movement that already had your body writhing and desperate for more. Spencer’s head spun with want, eagerly obliging in your twitching hips, delving his tongue deeper through your folds. He moaned at the taste of you, a low vibration shaking through your core, his eyes closed as he focused on flicking his tongue in the way you liked. 

His fingers drew up your inner thigh until they reached where his mouth was already hungrily lapping at you. You moaned as one finger gently pressed into you, slowly at first, working you open with extreme preciseness and care as he gradually pushed it further. He crooked his finger in time with his tongue, his other hand gripping your hip as he responded to every signal your body gave him. Every moan, every tightening of your stomach, every time your fingers tugged at his hair, every time he felt his hand wet from your arousal, he studied them, locking the information safely in his brain to calculate the best way to bring you to your peak. He moaned against you again as he inserted another finger, feeling you clamp down around them as he curled them just right. 

“Spencer…” You moaned, the sound of his husky name from your lips sent ripples of pleasure through his body. “Right there, Spence..” You sighed, your hips bucking into his face as he continued moving his tongue over your clit. Time slowed as he watched you fall apart, the way your body clamped down on his fingers, your thighs closing around his head, squeezing him as you moaned loudly, the sound echoing off the walls. He slowed his movements, letting you ride out your high as your back arched, your fingers tightly tangled in his hair. When your moans turned to laboured breathing, he lifted his mouth away, and carefully withdrew his hand from you. 

“What that… Was it okay?” He asked softly, his brow furrowed in genuine question. You opened your eyes and propped yourself up on your elbows, he smiled at the way your hair was messed from the pillows, and the flush across your skin that hadn’t faded. 

“More than.” You said, your voice still breathy, and your chest heaving as you tried to regain composure. You watched him wipe his mouth on his arm, and you sat up fully, your hands trailing down his stomach to the top of his sweatpants. His breath hitched as your nails gently scraped his skin. “Do you have…”

“Oh, um… yeah. Somewhere. Hold on.” He moved almost immediately, his long frame extending as he leaned over the edge of the bed to rummage through his pile of clothes. He located his wallet, and pulled out a blue wrapper. “Just check it’s still…” He murmured as he turned it over in his hands to find the expiration date, it had been a long time since he needed one of these. “Yeah it’s um-” He glanced back up at you, at the way you were propped up on one arm, your hair falling behind your back, tangled around your shoulder, the light filtering through the curtains painting you as some kind of sun goddess. “You’re so pretty.” The words rushed out of him in a single breath as he moved back towards you. You smiled gently, using one leg to wrap around his hip and pull him down over you, his mouth met yours with no hesitation this time. Your fingers curled around the waistband of his sweatpants and pulled, he dropped one hand to help, the other stayed in your hair as he kissed you deeply. 

Once his sweatpants were discarded, your hand moved to his cock, wrapping around the considerable length as his eyes squeezed closed. “Oh-” He rasped, his mouth staying open and eyebrows shooting upwards as your hand slowly moved. His jaw stuttered as you worked him slowly for a long moment, he finally found it within him to close his mouth, and swallowed hard. 

“Okay?” You asked, smiling when he nodded desperately, unable to form any other coherent thought than the feeling of your hand wrapped around him, moving so deliciously slow. Eventually, he fumbled with the wrapper for a moment before finally tearing it open, only then did you let go for him to roll the latex down his length. He leaned over you as you lay back, eyes flicking to yours as he positioned himself, and rolled his hips forwards. He moaned against your lips as you gasped, your hands flying to his shoulders, nails biting into his soft skin as he dropped to his elbow. “Spence-” You whispered as he pulled his hips back before setting a slow, steady pace. His breath was against your ear, his eyes squeezed closed as he let out a low groan at the feeling of you wrapped around him. 

“You- God… You feel so-” He choked out, every thought slipping his mind other than the way you felt digging your nails into his shoulders, the way your leg lifted to hook over his hip and pull him deeper, the sounds you were making every time he pushed forwards. He moved his mouth back to yours, catching your lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue tangled with yours as he kept his steady, aching pace. Your chest pressed against his as your back arched, one of his hands splayed across your thigh, holding it against him as if he couldn’t bear to have any part of you not touching him. His cock dragged through you slowly, a perfectly gentle pace that had you moaning against his mouth, your hand threading through his hair. His slow, deep thrusts had your head spinning as you reached your free hand between your bodies, your fingers finding your clit to rub tight circles. The extra stimulation had you clenching around him already, his hips faltering for a moment as you grew tighter around his cock.

