A/N: You all voted for it, so here it finally is! Thank you to everyone that did vote in deciding what I would post next and that has showed excitement for this fic while I wrote it. I hope that you all enjoy it and that it lives up to your expectations! This piece is also dedicated to @vodkamidala because she’s an absolute gem and was the first person I thought of when I first hatched the plot for this. So, if you did enjoy reading/like this fic, I would love to hear what you thought! ♥ (P.S wanna listen to the song referenced in part three? It’s this one. )
o n e
With every step that carried you from the stopped elevator towards the glass doors of the office, so grew your regret of not grabbing something, anything, to eat on your way over to the bureau. Although to be fair, you reminded yourself, it was more your newly broken alarm clock that made that sorry decision of skipping breakfast for you.
As you pushed open the insignia marked doors, the faint, yet overwhelmingly sweet smell of cinnamon and freshly baked fruit filled your senses, instantly making the gnawing pit in your stomach grow sharper.
You sighed, willing for the grumble in your abdomen to quiet down as your picked up the pace towards your desk. The appetizing aroma growing stronger until, as luck would have it, you passed by its source — sat neatly atop a napkin on Spencer desk, just adjacent to yours.
“Is that blueberry?”
Spencer looked up from his paper coffee cup to see you setting your bag down on the wooden top of your desk before reaching inside it, urgently in search of something.
He hummed around he broken off piece of muffin in his mouth, swallowing and immediately mirroring the frown that you wore, “Yeah it is, from that little bakery by my place that you like.”
Another growl emitted from your stomach at the mere thought of the bakery, one that if you had not already been preoccupied with finding your wallet, you most likely would have been mortified by.
Especially when the volume alone was loud enough to draw another frown from Spencer, “Did you not eat breakfast?”
“No,” you mumbled, your fingers finally wrapping around your wallet and pulling it out to check for any spare change that the vending machine would accept, “My alarm broke, so I woke up late. It was either shower or eat.”
“You’re in luck then,” Spencer smiled, reaching for the white and mint green carryout bag from the bakery and taking out a pristinely wrapped second pastry.
 “I bought two.”
