About Me....

A beep distracts Spencer from being distracted by Y/N. It’s an IM from Derek, telling him something to the effect of asking Y/N out. Instead of responding, Spencer decides to send Derek a more direct message. He shuts off his computer, which isn’t really used, besides for Y/N to send Spencer requests for online scrabble.

Spencer, ignoring Derek’s gloating, walks from the bullpen into the team’s lunch room. It’s a small kitchenette with a couple tables, a very old coffee machine, and an even older refrigerator. Peeking into the refrigerator, Spencer takes out two lunch boxes. One is light green with patterned purple and orange dinosaurs all over and the other is a light blue with green plants. Like clockwork, Y/N rounds the corner with a smile plastered to her face.

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Spencer asks, placing his lunch box down across from Y/N’s seat.

“It’s just my favorite time of day,” Y/N responds, unzipping her bag and taking out her banana, water bottle, granola, and turkey sandwich.

Spencer tries to hold back his smile at Y/N saying that lunch is her favorite time of day. He likes to believe that it’s because of him and not because of the top tier kitchen facility the government provides for them. But who’s he kidding, there’s no way that lunch is Y/N favorite part of the day because of Spencer when he’s up against a crappy coffee maker.

“Did you know that sandwiches were only called sandwiches because the Earl of Sandwich ate his meals with bread, meat and cheese like modern day sandwiches? However, there’s much debate if sandwiches existed prior to this. Researchers actually believe that sandwiches were simply referred to as bread and meat or bread cheese, depending on the ingredients. There’s hundreds of works of literature that help to determine this,” Spencer says, as he unwraps his leftovers from dinner the previous night.

Y/N, who takes a bite of her turkey sandwich, listens intently to Spencer’s oral history of sandwiches. She starts to respond to Spencer, but before she can even get the chance, Derek interjects into the conversation.

“Hold your horses, there Reid,” Derek says, his voice tainted with sarcasm and Spencer braces himself for a clipping comment, “you don’t want to scare away the newbie,”

Y/N, ever quick witted, rolls her eyes dramatically at Derek. She gets up and moves her seat closer to Spencer who’s heart rate, at the thought of her sitting even closer to him, speeds up. He knows that it's just an effort to tease Derek. That she'd rather suffer next to Spencer, than to have to entertain the idea of sitting next to Derek. But still, Spencer is a dreamer; he'd like to think she'd sit next to him even without the added bonus at avoiding Derek's playful teasing.

“Derek, leave Spencer alone, I happen to adore his facts. You know, I’ve seen I’ve been here I’ve been a Jeopardy beast. And when are you going to realize that I’m not a newbie, I’ve been here for what 2 years-”

“2 years, 4 months, and 4 days,” Spencer says, cursing himself silently for interrupting Y/N.

Derek grabs his lunch from the refrigerator, and sits down across from Spencer and Y/N.

“You remember the day I started?” Y/N asks, turning her attention from Derek to Spencer, whose face is twisted in what he can only assume is an extremely unattractive deer-in-head-lights look. He shrugs off Y/N’s comment, as if to say it’s just normal for him.

"Of course I do, I remember how long each of us has been here,"

"Oh, right. Eidetic Memory," Y/N mumbles, almost like she's slightly disappointed in something.

Suddenly Spencer’s mouth is quite dry; he reaches into his lunch bag to grab his water bottle, but his fingers brush across a small card taped to the outside. Forgetting that showing the card to Morgan would give him enough ammunition for the rest of day, Spencer quickly scans the card. It’s a small piece of paper, but it suddenly has become Spencer’s most treasured object. More than the set of Chaucer tales that his mother gave him, or Gideon’s watch, or his first microscope that his biology teacher in high school gave him at his graduation.

The one side of the card is decorated in small hearts and there’s a sketch of a dinosaur on the other side. In careful handwriting, the giver of the card wrote “Are you made of Nickel, Cerium, Arsenic, and Sulfur? Because you got a NiCe AsS!”

Spencer’s eyes grow a couple sizes once his brain registers the meaning of the card. Handling it less than gracefully, he chokes on his water, which catches Derek and Y/N’s attention.

