#cm x reader

"Hey there officer."

"Doctor" he corrected you, "not officer." He rolled his eyes in clear annoyance, a groan escaping the back of his throat when he turned around to the sound of your voice.

You rolled your own eyes, pushing yourself off of the wall of the abandoned building you've made as your hideout. "Same thing. Been a while since I last saw you, pretty."

Everyone's eyebrows rose in suspicion, in different circumstances, Derek would've been livid to find out that the team's nerd knew someone like you. He would’ve asked you out for some coffee after the case.

He would’ve, if you didn't spend your free time leaning back in dark, sketchy alleyways.

A rolled up blunt was between your lips, breathing in and savouring the tangy feeling flowing down your lungs.

If you weren’t ass deep in such a violent case, Spencer Reid wouldn’t mind retaliating all of your flirting.

“Reid, you know this chick?” Morgan's voice was very clearly weary, using his hand to fan away the cloud of smoke coming from your mouth.

"Yeah, sold him some molly back in his trainee days." You stood up straight, pushing yourself off of the wall you were leaning on. You carefully walked around the many unconscious people that had fainted in a drunken haze. Dusting your shoulders and scraping the foot of your shoes on the concrete floor.

"I reported you for selling molly." Spencer rolled his eyes.

"You reported the stoner that sat in the back of my class, not me," you cracked a smile, hoping to see the same one staring back at you. Though, of course it never came. The only reason Agent (doctor) Spencer Reid was here in front of you, was because he was on a case. He never took the time to visit you, how unfortunate, just because you happened to get roped into the wrong crowd.

"We don't have time to waste, we'd appreciate it if you cooperated with this investigation." He stepped around you, crouching down to observe the faces of the fainted men behind you. You blinked, gaze lingering Spencer's figure. He was a lot less lankier than you remembered. He wasn't buff, far from it. He was lean, much like he usually was. Though, at least he wasn't concerningly skinny, much like the when you'd see him whenever your parents would send you to his house when you were younger while they went off doing whatever they did.

"Need anything?" You crossed your arms, observing the way his face scrunched in annoyance with each guy he looks at. "I don't sell anymore, but I'm sure I got somethin' somewhere." You'll admit, it was a bit risky joking about drug dealings in front of two people from the literal FBI, but it didn't bother you in the slightest.

From your left, Spencer handed you a photo, you didn't take it, only looked at it intently, wondering where you've seen him before.

"Recognise him?" He asked you, you only respond with a pause, and then a slight shake of your head, "no-- I mean yeah, like a bit." You managed to spit out, ignoring the way Morgan's intense glare was making you feel uncomfortable on the spot. And the fact that you could feel his stares from behind you.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Like, I've seen him before, I just can't really put my finger on it." You put out the blunt while you spoke. Remembering the way Spencer's face would scrunch in disgust whenever you would smoke anywhere near him.

The two men looked at each other with the same look, as if they were speaking to each other through their eyes. You could remember the times you and the shy nerdy boy would do the same. Those times were over now.

"I need you to come with us back to the station."

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You were sat in a room you were all too familiar with. In front of you was a table, across from you was another red chair, and the elephant in the room; your own reflection staring right back at you from the big ass mirror drilled into the wall. You could only imagine the expressions of whatever officers were behind the two-way mirror.

Maybe it was for the best that you couldn't see. Spencer had what you could only describe as regret on his face. Regret that he didn't try hard enough to save you. From the world that you were forced into. Many people would tell him that it was your own decision. That may be true, but he knows otherwise. Your upbringing and his own were very different; he had to start acting like an adult when he was only twelve, and you were practically forced into an adult world.

He wanted to save you, he thought he would cure schizophrenia by the time he was twenty, and he thought you'd be beside him.

Hotch could see right through him, he found out pretty quick that the two of you shared a difficult history with each other. "You should go in alone." He told Spencer, "you'll get something out of them." Because you trust him.

"I live in a not too shabby apartment down the street where I used to sell weed." You slumped down on your chair, arms folded across your chest. Eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, your eyes were rapidly shutting open and close from the sting of the blunt you were smoking an hour ago. "What does this motherfucker have to do with me?"

"Y/n," he calls out your name, harsh, strict. In a way you've heard only a few times before.

When you were in high school, barely fifteen, when he heard that you had gotten into a cross fight between a few police officers. You and a lot of older kids had gotten caught in a party, a few half-lines of white snorted up your nose. You had gotten off lightly, with a warning. The police never scared you anymore, they infuriated you, but you had no problem going against them. What really scared you, was the way Spencer started looking at you from then on. Like you were a danger. Like he should stay away from you.

If only he did. If only he actually did stay away from you, then perhaps his thoughts wouldn't be consumed with how you were doing, with guilt, with concern. If he did, he wouldn't think of you as much as he was this past decade.

"I know you're smarter than you present yourself as." His eye twitched. It's been twitching, something you'd usually ignore, something you were familiar with. Sometimes, you'd see his eyes shut close harder than it would usually. It would happen quick enough that any other person wouldn't have noticed. You weren't any other person, though.

