b

Hotch looked around, assessing the reactions of the team. The accomplishment of a job well done seemed to outweigh their tiredness as everyone shrugged and nodded.

Before long, Spencer was trailing behind the group as they strolled up to the restaurant. The air was starting cool as the sky dimmed, and the aroma wafting out the doors was making his mouth water.

“Oh, hi!” He heard Garcia exclaim suddenly. He couldn’t really see through the crowd of people, with the team and the patrons coming and going from the restaurant, so he shoved his hands in his pockets and waited his turn to be introduced.

“It’s so good to see you!” Garcia chattered. “These are the people I’m always telling you about. This is Hotch, and Emily, and Rossi, Derek, JJ, and—“ she paused, peering over everyone’s heads. “Reid! There’s Reid, in the back.”

He turned his head as everyone shuffled aside, creating an opening, and he pulled his hand out of his pocket to wave and then—

Oh. Oh, wow.

“Hi.” You smiled, and it almost knocked him off his feet.

He blinked, hand awkwardly half-raised before he reminded himself to look slightly less like a deer in headlights.

He straightened, clearing his throat. “Hi.”

You were…

For once, his brain actually ran out of words.

Beautiful. Gorgeous. Stunning. Radiant. Breathtaking. Captivating. Alluring. None of them seemed to truly encapsulate you.

The group was soon ushered inside the restaurant and sat at a table. Conversation began to flow as you and Garcia caught up and you got to know the team.

“Oh, you actually said that?” Your jaw dropped as you looked at Emily.

“Not only did she say it, she said it in front of the entire Sacramento Police Department!” JJ interjected, causing the table to burst into laughter.

Spencer couldn’t help but watch you as you threw your head back, shoulders shaking with laughter. Your laugh was infectious, he thought. He wanted to be the reason you laughed like that.

Wine and chatter flowed around the table as you dicussed JJ’s children, Rossi’s career as an author, Derek’s most recent date.

He was mid-bite when you turned to him. “So, Reid, what about you? I hear you’re the resident genius.”

He nearly dropped his fork, chewing quickly. “Um, well, I guess you could—“ he coughed, trying to swallow before continuing. “I mean, it depends how you classify ‘genius.’ My IQ is statistically above average, I have an eidetic memory, and I read at an average speed of…”

He trailed off, noticing the rest of the table had gone silent. He cleared his throat. “Um, yes.”

You nodded approvingly, eyebrows raised with a slight smile as the group chuckled.

The meal began wrapping up, plates slowly clearing and wine glasses emptying. Spencer watched you still as Garcia turned the conversation back to you, actively reminding himself not to stare.

“So, tell me.” Garcia said, leaning in to you. “Are you dating anyone?”

Spencer felt like a puppy who had just heard the word “treat.” He stared hard at the tablecloth, trying not to seem invested in the answer.

“No, not since that guy from the bank.” You replied, smoothing your shirt.

“Thank God. He was so… average.” Garcia answered. “You could do so much better.”

Someone accidentally nudged his shin under the table. He shifted, heart fluttering at the knowledge you weren’t involved with anyone. Not that he would ever do anything about it, but it was nice for the moment to not have to imagine you with anyone else.

Checks rolled out, everyone paid, and the group made their way to the door.

A chorus of goodbyes echoed across the group outside the restaurant. Garcia pulled you into a tight hug. “Keep in touch.”

“Of course.” You replied as you pulled back, looking to the rest of the group. “It was so great meeting you guys.”

The sentiment was returned and you waved, flashing that brilliant smile one more time. “Have a good flight!”

You turned on your heel, and Spencer felt a pang in his chest at the thought of not seeing you again. Oh, well.

A hand grabbed his arm with a vengeance, and he turned to face the culprit.

“Ow! Garcia, what are you doing?” He pulled his arm from her grip, rubbing at the irritated skin.

“For a genius, you really are acting like an idiot!” She whispered. “Go get her number!”

His eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “What?”

“Did you not feel me kick you under the table when she said she was single?” She asked, exasperated. “I’m setting you up! Go ask her for her number! Now!”

She punctuated her demand with a little shove in your direction, and before he knew it, he was calling out.

“Hey!”

You turned around, already about fifteen feet away. “Hey?”

He glanced back over his shoulder briefly before half-jogging over to you.

He swallowed. “Um, I wanted to, uh—“ He cleared his throat, forcing himself to look up at you. “I wanted to ask if I could maybe… get your number.”

A smile twitched at the corner of your lips. “Really?”

His heart dropped. “I mean, only if you want to. I just— I think you are really nice, and pretty, and—“

“You think I’m pretty?” You interrupted softly.

He paused, meeting your shining eyes.

“Yeah.” He breathed. “I do.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, rustling through your bag. Spencer thought, briefly, that there’d never been a time he so badly wanted to watch someone bite their lip like that in slow motion on repeat. He wanted to tattoo the image on the inside of his eyelids.

Chill out. He reprimanded himself as you handed him a napkin with your number scribbled on it.

“You can call me.” That smile turned his brain to static once more as you waved sheepishly, a rose tint coloring your cheeks in the dim light. “Bye, Reid.”

The whole interaction had him heckled mercilessly on the flight home, but he didn’t mind too much. The teasing was all worth it the second his gaze landed on that ink-stained piece of tissue.

He waited about three days to call you. He almost hung up on the fifth ring, convinced you wouldn’t answer, when your voice crackled through the speaker.

“Hello?”