“You okay there, Spence?’ Derek asks, questioning what sent Spencer coughing and choking on water like that.

Spencer, not wanting Y/N or Derek, especially Derek, to read the card, attempts to put it in the front pocket of his lunch box. Unfortunately, Derek catches sight of the card and snatches it out of Spencer’s hand.

“Derek!” Spencer whines.

He can feel his embarrassment deepen as Morgan’s smile grows. Spencer seriously thinks that this is how he’s going to die. His death, being in his line of work, is something that plagues his thoughts from time to time, but any gory hero’s death pales in comparison to Derek Morgan reading Spencer’s love notes about his ass.

“Nice ass? I’m not too sure about this, Reid, but looks like your secret lover likes your ass just as much as your brains,” Derek teases, handing back Spencer his card.

“Those are private,” Spencer says, grateful that Derek’s going to leave him alone, places the card back in it’s temporary resting spot near his driver’s license and photographs of him and Y/N at the arcade.

“Hey man, I was just going to put in that shoe box you have tucked under your desk, you must have hundreds of them by now,” Derek says, taking a bite of his ham and cheese wrap. His eyes dash between Spencer and Y/N, like the pair of them is the most entertaining reality show he could think of.

“I have 645, now,” Spencer says, unable to help himself much to Derek’s amusement. Spencer hears the chair next to him screech and Y/N rushes to pack up her half eaten lunch.

“I completely forgot, Anderson needs me to uh, help him with something,” Y/N says, stuffing her water bottle into her lunch box in a flustered state. Spencer watches as she rushes, her need to leave the kitchenette quite evident. Spencer is left wondering why she has to go see Anderson, of all people.

“Anderson? What does he want with you? I don’t remember Hotch saying anything about that,” Spencer says, his voice comes off a little more bitter than he indented.

“Maybe Anderson has some extracurriculars that he needs Y/N’s help with Spencer,” Derek says with a wink. Spencer’s brow tightens and his blush deepens as if he’s trying to decipher the way that Derek’s voice is laced with suggestion. The only logical conclusion is that Y/N is flustered because she’s sneaking off to see Anderson, because she likes him.

Y/N likes Anderson? Something about that doesn’t taste right in Spencer’s mouth.

Like the wind, Y/N is gone and all that remains is Derek’s sly chuckle.

“What!” Spencer says, much too loud for him to continue the coy and unassuming demeanor he usually produces when Y/N gets hit on at the bar or on case by local cops.

“Nothing, Reid. You're just clueless. Just think about how many of those little compliment cards you’ve gotten,” Derek says. He reaches into Spencer’s lunch box and takes his brownie. Usually, Spencer would have protested, but Derek’s words sent him into a confused spiral.

“645,” Spencer responds.

“Okay,” Derek continues, “645 days you’ve gotten those cute little cards in your lunch box or taped to your hotel room door on cases. Now, Reid think. How many years, months, and days, is 645 days”

“That’s 2 years, 4 months, and 3 days,” Spencer starts, “now given if it’s a Leap Year that could change it a little bit bit-”

“Think about it Reid,” Derek says, talking slowly to get the words sink in and hoping that he doesn’t have to spell it out for him.

“Y/N?” Spencer asks, kind of like he can’t believe it, but desperately wants to believe it at the same time.

“Y/N,” Derek repeats, “I’m surprised it’s taken you this long, Reid. She’s been making eyes at you the day she’s gotten here. It’s almost sickening to watch you to dance around each other,”

“Y/N,” Spencer says, it’s like he’s saying her name for the first time. It’s the most beautiful string of syllables to ever come from his lips.

Spencer pushes back the chair and swings the door open. As he walks to Y/N’s desk he gets distracted by the little brown shoe box that sticks out slightly from under his desk. He crouches down and picks it up, hoping that it can be helpful. He approaches Y/N’s desk, but JJ stops him before he can go closer.

“Stairwell,” Is all she says before she brushes past with an armful of case files. Spencer, heading JJ’s advice, practically runs to the stairwell. As he approaches he can hear quiet sobs, which he can only imagine are Y/N’s.