"Listen, Spence." You started, hiking your leg up on the chair, shifting into a much more comfortable position. "Why do you guys always mess with me?" You muttered to yourself, you weren't referring to him, no, not at all. In fact you'd hope that he'd mess with you, it's been a while since you got to see him. You were mainly talking about-- of course-- law enforcement.

"Why're you messing with me when you know I'm living legit?" You groan out, voice hoarse. "I stopped being a supplier. Dude, I literally have a job now. It's barely hanging on, but at least I have something." You whined out, the atmosphere around the room made you claustrophobic. It was like you were being suffocated.

Not as suffocated as he was, it seemed. His face was flushed, and not in the blushy way his face used to have, it was like he was melting, sweat clinging onto his forehead, barely making it past his hairline before he'd wipe it away. But it was also as if he was cold. He was shivering. Teeth clattering with the occasional body shiver. Damn, he was good at hiding it, wasn't he? You would've missed it if it weren't for the many years of experience.

Withdrawals.

You couldn't help but melt further down into your seat. The amount of guilt washing over you was enough to surpass the guilt clawing it's way to his stomach. Was he turning into you? Did you rub off of him so much that he's following you down the same pat?

No, he wasn't. There's no way he was.

Because there's no way that you would let that happen.

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You were kept in the room for hours, given coffee and water so that you could sober up. Eventually, on hour five, it turned out that you did know the UnSub, he was one of your customers. He's been murdering dealers across the city, and since you stopped supplying for a little over a year now, you moved, and you've long since forgotten his face. Which in turn, spared you his gun.

Emily was nice enough to offer you a ride back to your apartment, "thanks for the offer but, I'd rather go alone." You would not. You'd rather Spencer drive you back, but it didn't seem like he wanted to see you right now, or at all. He hasn't really been a good friend since he practically arrested you. Or took you in for questioning, whatever, it's the same thing. Emily greeted you goodbye with another bottle of water, "take care of yourself" she told you.

You made your way out, trying to ignore the way you felt eyes were watching you. You shook it off, withdrawals, it wasn't the first time you were off on drugs, paranoia wasn't your favourite, but you'd be back on you feet the second your feet hit the floor of your apartment.

You walked to the parking lot, the cold breeze made you halt. You've never been sober enough to actually feel it. I mean, you've been cold, a lot. But you've never had the time to feel it. Truly feel it, you didn't feel like your head was growing lighter by the second. You felt like you could stay on the ground and not fly away. You felt the cold air fill in your lungs, you felt alive.

You felt like you could use a smoke. Two, rolled up by yourself. And maybe a glass of wine. It pains you to feel so.. weird. Normal, as people would call it, though normal to you was completely different from their normal. The wooziness you were used to was normal. The feeling of floating away was normal. The hand on your shoulder was normal--

Wait, no it's not.

You spun around on your heel, eyes wide as hell, hands shooting up to clutch your bag, only to be met with the awkward eyes of the doctor that you've grown fond of.

"Uhm--" he cleared his throat, swallowing the nervousness and nausea down. "I-it's pretty dangerous, I'll uh, I'll drive you home." He stuttered out. A very sudden contrast from the man that was interrogating you hours ago. You were too shocked.. or, too tired.. or, too out of it to say anything, instead you meekly nodded your head. Waiting for him to go in front while you followed his lead.

He slowed down, matching your pace, wanting to walk side by side. The silence was unbearable, you were too much in pain that you couldn't think of anything witty to say. You've never been stuck in silence with Spencer Reid, the way he'd run his mouth on whatever scientific explanation that would flow out. And the way you'd say whatever was on your mind without thinking too much of it, there has never been a moment of silence.

"I'm sorry," even sober, you still said whatever was on your mind. He glanced at you, slowing down even more. "For what?" He asked you, voice softer this time, like the Spencer you knew. The Spencer that might be long gone, all because of you.

"That you went down that path too." Clouds of fog fell out of your mouth as you spoke. It was enough for you to imagine that you were having a smoke right now.

"What path?" He scoffed, you looked at him, eyes watery and red. Was it from last night's weed, or from deep in your heart, you didn't know anymore.

"C'mon man." Your hand shot up to ruffle through your hair. "The fuckin' drugs." You said, voice void of any accusation, it was only tired.

"That's none of your business." He practically spat at you, any gentleness in his tone was gone, there was a layer of malice. Of defense.

"Oh but it is, Spence," you laughed out, "you've spent your years knowing me to make sure that I don't go back to my old habits, yet you're doing it yourself."

His eyes twitched, it felt like bile was bubbling up his throat by now. "You don't know that."

"I do." You stopped, body turned right at him. "The twitching, the fidgeting, the sweating and shivering at the same time, the heavy breathing, you think I don't know shit?" You couldn't stop your legs from inching closer towards him, "because believe me, I do."

You were practically face to face, his breaths were staggering harder than you've ever heard him do. Another moment of silence passed between you, the sound of the wind being the only noise whirling around your ears.

"I don't understand why you care so much." He eventually sighs out, exasperated, he couldn't believe someoen found out, someone like you, no less.