“Hi, hi. Um, it’s Spencer. Reid. Garcia’s friend?” He sat up straighter, as though you could see him.

“Oh, hey!” He could hear your grin in your voice, and it made him smile reflexively. “How are you? Read any good books lately?”

“Yeah! You know, I just re-read The Count of Monte Cristo in the original French. It’s fascinating.” He replied animatedly, settling back into his couch.

That first phone call lasted nearly forty-five minutes.

The second was nearly an hour.

Before long, he got in a routine of calling you ever other day, and then every day. Eventually, Spencer Reid, ever the technophobe, found himself texting you every chance he could. He even bought a used laptop so he could video chat with you on WhatsApp.

It wasn’t just your physical appearance. Spencer was attracted to so much more than that. Your kindness. Your humor. Your patience. Your laugh. Your intelligence.

You told him about your life, your family, your job. He eventually opened up to you about his mom, some of his trauma. And you listened to every word with heartfelt kindness.

After a few months of this, the man who relied so heavily on statistics felt that it was just dumb luck you actually gave him your number.

“So, I’ve been thinking…” You said one night on a video call.

He raised his eyebrows at the screen. “Yeah?”

“What if I flew out and stayed with Pen for a weekend?” You asked. “You and I could actually… you know, spend some time together. In person.”

Spencer hesitated, turning the idea over in his mind.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see you. God, did he want to see you. Three months of only having you over a screen was slowly becoming torture. His dreams were becoming increasingly plagued with the idea of holding you, kissing you…

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts.

“I’ll take your silence as a no,” you said jokingly, but he could hear the dejectedness in your tone.

“It’s not a no, it’s just…” He paused. “How are you going to keep it from Garcia if you’re staying with her? Won’t she wonder where you’re going?”

Privacy was very important to Spencer. He loved his teammates like family, but truthfully, he valued keeping your relationship between the two of you, at least for now. He wanted to navigate the idea of you without any outside influence or opinion.

He’d had that conversation with you early on, given your relationship with Garcia, and you had been fine with it.

“I can make something up, give her a fake reason I’m in town.” You shrugged. “I just really want to see you, Spencer.”

He felt a strange swell of pride in his chest at the thought. “I really want to see you, too.” He replied softly.

A mischievous grin crossed your face. “Besides, it might be kinda fun. Sneaking around.”

He fought a smile at the idea. “Yeah? When would you fly out?”

And so the plan was set in motion.

You texted Garcia not long after, saying you needed a place to stay for a weekend for your great-grandmother’s funeral. She agreed, albeit her excitement dying a little at the addition of your need to spend time with family members in town, but you assured her you would reserve some time for her, too.

Sure, you felt a little bad about the lie, but it would have to do for now.

Two weeks later, Spencer was checking his phone every five minutes for a text signifying you’d landed.

Buzz.

He scrambled for it so quickly it was almost comical.

“in your city :)”

He bit back a smile at the message before quickly typing his reply:

“See you soon.”

When four p.m. rolled around, Spencer found himself walking up to the park.

There you were.

Sitting on a wooden bench, people-watching. The afternoon sun was beating down on the world, but around you, it looked like a halo.

You. Real. Not on a screen for the first time in months. And this time, not as a stranger.

Your head turned at the sound of his footsteps, and you broke into another one of those steal-his-heart smiles.

“Hi.” You said, looking up.

“Hi,” he echoed, a little breathless.

He stepped closer as you stood, and then you were both right there.

You hesitated. He paused. Should he hug you? Was that too much too soon? He hadn’t had any sort of physical contact with you before, outside of your fingers brushing his when you gave him your number.

A small, nervous laugh from you. “I didn’t know if we were, um—“ you gestured.

“Yeah, me neither.” He huffed out a laugh. He took you in for another moment before asking, quietly, “Can I hug you?”

“Yes. Please.” Your answer was immediate.

His arms enveloped you, and then you melted into him.

He exhaled slowly against the top of your head, nerves and tension melting away as he held you. Real and warm and solid against him, not just a memory and a voice through a speaker.

You pulled back just a bit, hand staying on his arm.

“I missed you,” you breathed.

His eyes flicked down to your mouth before he could stop himself. “Yeah, I— me too.”

You gazed up at him, the corner of your mouth twitching. “You can.”

“I can what?” He asked.

“Kiss me.”

“Oh.” He mentally chastised himself for being so obvious.

Then immediately mentally high-fived himself the second his lips touched yours.

The kiss was soft, and new. His hands came up to cradle your face, a little clumsily.

But somewhere, distantly, in the static that was currently filling his brain, he thought this must be nirvana. A state of perfect peace, liberation, and completion. This must be the glorious thing and the pinnacle that everyone dreams of acheiving.

He doesn’t know how long he stood by that bench, kissing you, but he knew that he would spend every waking second waiting for the next one.

The rest of the weekend felt… unreal.

He took you to his favorite local coffee place. You perused the shelves of his frequented bookstore, fingers laced together. He showed you his apartment, which all too quickly felt like your little corner of home in an unfamiliar city.

And every once in a while, another kiss.

Maybe it was more often than that.

He absolutely committed himself to relishing every single moment you were there. You spent nearly all day Saturday at his apartment before you finally convinced him you had to spend some time with Garcia, or she would get suspicious.

“I’ll stop by tomorrow before I have to leave.” You said, toeing your shoes on by the door.

He swallowed, the notion weighing heavy on him. “Sounds good.”

You stopped. “Oh, hey. I still have your sweater on.”

He shrugged, looking down at you. “It looks good on you. Keep it.”

