#fluff febuary

"Let's just go back to the way it was. When we were on Honeymoon Avenue"

Summary : a germ-phobic with boundaries and a handsy sunshine who doesn't know that word... what can go wrong, especially if two coworkers already start shipping the two.

Warnings : English isn't my first language, it's FLUFF/CRACK because yeah. WE NEED THAT HELLUR I'VE BEEN THROUGH SO MUCH ANGST ON HERE LIKE *crashout noises*. Anywho happened pre!season one- season one. *bb reid is an angel he deserves more recognition**. Like and reblogs are accepted :3

In my AU!, reader is basically touchy with everyone she feels close with. Hugging, leaning, hands on shoulders, fingers hooking into belt loops when she laughed too hard—affection came naturally to her, like breathing. Most people in the BAU had learned to accept it. Some tolerated it.

Meanwhile Spencer Reid, BAU most germophobic member… adapted.

It was maybe his first day and she was the one who greeted him. Not Hotch, not Gideon—her. She’d appeared at his side with a bright smile and a coffee he hadn’t asked for but somehow was exactly the temperature he preferred and with exactly cream and sugar packets on the side as if she could read his mind.

“You must be Spencer,” she said, already ushering him forward. “I’m your official welcome committee. Come on, I’ll introduce you before Morgan scares you off by showing off.”

“I’m not— I mean— statistically speaking, intimidation through—”

She laughed, light and easy, and patted his arm once before he could finish. He stiffened for exactly half a second. Then… relaxed.

That should’ve been the first sign. But clearly he ignored it, she was just being weirdly friendly and her bubbly attitude made him feel comfortable in a place where he felt like he wouldn't be.

She showed him where everything was, warned him about Morgan’s relentless flirting with Penelope Garcia and JJ pastries quoting that they were a fanfavourite but also made Morgan gain two pounds, and later that evening invited him out for drinks with the team.

“Bars are… statistically unhygienic,” he admitted, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

Her eyes lit up. “Okay. Noted. We’ll workshop that.”

Not even a month later, she learned he loved literature. That was when the notes started.

Every Monday, a quote appeared on his desk. Carefully handwritten. Taped neatly to the corner so it wouldn’t slide. At first, American writers only—she said it was “for consistency,” though Spencer suspected she was easing him into something.

He always read them.

And because Spencer Reid never turned down a challenge, he always replied.

May 5th, 2008

“What I fear most, I think, is the death of the imagination.” — The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath ★★★★☆

He frowned at the rating for a long time before responding.

May 12th, 2008

“I desire the things which will destroy me in the end.” — The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath 3.4/5

She found him at his desk not ten minutes later.

“Excuse yourself Reid but what is that” she said, hands slapping down on his desk. “A three point four?”

He blinked up at her. “Yes?”

“It was emotional, Spencer.”

“It was,” he agreed quickly. “But—some parts hit too close to home, and others felt… generic. Plath is undeniably brilliant, but some passages felt unnecessarily dense. In certain moments, I even thought she was being pretentious, which made it difficult to stay engaged.”

She stared at him, jaw slack.

“…You somehow made me understand your opinion,” she said slowly, “and I hate that.”

He smiled, just a little.

“She’s still one of the most important poets of the twentieth century,” she added. “That’s why I loved her so much when I was younger.”

He nodded, thoughtful. “That context does improve your reading experience but clearly I understand your point of view, my mother used to read me some classics too.”

Meanwhile, Penelope and Morgan who were supposed to be finishing a case work JJ gave them were instead watching the interaction as if it was a better reality show from E News then what these two binged watched together on their Sunday evenings.

“Ohhh,” he muttered. “Pretty boy.”

Garcia rolled her chair closer to Morgan, eyes sparkling as if she just cracked a code. “Did you see that? That man barely lets air touch him and he lets her put her hands on his desk and ruffle his hair ! He almost went to the bathroom to wash his hand when we shook hands.”

Morgan smirked and raised his voice. “Didn’t know you could get emotionally cozy with someone, Reid. Especially her. So—when you inviting her to dinner?”

Spencer froze.

“I—what—no—this is—statistically speaking, platonic relationships between male and female coworkers do exist, and HR hasn’t raised any concerns, and if you look at the data—”

He gestured wildly. “I'm taking as an example, you and Penelope are an excellent comparison—”

Garcia gasped. “Oh my god. You think you’re us?”

She clutched her chest dramatically and nearly toppled from her chair. Morgan checked if she was alright before he laughed at the 'joke' Spencer just told.

Because of how hard he laughed, he had to lean against a desk to support himself.

“Yeah, yeah, doctor. Whatever helps you sleep.”

And maybe that was because of this interaction that Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia became the two self-proclaimed wingman and wingwoman of Dr. Spencer Reid.