"Of course I care!" You were unsure where the sudden shift of your tone came from. "I care because you did when I was in the asscrack of my own. When you spewed speeches upon speeches on how I could quit, on alternatives I could use, you even threatened to tattle if I didn't stop!" You were coming from a place of nostalgia, from your childhood, from the many times he'd fight tooth and nail to help you.

"It didn't even help." He looked sadder than he was just now, the guilt creeping back up in to his head, the thoughts that he didn't try hard enough.

"Obviously it didn't help," you flailed your arms in dramatic effect, "nothing did, but that was because I was too far gone. You still have a chance to deal with this."

"You don't know that!" The immediate outburst made him stumble backwards, away from you. "You don't know anything about me."

"Maybe so, but the second addiction gets involved, I'm the first in line" you stepped closer to him "and you, Spencer Reid, are deep into it, aren't ya?"

"I'm not an idiot Spence, you might think so, but I'm not. I'm just a little dazed out twenty-four seven." Your hands landed on either side of your hips. "And I don't want you to go down the same hole I did."

"I couldn't be saved, but you still have a chance."

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The both of you were in your apartment. The conversation you had still lingering between the two of you. The tension closing in, making you feel as claustrophobic as you were in the interrogation room. A heavy silence fell on the both of you.

You were coming back from your bedroom, a fresh set of clothes in between your hands while you took in the sight of him drenched on your couch. It started raining the second you reached the climax of your 'argument' urging the both of you to run back to your apartment, pausing the conversation for later.

Later had passed, and you tossed the clothes his way. You made your way back, seeing the way his leg was bouncing up and down while his hands trembled over his lap.

You went back out, slamming a half empty bottle of chewing gum on the table in front of him. He looked up at you, confusion laced on his face.

"Regulates cortisol levels." You remembered the way he himself would toss you numerous alternatives, gum never helped you, but you had a lot of others. "Reduces anxiety, right? Get your cravings in check."

You sat in front of him on the coffee table. Seeing the way he kept his eyes on the tub, refusing to meet yours. You wanted to reach out, push his hair back, it was getting long. Touch his face, the eye bags were prominent, darker, sunken in. You could tell he's been through shit. You wanted to reach out, but you didn't, the smell of smoke still clinging to your fingers, you didn't want him to smell that. Not now, especially.

He didn't take any, only grabbing the tub and fiddling with in his hands.

"I don't think you're an idiot," he recalls the previous confrontation. Where you insulted yourself, something you've done frequently his whole time knowing you, even before you started drugs. It was just another factor adding onto your already fragile mental state, something that he couldn't save you from. "You're just someone who's been through a lot."

"Yeah well," you faced the other way, blinking the discomfort away from your face. "So did you." You snatched the tub from his hands. "You were a child prodigy that went to college at thirteen." Opening the tub, grabbing one, two, three, pieces of gum and tossing it into your mouth, "you got bullied real bad." You said in between chews.

"You were forced into this world."

"So were you. Truth is, we've been failed by so many people, it's only inevitable we turn to somethin' like this, don't you think?"

He looked down, head lowering, focusing on the floor.

"We don't have to."

"You don't have to, I'm already far gone. I can't go more than one and a half days without immense pain from my own withdrawals." Your fingers twitched to the direction of your cabinet, the space where you kept your stash.

"And I don't want you to go through that. Not you."

You cared about him too much to even imagine him in the same pains you were in.

"Anyone but you."

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I've only ever done cigs, so do forgive me for any inaccuracies. This was kinda inspired by the episode where Ethan implied himself to be an addict as well, and he was the only one that lwk noticed Spencer's addiction. (S3xE2).

Also I feel like my writing has improved a lot. I think.

You always ran cold. You have for as long as you can remember. No matter the weather, unless it was the middle of summer, your hands were always cold. You wore gloves when you could but they weren't always an option so you opted for folding your arms. You constantly folded your arms and something about the action confused Spencer.

During a quiet flight home he saw you sitting with your arms folded like always. But this time he decided to talk to you. He slid into the seat across from you and your eyes shifted from the window to him.

"Hey, um" He paused to clear his throat, unsure of how to ask his question "A-are you okay?"

You tilted your head and squinted a little but a small smile still played across your lips "I'm fine, Spence. Why do you ask?"

"Well, you often have your arms folded and that's a sign of aggression or a way to try and shut people out. I don't want you to shut me out"

"Oh" You near cooed "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry. My hands just get cold, that's all" You replied, unfolding your arms immediately.

"All the time?"

"Yeah, it's kinda annoying as hell and I can't always wear my gloves"

"Well, I-I could help"

"Yeah? How?"

"I could…hold them, maybe?"

"You'd do that?"

"Yeah. I don't want you to be cold"

Your smile widened as you held your hands out to him. Spencer hesitantly extended one of his hands and brushed his fingers across yours.

"Is this okay?"

"Mhm" You nodded "'s nice"

His fingers wrapped around both of your hands, his thumbs rubbed over your knuckles lightly and you felt warmer already.

"Is that any better?" He asked after a few minutes.

"Yes. But that doesn't mean I want you to stop"

Spencer smiled brightly and squeezed your hands ever so slightly.