You flushed, eyes dropping shyly to the floor. “Thank you.”

He kissed you one more time, really breathing you in, before he opened the door for you and watched you walk away with a wave.

Sunday had arrived all too quickly.

You were outside his door, bags in hand. You handed his folded sweater back to him gently.

“I did wear it all night.” You smiled half-heartedly. “But you can have it for now. I need a reason to come back and steal it again.”

Spencer pursed his lips, fighting back the emotions threatening to rise up in him.

“It was… really good to see you.” You said softly, gazing up at him.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “It was.”

There was a pause.

“You’ll text me when you land?” He asked.

“Obviously.”

Another pause. You looked at each other for a moment.

He was very appreciative for his eidetic memory in this moment, because he couldn’t forget you standing here in his apartment.

“We should do this again sometime.” Your voice was watery through your joking tone. “I really liked sneaking around with you.”

Spencer didn’t answer you. He just leaned forward, capturing your mouth in a kiss. Warm and sweet and over all too soon.

A thin laugh from you as you parted, eyes brimming with tears.

“I’ll see you.” He said softly.

You nodded, brows crinkling. “Bye, Spence.”

And you were gone.

On Monday, Spencer wore the sweater to work. You really must’ve worn it all night, because it smelled just like your perfume, bringing him a small amount of comfort knowing this weekend hadn’t been a fever dream.

He tried to work, his focus drifting between thoughts of you and the occasional buzz in his pocket.

“How was your weekend?” He overheard Emily ask Garcia as she walked in.

“Oh, it was great. I really love getting to see her, but she was super in and out the whole time. Lots of visiting to do, she said.” Garcia replied.

Her footsteps faltered by his desk.

“Reid?”

“Yeah?”

“Where did you get that sweater?”

He froze, risking a glance up. Garcia’s face was twisted in confusion.

“This? It’s mine.” He replied, trying to keep his voice smooth. Casual.

“No.”

“What do you mean? It’s mine.”

“No, I saw…” she trailed off. Spencer swore he could see her eyes light up, growing wide as it clicked.

Uh oh.

She gasped. “Oh my gosh!”

“Wait—“ Spencer started.

“Oh my gosh!” She repeated, louder this time. “You! You dirty dog!”

“It wasn’t—“ He leaned in, trying to do damage control. “It wasn’t like that. We’ve been… long distance.”

“I knew it!” she shouted, spinning in a circle. “I knew something was weird when she wouldn’t tell me where she kept disappearing to!”

Spencer winced. “We didn’t want to—”

“You lied to me,” she gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “Oh my gosh, you’re in love with her.”

His cheeks were on fire. “I— what? No, I didn’t say—”

“You didn’t have to,” she said, grinning. “You’re wearing the sweater.”

He blinked. “It’s my sweater.”

“Exactly.”

And later, when his phone buzzed again in his pocket, he didn’t even try to hide it.

“miss you already :(”

“Miss you more.”

“Call you tonight?”

Across the room, Garcia watched him with a knowing grin.

And for once, Spencer didn’t mind being figured out.

———————————————

𝙲𝙾𝙵𝙵𝙴𝙴 𝙾𝚁𝙳𝙴𝚁 #11

𝙸𝚃𝙴𝙼𝚂:

𝙻𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎 ……… 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝙷𝚊𝚣𝚎𝚕𝚗𝚞𝚝 𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚕𝚎 ... 𝙼𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝙿𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚃𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎

𝙲𝚘𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚞𝚝 𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚕𝚎 …. 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚁𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚃𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎

𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝙲𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 ..... 𝙷𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝙴𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝙰𝚍𝚍-𝙸𝚗𝚜: 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝙶𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚒𝚊'𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚊 𝚢𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚊 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚢 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚢

Hotch looked around, assessing the reactions of the team. The accomplishment of a job well done seemed to outweigh their tiredness as everyone shrugged and nodded.

Before long, Spencer was trailing behind the group as they strolled up to the restaurant. The air was starting cool as the sky dimmed, and the aroma wafting out the doors was making his mouth water.

“Oh, hi!” He heard Garcia exclaim suddenly. He couldn’t really see through the crowd of people, with the team and the patrons coming and going from the restaurant, so he shoved his hands in his pockets and waited his turn to be introduced.

“It’s so good to see you!” Garcia chattered. “These are the people I’m always telling you about. This is Hotch, and Emily, and Rossi, Derek, JJ, and—“ she paused, peering over everyone’s heads. “Reid! There’s Reid, in the back.”

He turned his head as everyone shuffled aside, creating an opening, and he pulled his hand out of his pocket to wave and then—

Oh. Oh, wow.

“Hi.” You smiled, and it almost knocked him off his feet.

He blinked, hand awkwardly half-raised before he reminded himself to look slightly less like a deer in headlights.

He straightened, clearing his throat. “Hi.”

You were…

For once, his brain actually ran out of words.

Beautiful. Gorgeous. Stunning. Radiant. Breathtaking. Captivating. Alluring. None of them seemed to truly encapsulate you.

The group was soon ushered inside the restaurant and sat at a table. Conversation began to flow as you and Garcia caught up and you got to know the team.

“Oh, you actually said that?” Your jaw dropped as you looked at Emily.

“Not only did she say it, she said it in front of the entire Sacramento Police Department!” JJ interjected, causing the table to burst into laughter.

Spencer couldn’t help but watch you as you threw your head back, shoulders shaking with laughter. Your laugh was infectious, he thought. He wanted to be the reason you laughed like that.