“I-” He stuttered against your mouth, “I’m gon-” he couldn’t finish his sentence as the ripples of pleasure washed through him, his stomach tensing as he came, his forehead pressed against yours and his eyes squeezed closed, and his fingers tightened on your thigh. Long, loud moans spilled from his mouth as he stilled, his breathing ragged and uneven. As his head stopped spinning, he lowered it to your shoulder, nuzzling his face into your neck as your arms wrapped around him, your fingers carding gently through his hair as his breathing returned to its normal pace. His mind was quiet, for once in his life, he could enjoy the moment, enjoy the feeling of your body under his, enjoy the-

“Spence.” Your soft voice broke his train of thought, and he lifted his head to look at you with sleepy eyes. “You might wanna take that off.” You said, at first, he furrowed his brows, unsure of what you meant, but then it registered, and he laughed softly before reaching down to pull the condom off, before rolling over to discard it in the trash by his bed. He wasted no time returning to his position with his head on your shoulder, his arm slung over your stomach, listening to your heart rate returning to normal as you traced your fingers up and down his spine. 

He could definitely get used to this cure for insomnia.

The case had been a public relations nightmare. The Unsub was leaving complex clues and evading being caught. With JJ speaking to a family, Hotch made Spencer talk to the press.

He had been previously rushing between the local police precinct and the nearest library to research the Unsub's references. Soft autumn breezes blew debris around the streets, and a stray leaf caught in his hair.

"Reid, wait." You caught him before we went back outside to be swarmed by cameras and microphones. With a hand, you smoothly reached and plucked the leaf from his hair. Spencer ducked away before the blush spreading on his face was visible.

Morgan walked by and teased something about him 'staying pretty for the cameras', but all Spencer could think about was you playing with his hair. As touch starved as he was, he would do anything for you to play with his hair.

ᝰ.ᐟ —————-

The second time made Spencer have to hide in the bathroom of a bar.

Just like every other time, the team went out for drinks after a hard case. Spencer sat with Emily and Morgan as they told stories, but he wasn't listening. Something about hearing them talk about past partners made the inside of Spencer's water glass look very interesting. That was, until you walked by.

With a drink in hand for Penelope, you walked behind him and ruffled his hair. He leaned his head into the touch, and played it off as him looking up when your hand pulled away. As you strolled back to your table, Spencer hoped it was dark enough that no one would see the pout and rising heat on his face.

He wasn't so lucky, however. Morgan kicked his shoe under the table, and grinned at him in a way that made him feel exposed. Spencer's chair scraped across the floor as he rushed to the bathroom. Cold water didn't do much to stop the tips of his ears from turning a shade of scarlet.

ᝰ.ᐟ —————-

The third time, Spencer was sure his brain short-circuited.

As always, he stood later into the night to finish up any paperwork Hotch or Rossi had left behind. You didn't usually stay late, but you also had some case files to finish putting together. You finished before him, and decided to say goodbye before you left.

Spencer looked up from the paperwork when he saw you standing in his peripheral vision. You brushed some of his hair out of his eyes before speaking about— well, Spencer didn't know, he focused back on the paperwork immediately, mumbling responses so you wouldn't see the flustered look on his face.

You patted him on the shoulder before slinging your bag over your shoulder. The both of you said your goodbyes, but Spencer didn't look back up until he heard the door close and he was sure you were gone. He sighed loudly, exhaling a breath he didn't know he was holding.

If you kept this up, these fleeting touches he craved so bad, he was sure he would explode.

ᝰ.ᐟ —————-

The last time was everything Spencer had dreamed of.

The very next morning, the team had been called to a case a few states away. On the jet, you and Spencer sat together. He stayed way later than he meant to doing paperwork, and he had barely been awake before the wheels of the jet went up. His eyes closed and he fell asleep almost immediately.

Spencer's head lolled onto your shoulder, and you smiled to yourself. The two of you stayed like that, until you brought your other hand into his hair and lightly scratched his scalp.

The second you started toying with his hair, he was awake. Spencer kept his eyes closed and pretended to still be asleep. He soaked up all of the attention you were willing to give him.

─── ♡ ───

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 

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!)