"Who said I wanted to?"

You two sat like that for the rest of the flight and at some point you must have drifted off together because when you woke up you had a text from Garcia with a photo of the two of you.

My favourite love birds

You rolled your eyes before looking back at Spencer who was looking slightly awkward.

"Something wrong?"

"Uh, n-nothing"

What you didn't know was that he got the same photo from Morgan with a very different message attached.

Go on a date now before I lock you both in a room and throw away the key

I am not joking

I found an empty factory

Now one will hear you call for help

Date

Now

He seemed kinda serious.

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“Good morning,” Spencer says back, knuckling under his eyes as he goes into the kitchen. You haven’t started the electric kettle yet, so he does, taking two mugs down from the cabinet. 

“When did you get home last night?” 

“Uh, about one-thirty.” 

“Wow.” You send Spencer a concerned look over your shoulder. “Do you need more sleep? I can reheat all this later.” 

“I’m okay.” Your mouth pinches unhappily, and he adds, “I’ll take a nap later.” 

You hum, going back to your eggs. The bacon you deem ready and transfer onto plates. “Well, I’m sorry I wasn’t up when you got back.” 

You tried to be. Spencer came home to the light above the stove on and you asleep on the couch in front of the glowing TV. There was a sudoku book left open on the coffee table, like you’d tried doing an activity to keep yourself awake but couldn’t manage it. You always say it makes you feel better to see Spencer home after he’s been gone a few days.

He thought about waking you up, to show you that he was there so you could go to bed, but you’d looked so quiet. Your breaths had come slow and even from between parted lips, a byproduct of the stuffiness that results from you leaving the windows open the way you love to this time of year. In the end, Spencer pulled a blanket over you and left his bag where you’d see it when you woke up. 

“You don’t have to wait up,” he tells you like always. 

“I know,” you reply predictably, “but I like making sure you get home okay.” 

Spencer doesn’t need you to make sure he gets home okay, but he likes that you want to. He doesn’t argue. 

He pulls up a stool at the counter, and a moment later you’re pushing a plate towards him, sliding onto your own stool. You bob the teabag in your cup. “How was the case?” 

“We caught him,” says Spencer. It’s the best answer he can give, truer than it was fine but sparing with the details that might make you abandon the idea of breakfast. You’re used enough to his stories about work that you don’t expect much else. 

You nod, starting to give him a little smile, but your face clouds when your eyes catch on something else. “Hey.” You set down your fork, reaching for Spencer’s hand. “What happened?” 

He doesn’t know what you’re talking about until you turn over his hand. Darkened splotches that weren’t there the night before color his knuckles. He flexes his fingers in your grasp, feeling the ache of them. 

“Did you have to punch someone?” you ask. 

Have to, like you trust implicitly that Spencer would never do violence without cause. You run your thumb delicately across the mottled skin of his pinky finger. And his hand wasn’t hurting him before—he could almost forget the bruises were there—but your touch makes Spencer feel tender inside and out. 

“The unsub knocked my gun out of my hand,” he tells you. 

Your eyes lift to his, brows sewn together. “That’s scary,” you murmur. “He got that close to you?” 

Spencer gives you a soft smile. “I barely had time to throw one punch before Morgan was on him.” 

You hum, stroking his knuckles one more time before letting him go. Spencer just barely keeps his fingers from twitching wishfully. 

You pick up your fork. “Good. How about today? Are you going to get a real weekend, or have they already called you in?” 

Spencer knows you’re kidding, so he doesn’t bother defending his work. “If JJ had called, I wouldn’t be here.” 

It would be proper to knock and ask to be let in, but Penelope is a little past tipsy, and… it’s just Spencer. He trusted her enough to give her an extra copy of his house key, and with the information she has that’s just waiting to be freed from her mind… she knows he won’t mind.

It takes her a few tries to get the key into the slot, scratching the doorknob a few times before she can finally turn it. But then she’s spilling into Reid’s apartment, squinting into the darkness.

All the lights are off, and Penelope is just about to shoot him a very angry text about lying about being home when she picks up on the sound of the TV. She ditches her favorite pink pumps by the front door and hurries quickly into his living room.

During her rather difficult trip to the next room over, Penelope decides she’s going to have a serious talk with him about keeping the hallways clear. His house is a very clear health hazard.

With the serious lack of light, she bumps into what feels like a suitcase and nearly trips over a pair of sneakers before she even catches sight of the television.

The outline of Reid’s frame sticks out very quickly against the brightness of the TV. She doesn’t recognize the movie playing, but can hear him mumbling quietly to himself, and she giggles a little.

Reid makes commentary on movies out loud even when he’s all by himself. How cute.

Penelope grows sick of the darkness very quickly. Grumbling under her breath, she taps around the wall before flicking on the light.

“Reid, you’ll never guess who I just— Oh!”

The one big blob that Penelope had assumed was Reid comes into focus. Now bathed in the bright overhead lights, she watches in horror as the blob splits into two different people.

Penelope shrieks.

The blob on the left — the one that’s actually Reid — turns to face her, confusion and slight fear on his face.