Wine and chatter flowed around the table as you dicussed JJ’s children, Rossi’s career as an author, Derek’s most recent date.

He was mid-bite when you turned to him. “So, Reid, what about you? I hear you’re the resident genius.”

He nearly dropped his fork, chewing quickly. “Um, well, I guess you could—“ he coughed, trying to swallow before continuing. “I mean, it depends how you classify ‘genius.’ My IQ is statistically above average, I have an eidetic memory, and I read at an average speed of…”

He trailed off, noticing the rest of the table had gone silent. He cleared his throat. “Um, yes.”

You nodded approvingly, eyebrows raised with a slight smile as the group chuckled.

The meal began wrapping up, plates slowly clearing and wine glasses emptying. Spencer watched you still as Garcia turned the conversation back to you, actively reminding himself not to stare.

“So, tell me.” Garcia said, leaning in to you. “Are you dating anyone?”

Spencer felt like a puppy who had just heard the word “treat.” He stared hard at the tablecloth, trying not to seem invested in the answer.

“No, not since that guy from the bank.” You replied, smoothing your shirt.

“Thank God. He was so… average.” Garcia answered. “You could do so much better.”

Someone accidentally nudged his shin under the table. He shifted, heart fluttering at the knowledge you weren’t involved with anyone. Not that he would ever do anything about it, but it was nice for the moment to not have to imagine you with anyone else.

Checks rolled out, everyone paid, and the group made their way to the door.

A chorus of goodbyes echoed across the group outside the restaurant. Garcia pulled you into a tight hug. “Keep in touch.”

“Of course.” You replied as you pulled back, looking to the rest of the group. “It was so great meeting you guys.”

The sentiment was returned and you waved, flashing that brilliant smile one more time. “Have a good flight!”

You turned on your heel, and Spencer felt a pang in his chest at the thought of not seeing you again. Oh, well.

A hand grabbed his arm with a vengeance, and he turned to face the culprit.

“Ow! Garcia, what are you doing?” He pulled his arm from her grip, rubbing at the irritated skin.

“For a genius, you really are acting like an idiot!” She whispered. “Go get her number!”

His eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “What?”

“Did you not feel me kick you under the table when she said she was single?” She asked, exasperated. “I’m setting you up! Go ask her for her number! Now!”

She punctuated her demand with a little shove in your direction, and before he knew it, he was calling out.

“Hey!”

You turned around, already about fifteen feet away. “Hey?”

He glanced back over his shoulder briefly before half-jogging over to you.

He swallowed. “Um, I wanted to, uh—“ He cleared his throat, forcing himself to look up at you. “I wanted to ask if I could maybe… get your number.”

A smile twitched at the corner of your lips. “Really?”

His heart dropped. “I mean, only if you want to. I just— I think you are really nice, and pretty, and—“

“You think I’m pretty?” You interrupted softly.

He paused, meeting your shining eyes.

“Yeah.” He breathed. “I do.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, rustling through your bag. Spencer thought, briefly, that there’d never been a time he so badly wanted to watch someone bite their lip like that in slow motion on repeat. He wanted to tattoo the image on the inside of his eyelids.

Chill out. He reprimanded himself as you handed him a napkin with your number scribbled on it.

“You can call me.” That smile turned his brain to static once more as you waved sheepishly, a rose tint coloring your cheeks in the dim light. “Bye, Reid.”

The whole interaction had him heckled mercilessly on the flight home, but he didn’t mind too much. The teasing was all worth it the second his gaze landed on that ink-stained piece of tissue.

He waited about three days to call you. He almost hung up on the fifth ring, convinced you wouldn’t answer, when your voice crackled through the speaker.

“Hello?”

“Hi, hi. Um, it’s Spencer. Reid. Garcia’s friend?” He sat up straighter, as though you could see him.

“Oh, hey!” He could hear your grin in your voice, and it made him smile reflexively. “How are you? Read any good books lately?”

“Yeah! You know, I just re-read The Count of Monte Cristo in the original French. It’s fascinating.” He replied animatedly, settling back into his couch.

That first phone call lasted nearly forty-five minutes.

The second was nearly an hour.

Before long, he got in a routine of calling you ever other day, and then every day. Eventually, Spencer Reid, ever the technophobe, found himself texting you every chance he could. He even bought a used laptop so he could video chat with you on WhatsApp.

It wasn’t just your physical appearance. Spencer was attracted to so much more than that. Your kindness. Your humor. Your patience. Your laugh. Your intelligence.

You told him about your life, your family, your job. He eventually opened up to you about his mom, some of his trauma. And you listened to every word with heartfelt kindness.

After a few months of this, the man who relied so heavily on statistics felt that it was just dumb luck you actually gave him your number.

“So, I’ve been thinking…” You said one night on a video call.

He raised his eyebrows at the screen. “Yeah?”

“What if I flew out and stayed with Pen for a weekend?” You asked. “You and I could actually… you know, spend some time together. In person.”

Spencer hesitated, turning the idea over in his mind.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see you. God, did he want to see you. Three months of only having you over a screen was slowly becoming torture. His dreams were becoming increasingly plagued with the idea of holding you, kissing you…

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts.

“I’ll take your silence as a no,” you said jokingly, but he could hear the dejectedness in your tone.

“It’s not a no, it’s just…” He paused. “How are you going to keep it from Garcia if you’re staying with her? Won’t she wonder where you’re going?”

Privacy was very important to Spencer. He loved his teammates like family, but truthfully, he valued keeping your relationship between the two of you, at least for now. He wanted to navigate the idea of you without any outside influence or opinion.