Spencer opens the door and Y/N, startled, stands up and tries to mop the tears away from her face.

“Spencer, oh god, I didn’t know you were here, I’m okay, it’s just me being a little silly,” she says, trying to laugh through what she can only assume is going to be rejection.

“I really hope you don’t think these are silly, well some are kind of silly, but others were very poetic,” Spencer says, taking a step forward and gesturing with the shoe box to make it obvious to Y/N that he’s talking about the compliment cards.

“What are you talking about, Spencer?” Y/N says, feigning ignorance.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. You're much too smart to play dumb,” Spencer says, moving closer to Y/N so he can wipe her tear-stricken face with the sleeve of his soft cardigan. He tries not to focus on the way that Y/N seems to melt into his touch. He knows that if he can get another touch of that, he’ll never want to touch another person ever again.

“I’m not playing dumb, Spence. I just never planned for you to find out,” Y/N mumbles. Spencer’s face resembles a mix between shock and confusion.

“Why would you not tell me, I don’t think I made it anything but obvious that I’m crazy about you,” Spencer says, deeply wondering why Y/N would ever hide something like this from him.

“God Spencer, have you ever looked in a mirror?” Y/N asks him, sitting down on the third step, “you’re so gorgeous, Spencer, I can’t say anything to your face. So the next best thing was to write down everything that I wanted to say to you,” Y/N finishes, a little embarrassed. She tries to hide that embarrassment by not making eye contact with Spencer, who sits down next to her.

“You think I’m gorgeous?” Spencer asks, not entirely sure that he heard her correctly.

Y/N peaks at him with teary eyes and a runny nose. Spencer thanks science and the universe for his Eidetic Memory. He knows that there won’t be a single day of his life that he won’t want to think back to this day and remember the way that Y/N looked when she first told him that she thinks he’s gorgeous.

“I think you’re the most beautiful person that I’ve ever seen,” Y/N says breathily, her voice laced with restraint. She’s terrified of rejection, terrified that Spencer will turn her down still.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard that,” Spencer says, equally as quiet and equally as terrified. He notices that Y/N’s hand creeps closer to his. Spencer is itching to intertwine it to his and never let go.

“You deserve to hear it more often, hence the cards,” Y/N explains, moving her hand even more closer to Spencer’s. He has no choice but to wrap his much larger one in Y/N’s smaller one.

“You meant it, right?” Spencer asks, bravely putting her heart out there on the line, “because if you did Y/N, that I’d really like to kiss you right now. But if you didn’t then that’s-”

Spencer tries to finish the sentence, to give Y/N an out, but somehow she doesn’t take it. Somehow she decides to kiss him.

Spencer has kissed a total of three people in his entire life, but none of them ever mattered again the second he feels Y/N’s lips against his and her hands in his hair. Spencer doesn’t complain when Y/N starts to set the pace. Her lips roam across his face. They venture across his jaw, up closer to his nose and then back down to his lips. Spencer had no clue Y/N can kiss like this. It's a little passionate for a first kiss, but maybe it's just the pent up tension and frustration 2 years in the making finally being let out. He's dreamt of the way that Y/N's pillowy lips would feel when they were finally pressed up against his. Spencer, from the fibers that make him up to the hormones that surge throughout his body, tries to be brave. He places his hands so they rest on Y/N’s neck. He’s not passive, but he’s happy to sit back and let Y/N have her way as she continues her feverish assault on his lips.

Her ministrations are interrupted, however, when the box of cards falls from Spencer’s lap. It seems to remind both of them that they are in the stairwell of the FBI making out like over zealous teenagers for the first time. Y/N lets out a small giggle. Spencer wishes he can write down the feeling it gives him and tuck it away safely in a shoe box.

“I hope you know that those compliments aren’t platonic, Spencer. I really do think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,” Y/N says, her fingers gravitating to the brown curls behind Spencer’s ears. He has the softest, silkiest hair she’s ever felt.

“That’s a good thing, Y/N, because you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,”

Standing up, Y/N winks and pecks Spencer on the cheek, “I hate to break it to you, darling, but I think I win when it comes compliments,”

--Thank you for reading--

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