“Garcia!” he says, his voice cracking up half an octave. “What are you doing here?”

The words pass in through one ear and out the other. Rubbing her dreary eyes, she squints at the half of the blob that’s sitting on the right.

It’s… a girl.

A girl. In Spencer Reid’s apartment.

Alone. With him!

The lack of space in between you both becomes very obvious the longer she stares. Spencer’s side is against the arm of his couch and you’re sitting next to him, leaning half against his chest. A patchwork blanket is thrown haphazardly over your laps, barely an inch of space between you.

“I— oh!” Penelope's eyes nearly bulge out of her head when she sees the arm he has wrapped around your shoulders. “Hi, hello, Reid. I didn’t know you had a guest.”

He gives her a sheepish smile, and the two of you untangle from each other. Spencer goes to greet her while you search for the remote to pause the movie.

Penelope stares without shame. You give her a sugary sweet smile while you fold the blanket up on the couch, looking exceptionally cute in what looks like Reid’s pajama pants.

“Garcia?” Spencer says, waving a hand in front of her face after what’s probably a moment of silence. “Are you okay?”

She swats him on the shoulder, whispering in what she hopes is a quiet tone. “Spencer Reid. Introduce me to your girlfriend!”

The blood rushes to his face. “My what? No… um. She’s not my girlfriend, Garcia—”

Spencer gets bowled out of the way when you nudge him to the side, a wide smile on your face.

Penelope almost awws out loud. You seem amused at his embarrassed stuttering but come to his rescue nonetheless. So cute.

You give her your name and your hand to shake, and she takes it in her own, shaking you around wildly.

“Are you Penelope?” you ask, ten seconds into the handshake Garcia still hasn’t stopped. Reid plucks your hand free from her grip, and you squeeze his wrist once before letting your hand fall down to your side. “Spencer talks about his team all the time. It’s really nice to meet you.”

Penelope soaks up every single detail of the way you interact with Spencer.

Spencer Reid, always so finnicky with physical contact doesn’t seem bothered by your closeness at all. The two of you are standing so close together your sides brush while you breathe. You’re wearing his pajamas and Reid’s hair is messy and unbrushed.

She’s never seen Spencer look so… domestic.

“Reid,” she says, turning to face her friend. “I think I’m hallucinating.”

She ends up on his armchair some time later, a tall glass of water in her hands given to her by Spencer in an attempt to sober her up. The both of you also assure her that you’re not a hallucination, and you even let her pull you into a hug just to make sure.

“Did you walk here from the bar by yourself, Garcia?” Spencer asks, the two of you blinking at her from his couch. He looks awfully concerned.

She waves him off, taking a nice sip of water. “Oh, relax. It’s barely a block from here, you know!” He doesn’t look too comforted, but she continues on. “I just— I had to come and tell you who I saw on a date there. And I know I should’ve knocked, so I’m sorry for that, but…” She points at you. “I didn’t realize you’d be on a date, too, Spencer!”

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, and you snicker from your spot next to him.

“This isn’t a date,” you say, prodding at Spencer’s side. “Me and Spencer are just friends.”

Penelope is far from convinced. “But… you were cuddling on the couch when I walked in.”

The two of you exchange a look.

“Cuddling?” you repeat. Penelope can’t tell if you’re a great actor or if there’s genuine confusion on your face. “We weren’t cuddling.”

“We were watching a movie.” Spencer shakes his head, his big brown eyes going comically large. “Definitely not cuddling.”

Are you two… trying to gaslighting her?

“But the blanket! And the hugging and the touching! I saw it. I am seeing it,” she insists frantically, water threatening to spill over the rim of the cup. “Why else would two people need to sit that close during a movie?”

Spencer gestures to the TV screen, still lit up. “I was just translating the movie for her. It’s in Korean and it’s only just been released, so it hasn’t been subtitled yet. We were sitting close because I don’t like translating too loudly during movies. I enjoy listening to the actors speak.”

His quiet mumbling earlier hadn’t been him talking to himself. It’d been him talking to you.

Ohh, Penelope thinks, and she says it aloud too.

There’s beeping from the direction of the kitchen and you get up, but not before squeezing Spencer’s shoulder on the way out. His eyes follow you until you turn the corner, like he’s reluctant to let you go ten feet to the next room.

When he turns back to face Penelope, she’s grinning.

“Just friends,” she muses, taking another long sip of water. “Are you sure?”

Spencer raises an eyebrow. “Yes, I’m sure, Garcia. Why?”

“I don’t know about you, Boy Genius, but I don’t keep any of my friends a secret.” Penelope is sure her eyes are gleaming with excitement. She has a real life love story on her hands, whether Spencer wants to admit it or not. “I also don’t look at any of my friends like that!”

He smiles at her ribbing, looking at his lap. “I don’t look at her in any particular way, Garcia. And she’s—she’s not a secret. I just haven’t had the need to bring her up.”

“‘Cause you have a big fat crush on her?” she offers, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “And you’re too scared to talk about her because you get all starry eyed and mushy whenever you do?”

“No, I do not have a crush on her. She’s visiting from Vegas. We’re close because she’s my childhood best friend.” He says it so quickly the words mesh together.

Penelope gives him a disbelieving mhm, and he rushes to defend himself.

“It’s not like any of the team talks about their friends from when they were kids. It wouldn’t make sense to bring her up.”

If Penelope was sitting close enough, she would swat at him again. “Well, you should’ve, since the two of you are absolutely not just friends—”

“Penelope, do you wanna stay for the rest of the movie?” you ask, appearing in the doorway with a big bowl of popcorn in your hands. “It’s almost over, but Spencer says the ending is crazy good.”

When you sit down on the couch again, you lean into Reid’s side and his arm goes around your shoulder almost automatically.

For translation purposes, she’s sure.

The two coworkers exchange a very loaded look.

This conversation is not over, Penelope’s eyes say.

We are not bringing this up ever again, Spencer’s silence replies.

Penelope gives you a wide grin. “Oh, I’d absolutely love to stay!”

She’s already looking forward to the future conversation between Derek and Spencer about his secret girlfriend who’s definitely, totally not his girlfriend.

you weren't even going to drink. really. that wasn't the intention. but then more and more drinks would come and there would be low lights and everyone would laugh and laugh and laugh like it was time machines and it was senior year once more and there were no bills to pay or the need to procrastinate school projects or heartbreak or anything like that. only music and giggles and sparkly eyeshadow and glossy lips.

jj laughed next to you, her wedding ring glinting in the bar lights like a miniature disco ball. they were congratulating the girl for getting married and having kids.

one of the girls leaned in, already a little drunk, her voice teasing. "so what about you?" she said. "you dating anyone?"

you blinked at her, wobbling a bit in your seat, your drink halfway to your lips. "mmhmn," you hummed contentedly. "boyfren. beautiful. so, so intelligent. like, utterly intelligent. my spencer."

jj gagged on her drink. "oh boy."

your friends leaned in, curious now. "wait, that's his name? spencer? is he cute?"

you breathed in sharply, eyes wide. "cute? noooo. he's celestial. like.. a star. with a phd. and fluffy hair. and cheekbones. and when he speaks, it's like... sexy wikipedia."

you laughed, tugging jj's arm for support. "he knows everything. and remember everything i say. even the stupid things. like one time i said birds don't have knees? and he said they do, but he said it all soft and sweet like i hadn't just said the most wrong thing ever."

"he has, like, eighteen phds! it's insane. but it's spencer, so it's not insane."

jj snorted. "he's got three phds."

you brushed her away. "three is basically the same as eighteen. he totally has eighteen."

everyone at the table burst into laughter. jj leaned over and whispered, "you're so gone."

“mhmn. 'm so gonna marry him.”

soon, the heels became your worst enemies. you dropped your chin dramatically onto jj's shoulder and groaned, "jayjjjeey. my feetsies hurt. the heels are murdering me. it's, like, medieval battles down there."

“maybe remove them?" jj suggested, raising an eyebrow.

"then i'll be short," you huffed, offended.

jj rolled her eyes and got out her phone. "i should probably call your boygenius before you start rambling about his hands again."

"his hands are so nice though!"

"yeah, yeah. i know." she began dialing.

spencer answered on the first ring. "jj?"

"hey━━" she began, but didn't get a chance to finish.

"spencer!" you yelled into the phone. saying the “e” in his name longer than it should be.

he stopped in his tracks. "is she━━?"

"she's drunk," jj answered, half-sorry, half-amused. "she's fine, though. just. ridiculously drunk. here."

you pulled the phone away from her like it was your personal offender. "hi, hi. hi again" you drawled, stretching it out like the best song. "guess who?"

"hmm," spencer muttered, tone gentle. "i'm going to go say the love of my life?"

you squealed. loudly. "oh my god, you're so cute. spencer. your voice is like.. silk. but, like, smart silk. is that a thing?"

he was grinning into the phone now, though he was already getting up to grab his jacket. "did you have fun tonight?"

"mhm. so much fun. they asked if i have a boyfren and i was like 'duh' and they were like 'is he cute?' and i was like 'no. he's an actual greek god with brown eyes and a brain that could take over the world.'"

you were slurring more now. even over the phone, he could hear how your words tangled together.

"do you want me to come get you?"

you stopped as if you needed to think very hard. then you spoke softly but loud enough, "yes. yes. come and get me. please. i want to see your face. want to touch your hair. want━━to━━wait. jj! jj, he's coming!"

behind him, he heard jj say, "alright, just sit down and don't trip over, please."

twenty minutes later, spencer entered the bar, eyes sweeping until they found jj and the table of your old friends. he nodded at jj as greeting.

one of the girls blinked. "oh wow. you didn't say he looked like that."

"he's like a hot professor," another whispered.

you saw him. stood up way too fast. stumbled right into his chest.

"spence!" you cried, arms flinging around his neck.

he caught you quickly, his arms tight at your waist. "careful," he breathed, his nose buried in your hair.

you whirled away to your friends as if you'd just won a prize. "he's taken! so taken. all mine. back off."

they all erupted into laughter. jj put her hand across her face, trying so hard to prevent herself from losing it. "okay, casanova. let him breathe."

you didn't listen. your lips began leaving kisses on his cheek, his jaw, the edge of his neck, and his face flushed deep red.

"let's get you home," he said softly, scooping you up into his arms like you were nothing.

"bye guys!" you waved extravagantly. "jj i love you! and you're all so pretty!"

you wrapped both of your arms around his neck even as he attempted to put you into the car.

"baby," you mumbled, holding on. "don't go."

"i'm not leaving. i'm just buckling you in."

"you sing," you commanded as he removed your heels.

he hesitated. "sing what?"

"science lullaby."

"you want me to sing. the laws of thermodynamics?"

you nodded seriously. "yes. they comfort me." his voice did. but the same thing.

when you did finally get home. well, technically his place but now it felt like your home as well━━spencer attempted to get you to put on your heels again so that you wouldn't dirty your feet and so he could lock the car. you complained but wore it anyway.

once inside, you kicked them off like they'd personally offended you. "they betrayed me."

he stooped to put them down tidily beside the door. when he stood up, you were propped against the wall, bottom lip protruding.

"come on," he groaned lovingly, sweeping you up into his arms.

you breathed onto his shoulder. "you're so strong. do you work out? or are you just. spencer-y?"

he chuckled, carrying you into the bathroom. "let's get you cleaned up."

he sat you down on the side of the tub and picked up your makeup wipes. "close your eyes."

you did, scrunching up your lips. "kiss me."

"after i remove the mascara," he grumbled.

his hands were soft, tracing slow, gentle circles. "you always get this little smudge right here," he said, swiping under your left eye. "you never see it. but i do."

"you notice everything," you sighed, in awe.

"i do," he said again, softer.

he handed you your toothbrush then and stood over you like a hawk. "don't swallow it."

"you're like a sexy dentist," you said, toothpaste running down your chin.

he wiped it away. "you're going to regret all the things you said tonight."

after brushing, he put you into one of his large shirts and carried you to bed.( after making you urinate ). you held onto him like a koala, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

"love you," you breathed.

"love you too," he whispered, sweeping your hair aside.

you kissed him, slowly and deep, your hands fumbling with his shirt.

"baby," you muttered on his lips. "i want you."

he pulled away, his breathing ragged. "you're drunk."

"so?"

"so i'm not doing anything until you're sober."

you pouted. "but i want to."

"i know. and i love you. all of you. not drunk-you. tomorrow, okay?"

you scowled but nodded. "for keeps?"

"for keeps."

you wrapped into his chest, exhaling as your body relaxed into the blankets.

and even when your breaths grew slower and your hand remained tucked over his heart, spencer didn't sleep━━not yet. he simply watched you, drawing invisible shapes on your back, committing to memory the precise curve of your smile even in sleep.

even drunk, you loved him.

and god, did he love you too.

he couldn’t stop the tapping of his fingers against the outdoor table, running a hand through his hair, which he spent an awkward amount of time combing and gelling back. 

standing in front of his bathroom mirror in an uncomfortable stance, trying to figure out if all two buttons being up looked too strange.

never, has he ever worried about his appearance like this. but morgan told him that first date impressions meant everything, and it consumed his entire reasonable thinking for the majority of the afternoon. 

but, when all hope seemed lost, spencer heard your chirpy “spencer?” coming from behind him, and it sounded like some kind of angelic choir. 

when he turned his head, he didn’t expect you to look so perfect.

your hair was styled in a way he hadn’t seen before, tickling the borders between classy and professional and you wore a tight silk, maxi-dress with a shade of maroon that complimented your skins color perfectly. 

spencer stumbled to get up, smiling at you awkwardly as he fumbled to pull your chair out so you could sit.

when you sat down across from him, he sort of swept himself off as if touching the other chair already gave him the same amount of germs as a toilet seat would. 

“i’m so sorry, i couldn’t find my other shoe, and then i spilled nail polish all over my desk and i-” you were rambling on, hands up as you spoke, but he quickly cut you off. 

spencer stared at you, admiring you as you spoke on. “don’t apologize. i’m glad you even showed up.” spencer muttered the last few words almost as if he was embarrassed, which he was, but he tried not to make it so obvious.

you didn’t even think he knew how charming he was. he seemed too nervous, his hands were prominently trembling, and every time he spoke to you, his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed dryly.

when you cleared your throat, automatically gaining his attention, you smiled over at him before speaking. "you look, really nice. well you always, look nice but... y'know?" you giggled, batting your lashes at him then simultaneously clocking your head to the side.

spencer wasn't too late to react, trying to hide the harsh blush creeping up on his face. it wasn't just your words, but that unfamiliar look in your eyes tugged way too much on his heart.

you were somehow getting into his head.

all you did was laugh, a sweet one that almost altered his brain chemistry. "no one's ever complimented you before? i don't believe that, boy wonder." another teasing remark, just so you could keep that flustered look on his demeanor.

“don’t tell me, this is your first date, ever?” you snorted out a laugh, not thinking too much about what you said until you got a good look at his expression. 

“holy shit. it is!” a quiet gasp left your lips, and he seemed as if he was ready to explode right on the spot. 

spencer held up his glass of water to his mouth, almost trying to hide the flush that imprisoned his face. “it is. am i being that obvious?” he meekly admitted, shrinking in his position as he stared at you.

if he was completely honest, he could barely even ask you out. if it wasn’t for morgan being able to read him like a book, he would never be in this position. 

you thought it was sweet, being his first date, and it was at some nice, cozy, restaurant. it seemed like he knew a bit of what he was doing. the chair pulling, the way he was talking to you, handling the bill? there was no way this was his first. 

“maybe not too obvious, but definitely apparent.” you replied with a giggle that would send any man to war for you, for the quick hour and a half you guys had been here, all you did was pull at his heart strings. 

he pursed his lips into a tight line at your response, not necessarily aimed at you, but at the fact that he had tried his best to tell himself not to act like a fool, and it was exactly what he ended up doing. 

you had finished the dessert he insisted on buying for you, and with a heavy heart, you thought the night was over. 

with a clink of your spoon on top of your plate, he’d been watching you this entire time, waiting for a moment to speak up. 

“are you ready for phase two?” his voice wasn’t in much of a whisper, but in this setting and the way he was looking at you, it was right on the brink of romantic.

and it left you feeling really excited for whatever was next. “oh? what more do you have planned for me, dr. reid?” you question, resting your chin on your hand, leaning a bit closer to where he was seated. 

you swore he cracked a little smile at your words, looking around the area you guys were sitting in before standing up. 

when he took your hand and led you out of the restaurant’s outdoor seating area, you weren’t expecting him to even touch you tonight, since you were so sure he hated any kind of human physical affection– so it made you feel beyond special. 

if anything, even the memory of him asking you out today made you feel that way. you and spencer were close, far beyond the bond of regular coworkers, but you thought all the slick glances, shared laughs, and inside jokes between you two didn’t mean much to him as they did to you. clearly that wasn’t true, and it felt good knowing that. knowing he felt the same. 

spencer held your hand the entire trip, you two walked side by side, going nowhere in destination– at least that was what you thought. 

at some point in your walk, he stood in front of you, blocking your line of view from anything that was there. 

“okay,” spencer started, staring down at you with his hands behind his back, not as if he was hiding anything, but almost to make himself appear wider. “i’m going to cover your eyes, but i need you to trust me.” he looked and sounded very excited, a charming grin on his face that you were nowhere near accustomed to. but you could get used to it.

you immediately questioned him, raising a brow and trying to look past him, but he quickly blocked it by grabbing you and pushing you back to your original stance. 

he looked down at you almost like a stern owner scolding their disobedient pet. you sighed in defeat and closed your eyes, muttering out a soft “i trust you.” there was no way for you to tell where he was leading you, but you felt spencers cold hands crown right on top of your eyes and he started walking, you followed, moving your feet in the same pattern as his.

the walking stopped deliberately and you tried to recognize the surroundings you heard and felt. you could feel the grass tickling your ankles and the sounds of people, it wasn’t bustling but it wasn’t too calm either.

you felt his breath near your ear and before moving his hands to your shoulders he muttered a short, “you can open your eyes.”

when your vision flickered back to normal, a park filled with different groups of people surrounded a large lake that was mounted in floating lanterns, ready to be released with different designs or writings on their surfaces.

all you did was choke out a gasp, star-struck at the view, and it only got better as you looked down. 

beneath you sat what seemed like a picnic blanket and your personal lantern to customize. 

spencer eventually interrupted your speechless silence by sitting on the blanket, waiting for you to say something, anything. anything to stop him from freaking out. he couldn’t read you, your slack-jaw expression and big eyes, he should say that you’re enjoying it, but he also could never be too sure.

coming back to your senses, you sat down across from him, just like in the restaurant, and immediately started thanking him, an overwhelming amount. 

“how’d you know this would be my dream? have you been stalking me?” you joked, but were kind of half serious. although, you wouldn’t mind thinking about the idea of spencer asking around about things you’d like for a ‘perfect date’. the thought made you blush in its own.

it seemed like half of your thought was true, because he had a flushed expression on his face that read: ‘you caught me.’ he got over himself and looked over at you, nodding. “yeah, kind of? i asked garcia and jj if they knew anything… or if you ever talked about what an ‘ideal date’ would be.” spencer seemed to grow shy again, the way he’s been the entire night. 

a silence grew between you two, but it wasn’t awkward or overwhelming. it was comfortable, almost familiar. 

in a blink, you were holding yourself up with your hands and leaning towards him. and in a blink, your lips were pressed against his in a warm kiss. this was kind of your way of ‘thanking him’ for making tonight so romantically special.

spencer was beyond shocked, but he immediately melted into your lips, feeling them as the most comforting things he's ever felt. along with the intoxicating smell of your perfume.

everything about you seemed to be so sweet.

he didn’t pull away or make any movements that proved he didn’t want it, instead, he leaned in to make it deeper and rested a hand upon the nape of your neck.

the kiss was sweet and lasted much longer than either of you intended, but neither of you wanted to let go.