He’d had that conversation with you early on, given your relationship with Garcia, and you had been fine with it.

“I can make something up, give her a fake reason I’m in town.” You shrugged. “I just really want to see you, Spencer.”

He felt a strange swell of pride in his chest at the thought. “I really want to see you, too.” He replied softly.

A mischievous grin crossed your face. “Besides, it might be kinda fun. Sneaking around.”

He fought a smile at the idea. “Yeah? When would you fly out?”

And so the plan was set in motion.

You texted Garcia not long after, saying you needed a place to stay for a weekend for your great-grandmother’s funeral. She agreed, albeit her excitement dying a little at the addition of your need to spend time with family members in town, but you assured her you would reserve some time for her, too.

Sure, you felt a little bad about the lie, but it would have to do for now.

Two weeks later, Spencer was checking his phone every five minutes for a text signifying you’d landed.

Buzz.

He scrambled for it so quickly it was almost comical.

“in your city :)”

He bit back a smile at the message before quickly typing his reply:

“See you soon.”

When four p.m. rolled around, Spencer found himself walking up to the park.

There you were.

Sitting on a wooden bench, people-watching. The afternoon sun was beating down on the world, but around you, it looked like a halo.

You. Real. Not on a screen for the first time in months. And this time, not as a stranger.

Your head turned at the sound of his footsteps, and you broke into another one of those steal-his-heart smiles.

“Hi.” You said, looking up.

“Hi,” he echoed, a little breathless.

He stepped closer as you stood, and then you were both right there.

You hesitated. He paused. Should he hug you? Was that too much too soon? He hadn’t had any sort of physical contact with you before, outside of your fingers brushing his when you gave him your number.

A small, nervous laugh from you. “I didn’t know if we were, um—“ you gestured.

“Yeah, me neither.” He huffed out a laugh. He took you in for another moment before asking, quietly, “Can I hug you?”

“Yes. Please.” Your answer was immediate.

His arms enveloped you, and then you melted into him.

He exhaled slowly against the top of your head, nerves and tension melting away as he held you. Real and warm and solid against him, not just a memory and a voice through a speaker.

You pulled back just a bit, hand staying on his arm.

“I missed you,” you breathed.

His eyes flicked down to your mouth before he could stop himself. “Yeah, I— me too.”

You gazed up at him, the corner of your mouth twitching. “You can.”

“I can what?” He asked.

“Kiss me.”

“Oh.” He mentally chastised himself for being so obvious.

Then immediately mentally high-fived himself the second his lips touched yours.

The kiss was soft, and new. His hands came up to cradle your face, a little clumsily.

But somewhere, distantly, in the static that was currently filling his brain, he thought this must be nirvana. A state of perfect peace, liberation, and completion. This must be the glorious thing and the pinnacle that everyone dreams of acheiving.

He doesn’t know how long he stood by that bench, kissing you, but he knew that he would spend every waking second waiting for the next one.

The rest of the weekend felt… unreal.

He took you to his favorite local coffee place. You perused the shelves of his frequented bookstore, fingers laced together. He showed you his apartment, which all too quickly felt like your little corner of home in an unfamiliar city.

And every once in a while, another kiss.

Maybe it was more often than that.

He absolutely committed himself to relishing every single moment you were there. You spent nearly all day Saturday at his apartment before you finally convinced him you had to spend some time with Garcia, or she would get suspicious.

“I’ll stop by tomorrow before I have to leave.” You said, toeing your shoes on by the door.

He swallowed, the notion weighing heavy on him. “Sounds good.”

You stopped. “Oh, hey. I still have your sweater on.”

He shrugged, looking down at you. “It looks good on you. Keep it.”

You flushed, eyes dropping shyly to the floor. “Thank you.”

He kissed you one more time, really breathing you in, before he opened the door for you and watched you walk away with a wave.

Sunday had arrived all too quickly.

You were outside his door, bags in hand. You handed his folded sweater back to him gently.

“I did wear it all night.” You smiled half-heartedly. “But you can have it for now. I need a reason to come back and steal it again.”

Spencer pursed his lips, fighting back the emotions threatening to rise up in him.

“It was… really good to see you.” You said softly, gazing up at him.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “It was.”

There was a pause.

“You’ll text me when you land?” He asked.

“Obviously.”

Another pause. You looked at each other for a moment.

He was very appreciative for his eidetic memory in this moment, because he couldn’t forget you standing here in his apartment.

“We should do this again sometime.” Your voice was watery through your joking tone. “I really liked sneaking around with you.”

Spencer didn’t answer you. He just leaned forward, capturing your mouth in a kiss. Warm and sweet and over all too soon.

A thin laugh from you as you parted, eyes brimming with tears.

“I’ll see you.” He said softly.

You nodded, brows crinkling. “Bye, Spence.”

And you were gone.

On Monday, Spencer wore the sweater to work. You really must’ve worn it all night, because it smelled just like your perfume, bringing him a small amount of comfort knowing this weekend hadn’t been a fever dream.

He tried to work, his focus drifting between thoughts of you and the occasional buzz in his pocket.

“How was your weekend?” He overheard Emily ask Garcia as she walked in.

“Oh, it was great. I really love getting to see her, but she was super in and out the whole time. Lots of visiting to do, she said.” Garcia replied.

Her footsteps faltered by his desk.

“Reid?”

“Yeah?”

“Where did you get that sweater?”

He froze, risking a glance up. Garcia’s face was twisted in confusion.

“This? It’s mine.” He replied, trying to keep his voice smooth. Casual.

“No.”

“What do you mean? It’s mine.”

“No, I saw…” she trailed off. Spencer swore he could see her eyes light up, growing wide as it clicked.

Uh oh.

She gasped. “Oh my gosh!”

“Wait—“ Spencer started.

“Oh my gosh!” She repeated, louder this time. “You! You dirty dog!”

“It wasn’t—“ He leaned in, trying to do damage control. “It wasn’t like that. We’ve been… long distance.”

“I knew it!” she shouted, spinning in a circle. “I knew something was weird when she wouldn’t tell me where she kept disappearing to!”

Spencer winced. “We didn’t want to—”

“You lied to me,” she gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “Oh my gosh, you’re in love with her.”

His cheeks were on fire. “I— what? No, I didn’t say—”

“You didn’t have to,” she said, grinning. “You’re wearing the sweater.”

He blinked. “It’s my sweater.”

“Exactly.”

And later, when his phone buzzed again in his pocket, he didn’t even try to hide it.

“miss you already :(”

“Miss you more.”

“Call you tonight?”

Across the room, Garcia watched him with a knowing grin.

And for once, Spencer didn’t mind being figured out.

———————————————

𝙲𝙾𝙵𝙵𝙴𝙴 𝙾𝚁𝙳𝙴𝚁 #11

𝙸𝚃𝙴𝙼𝚂:

𝙻𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎 ……… 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝙷𝚊𝚣𝚎𝚕𝚗𝚞𝚝 𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚕𝚎 ... 𝙼𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝙿𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚃𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎

𝙲𝚘𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚞𝚝 𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚕𝚎 …. 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚁𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚃𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎

𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝙲𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 ..... 𝙷𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝙴𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝙰𝚍𝚍-𝙸𝚗𝚜: 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝙶𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚒𝚊'𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚊 𝚢𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚊 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚢 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚢

Hotch looked around, assessing the reactions of the team. The accomplishment of a job well done seemed to outweigh their tiredness as everyone shrugged and nodded.

Before long, Spencer was trailing behind the group as they strolled up to the restaurant. The air was starting cool as the sky dimmed, and the aroma wafting out the doors was making his mouth water.

“Oh, hi!” He heard Garcia exclaim suddenly. He couldn’t really see through the crowd of people, with the team and the patrons coming and going from the restaurant, so he shoved his hands in his pockets and waited his turn to be introduced.

“It’s so good to see you!” Garcia chattered. “These are the people I’m always telling you about. This is Hotch, and Emily, and Rossi, Derek, JJ, and—“ she paused, peering over everyone’s heads. “Reid! There’s Reid, in the back.”

He turned his head as everyone shuffled aside, creating an opening, and he pulled his hand out of his pocket to wave and then—

Oh. Oh, wow.

“Hi.” You smiled, and it almost knocked him off his feet.

He blinked, hand awkwardly half-raised before he reminded himself to look slightly less like a deer in headlights.

He straightened, clearing his throat. “Hi.”

You were…

For once, his brain actually ran out of words.

Beautiful. Gorgeous. Stunning. Radiant. Breathtaking. Captivating. Alluring. None of them seemed to truly encapsulate you.

The group was soon ushered inside the restaurant and sat at a table. Conversation began to flow as you and Garcia caught up and you got to know the team.

“Oh, you actually said that?” Your jaw dropped as you looked at Emily.

“Not only did she say it, she said it in front of the entire Sacramento Police Department!” JJ interjected, causing the table to burst into laughter.

Spencer couldn’t help but watch you as you threw your head back, shoulders shaking with laughter. Your laugh was infectious, he thought. He wanted to be the reason you laughed like that.

Wine and chatter flowed around the table as you dicussed JJ’s children, Rossi’s career as an author, Derek’s most recent date.

He was mid-bite when you turned to him. “So, Reid, what about you? I hear you’re the resident genius.”

He nearly dropped his fork, chewing quickly. “Um, well, I guess you could—“ he coughed, trying to swallow before continuing. “I mean, it depends how you classify ‘genius.’ My IQ is statistically above average, I have an eidetic memory, and I read at an average speed of…”

He trailed off, noticing the rest of the table had gone silent. He cleared his throat. “Um, yes.”

You nodded approvingly, eyebrows raised with a slight smile as the group chuckled.

The meal began wrapping up, plates slowly clearing and wine glasses emptying. Spencer watched you still as Garcia turned the conversation back to you, actively reminding himself not to stare.

“So, tell me.” Garcia said, leaning in to you. “Are you dating anyone?”

Spencer felt like a puppy who had just heard the word “treat.” He stared hard at the tablecloth, trying not to seem invested in the answer.

“No, not since that guy from the bank.” You replied, smoothing your shirt.

“Thank God. He was so… average.” Garcia answered. “You could do so much better.”

Someone accidentally nudged his shin under the table. He shifted, heart fluttering at the knowledge you weren’t involved with anyone. Not that he would ever do anything about it, but it was nice for the moment to not have to imagine you with anyone else.

Checks rolled out, everyone paid, and the group made their way to the door.

A chorus of goodbyes echoed across the group outside the restaurant. Garcia pulled you into a tight hug. “Keep in touch.”

“Of course.” You replied as you pulled back, looking to the rest of the group. “It was so great meeting you guys.”

The sentiment was returned and you waved, flashing that brilliant smile one more time. “Have a good flight!”

You turned on your heel, and Spencer felt a pang in his chest at the thought of not seeing you again. Oh, well.

A hand grabbed his arm with a vengeance, and he turned to face the culprit.

“Ow! Garcia, what are you doing?” He pulled his arm from her grip, rubbing at the irritated skin.

“For a genius, you really are acting like an idiot!” She whispered. “Go get her number!”

His eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “What?”

“Did you not feel me kick you under the table when she said she was single?” She asked, exasperated. “I’m setting you up! Go ask her for her number! Now!”

She punctuated her demand with a little shove in your direction, and before he knew it, he was calling out.

“Hey!”

You turned around, already about fifteen feet away. “Hey?”

He glanced back over his shoulder briefly before half-jogging over to you.

He swallowed. “Um, I wanted to, uh—“ He cleared his throat, forcing himself to look up at you. “I wanted to ask if I could maybe… get your number.”

A smile twitched at the corner of your lips. “Really?”

His heart dropped. “I mean, only if you want to. I just— I think you are really nice, and pretty, and—“

“You think I’m pretty?” You interrupted softly.

He paused, meeting your shining eyes.

“Yeah.” He breathed. “I do.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, rustling through your bag. Spencer thought, briefly, that there’d never been a time he so badly wanted to watch someone bite their lip like that in slow motion on repeat. He wanted to tattoo the image on the inside of his eyelids.

Chill out. He reprimanded himself as you handed him a napkin with your number scribbled on it.

“You can call me.” That smile turned his brain to static once more as you waved sheepishly, a rose tint coloring your cheeks in the dim light. “Bye, Reid.”

The whole interaction had him heckled mercilessly on the flight home, but he didn’t mind too much. The teasing was all worth it the second his gaze landed on that ink-stained piece of tissue.

He waited about three days to call you. He almost hung up on the fifth ring, convinced you wouldn’t answer, when your voice crackled through the speaker.

“Hello?”

“Hi, hi. Um, it’s Spencer. Reid. Garcia’s friend?” He sat up straighter, as though you could see him.

“Oh, hey!” He could hear your grin in your voice, and it made him smile reflexively. “How are you? Read any good books lately?”

“Yeah! You know, I just re-read The Count of Monte Cristo in the original French. It’s fascinating.” He replied animatedly, settling back into his couch.

That first phone call lasted nearly forty-five minutes.

The second was nearly an hour.

Before long, he got in a routine of calling you ever other day, and then every day. Eventually, Spencer Reid, ever the technophobe, found himself texting you every chance he could. He even bought a used laptop so he could video chat with you on WhatsApp.

It wasn’t just your physical appearance. Spencer was attracted to so much more than that. Your kindness. Your humor. Your patience. Your laugh. Your intelligence.

You told him about your life, your family, your job. He eventually opened up to you about his mom, some of his trauma. And you listened to every word with heartfelt kindness.

After a few months of this, the man who relied so heavily on statistics felt that it was just dumb luck you actually gave him your number.

“So, I’ve been thinking…” You said one night on a video call.

He raised his eyebrows at the screen. “Yeah?”

“What if I flew out and stayed with Pen for a weekend?” You asked. “You and I could actually… you know, spend some time together. In person.”

Spencer hesitated, turning the idea over in his mind.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see you. God, did he want to see you. Three months of only having you over a screen was slowly becoming torture. His dreams were becoming increasingly plagued with the idea of holding you, kissing you…

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts.

“I’ll take your silence as a no,” you said jokingly, but he could hear the dejectedness in your tone.

“It’s not a no, it’s just…” He paused. “How are you going to keep it from Garcia if you’re staying with her? Won’t she wonder where you’re going?”

Privacy was very important to Spencer. He loved his teammates like family, but truthfully, he valued keeping your relationship between the two of you, at least for now. He wanted to navigate the idea of you without any outside influence or opinion.

He’d had that conversation with you early on, given your relationship with Garcia, and you had been fine with it.

“I can make something up, give her a fake reason I’m in town.” You shrugged. “I just really want to see you, Spencer.”

He felt a strange swell of pride in his chest at the thought. “I really want to see you, too.” He replied softly.

A mischievous grin crossed your face. “Besides, it might be kinda fun. Sneaking around.”

He fought a smile at the idea. “Yeah? When would you fly out?”

And so the plan was set in motion.

You texted Garcia not long after, saying you needed a place to stay for a weekend for your great-grandmother’s funeral. She agreed, albeit her excitement dying a little at the addition of your need to spend time with family members in town, but you assured her you would reserve some time for her, too.

Sure, you felt a little bad about the lie, but it would have to do for now.

Two weeks later, Spencer was checking his phone every five minutes for a text signifying you’d landed.

Buzz.

He scrambled for it so quickly it was almost comical.

“in your city :)”

He bit back a smile at the message before quickly typing his reply:

“See you soon.”

When four p.m. rolled around, Spencer found himself walking up to the park.

There you were.

Sitting on a wooden bench, people-watching. The afternoon sun was beating down on the world, but around you, it looked like a halo.

You. Real. Not on a screen for the first time in months. And this time, not as a stranger.

Your head turned at the sound of his footsteps, and you broke into another one of those steal-his-heart smiles.

“Hi.” You said, looking up.

“Hi,” he echoed, a little breathless.

He stepped closer as you stood, and then you were both right there.

You hesitated. He paused. Should he hug you? Was that too much too soon? He hadn’t had any sort of physical contact with you before, outside of your fingers brushing his when you gave him your number.

A small, nervous laugh from you. “I didn’t know if we were, um—“ you gestured.

“Yeah, me neither.” He huffed out a laugh. He took you in for another moment before asking, quietly, “Can I hug you?”

“Yes. Please.” Your answer was immediate.

His arms enveloped you, and then you melted into him.

He exhaled slowly against the top of your head, nerves and tension melting away as he held you. Real and warm and solid against him, not just a memory and a voice through a speaker.

You pulled back just a bit, hand staying on his arm.

“I missed you,” you breathed.

His eyes flicked down to your mouth before he could stop himself. “Yeah, I— me too.”

You gazed up at him, the corner of your mouth twitching. “You can.”

“I can what?” He asked.

“Kiss me.”

“Oh.” He mentally chastised himself for being so obvious.

Then immediately mentally high-fived himself the second his lips touched yours.

The kiss was soft, and new. His hands came up to cradle your face, a little clumsily.

But somewhere, distantly, in the static that was currently filling his brain, he thought this must be nirvana. A state of perfect peace, liberation, and completion. This must be the glorious thing and the pinnacle that everyone dreams of acheiving.

He doesn’t know how long he stood by that bench, kissing you, but he knew that he would spend every waking second waiting for the next one.

The rest of the weekend felt… unreal.

He took you to his favorite local coffee place. You perused the shelves of his frequented bookstore, fingers laced together. He showed you his apartment, which all too quickly felt like your little corner of home in an unfamiliar city.

And every once in a while, another kiss.

Maybe it was more often than that.

He absolutely committed himself to relishing every single moment you were there. You spent nearly all day Saturday at his apartment before you finally convinced him you had to spend some time with Garcia, or she would get suspicious.

“I’ll stop by tomorrow before I have to leave.” You said, toeing your shoes on by the door.

He swallowed, the notion weighing heavy on him. “Sounds good.”

You stopped. “Oh, hey. I still have your sweater on.”

He shrugged, looking down at you. “It looks good on you. Keep it.”

You flushed, eyes dropping shyly to the floor. “Thank you.”

He kissed you one more time, really breathing you in, before he opened the door for you and watched you walk away with a wave.

Sunday had arrived all too quickly.

You were outside his door, bags in hand. You handed his folded sweater back to him gently.

“I did wear it all night.” You smiled half-heartedly. “But you can have it for now. I need a reason to come back and steal it again.”

Spencer pursed his lips, fighting back the emotions threatening to rise up in him.

“It was… really good to see you.” You said softly, gazing up at him.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “It was.”

There was a pause.

“You’ll text me when you land?” He asked.

“Obviously.”

Another pause. You looked at each other for a moment.

He was very appreciative for his eidetic memory in this moment, because he couldn’t forget you standing here in his apartment.

“We should do this again sometime.” Your voice was watery through your joking tone. “I really liked sneaking around with you.”

Spencer didn’t answer you. He just leaned forward, capturing your mouth in a kiss. Warm and sweet and over all too soon.

A thin laugh from you as you parted, eyes brimming with tears.

“I’ll see you.” He said softly.

You nodded, brows crinkling. “Bye, Spence.”

And you were gone.

On Monday, Spencer wore the sweater to work. You really must’ve worn it all night, because it smelled just like your perfume, bringing him a small amount of comfort knowing this weekend hadn’t been a fever dream.

He tried to work, his focus drifting between thoughts of you and the occasional buzz in his pocket.

“How was your weekend?” He overheard Emily ask Garcia as she walked in.

“Oh, it was great. I really love getting to see her, but she was super in and out the whole time. Lots of visiting to do, she said.” Garcia replied.

Her footsteps faltered by his desk.

“Reid?”

“Yeah?”

“Where did you get that sweater?”

He froze, risking a glance up. Garcia’s face was twisted in confusion.

“This? It’s mine.” He replied, trying to keep his voice smooth. Casual.

“No.”

“What do you mean? It’s mine.”

“No, I saw…” she trailed off. Spencer swore he could see her eyes light up, growing wide as it clicked.

Uh oh.

She gasped. “Oh my gosh!”

“Wait—“ Spencer started.

“Oh my gosh!” She repeated, louder this time. “You! You dirty dog!”

“It wasn’t—“ He leaned in, trying to do damage control. “It wasn’t like that. We’ve been… long distance.”

“I knew it!” she shouted, spinning in a circle. “I knew something was weird when she wouldn’t tell me where she kept disappearing to!”

Spencer winced. “We didn’t want to—”

“You lied to me,” she gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “Oh my gosh, you’re in love with her.”

His cheeks were on fire. “I— what? No, I didn’t say—”

“You didn’t have to,” she said, grinning. “You’re wearing the sweater.”

He blinked. “It’s my sweater.”

“Exactly.”

And later, when his phone buzzed again in his pocket, he didn’t even try to hide it.

“miss you already :(”

“Miss you more.”

“Call you tonight?”

Across the room, Garcia watched him with a knowing grin.

And for once, Spencer didn’t mind being figured out.

———————————————

𝙲𝙾𝙵𝙵𝙴𝙴 𝙾𝚁𝙳𝙴𝚁 #11

𝙸𝚃𝙴𝙼𝚂:

𝙻𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎 ……… 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝙷𝚊𝚣𝚎𝚕𝚗𝚞𝚝 𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚕𝚎 ... 𝙼𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝙿𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚃𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎

𝙲𝚘𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚞𝚝 𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚕𝚎 …. 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚁𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚃𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎

𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝙲𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 ..... 𝙷𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝙴𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝙰𝚍𝚍-𝙸𝚗𝚜: 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝙶𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚒𝚊'𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚊 𝚢𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚊 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚢 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚢