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reidmarieprentiss · 3 days

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Turning Tables

Summary: The team finds you and Spencer, you come back to work after recovering, things are tense. Spencer realizes he messed up, but you're not so quick to forgive.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: suggestive content (16+), mentions of hookup culture, talks of cases, reader is heavily assaulted by unsub, broken bones, dumb man Spencer, missed signals, bad communication

Word count: 6.9k

a/n: hiii there will be a part three!!

main masterlist part one part three

The team finally found the two of you in the abandoned warehouse, but the sight they came upon was brutal. Spencer had a black eye and a split lip from being hit, his face bruised and bloodied, but you— you had taken the worst of it. The unsub had unleashed relentless violence on you. You’d been slapped, punched, kicked, spit on, cut, and thrown around like a ragdoll. The unsub’s twisted plan was clear: break Spencer by hurting you, the "weaker" hostage, using your suffering to force him into talking. But you both knew that wasn’t an option. Spencer couldn’t give the unsub what he wanted, no matter how much it tore him apart to watch you take those blows.

Every hit that landed on you felt like it was striking Spencer himself. He watched, helpless, feeling the pain of every blow as though it was his own flesh being torn and bruised. Yet he remained silent, knowing that any begging or pleading from him would only make the unsub escalate. He couldn’t give them that. He couldn’t put you through more than what you were already enduring, though it felt like it was killing him inside to watch.

When the team finally stormed in, you were unconscious, your body battered and limp as they carted you away on a stretcher to the waiting ambulance. Hotch approached Spencer, his voice calm but filled with concern as he asked, "What happened to Y/N?"

Spencer, sitting in the back of another ambulance, stared blankly ahead. His shoulders were slumped, weighed down by the guilt and horror of what had transpired. His voice was quiet, flat. “She was the target.”

Hotch took in Spencer's empty gaze, the exhaustion and anguish etched into every line of his face, and knew better than to press for more. They’d have to wait until you woke up to understand the full scope of what happened in that warehouse. But even then, Hotch feared that some wounds might never truly heal.

—

You eventually did wake up, groggy but relieved to find that, despite the brutality you endured, you had very little internal damage. The doctors assured you that your body just needed time to heal. Two weeks of paid leave were granted as you recovered, a rare gesture of empathy from Chief Strauss, who seemed to have a soft spot for you.

As the painkillers faded and your mind cleared, the questions from your team began. You sat with them, still feeling tender but able to think straight, recounting everything you remembered from that night. You and Spencer had been investigating a house, following up on an anonymous tip. It seemed routine until the moment you two split up to check different rooms. That’s when it happened—ambushed from behind, a cloth drenched in chloroform shoved over your mouth. After that, everything went black.

"I only remember waking up inside the warehouse with Spencer," you explained, your voice steady but laced with tension. The memories still fresh, the pain still vivid. "The unsub wanted me. I was the real target. They said I was more of a challenge than any of their other victims."

JJ, sitting beside you, asked softly, her voice gentle and careful. “Why did they take Spencer?”

You heaved a breath, feeling the weight of the answer on your chest. “They thought if they took him too, they could find out where the rest of the team was. They wanted Spencer to tell you all it was a dead end, to send you off on a different trail.” You paused, your breath shaking as you continued. “They said if Spencer did that, they’d release him. But they made it clear… they just wanted me.”

The room was silent for a moment, the gravity of your words hanging in the air. Your team exchanged glances, but no one said anything. They didn’t need to. You all understood what it meant—that the unsub was willing to let Spencer go, but you were never supposed to walk out of that warehouse alive.

—

When you returned to work after your leave, the atmosphere shifted. The entire team was happy to have you back, and there were warm smiles all around. Spencer, however, seemed unsure how to approach you now. Still, he smiled as you passed by, his voice tentative yet sincere as he said, “I’m really glad you’re back and feeling better.”

You returned the smile, a brief and polite response escaping your lips. “Thanks, Spencer. I appreciate it.” The exchange was short, almost too brief, and you both seemed to sense the unspoken tension lingering between you. It didn’t go unnoticed, especially not by JJ, who had grown close to you since the incident. She had been your rock, someone you confided in more and more.

When she found a quiet moment alone with you, JJ slipped into the conversation with ease. “Hey, how’s your first day back?” she asked with her trademark smile, though there was a hint of something deeper in her tone.

You shrugged lightly, trying to mask any unease. “Same as usual, I guess. It feels good to be working again, though. I was getting restless at home.”

JJ laughed knowingly, nodding. “I know exactly what you mean.” Then, her voice dropped, softer now, as she leaned in slightly. “Did something happen between you and Spence?”

The question caught you off guard, your brows knitting in surprise. Did Spencer say something to her? You quickly tried to brush it off with a joke. “Other than, you know, getting kidnapped together? Not that I know of.”

But JJ wasn’t convinced. She made a face like she wasn’t buying your casual response. “Are you sure? You two haven’t really been talking much. I guess I just assumed something like that would have brought you closer… in a weird, awful sort of way.”

You let out a short laugh, trying to deflect again. “Yeah… we didn’t get the trauma bonding memo, I guess.”

JJ still looked skeptical, her eyes scanning your face for cracks in your armor. “Okay, well… just, if you need to talk, I’m here. You don’t have to go through anything alone.”

Her offer was genuine, and the sincerity in her voice made you pause. You smiled back at her, feeling a small but comforting warmth settle in. “Thanks, JJ. I really appreciate that.”

Across the bullpen, Spencer had been listening to the conversation from his desk, his heart aching at what JJ was implying. He’d been mulling over the same thought—that the trauma you both went through should have drawn you closer. Shared experiences like that often created a bond, an unspoken connection forged in survival. But instead, he could feel the distance between you growing wider, and it tore him up inside.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how hard this must be for you, how you were facing it all alone. You were still relatively new to the team, and as far as Spencer knew, this was your first time being kidnapped. After his first time, he had shut everyone out. Granted, he’d been addicted to drugs back then, but that isolation still hadn’t been the right path. It had only deepened the pain, and he feared you might be doing the same thing.

He could only hope you were receiving the support you needed—support he wasn’t sure he could give you anymore.

—

Later that week, you found yourself in the kitchen, trying to ignore the sharp ache in your side as you reached for a mug to make tea. The pain in your ribs flared up with every stretch, the broken bones protesting loudly. As your arm extended toward the cupboard, the burning sensation became unbearable, and you yelped, clutching your side in an attempt to steady yourself.

“Y/N?” Spencer’s voice was filled with concern as he walked into the room just in time to see you wince in pain. He was by your side in an instant, his hands hovering uncertainly, as if he wanted to help but wasn’t sure how far he could go. “Are you okay?”

You grunted, trying to downplay the pain. “I’m fine, just... need a mug.”

Spencer gave a small, understanding nod before stepping in to help. He reached up with ease, grabbing the mug he knew was your favorite—the one you always used for your tea. “Here,” he said softly, placing it on the counter in front of you. “Making tea?”

A small flutter stirred in your chest at the realization that he remembered both your favorite mug and your preference for tea. It was such a small detail, but it felt significant in that moment, a quiet acknowledgment of the bond that still lingered between you despite everything.

—

You laughed as you watched Spencer pour himself yet another cup of coffee. “It’s three in the afternoon, Spencer! Who drinks coffee this late?”

Spencer chuckled along with you, lifting his cup with a playful grin. “Me! Obviously!” he said, gesturing toward the steaming mug with a mock sense of pride.

You bumped his hip with yours, gently nudging him out of the way as you reached for the kettle. “Well, some of us actually like to sleep,” you teased, your tone light and playful.

What you didn’t notice was the way Spencer had stared at you after that, a soft, affectionate gaze lingering on your face, the kind of look that held more meaning than words could express.

—

“Yeah, thanks,” you sighed, knowing you needed the help but still feeling a little self-conscious about it.

Without missing a beat, Spencer grabbed your favorite tea from the cupboard and began steeping it for you, his movements calm and precise. He didn’t ask if you needed more assistance—he just did it, like he knew exactly what you needed in that moment. It was a silent kindness, one that reminded you of the Spencer you knew before everything had gotten so complicated.

As the tea steeped, you leaned back slightly, watching him with gratitude and lingering uncertainty. The simplicity of the moment, of him helping you with something as mundane as making tea, felt like a brief return to the way things used to be between you.

“Do you need help with anything else?” Spencer asked, his gaze fixed on the steaming mug in front of him rather than meeting your eyes. His tone was casual, but there was something tense beneath it, something unspoken that lingered between the two of you.

You frowned, feeling a bit of confusion and then a flicker of annoyance rising up. Was he only doing this out of guilt? You straightened up slightly, crossing your arms over your chest despite the ache in your ribs.

“Look, I appreciate your help, but you don’t have to suck up to me because of what happened,” you said, your words sharper than you intended. You regretted it immediately, but the frustration had been bubbling beneath the surface for a while now—how careful everyone was being around you, how things with Spencer had grown so strange and distant since the kidnapping.

Spencer froze for a moment, his hand still resting on the counter as he absorbed your words. His jaw tightened, and for a second, he didn’t move or say anything. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but steady. “I’m not… sucking up to you.”

You huffed, unsure where this conversation was heading but feeling the tension building between you. “Then what is this? You’ve barely said two words to me since I came back, and now suddenly you’re… what? Trying to make up for it by being overly nice?”

Spencer’s shoulders stiffened, and he finally turned to face you, his expression guarded. “I’m just trying to help,” he said, his voice measured, like he was trying not to let his own emotions show. “I know things are… different now. But I didn’t want to push you into talking or pretending everything’s okay if it’s not. That’s all.”

The frustration in you wavered, your annoyance softening as you realized he wasn’t trying to guilt-trip or coddle you. He was as lost in this new dynamic as you were, both of you navigating the aftermath of something you hadn’t fully processed. His hesitation wasn’t about sucking up—it was about not knowing how to be around you anymore.

“I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything,” you said, your voice quieter now. “You don’t have to fix this, or me.”

Spencer's eyes softened slightly as he watched you, his own uncertainty flickering across his face. “I’m not trying to fix anything,” he said, almost a whisper now. “I just… don’t want to make things worse.”

The weight of his words settled between you, and suddenly the air felt heavy, filled with everything you both hadn’t said since the warehouse.

“Worse, right,” you scoffed, the bitterness lacing your voice before you could stop it. “Sorry I started an awful chain of events.” You could feel the hurt bubbling up again, the weight of rejection you’d been carrying ever since that day in the warehouse. It wasn’t just the physical pain—it was the emotional bruise left behind, the wound that hadn’t healed.

Spencer looked at you, his expression faltering. He opened his mouth as if to respond but then hesitated, unsure of how to mend what had already spiraled so far out of control. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said softly, his words stumbling out in a rush. “We were under a lot of stress… sometimes people say things they don’t mean, searching for comfort.”

You felt your heart drop at his words. He thought it was just a fleeting moment, something you’d said out of desperation. That stung worse than anything. You blinked back the frustration and the tears that were threatening to spill over, the pain in your side flaring as you tried to catch your breath.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and stormed out, the door to the break room slamming behind you with a sharp, echoing crack.

Spencer stood there, stunned, the sound of the door slamming reverberating in the silence. He hadn’t meant to make things worse. He didn’t realize until it was too late that you hadn’t just left the conversation—you had left the room entirely, and maybe… left something between you both behind.

He clenched his hands into fists, a knot tightening in his stomach. He didn’t know how to make this right, how to undo the damage that had already been done. All he knew was that you had walked away and it felt as if he was losing you for good.

—

Things on the team settled into a new rhythm, even if it wasn’t quite the same. Everyone seemed to accept that you and Spencer were no longer as close as you had once been, though there was an undercurrent of tension. The two of you weren’t assigned together anymore, and that seemed to smooth things out for the most part. But it didn’t go unnoticed that Spencer kept a quiet distance, while you partnered up with Derek in the field.

Spencer couldn’t shake the bitterness that crept in when he saw you with Derek. He couldn’t help but wonder if Hotch had reassigned you because he thought Spencer couldn’t protect you, that you needed someone strong like Derek to keep you safe. The thought left him feeling sour, inadequate, like he’d somehow failed. But then, just as quickly, he’d get mad at himself for even thinking that way. You didn’t need protecting. You were more than capable of handling yourself in the field. You had survived worse than most, even if he couldn’t bear to watch it happen.

What gnawed at him most, though, was how happy you seemed with Derek. The way you laughed and joked with him, talking easily like you once did with Spencer. It stirred something ugly inside him, something he didn’t want to admit. He couldn’t deny that Derek was the kind of man who seemed perfect—strong, confident, and charming. A man who could sweep anyone off their feet. He hated that it bothered him, but he’d never allow himself to admit that he was afraid you’d fall for Derek. That kind of jealousy was too much to confront.

You, on the other hand, were content with your new partnership. Derek was easygoing and didn’t pry into your personal life. He let you manage things on your own terms, only asking questions when you willingly brought something up. It was a refreshing change, especially after everything that had happened with Spencer. You didn’t want to talk about what had gone wrong. You were too embarrassed, too ashamed of how vulnerable you had felt. It was easier to leave it behind, buried where no one could see the cracks.

But despite the professional ease, there was still a part of you that missed what you and Spencer once had, even if you’d never admit that either.

—

On one particular case, you and Derek celebrated the capture of an unsub with a big, triumphant hug. In the heat of the moment, you jumped into his arms, and he caught you effortlessly, spinning you around as the rest of the team cheered. It had been the two of you who made the breakthrough that led to the unsub’s hideout, and everyone was thrilled. You were beaming, caught up in the excitement of the team.

But Spencer, standing on the sidelines, was stewing. His mind kept replaying the mistake he had made, the detail he had missed that Derek had caught. And now, it was Derek who had caught you, too. Watching the two of you laughing, hugging, and celebrating felt like a punch to his gut. His insecurities gnawed at him, building into a quiet anger that simmered beneath the surface.

The rest of the team, however, smiled at the sight of you, happy to see you so joyful and healed enough to engage in lighthearted horseplay with Derek. The dark cloud that had followed you since the kidnapping seemed to have lifted, and it was a relief to everyone.

When the team returned to Quantico, Penelope was quick to corral everyone for celebratory drinks at the local bar. You stuck close to JJ and Penelope, grateful for their company as the night went on. After a few drinks, they pulled you out onto the dance floor, laughter bubbling up between the three of you as the music played. You let yourself go, dancing with JJ and Penelope, the worries of the past few months fading in the glow of the evening.

But it wasn’t until Derek joined you girls on the dance floor that something shifted. Spencer, sitting at the bar, felt a surge of jealousy flood through him. Derek was there again, touching your arm, laughing with you, spinning you around as the girls cheered. Spencer’s vision blurred with red-hot anger, the insecurities and feelings he had been burying for weeks now boiling over.

Before he could think twice, Spencer stormed over, grabbing Derek by the arm and pulling him outside the bar. The sudden outburst left Derek confused, glancing at Spencer with genuine concern. “What the hell, Reid?” Derek asked, his voice sharp with confusion but tinged with worry. “Are you okay?”

Spencer was breathing heavily, steam practically pouring out of his ears as he glared at Derek. “Do you like her?” he snapped, his voice cracking with frustration.

Derek blinked, taken aback. “Who? Like who, Reid?”

“Y/N!” Spencer shouted, his voice louder than he intended. “You keep touching her, and dancing with her, and laughing like—like you’re trying to be with her!”

Derek’s face softened in realization, and he held up his hands defensively, trying to calm Spencer down. “Whoa, whoa, kid,” Derek said slowly, his tone measured. “You think something’s going on with me and Y/N?”

Spencer’s chest heaved as he struggled to control the emotions that had been brewing for so long. “I… I don’t know. I just—every time I see you with her, I can’t help but think you’re—”

Derek cut him off gently, shaking his head. “Spencer, man, it’s not like that. We’re friends. That’s it.”

But Spencer wasn’t ready to accept it. “Then why do you keep acting like that with her? I see it, Derek! You’re always laughing with her, touching her, like you’re… like you’re taking my place.”

Derek sighed, finally starting to understand what was bubbling beneath the surface. “Alright, Reid. What’s going on? ‘Taking your place’? You know Hotch was the one who reassigned us all. It’s just work, man.”

Spencer huffed in frustration, his foot kicking at the loose gravel beneath him. His mind raced, emotions swirling, but he couldn’t seem to piece together a coherent response. He felt like a rubber band stretched too far, about to snap, and it wasn’t just about work. He knew that much.

Derek watched him closely, reading the tension in Spencer’s body, the unease in his eyes. “That’s not what you meant, though, is it?” Derek questioned carefully, his tone soft but pressing for the truth.

Spencer’s shoulders tensed even further, his head dipping slightly as he tried to find the right words. “I… I don’t know,” he muttered, his voice shaky with frustration. He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to confront what was really bothering him. But he also couldn’t stand feeling like this—watching from the sidelines, seeing you with Derek, seeing you laugh and smile like he wasn’t even part of your life anymore.

Derek took a step closer, lowering his voice so only Spencer could hear. “There’s more, isn’t there?” he asked, but he wasn’t accusing. He was just trying to get Spencer to open up, to confront whatever it was that had him spiraling.

Spencer clenched his fists at his sides, staring at the ground as his heart pounded. “I… I didn’t mean for there to be,” he admitted quietly, his voice strained. “It’s just… I don’t know how to be around her anymore. Everything’s different, and I—I don’t know how to fix it.”

Derek nodded slowly, understanding dawning. “You care about her. More than you’re letting on.”

Spencer’s silence was answer enough. He cared about you deeply—more than he had ever allowed himself to admit, even to himself. And now, watching you get closer to Derek while he kept his distance, it felt like he was losing you, piece by piece.

“I don’t know what happened in that warehouse," Derek began, his voice steady and understanding. "I read the report, but I’m sure there were some forgotten details… stuff that can’t be put into words.” He paused for a moment, giving Spencer a chance to process what he was saying. “If there’s something you need to tell her, just do it, Reid. Y/N isn’t the type to laugh at you or shut you out.”

Spencer sniffled, the tears coming against his will, his emotions too raw to hold back any longer. “I... I know that,” he whispered, his voice cracking under the strain. He wiped at his eyes, feeling small and overwhelmed. “I just want to go back to how things were,” he complained softly, his words sounding almost petulant, like a child wanting to undo what couldn’t be undone.

Derek’s heart softened at Spencer’s admission. He had seen this kind of pain before, knew how trauma could twist things, how it could fracture even the strongest of bonds. “That’s not gonna happen, kid,” Derek said with sympathy, shaking his head gently. “What happened to the two of you… that changes people. It changes the way you see the world, and it changes how you see each other.”

Spencer swallowed hard, feeling the weight of those words sink in. He knew Derek was right. He knew things had changed, that he had changed, and so had you. But hearing it made the ache in his chest sharper, more real.

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t rebuild together,” Derek added, his voice hopeful. “It’s not about going back to how things were, Spencer. It’s about moving forward—together. You’ve both been through hell, but that doesn’t mean it’s over. You still have a chance.”

Spencer looked up at Derek, his eyes filled with uncertainty and vulnerability. “What if… what if it’s too late?”

Derek shook his head, giving Spencer’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “It’s only too late if you give up on her. Don’t wait until you lose her for good before you try to fix things. You care about her, Reid. She needs to hear that from you.”

Spencer took a deep breath, nodding slightly, though the fear still gnawed at him. He didn’t know if he was ready, but one thing was certain—he couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t. He had to find the courage to face you, to face what had changed, and to see if there was still a chance to rebuild the connection he had feared was lost forever.

After their tense conversation outside the bar, Spencer headed home, deciding it was best not to linger. He didn’t want to ruin your night by bringing up anything uncomfortable, and the idea of watching you dance with Derek—or worse, with other men—was too much for him. The weight of jealousy and regret was already suffocating, and he needed space to figure out what he was really feeling.

It turned out to be a good thing he left when he did. After Spencer and Derek stepped outside, you were approached by a very handsome, very suave man. He had an easy charm about him, the kind that made conversation flow effortlessly. His flirtatious smile and smooth lines quickly caught your attention, and for the first time in a while, you felt yourself relax, enjoying the moment without overthinking it.

One drink turned into two, and before you knew it, the night had slipped away. The man offered to take you home, and in the haze of alcohol and the desire to forget the complicated feelings with Spencer, you agreed. You didn’t want to think about what had been left unsaid, about the tension between you and Spencer, or how much everything had changed.

That night, you went home with the charming stranger, eager to escape the weight of the unresolved emotions that had been building for weeks. But in the back of your mind, even as you tried to lose yourself in someone new, a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder if this was just another way of avoiding what you were really feeling.

—

That one night started a fire inside you, one that you hadn’t realized had been smoldering beneath the surface for so long. The realization that—even if it was just for a fleeting moment—you were wanted, desired, was intoxicating. After everything that had happened with Spencer, after feeling rejected and unsure of yourself, it was refreshing to be wanted without complications or emotional baggage.

The feeling of being desired, even if only for one night at a time, ignited something within you. It gave you a sense of control, of freedom, and it felt good—so good—to be seen as someone worth chasing. So you leaned into it. You found your place in the hookup culture, where the rules were simple and the emotional weight was nonexistent. One night, one person, no strings attached.

And it was fun. The thrill of meeting someone new, the brief connection that didn’t require anything more than mutual attraction, gave you a rush. Sure, the expense of condoms and the constant reminder to stay on top of frequent STD testing was a minor annoyance, but it was worth it for the feeling of power and liberation that came with it.

You felt like you were finally getting your fix, like the hole that had been left after your complicated feelings with Spencer was being filled—albeit temporarily. It wasn’t about love or deep connection anymore. It was about reclaiming something for yourself, something you hadn’t realized you were missing. You had found an escape, and for now, that was enough.

But then, one day, you made a mistake—a slip of the tongue in the office. You weren’t necessarily trying to keep your new lifestyle a secret, but you hadn’t planned on making it common knowledge either. Your friends and coworkers didn’t need to know every detail of how you were trying to get over Spencer, how you had buried your hurt in casual flings to escape the complicated feelings lingering from the rejection.

It happened when Penelope asked about your weekend plans in the bullpen. You casually mentioned that you were busy, but the response sparked curiosity.

"Busy? With what?" JJ asked, her eyes narrowing playfully. As your close friend, she felt like she would have known if you had something going on. She sensed something was off.

You laughed awkwardly, realizing you had stepped into dangerous territory. "Uh, just... seeing a man."

Penelope's face lit up with excitement. "You have a date?" she asked, her glee impossible to hide.

"Not exactly..." you trailed off, hoping the conversation would end there, but you should’ve known better.

Derek, never one to miss an opportunity to tease, raised an eyebrow with a sly grin. "Little miss thing, do you have a scheduled booty call?" he asked, his tone filled with mischief.

Your face flushed fiercely, the blush creeping up your neck. The small, involuntary smile on your lips gave you away instantly, and before you could protest, Penelope squealed with delight, while JJ chuckled in surprise.

"Oh my god!" Penelope exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement. "You minx! Why didn’t you tell us?"

You tried to play it cool, shrugging lightly. "I mean, it’s nothing serious. Just… you know… having some fun."

But what you didn’t notice was Spencer, who had overheard the entire conversation from across the bullpen. His face paled, and his heart sank as the reality of your words hit him like a freight train. You were seeing other people. You were sleeping with other men, and it was painfully clear—you were trying to get over him.

The girl he had always wanted—you—had wanted him back. That truth crashed into him with an intensity he wasn’t prepared for, and the weight of it left him standing frozen, unable to process how much he had lost. Spencer felt the deep ache of regret, gnawing at him with every word you spoke to your friends. You had moved on—or at least, you were trying to. And it was all because of him, because he had pushed you away when you had been vulnerable, honest, and open with him.

At that moment, Spencer couldn’t deny it any longer. He finally admitted it to himself—he wants you. He likes you. Maybe he even loves you. He always has.

The realization of what he had been running from all this time hit him harder than any unsub ever could. He had been too scared to face it, too afraid of messing things up between you, too unsure of how to handle his own feelings. But now, watching you laugh awkwardly with your coworkers about casual hookups and hearing how you were slipping further and further away from him, it became painfully clear—he had already messed things up.

Spencer clenched his fists at his sides, his mind racing with the weight of what he'd been denying for so long. He wanted to be the one you turned to, the one you laughed with, the one you came home to after a long day. He wanted to be more than your friend, more than someone you used to be close to. He wanted you in his life, in every possible way.

—

Spencer had always been on your speed dial—back when things were simpler, back when you called him almost every day, your friendship close and easy. So when his phone buzzed after 11 p.m. on a Saturday, his first instinct wasn’t concern. But after everything that had happened between the two of you lately, the timing made him uneasy. This wasn’t normal anymore. He hadn’t heard from you in weeks, not like this, and certainly not at this hour.

His heart pounded as he grappled for the phone, his mind racing. If you were calling him this late, something had to be wrong. He didn’t hesitate for a second, fumbling to answer as quickly as possible, already imagining the worst. “Y/N?” he called out into the phone, his voice tense with worry. “Y/N, are you okay?”

But instead of your voice answering, what he heard stopped him cold.

It was faint at first, a muffled noise, but as he strained to listen, the unmistakable sounds of… pain? groaning? It left him on edge, his panic rising. His mind raced, thinking the worst—had you been hurt? Were you in danger? He called your name again, louder, more frantic this time. “*Y/N!*”

But still, no response from you. Just the sounds, growing clearer, louder.

And then, it hit him like a punch to the gut. Through the haze of sounds on the other end, he heard a man’s voice, moaning your name.

Spencer’s breath caught in his throat as realization dawned painfully, his stomach twisting. You hadn’t called him on purpose. You had buttdialled him during a hookup. The groans, the noises that he had thought were of pain—they weren’t what he had feared. They were… something entirely different.

His hands shook as he stared at the phone, the pit in his stomach growing. He could hear everything, the intimacy, the passion—things that weren’t meant for him, things he should never have been privy to. The knowledge of what was happening, of who was with you right now, left him reeling.

He hung up, the phone slipping from his grasp onto the bed. Spencer sat there, stunned, trying to process what had just happened. It was the harshest reminder of what he had lost, of what he had pushed away. You were moving on. You were finding comfort in someone else. And here he was, on the other end of a phone call that was never meant to be made.

For the first time, Spencer felt the full weight of what he had done. He had pushed you away, too scared to face his own feelings, and now he was watching—no, hearing—you slip further away from him. The girl he had always wanted, the one who had wanted him, was now with someone else. And all he could do was sit there, helpless, with the sharp, bitter taste of regret heavy on his tongue.

—

You were blissfully unaware that you had called Spencer the night before. After a fun, carefree night with a man whose name you couldn’t even remember, you woke up feeling satisfied and content. It wasn’t until the next day, when you went to call Penelope, that your heart stopped. Staring at your call log, your eyes widened in horror as you saw the call to Spencer. A call that had lasted for several minutes.

You quickly checked the time. It had definitely been when you and what’s his name were together. Oh god. A pit formed in your stomach as the realization hit you—did Spencer hear anything? Your mind raced, mortified by the idea. You hadn’t spoken to him much lately, and now, this? It was beyond awkward.

By Monday morning, you were terrified to face Spencer. The embarrassment gnawed at you, and the thought of seeing him after that accidental call made your stomach churn. When you arrived at the office, you tried to keep your head down, praying the situation would somehow blow over. But as soon as you made it to your desk, Spencer stormed over, his face set in a hard, unreadable expression.

“Y/N,” he said lowly, his voice tense, “a word.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. You nodded silently, following Spencer into the hall, the weight of what you feared was coming making it hard to breathe.

Before he could speak, you blurted out, “Listen, Spencer, I’m sorry—” You didn’t even know how to finish the sentence, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Spencer’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he was grappling with something—whether to be angry, hurt, or simply frustrated. “You called me,” he said, his voice calm but tinged with something else you couldn’t quite place. “I heard... a lot.”

Your heart sank even further. He did hear. “Spencer, I didn’t mean for that to happen,” you said quickly, desperate to explain. “It was an accident. I wasn’t trying to—”

“Just…” Spencer interrupted, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked away, clearly uncomfortable. His voice was quieter now, but the tension between you was palpable. “Please don’t do that again. It was horribly uncomfortable.”

You winced, guilt washing over you. The last thing you had ever wanted was to make Spencer feel that way. “I’m really sorry, Spencer,” you said, softer this time. “I didn’t realize I had called you. If I had known...”

He nodded, still avoiding your gaze. “I know. It’s just… hearing that, knowing what was happening, it was…” He trailed off, the words hanging unfinished in the air.

"It was what?" you pressed, sensing that Spencer was leaving something unsaid, something important.

Spencer glanced away, his expression tense, and then, as if the weight of his feelings could no longer be held back, he blurted it out. "I was jealous, okay?"

You blinked in disbelief. “Jealous?” The word left your mouth before you could stop it, confusion swirling in your mind. How could he be jealous after everything that had happened between you two?

“Yeah, Y/N,” he sighed, finally meeting your eyes, the vulnerability in his gaze clear now. “I was jealous.”

You shook your head, still baffled by his confession. “Spencer, you rejected me,” you reminded him, your voice sharper than you intended. The hurt from that moment still stung, and hearing him say he was jealous felt like a twisted irony.

“I know,” he said quickly, guilt flashing in his eyes. “I know I did, and I’ve regretted it ever since. I was scared. I didn’t know how to handle what you said or what I was feeling, and I pushed you away. But hearing you with someone else, knowing you’ve moved on… it hit me harder than I expected.”

You stood there, staring at him, processing his words. Part of you wanted to lash out, to remind him of how much his rejection had hurt you. But another part of you, the part that had always cared for Spencer, softened at the sight of him so open, so raw with his emotions.

“Spencer…” you started, your voice gentler now, “you don’t get to be jealous. Not after everything. You made your choice.”

“I know,” he whispered, his eyes full of regret. “And it was the wrong choice. I didn’t realize how much I wanted you—until it was too late.”

There was a pause as his words hung in the air between you.

“Well, I’m sorry it took you so long to realize it,” you said, the hurt still lingering in your voice despite the calm exterior you tried to maintain.

Spencer nodded slowly, his expression full of regret. “Me too,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked at you then, his eyes filled with all the things he hadn’t been able to say before, the weight of his hesitation clear now that the truth was out.

The silence between you stretched on for a moment, heavy with everything that had gone unsaid for so long. You could feel the weight of it pressing down on you, the hurt and confusion swirling around inside your chest. This was what you had wanted once—to hear Spencer admit that he had made a mistake. But now that it was happening, it didn’t feel as satisfying as you thought it would.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Spencer continued, his voice breaking slightly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know how to deal with my own feelings. And now I’m scared I’ve lost you for good.”

You stared at him, unsure of what to say. There was no quick fix for what had happened between you. His apology was genuine, but the damage had already been done.

“I don’t know what to say, Spencer,” you admitted. “I’m not going to pretend like this doesn’t hurt, or that everything can just go back to how it was.”

“I understand,” he said softly, looking down at the floor. “I don’t expect things to go back to the way they were. I just… I wanted you to know how I feel. And that I’m sorry.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “I appreciate that. But this doesn’t change everything.”

“I know,” he replied, his eyes meeting yours once more. “But maybe… maybe it’s not too late to figure it out. If you’re willing.”

You hesitated, the rawness of the conversation still fresh. You didn’t know if you could open that door again—not yet. But maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to rebuild what had been broken.

“We’ll see, Spencer,” you said softly. “We’ll see.”

And with that, the conversation hung in the air, fragile and uncertain, but with the faintest glimmer of hope.

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reidmarieprentiss · 4 days

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yeah.. bad..

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reidmarieprentiss · 5 days

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Illicit Affairs

Summary: You married Aaron at a young age, well, you were young. It was a marriage born of fear of being alone. Nothing had yet to shake this bond, until you meet Spencer Reid. Now you see what could have been if you had waited.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: Hotch is kind of an asshole for most of the story, not cheating but kinda? (flirting with other people), suggestive content (16+), Spencer gets shot in the leg, case stuff, marriage concerns, insecurities, fighting, lying

Word count: 15.4k

a/n: this has taken me sooo long to finish because i could not decide where to go with it i hope this is good lololol

main masterlist

At 40, Aaron Hotchner faces his deepest fear: ending up alone. When Haley leaves him after his admission of not wanting children due to the demands of his job, Aaron spirals into panic. In his vulnerable state, he quickly becomes involved with you—a 22-year-old graduate student and aspiring registered nurse—who tended to him while he recovered from an injury sustained on a local case.

Charmed by the attention and the allure of a mature, established man taking a genuine interest in you beyond physical attraction, the relationship escalated rapidly. Within a year, despite the judgments from his family and the concerned amusement from yours, you and Aaron are married.

Now, with you as a registered nurse and Aaron as the unit chief at the BAU, it’s been a year of marriage filled with unspoken truths. Neither of you has acknowledged the haste of your union, nor the nuances of your feelings. Aaron cares deeply for you, yet he knows his love doesn’t mirror what he felt for Haley. As for you, while love may not be the right word yet, you care enough not to want to worsen his emotional struggles as you navigate what you truly want from this relationship.

—

When you arrived at the BAU to deliver Aaron's forgotten go-bag, you had hoped to make a quick entrance and exit, keen on avoiding too much attention, especially from his team. You hadn't met many of them, and the idea of them scrutinizing the age difference between you and Aaron made you uneasy.

As you walked hesitantly into the bullpen with the bag slung over your shoulder, the atmosphere was buzzing with agents moving briskly, their minds clearly set on the urgency of their next case. That's when Derek Morgan's voice cut through the hum of activity.

"Whoa, mama," Derek whistled, a playful smile on his face as he looked you over. "You lost, sweet thing?"

Startled, you turned towards the source of the voice—an undeniably attractive man with a confident air about him. "Uh, kind of," you laughed, trying to mask your nervousness with a bit of humor.

"Who are you looking for?" another voice piped up, this one belonging to a woman who stood just as strikingly, her presence just as commanding as Derek's.

"Aaron, Aaron Hotchner," you replied, your voice carrying a hint of timidity as you mentioned your husband's name.

"Hey, Reid!" Derek called over his shoulder, turning his attention to a younger man hunched over a cluttered desk, who seemed engrossed in his work until then. "You were just talking to Hotch, where'd he go?"

Spencer Reid looked up, his big eyes immediately magnifying through his glasses as they landed on you. There was a brief moment where he seemed to stumble over his words, a clear indication of his flustered state. "Um, uh, Hotch? Bathroom, I believe," he managed to say, sounding unsure.

"Thanks," you nodded, directing a grateful smile at Spencer.

"But!" Spencer suddenly stood up, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste. "I can show you to his office," he offered earnestly.

Derek and Elle exchanged smirks, an unspoken understanding passing between them as they observed Spencer's demeanor change drastically. It was obvious, even to an outsider, that Spencer was momentarily disarmed by your presence.

"Sure, thanks," you said, feeling a mix of amusement and relief at not having to navigate the maze of desks and bustling agents alone. You walked over to where Spencer stood, slightly awkward in his hurried attempt to be helpful, and followed him as he led you to Aaron's office.

As you moved through the corridors, following Spencer's quick, slightly erratic pace, you couldn't help but feel the weight of many eyes on you, sparking curiosity and apprehension about how you were being perceived by Aaron's colleagues. It was your first visit here, and already it felt like stepping onto a stage. Yet, there was also a warmth in Spencer's clumsy kindness, and it eased some of your tension as you approached the sanctuary of Aaron's office.

"Here—here it is, um, his—Hotch's office," Spencer stammered, gesturing somewhat awkwardly toward the open door. The nervousness in his demeanor was palpable, yet there was an earnestness that made you smile despite your initial apprehension.

"Thank you again..." you started, stepping toward the threshold of the office.

"Spencer! Spencer Reid," he quickly filled in, as if realizing he hadn’t properly introduced himself yet.

"Thank you, Spencer," you said, making sure to use his name, appreciating the small comfort his guidance provided in the sprawling unfamiliarity of the BAU.

"What is—um, what's your name?" Spencer asked, his curiosity peeking through as he seemed to regain a bit of his composure.

"Hmm?" You were momentarily distracted by the various knickknacks and personal items that adorned Aaron's office, each piece echoing aspects of his personality and life outside of work. Realizing Spencer was waiting for an answer, you looked up, "Oh, I'm Y/N," you replied, deliberately omitting your last name.

There was a momentary pause as you considered the implications, realizing subconsciously that you didn't want this young, attractive, and age-appropriate man to know you were taken, even though you were there precisely because you were Aaron's wife.

The omission wasn't missed by Spencer, his gaze briefly flickering with a mix of confusion and intrigue, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he simply nodded, a polite smile gracing his lips as he stood by the door, giving you space to move inside the office.

"Are you... bringing something for Hotch?" Spencer inquired after a moment, his eyes hinting at his natural inquisitiveness, the profiler in him never fully off duty.

"Yes, his go-bag. He forgot it in my car, and they need it for a case," you explained, moving to set the bag down on one of the chairs. The casual mention of your everyday interaction with Aaron served as a subtle hint of your relationship.

Spencer nodded understandingly, stepping back slightly. "He'll be back soon, I think. Cases like these, everyone's a bit on edge," he added, his voice dropping to a more confidential tone as if sharing a small secret about the inner workings of the BAU.

"When is Aaron not on edge?" you grinned, finding a moment of levity in the constant high stakes surrounding Aaron's work life.

"Good point," Spencer laughed, a rare, easy chuckle that made him seem momentarily less guarded, less the genius profiler and more just a young man at work. His interest piqued, he asked, "What do you do?"

"Pardon?" you smirked, teasingly challenging him to clarify his somewhat direct question.

"I mean—uh," he cleared his throat, a bit embarrassed by his forwardness. "What do you do for work? Do you work?"

"Yes," you laughed, softening the moment with your amusement at his awkwardness. "I'm an RN—a registered nurse."

"That’s impressive," Spencer replied, his admiration genuine. "It must be demanding."

"It can be," you acknowledged, shifting the go-bag slightly as a physical reminder of the worlds both you and Aaron navigated—yours of healing and his of prevention. "But I like to think it helps me understand a bit of the stress that Aaron goes through. Not exactly the same, but patient care has its own kind of urgency, you know?"

Spencer nodded thoughtfully, obviously connecting the dots. "That does make sense."

Just as you were settling into your thoughts, Aaron returned to the office, his presence immediately altering the dynamic. “Hello, darling,” he greeted with a warmth that seemed as much for the benefit of anyone listening as it was for you.

He leaned in for a quick kiss, a gesture of familiarity and intimacy. However, your reaction was a split second of hesitation; you turned your head just as he approached, resulting in a kiss on your cheek instead of your lips. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Spencer's surprised glance, adding a layer of awkwardness to the moment.

“Reid, I see you’ve met my wife, Y/N,” Aaron announced, a touch of pride in his voice as he introduced you formally.

“Wife?” Spencer choked out the word, clearly caught off guard.

“You didn’t tell him?” Aaron turned to you, his eyebrows raised in mild surprise.

“We didn’t get that far,” you replied, managing a smile as you handed him his go-bag. There was an unspoken tension in the air, one that had nothing to do with the bag or the forgotten introductions.

Aaron grasped the bag firmly. “Thank you, darling. Will you be okay while I’m gone?” His question seemed out of character, tinged with a concern that he hadn't shown before, at least not openly in such a manner.

“Uh, yeah, Aaron. I’ll be fine,” you assured him, trying to mask your confusion with a calm demeanor. His sudden display of worry, although perhaps meant as reassurance, felt somewhat performative, especially with Spencer still lingering nearby.

Sensing the strained energy and perhaps feeling like an intruder on a private moment, Spencer quietly excused himself from the room with a polite nod, leaving you and Aaron alone.

—

On the jet, the atmosphere shifted from the usual pre-case seriousness to a lighter, more teasing banter among the team. Derek and Elle, never ones to miss a chance for a bit of fun, seized the opportunity as soon as everyone was settled.

“Hotch, you want to tell us who that dime piece in your office was?” Derek teased, a wide grin spreading across his face.

“Yeah, chief,” Elle chimed in, her tone playful yet genuinely curious. “Pretty young thing like that, who knew you got game.”

Aaron rolled his eyes fondly at their comments, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement despite his attempt at maintaining decorum. “Inappropriate,” he muttered, though the softness in his voice betrayed his stern exterior.

“Come on, Hotch,” Derek nudged his shoulder, pushing just a bit further as he often did. “Who is she?”

With a small sigh, Aaron couldn’t help but smile, a hint of pride seeping through as he responded. “That’s my wife, Y/N.”

The revelation sent a ripple of shock through the plane, turning into an uproar of laughter and exclamations, except for Gideon, who simply nodded with a knowing smile, having been privy to Aaron’s marital status.

“What? You got married? Again?” JJ asked, her voice tinged with incredulity as she leaned forward in her seat.

“And we weren’t invited to the wedding??” Elle raised her voice in a teasing yell, feigning outrage over the missed opportunity to celebrate.

“Two hot wives in one lifetime… teach me your ways, man,” Derek laughed heartily, clapping Aaron on the back, clearly impressed and amused by his boss’s apparently smooth personal life.

—

With the house quietly humming with solitude and Aaron away on a case, you found yourself alone with your thoughts, which, much to your own surprise, wandered inexorably toward Spencer Reid. The brief interaction earlier in the day had ignited a curiosity within you that refused to be stilled. You knew it was somewhat improper, a slight betrayal even, to take such an interest in your husband's subordinate. Yet, the intrigue that Spencer sparked in you was undeniable, reminiscent of the initial excitement you had felt when you first met Aaron.

Sitting down at your computer, you hesitated for a moment, the cursor blinking back at you as if challenging your intentions. Finally, you typed his name into the search bar. Spencer Reid was not just any FBI agent; he was a prodigy, his credentials filled with accolades and commendations for his brilliance and his contributions to solving complex cases. As you scrolled through articles mentioning his work, interviews, and a few scattered photos, you couldn't help but feel drawn to his intellectual allure and youthful sincerity.

He was your same age, giving him a relatable vibe that Aaron, with all his mature charisma, sometimes lacked. And yes, Spencer was undeniably handsome in a way that was entirely different from Aaron's rugged authority. There was something about Spencer's shyness and the awkward charm that accompanied his genius that made him deeply attractive to you.

You found yourself imagining what it might be like to befriend someone like Spencer. He seemed sweet, thoughtful, and someone who could understand the nuances of being surrounded by older, more experienced personalities. Perhaps you and Spencer could share a bond, something platonic but meaningful—a connection based on mutual interests and intellectual pursuits rather than the complex web of emotions and duties that your marriage to Aaron entailed.

As these thoughts spun through your mind, you felt a pang of guilt. Was it fair to Aaron? Was it fair to Spencer? You weren't planning anything inappropriate, of course. Friendship was not a crime, and everyone needed friends, especially in a world as isolating as the one you found yourself in. You resolved to approach this potential friendship with Spencer carefully, respecting boundaries and being mindful of the professional and personal dynamics involved.

—

When the team touched down again in Quantico, Aaron was surprised to find you waiting for him in his office. His smile broadened, clearly pleased that you were finally visiting. He assumed your first trip last week had helped you overcome your nerves about visiting the BAU.

"Y/N, honey, what are you doing here?" he grinned, the warmth in his voice palpable as he closed the distance between you.

You scratched your arm nervously, the sudden reality of being in his workspace making you momentarily uneasy. "I just couldn't wait to see you," you managed to say, hoping your words sounded more confident than you felt.

Aaron walked over, his expression softening as he kissed you soundly. "Missed me?" he asked huskily, his voice lowering as he pulled you closer.

"Mhm," you hummed against his lips, lightly pushing him off. "We're at your work, Aaron."

"I can close the door," he mumbled, leaning in to kiss and nip down your throat, his hands moving to draw you in.

As if on cue, Spencer chose that moment to intervene. "Hey, Hotch, I was wondering about this form—oh my god, I’m so sorry," he stammered, his eyes widening as he realized the intimate moment he had interrupted.

You jumped back, hiding your face in your hands from embarrassment, while Aaron confidently chuckled, unphased by the interruption. "No worries, Reid. What’s up?"

"Oh, uh. This, um, this form? For the, uh—" Spencer flashed the paper toward Aaron, handing it over hesitantly. "Do I need to fill this out or is it optional?"

Aaron took the form, quickly looking it over with his usual efficiency. "Optional, only if you want to be really thorough," he replied, slipping back into his stern business voice.

"Th-thanks," Spencer stuttered again, then glanced your way. "Hi, Y/N," he waved, trying to ease the tension.

"Spencer," you nodded, managing a smile. "Good to see you again."

"Likewise," he returned the smile, but the awkward air in the room hung heavily.

Sensing his continued presence might be intrusive, Spencer quickly stepped out of the office, leaving the two of you alone once more.

"Where were we?" Aaron looked back at you with a sinister smirk.

You laughed awkwardly, shaking your head. "Going home?" you suggested, hoping to escape the building tension.

"That, I can get behind," he agreed, starting to gather his things.

Later that evening, as you both sat down for dinner, Aaron began telling you what he could about the recent case, clearly animated by the day's events. "And then Reid managed to talk the unsub down, surrendered—it was impressive," he noted with a hint of pride in his team's performance.

"Spencer seems great," you mused, feeling a twinge of curiosity spark again.

"He is," Aaron said, and there was something in his tone that you couldn't quite place. "He’s your age, you know? Has three PhDs."

You did know that, but you couldn’t admit it. "Wow, that's amazing," you replied, trying to sound as impressed as you felt.

"Mhm."

"Maybe we could have him over for dinner sometime? You always say I need more friends," you laughed, trying to steer the conversation into lighter waters.

Aaron looked at you a bit suspiciously. "Friends for when I’m gone, Spencer’s always gone with me."

You nodded, conceding the point. "Yeah, well, it would be nice to hang out with someone my own age."

"Ouch," Aaron chuckled, though there was a hint of sadness in his voice.

"Oh no, honey!" You quickly corrected, realizing how your words might have sounded. "I didn’t mean you; I meant the ladies at work."

The conversation drifted into other topics, but the brief exchange left a lingering thought in your mind about Spencer and the future.

—

As you made your rounds at the hospital, the nursing coordinator handed you a new clipboard with a patient assignment. "24-year-old male in suite 104, just here for a physical," she informed you. Quickly scanning the file, your heart skipped a beat when you saw the name—Spencer Reid. "Got it, thanks," you replied, masking your surprise with a nod and a smile before heading to suite 104.

Upon arriving, you knocked lightly. "Come in," came the response from inside. Opening the door, you introduced yourself with a professional flourish. "Hello, my name is Y/N. I’ll be your nurse today," you announced, offering a wide smile.

"Y/N! Hi!" Spencer greeted you with a warm grin.

"Hi Spencer," you replied, your cheeks tinting with a blush at his enthusiastic welcome. "Alright, let me get all set up here." You sat at the computer, logging in and pulling up Spencer's medical chart. "So, I’m just going to get your blood pressure and pulse," you stated as you began the routine checks.

"It’s nice to see you in your element," Spencer commented sweetly, watching you work.

"Yeah? The purple scrubs doing it for you?" you joked, playing along.

"Purple is my favorite color actually," he admitted, a blush coloring his cheeks. As Spencer observed the way the fabric of your dress hugged your curves, he couldn't help but think to himself, Hotch is a very lucky man.

"Of course it is..." you murmured, smiling softly as you noted his vitals. "Well, doctor, you’re as healthy as an ox from what I can see."

"Why thank you," he chuckled, clearly at ease.

"You’re just here for an annual checkup and a physical, it seems?" you inquired, noting the details in his chart.

Spencer's cheeks turned a deeper shade of red, and he adjusted his glasses nervously. "Uh, yeah," he stammered, momentarily forgetting that you could see everything noted in his file.

"Listen, if it makes you uncomfortable talking to me or having me as your nurse, I can have someone else take over. I should have offered that earlier, I’m sorry," you said, realizing the potential awkwardness of the situation.

"No!" Spencer quickly protested. "No, I like—having you as my nurse, I mean."

You laughed, his fluster endearing. "Okay, okay, thank you. I like having you as a patient. But I do have to ask some questions before the doctor comes in, is that okay?"

"Yeah..." he exhaled, seeming to relax again.

"Alright… what is the nature of your request for the physical?" you asked, following protocol.

Spencer blushed even harder, if possible. "I—um, it’s required for being in the field for work. Hotch requested I renew mine after I got injured," he explained.

The mention of your husband's name grounded you. "Of course, what injury did you receive?"

"Uh, it sounds weird, but I—I promise it was necessary and it’s okay! But um, Hotch kicked me in the stomach," he mumbled.

"What?!" You couldn't help but exclaim. "Why on earth would he do that?"

"He had to make it seem like he was on the unsub’s side," Spencer explained quietly. "But it’s okay, I’ve been hit—hah—I’ve been hit a lot harder by middle school girls."

Your heart ached for him. "Oh, Spencer... because you were a prodigy?"

"How did you know that?" he asked, a trace of surprise in his voice.

Now it was your turn to blush. "Oh, uh, Aaron, he told me..." you stumbled over your words.

Spencer looked at you with a hint of suspicion, perhaps wondering how much you knew about his past. The air between you filled with unspoken questions, but you smiled reassuringly, hoping to convey your professional integrity and personal respect for his privacy.

—

As the flickering images of a House episode danced across the screen, the dialogue and medical jargon nudging at your daily reality, you casually mentioned your encounter earlier that day. “Oh, I saw Spencer at work today,” you said, not thinking much of it, just a simple statement to fill the quiet between you and Aaron.

Aaron's interest peaked instantly at the mention of his young team member. “Oh?” he prompted, his tone subtly shifting as he waited for more details.

“Mhm,” you replied nonchalantly, not inclined to elaborate. To you, it was a trivial interaction, hardly worth dissecting. However, Aaron’s thoughts seemed to veer down a path marked by deeper, more instinctual concerns. As if propelled by a need to assert his presence, he made a move that was more assertive than affectionate. His hand found its way high up on your thigh, his actions bordering on possessive as he leaned in to kiss your neck.

“Aaron,” you coughed out, a hint of warning in your voice, “no marks, remember?” You tried to keep the tone light, but there was an undercurrent of seriousness you couldn’t mask as you felt him begin to suck and bite.

He merely grunted in response, his actions undeterred, driven by a desire to leave physical evidence of his claim over you.

“Hey!” you pushed his head back, more firmly this time. “I’m serious, I don’t want marks at work. It’s unprofessional.”

“Whatever,” he muttered, his response petulant, his body language childish as he crossed his arms and slouched deeper into the couch.

Frustrated and needing space, you stood up decisively. “I’m going to take a shower,” you announced, heading towards the bathroom and making sure to lock the door behind you to prevent any follow-up attempts from Aaron.

Standing under the hot spray of the shower, the water cascading down your back, you allowed yourself a moment to reflect. The tense energy that had just unfolded between you and Aaron wasn’t new; it had become a recurring theme over the past few months. You wished you could attribute this strain to the brief, unexpected spark with Spencer, but these issues predated his brief entry into your narrative. The shower wasn’t just a physical cleanse but a brief respite from the emotional turbulence waiting outside the bathroom door.

—

The atmosphere in the BAU was usually charged with the undercurrents of their intense casework, but today, a different kind of tension was threading through the air, sparked by personal intersections that typically remained outside the office dynamics.

“I heard you saw Y/N at work,” Hotch casually mentioned to Spencer the next morning, a hint of curiosity underlying his seemingly offhand remark.

Spencer, caught a bit off-guard, nodded. “Huh? Oh yeah, she was my nurse. She's great,” he smiled slightly, reminiscing briefly about the pleasant yet professional encounter, unaware that his innocent smile was stirring something in Hotch.

“What were you there for?” Hotch’s tone was casual, but his gaze was probing, picking up on the slightest hint of something he couldn’t quite place.

“A physical, like you requested,” Spencer answered, his response straightforward, his mind still on the professional aspect of their interaction.

“Whoa! Pretty boy got a physical from Hotch’s pretty wife?” Derek chimed in from across the room, his voice carrying a teasing lilt that instantly drew more attention to the conversation. The wolf whistle that followed his words only amplified the implication, turning several heads in the bullpen.

Hotch’s expression darkened, a flash of anger crossing his features as he turned his gaze sharply towards Spencer. “Is that true?” he demanded, his voice carrying an edge that was rarely directed at his team outside of a reprimand for professional oversights.

“What? No—no!” Spencer spluttered, immediately understanding the seriousness of Hotch’s tone and the potential misunderstanding his earlier smile might have conveyed. “The physician did the physical, Y/N just checked my blood pressure,” he clarified quickly, his words rushed and his tone anxious, eager to dispel any misinterpretations that might further fuel Hotch’s apparent ire.

The clarification seemed to simmer down the immediate flare of tension, but the residue of the exchange lingered, casting a brief shadow over the usual camaraderie of the team. Hotch’s reaction, though swiftly controlled, was a rare glimpse into the personal stakes he felt, perhaps revealing more about his own insecurities or troubles at home than he would have liked to admit in the professional setting of the BAU.

Spencer, feeling unsettled by the day's earlier events and Hotch's uncharacteristic outburst, sought out Derek for a private conversation. Finding a moment when the hallway was empty, ensuring their discussion remained confidential, Spencer approached him.

"Hey Derek, can I ask you something?" Spencer's tone carried a mix of curiosity and concern.

"What’s up, Reid?" Derek responded, always ready to lend an ear, especially to a teammate.

Spencer hesitated, gathering his thoughts before diving into what was troubling him. "Did I do something to upset Hotch?" he asked, his voice timid but earnest.

Derek pondered the question, leaning against the wall with a thoughtful expression. "I don’t think so… He’s been touchy since we met his wife though. Maybe—nah, nevermind," Derek started to dismiss his own thought, but Spencer's need for clarity pushed him to continue.

"No, what?" Spencer insisted, sensing that Derek was holding back something potentially insightful.

Derek sighed, realizing that perhaps sharing his observation might help Spencer understand the situation better. "He might be insecure that his wife is so much younger than him, it has certain… implications. Especially since he didn’t tell any of us he was married, again," Derek revealed, his voice lowering slightly with the sensitivity of the topic.

The information clicked into place for Spencer, helping him piece together Hotch's reactions and the underlying tensions that might be affecting his behavior. This understanding, while it did not solve the issue, gave Spencer a new perspective on how to approach his interactions with Hotch.

"That would make sense…it just seems like he’s only taking it out on me," he admitted, the feeling of being singled out gnawing at him.

"I doubt it’s intentional, Reid," Derek assured him, clapping a supportive hand on Spencer's shoulder. "It's possible he sees you as a threat, you are the youngest on the team, and we don't actually know how old Y/N is. He could be worried about that," Derek explained, hinting at the potential for unintentional rivalries or jealousies, even within a team as close as theirs.

Spencer furrowed his brow, the confusion evident on his face as he processed Derek's words. The idea that Hotch might view him as a threat due to his youth and proximity to Y/N was unsettling. "About what?" Spencer asked, his voice tinged with innocence. He wasn't fully grasping the implications of Derek's insinuations about Hotch's possible insecurities regarding age and attraction.

"Don’t worry your big brain about it too much, pretty boy. I’m sure it will blow over," Derek concluded with a slight chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. He knew well that sometimes, the dynamics within the BAU could get complicated by personal lives intersecting with professional roles. His advice was meant to reassure Spencer that whatever was brewing beneath the surface, it was likely a temporary ripple rather than a permanent shift in their team's dynamics.

—

It, in fact, did not blow over. The addition of Emily Prentiss to the BAU team introduced a dynamic shift that no one anticipated, least of all Aaron Hotchner. Emily, at 35, arrived with a blend of sophistication, experience, and undeniable charm that unwittingly unsettled Aaron. Her presence, which resonated so closely with what Aaron imagined as an ideal partner, stirred up complex emotions within him.

His feelings towards Emily were fraught with guilt, especially considering his recent marriage to you, a much younger woman whose rapid involvement with him had been born of circumstance and perhaps a mutual need for companionship rather than a deep-seated compatibility. Aaron's realization that Emily aligned more closely with his own age and interests only deepened his internal conflict. It was as though her being there illuminated the stark differences between his relationship with you and the potential of what could have been with someone like Emily.

Witnessing your easy rapport with Spencer, Aaron now found himself empathizing with your situation more than ever. Perhaps, he thought, you were drawn to Spencer because he represented something youthful and vibrant that Aaron himself could no longer provide. This thought nagged at him, seeding a bitterness that began to further color his interactions with Spencer.

In response to these tumultuous feelings, Aaron decided to double down on his commitment to you. He made more deliberate efforts to connect, to foster a deeper bond, and to prove to both himself and you that his decision to marry wasn't a misstep. At the same time, his interactions with Spencer took on a more patronizing tone. He began to treat Spencer less like the valued colleague he was and more like a naive child, perhaps in a subconscious attempt to reassert his dominance and control over the unsettling emotions Emily's presence elicited.

This shift in Aaron's behavior did not go unnoticed. The team, adept as they were at profiling others, began to pick up on the subtle undercurrents of tension. While professional on the surface, these personal conflicts threatened to ripple through their tightly knit group, challenging their cohesion and effectiveness.

—

Emily, still acclimating to the team's dynamics and personalities, found herself in the breakroom with Elle and JJ, seeking insight into the enigmatic unit chief, Aaron Hotchner. His stern demeanor had piqued her curiosity, leading her to question whether his aloof nature was a constant or situational trait.

"Hey...the chief, Hotchner, is he always that cold?" Emily asked, trying to sound casual as she stirred her coffee.

Elle snorted in response, her voice tinged with amusement. "Yeah, but he’s had his panties in a triple twist since his wife started oggling our boy genius," she said, not one to mince words.

JJ laughed, shaking her head slightly at Elle's blunt description. "What Elle means is," she interjected, giving Elle a loving glare meant to soften the bluntness, "he just has a very serious demeanor. He's a good boss."

Emily nodded, absorbing this new piece of information with a mix of surprise and intrigue. The revelation that the very handsome yet stoic chief's wife might have a soft spot for the 'geeky kid with the crazy IQ' was unexpected.

Emily raised an eyebrow, her amusement evident as she processed the rumors swirling around Hotch's personal life. "No kidding, his wife is into, uh, Reid?" she said, the situation seeming almost too melodramatic to be real.

JJ chimed in with a more cautious tone. "Well, we don't know that for sure," she cautioned, her voice low as she glanced around the breakroom to ensure their conversation remained private. "But from what we’ve seen, Aaron doesn’t like when the two of them interact. Makes you think," she added, her words hinting at the undercurrents of jealousy and discomfort that seemed to affect Hotch more than he let on.

Elle, on the other hand, didn’t hold back. "Spencer was a blushing mess when he saw her, couldn't get a full sentence out. He practically had hearts in his eyes. Something's going on there," she declared, not shy about voicing her observations. "Not to mention his wife is way young, like Spencer's age probably."

Emily's laughter lingered in the air as the conversation drew to a close. With a newfound awareness of the team's dynamics, she resolved to keep a watchful eye on the interactions within the group, especially those involving Hotchner and Reid.

—

Navigating his own slew of emotions regarding Emily, Aaron found himself at a crossroads. His increasing insecurity about his feelings prompted an unexpected move—inviting Spencer over for dinner. This decision, however, was not solely his own; it came per your suggestion.

Spencer, on receiving the invitation, was initially perplexed. Hotch's recent demeanor towards him had been notably cold, and this sudden gesture of hospitality seemed incongruent with their strained interactions at work. Despite his reservations, the underlying curiosity about the personal aspect of his boss's life, coupled with another opportunity to see you, piqued his interest enough to accept.

The idea of profiling both an individual and a couple’s dynamic in their own environment was too intriguing for Spencer to pass up. Thus, with a mixture of professional intrigue and personal anticipation, he agreed to the dinner, thanking Hotch for the invitation.

Come Saturday evening, Spencer’s nerves were on the fritz as he approached your house. His mind raced with possible scenarios of how the evening would unfold. Upon arrival, the scene that greeted him only fueled his apprehension. Seeing you in the kitchen, donned in an apron and bustling about with the final dinner preparations, contrasted sharply with Hotch, who was lounging with a glass of scotch in hand, seemingly content to observe rather than participate.

This sight stirred a mix of emotions in Spencer. He knew of Hotch’s more traditional views on many aspects of life, but witnessing it firsthand—seeing you labor while Hotch relaxed—irritated him more than he anticipated. It highlighted a dynamic that seemed uneven, one that Spencer couldn’t help but feel protective over.

When Hotch offered him a drink and a seat, Spencer’s immediate reaction was to politely decline. Instead, he turned to you, offering his assistance with the preparations. This act was not just a gesture of helpfulness but also a subtle challenge to the traditional roles he observed, a way to engage with you directly and perhaps, in his own way, to shift the evening’s dynamics towards something more balanced and inclusive.

This move was sure to set a tone for the evening, one that Hotch might interpret in various ways, but for Spencer, it was a matter of principle as much as it was about making the evening more comfortable for everyone involved.

As Spencer stepped into the kitchen to assist you, Hotch’s demeanor shifted. From his position in the living room, he watched, a huff escaping his lips—a clear sign of his brewing discontent. The sight of Spencer comfortably mingling and helping in what Hotch considered his domain added fuel to the already simmering jealousy. It wasn't just the invasion of space; it was Spencer's evident enjoyment of your company, the ease with which he moved around you, clearly favoring your presence. This did not sit well with Hotch, making his blood boil as he observed the interaction.

Once dinner was served and everyone settled at the table, Spencer was effusive in his praise, clearly appreciative of the effort and skill you had put into the meal. "This is really excellent," he commented with genuine enthusiasm, turning towards you with a warm smile. "Everything is just perfect, thank you for such a wonderful dinner."

Hotch, meanwhile, struggled to remember that Spencer is more than just a colleague, but truly a friend. However, each compliment Spencer heaped seemed to tighten the coils of resentment within him. In an attempt to assert some form of dominance or to regain a sense of control, Hotch made several pointed comments aimed at Spencer. These remarks were thinly veiled attempts to undercut him, to question his masculinity or his competence in subtle ways. "I suppose it's a good break from all those microwave meals, huh, Reid?" Hotch quipped with a tight smile, implying a lack of domestic ability.

Unfortunately and unknowingly to him, Hotch’s strategy backfired. Rather than diminishing Spencer in your eyes, his comments only highlighted Spencer's qualities—his sensitivity and respect for your efforts, traits that aligned well with a more progressive, feminist perspective. This contrast between Spencer's appreciative acknowledgment of your work and Hotch’s antiquated attempts to belittle him only served to deepen your attraction to Spencer.

The atmosphere in the living room was charged as you and Spencer returned from clearing the table. Aaron, attempting to steer the evening back to a semblance of normalcy, offered Spencer a drink.

"Reid, can I get you that drink now?" He asked, a note of forced casualness in his voice as everyone settled into their seats.

"Oh no, thank you, I don’t drink," Spencer politely declined once again, maintaining his composure despite the underlying tension.

Hotch, with a slight smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes, seemed to have anticipated this response. "Right, I guess that kind of goes against NA rules, doesn’t it?" he said, his tone poorly disguising the jab.

Spencer coughed, the discomfort evident on his face, his earlier ease fading into strained politeness. "Aaron!" You couldn't help but scold, your voice a loud boom of shame, humiliation, and anger for the inappropriate remark aimed at Spencer's personal struggles.

Spencer quickly interjected to diffuse the brewing conflict between you and your husband, very uncomfortable with witnessing an argument. "It’s fine, Y/N, he’s right," he said, forcing a sad smile that didn't quite mask his discomfort.

"I do not care if it’s true," you whispered to Spencer before turning your attention back to Aaron. "That was completely inappropriate to share such personal and likely painful information," you stated firmly, your voice carrying the weight of your disapproval.

Aaron’s expression shifted to one of regret, the smugness replaced by embarrassment as he realized the gravity of his words. "Spencer, I’m so sorry," he sighed, his tone reflecting genuine remorse. "I don’t know why I said that."

"Please, Hotch," Spencer waved him off, eager to move past the uncomfortable moment. "It’s fine, let’s just move on."

Despite Spencer's assurances, the tension remained. You stood abruptly, taking both your and Aaron’s drinks to the sink before returning with three glasses of water, your actions signaling a clear desire to reset the tone of the evening. The look in your eyes dared either man to challenge your decision, underscoring your authority in the situation.

Aaron seemed to shrink a little, his posture deflating as he recognized his childish outburst. Meanwhile, Spencer felt a newfound sense of validation; the evening's events, while uncomfortable, had somehow highlighted a mutual understanding and respect between you and him.

As the conversation tentatively resumed on a lighter note, Spencer's observant nature picked up on another detail—the conspicuous absence of family photos in the living room, save for one. "When was that taken?" he asked during a pause, nodding towards the picture of you and Aaron kissing under a rose arch.

"On the day we eloped," you replied, your voice carrying a hint of nostalgia with a touch of defiance as you caught Aaron's stiffening posture out of the corner of your eye.

"You eloped?" Spencer asked, curiosity piqued by the simplicity and suddenness suggested by the term.

"Mhm," you nodded, not shying away from the details. "It was a quick ceremony, neither of us felt the need to have some long extravagant thing."

Spencer listened, his mind piecing together the implications of your words and the dynamics of your relationship with Aaron. Each sentence revealed more than just factual information; it hinted at underlying motivations, desires, and perhaps even regrets. The evening, while fraught with tension, had inadvertently provided Spencer with profound insights into your marriage and, by extension, into you and Aaron as individuals.

—

“How was dinner with the boss man and his pretty wife?”

Derek's question on Monday morning startled Spencer, still processing the dinner's events, as he responded with a nervous laugh that perhaps revealed more than intended.

"Exactly as you’d expect it to be," he replied, managing to keep the details vague but his tone indicative of the underlying complexities.

"Tense and uncomfortable?" Elle chimed in, her voice laced with humor and concern, knowing well the kind of stress that could emanate from such a personal encounter with their typically stoic boss.

"With a side of regret?" Penelope added, her tone playful yet unwittingly accurate, hitting closer to the truth of the evening than she realized.

Spencer, acknowledging their spot-on assessments, tapped his nose and nodded, confirming their guesses without going into specifics. His gesture was enough to convey the essence of the evening—tense, uncomfortable, and tinged with regret, reflecting the strained dynamics and the personal revelations that had surfaced.

—

The team's assignment in Texas was a typical scenario—gather evidence, coordinate with local law enforcement, analyze the scene. However, the dynamic shifted noticeably when Hotch decided to keep Emily close while distributing tasks to the rest of the team. It was a move that didn't go unnoticed; eyebrows were raised, and even Gideon, who usually partnered with Hotch in the field, found himself reassigned.

Derek decided to confront Hotch directly about his decision. "So, keeping Prentiss close, huh? What’s up with that?" Derek inquired, half-teasing, half-serious.

Hotch, maintaining his composed demeanor, replied, "I want to see how she does in the field firsthand." His tone was matter-of-fact, an attempt to veil his true motivations under the guise of professional mentorship.

The team, however, sensed there was more to it. They exchanged looks that conveyed a mutual recognition of something beyond a simple professional assessment. Spencer, particularly sensitive to Hotch and his…relationships, felt a twinge of empathy for you. He recalled the dinner, the dynamics he had observed, and now Hotch’s behavior, which seemed less like mentorship and more like something personal.

As for Emily, she found herself in an uncomfortable position. Aware of Hotch's marriage and the rumors about potential strains in his relationship, she tried to maintain professionalism but couldn’t help noticing Hotch’s less-than-subtle glances. Emily's discomfort was palpable to anyone paying attention, and it added an extra layer of tension to the team's interactions.

Hotch, internally conflicted, recognized his own inappropriate behavior but felt almost powerless to stop it. His actions were not lost on him; he saw the hurt it could potentially cause, not only to you but to the team's cohesion. The possibility of a midlife crisis crossed his mind, a cliché that seemed to fit yet made him despise his actions even more. The more he reflected on his behavior, the more he disliked the person he was becoming. This self-loathing, rather than deterring his actions, seemed to fuel them, creating a cycle of mistrust and regret that he struggled to break.

—

The evening out with the team was a needed change of pace after the intense case in Texas. Hotch's acceptance of the invitation to join everyone for drinks was a surprise, given his recent pattern of declining such outings. The team couldn't help but speculate that his change of heart had something to do with Emily's decision to come along, but they were in for another surprise.

As you walked into the bar with Hotch, his hand resting reassuringly on your back, it was clear that he was making an effort to present a united front. Spencer lit up at your arrival. You looked effortlessly gorgeous, a sight that brightened the young profiler’s evening considerably. After making your way to the table and exchanging greetings and proper introductions with the team, you and Penelope excused yourselves to head to the bar for drinks.

At the bar, you ordered a non-alcoholic blackberry lemonade, a choice made in solidarity with Spencer, who you now knew avoided alcohol. The gesture did not go unnoticed by Spencer, who saw a man making advances towards you. Your polite but firm rejection of his advances mirrored the dignity you maintained despite the complexities of your personal life, stirring a mix of admiration and protective anger in Spencer, especially considering the recent tension with Hotch.

Returning to the table with drinks in hand, you chose to sit next to Spencer. Handing him the lemonade, you playfully assured him of its non-alcoholic nature, sharing a moment that felt like an inside joke between you two. Spencer, charmed and somewhat flustered, thanked you and sipped directly from the glass, mindful of germs.

“That’s really good, it could be sweeter though,” he commented with a teasing smile, sparking a round of laughter from the team as they delved into stories about his well-known penchant for sweets. Hotch watched the interactions from a slight distance, his expression one of his usual sternness, yet it seemed out of place in the casual setting of the bar.

As the night progressed, it became apparent that neither you nor Hotch had driven to the bar; you had taken a cab. This revelation meant your choice to avoid alcohol was deliberate for reasons other than driving, a detail that didn't escape Spencer's keen observations. The profiler, trained to read subtleties and unspoken signals, started to sense that perhaps there was something growing between you and him—a spark that seemed to flicker more with every interaction.

Later that night, as Spencer reviewed the evening's events in his mind, he realized the minimal interaction between you and Hotch. Most of your time was spent engaging with him, sparking further speculation about the state of your marriage. The profiler couldn't ignore the possibility that you might not be as invested in your relationship with Hotch as everyone assumed.

As Spencer lay in bed that night, his mind raced through the possibilities, the profiles, the subtle cues. He couldn't help but feel that something significant was unfolding, perhaps the beginning of a shift in your relationship with Hotch and potentially the start of something new with him. He was a profiler, after all, and his instincts rarely misled him.

—

The night unfolded differently for you and Aaron once you were back home. Aaron's attempt to initiate intimacy was met with your refusal, sparking a serious conversation between the two of you. His words, "Okay, Y/N, I have tried to be patient and understanding...and I never want to force you or make you uncomfortable, I simply want to know why you haven't let me touch you in weeks," brought the issue to the forefront.

You were taken aback by his observation, suddenly aware of the distance that had crept into your interactions without your conscious decision. "I don’t know…honestly, Aaron," you responded, taking his hands in yours, seeking physical connection even as you discussed your lack thereof. "I didn’t even realize I was closing myself off, I guess I just haven’t been in the mood to have sex."

Aaron's understanding in that moment—his gentle smile and reassuring words, "That’s okay, you know you can tell me anything, yeah?"—reminded you of the reasons you fell for him initially. It was a reminder of the connection you once felt so intensely that you had decided to elope, driven by the desire to be his partner without delay.

Your nod and his reassurance bridged the gap that had formed between you, allowing a moment of true intimacy to return. "I know, thank you," you acknowledged, feeling a resurgence of the affection and attraction that had characterized the early days of your relationship. It was in this renewed closeness that you found yourself genuinely wanting to be with him, leading to a night of intimacy that was chosen and cherished, not prompted by obligation or his inquiry.

That night, as you reconnected with Aaron, your thoughts were entirely with him.

—

Feeling a renewed sense of commitment to your relationship, Hotch intentionally kept his interactions with Emily strictly professional. However, the undercurrents of previous tensions and suspicions didn't completely dissipate.

During a subsequent case, Spencer, being watchful and sensitive to nuances in behavior, noticed Hotch and Emily standing a bit too close for his comfort. His protective instincts towards you, coupled with residual concerns from the past, prompted him to confront Hotch. The mixture of genuine care for your well-being and perhaps a bit of personal bias led Spencer to issue a stark ultimatum: "Either cut it out, or I’ll tell Y/N everything."

Hotch's reaction was immediate and intense. He was livid, not just because Spencer had threatened him but also because his interpretation was incorrect. In that particular moment, Hotch had been comforting Emily over a professional setback, not engaging in anything that crossed a personal line.

Hotch’s stern response reflected his frustration and the precarious balance he was trying to maintain between his professional responsibilities and personal life. “Reid, I need you to stay out of my private affairs. I hope inviting you into mine and Y/N’s life was not a mistake, do not make me regret it,” he said, his voice carrying a mix of warning and disappointment.

Spencer, taken aback by Hotch’s stern admonition, was left flustered. He nodded, realizing perhaps he had overstepped, influenced by his own emotions.

—

When you returned to the bureau weeks later with coffees to celebrate Penelope's birthday, the warm welcomes quickly shifted to concern as you noticed Spencer on crutches. Your reaction was immediate and filled with genuine worry. “Whoa! What happened?” you exclaimed, rushing over to help him with his files.

Spencer, slightly amused by your concern, simply replied with a shrug, “I got shot.” His nonchalance about such a serious injury only heightened your worry and surprise.

“You got shot?” Your voice rose in alarm, drawing the attention of others, including Aaron, who emerged from his office just in time to hear your exclamation. His response, however, was not what you expected. “It was in the line of duty, it should hardly affect you,” he stated, his voice tinged with frustration and a hint of dismissiveness.

Your reaction was swift and pointed. “It’s nice to know when friends are hurt,” you retorted, turning your attention back to Spencer. “I could have gotten you flowers, or a card, or chocolate!”

Spencer laughed, his cheeks reddening slightly under your attention. “It’s okay, Y/N. That’s a sweet thought though, thank you,” he said, clearly touched.

Intent on making sure Spencer was well cared for, you suggested, “Come over later? I want to look at it,” leaving no room for debate.

However, noticing Spencer's hesitant glance towards Aaron, you quickly amended your offer. “Or—uh, you’re injured, why don’t I come to your apartment?” you suggested pragmatically. You handed him a sticky note, asking him to write down his address, ensuring you could be there to support him.

Aaron, witnessing this exchange, looked on with a heated expression, his discomfort palpable as he observed the closeness between you and Spencer. His reaction did not go unnoticed by the team.

Elle, Derek, and JJ watched uncomfortably from the sidelines, the tension thick in the air. Elle leaned in to whisper humorously to her colleagues, “Do you guys think actual steam can come out of Hotch’s ears?”

JJ playfully hit Elle’s arm, responding in kind, “Shut up, it’s obviously going to come out of his nose.”

Their laughter was a brief reprieve from the tension, but Derek brought the conversation back to a more serious note. “Seriously though, do you think things will ever be okay?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.

“What do you mean?” JJ inquired, looking towards you and Spencer.

Derek sighed, nodding towards the pair. “There’s clearly some chemistry there, I mean, it’s obvious Pretty Boy likes her. And Hotch looks ready to kill anytime Spencer talks to her.”

Elle agreed, her expression somber. “I can’t see things being normal unless one of them is suddenly out of the picture.”

As the team members exchanged their thoughts, none noticed Gideon passing by. Having overheard a snippet of their conversation and knowing Aaron and you better than most, he chimed in with a perspective that was both mournful and insightful.

“Aaron thought she reminded him of Haley. Y/N thought she was in love,” he commented, encapsulating the emotional confusion and misinterpretations that had led to the current state of affairs.

—

In the quiet confines of the records room, Derek took the opportunity to offer Spencer some brotherly advice, a moment that felt both necessary and urgent given the recent tensions.

"Yo, kid," Derek called out, catching Spencer's attention as he rummaged through files on crutches. "Can I offer a word of advice?"

Spencer, slightly confused by the serious tone, nodded. "Sure?"

Derek exhaled deeply, the gravity of his words weighing on him. "Cool it with Mrs. Hotchner. Hotch looks like he’s going to pop a vessel every time you talk to her."

“Actually, in order for a vessel to pop—” Spencer started to deflect with a technical correction, a habit when he felt uncomfortable.

"Reid, I’m serious," Derek interrupted, emphasizing the seriousness of the situation.

Spencer sighed heavily, the reality of the situation sinking in as he slumped on his crutches. "I know," he admitted, his voice low.

Derek gave him a sympathetic smile, understanding the emotional turmoil Spencer was in. "You got it bad for her, huh?"

"Is it that obvious?" Spencer looked truly pitiful, his usual composure replaced by a sense of vulnerability.

"I don’t think Hotch has caught on," Derek comforted him, but then added a layer of complexity that Spencer hadn’t considered. "I think he’s threatened by how much she’s clearly taken a liking to you."

That statement caught Spencer's full attention. "What did you say?"

"Come on, kid," Derek laughed lightly, trying to ease the tension. "It’s so obvious. She has googly eyes every time she sees you. Not to mention inviting herself over? Without Hotch? She should just write ‘I heart Spencer Reid’ across her forehead."

Spencer’s anxiety spiked at Derek’s observations. "Wait, what? No, no, and Hotch? He sees that? He knows?" His questions tumbled out rapidly, each one laced with panic.

Derek nodded solemnly. "I think so, I mean, she doesn’t look at him like that." Spencer was inclined to believe Derek, given their training as profilers, but Derek’s next words were cautionary. "Just, be careful, okay? Especially being alone with her."

The advice left Spencer conflicted. As a profiler, he knew the importance of understanding the dynamics and emotions at play, but as a man, he was deeply drawn to you, complicating his ability to remain detached. Derek’s advice resonated with a warning he knew he should heed, yet part of him wondered about the possibilities that your mutual attraction could lead to, despite the obvious risks. This conversation was a stark reminder of the delicate balance he needed to maintain, not just professionally, but personally as well.

—

The tension between you and Aaron had escalated to a breaking point. The conflict, fueled by the growing closeness between you and Spencer, brought underlying issues to the surface in a harsh, raw confrontation at home.

Aaron's frustration was palpable, his voice raising despite his attempt to keep calm. “I just don’t understand why you need to go take care of him, he’s a grown man!” He argued, his irritation evident in his tone.

Your response was equally charged, born of exasperation and a fundamental difference in how you each viewed the situation. “Because, Aaron!” you exclaimed, your arms gesturing wildly to emphasize your point. “He is my friend, I am a nurse, and I care about him!”

Aaron's skepticism was clear as he rolled his eyes dismissively. “Yeah, okay,” he muttered, his tone dripping with disbelief.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you challenged, glaring at him, your arms crossed defensively across your chest.

His accusation came sharply, his voice louder now, betraying his own emotional turmoil. “Oh, come on, Y/N! You so clearly have a thing for him!”

Your defense was instinctive, a mix of denial and irritation. “A thing? What are we, 12?” you retorted, trying to diminish the weight of his words.

But Aaron’s next comment cut deeper, harsh and dismissive. “You’re a lot closer than me,” he said, his words echoing like a slap.

That comment hit you hard, a verbal blow that felt like a punch to the gut. Anger and hurt boiled over as you retorted sharply, “Fuck you, Aaron. I’m going to Spencer’s. Call it a playdate,” you snarled, the sarcasm biting.

With that, you stormed out, leaving Aaron in the midst of a silent, tense atmosphere, the air thick with the residue of words that couldn’t be taken back. The drive to Spencer’s was a blur, your mind reeling from the argument and the hurtful things said.

—

Spencer's apartment felt like a sanctuary at that moment, a sharp contrast to the charged atmosphere you'd left behind. His initial excitement to see you quickly morphed into concern as he noticed your distressed state. His question was gentle, filled with genuine worry. “Y/N? What's wrong? Are you okay?”

Your request for a hug, a simple yet profound need for comfort, was met with immediate warmth and understanding from Spencer. He didn’t hesitate, his usual concerns about personal space and germs momentarily forgotten, overshadowed by his care for you.

As you wrapped your arms around him, the feeling of connection was palpable—two friends finding solace in each other's presence. Spencer’s scent, a comforting mix of old books, sandalwood, and balsam, enveloped you, offering a stark contrast to Aaron's colder, harder essence. This sensory difference wasn't just olfactory; it was symbolic of the emotional warmth Spencer offered compared to what you currently felt with Aaron.

Spencer, too, was comforted by your presence, finding the scent of your hair and the feel of you embracing him soothing. When he finally spoke, his voice vibrated softly atop your head. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Your response, though muffled against his chest, was candid. “Aaron and I got into a fight,” you admitted, not wanting to hold back the truth from Spencer, especially not while seeking comfort in his embrace.

Spencer pulled back slightly to look at you, his suspicion about the nature of the fight needing confirmation. “A fight? About what?” he asked, though he feared he already knew the answer.

Your gaze met his, frustration and defiance shining through, though not directed at him. “He doesn’t understand why I wanted to come over here and take care of you,” you explained, your voice tinged with both irritation and sadness.

Spencer's reaction to you telling him Aaron's words about him being a grown man and insinuating that you were behaving childishly was mixed with disbelief and amusement when you recounted calling it a 'playdate'. “Y/N!” he exclaimed, a laugh escaping him despite the seriousness of the situation.

You walked further into his apartment, the space between you allowing for a momentary physical separation but not diminishing the emotional closeness. “He deserved it, he was acting like a total ass,” you said, a hint of bitterness in your tone.

Spencer nodded, understanding the gravity of what you were facing at home. “Do you guys fight a lot?” he asked cautiously. “I’m sorry, that was invasive,” Spencer then said, immediately regretting the question as he saw your posture tense.

You sighed, the weight of the situation settling on you. “No, no, it’s fine,” you reassured him, though your voice carried a hint of resignation. “We don’t… fight. We argue, but they never get resolved. We just ignore and move on. Sounds healthy, right?” Your words were laced with sarcasm, reflecting the growing realization of the unhealthy patterns in your marriage.

As you tried to brush aside the gravity of the conversation about your relationship with Aaron, Spencer gently but firmly acknowledged the situation. “No, Y/N… that doesn’t sound healthy,” he said, his voice tinged with sadness. His response, filled with genuine concern, only intensified the emotions you were trying to suppress.

Feeling the tears well up, you quickly sniffed them back, wiping at your cheeks. You forced a smile, attempting to shift the focus from your troubled marriage to something less personal. “It’s fine, let's talk about that leg,” you suggested, clapping your hands together as if to physically dispel the tension in the room.

Spencer gave you a knowing look, his eyes conveying understanding and a bit of reluctance to divert the conversation. He recognized your deflection for what it was, but he respected your wish to steer away from the emotional turmoil. “Yeah, I’ll go put on some shorts,” he said, nodding towards the hallway as he prepared to make himself more comfortable for your examination.

Your next comment came out a bit more casually than you intended, blurring the lines of appropriateness given the complexity of your feelings and the situation. “Pshh, we’re friends, you can just take your pants off,” you said. It was a jest, meant to lighten the mood, but even as the words left your mouth, you recognized the potential implications.

Spencer coughed, a clear sign of his discomfort mixed with a hint of amusement at your boldness. He was acutely aware of the precariousness of the situation, both as a man who harbored feelings for you and as a friend who wanted to respect boundaries. “Oh-okay,” he stuttered, his response reflecting his internal conflict between desire and propriety.

The air between you thickened with unspoken words and suppressed emotions, the room charged with care, concern, and an undeniable connection that both of you felt but were cautious to explore further. This delicate balance of friendship and the undercurrents of something more made each interaction both precious and profoundly complicated.

Spencer’s hesitant actions, as he awkwardly pushed down his sweatpants, unintentionally revealed a side of himself that was both endearing and utterly human. His choice of polka dot briefs, stark against his usual buttoned-up demeanor, caught you off guard and your reaction was spontaneous—a burst of surprise and delight.

“What?” he shrieked, his voice pitching as he instinctively covered himself with both hands, embarrassed by your amusement.

Your laughter filled the room, a genuine response to the unexpected whimsy of his underwear choice. “Y/N! Stop laughing,” Spencer whined, his discomfort palpable yet tinged with a hint of humor despite himself.

“I’m sorry!” you managed to wheeze out between giggles, trying to compose yourself. “I just wasn’t expecting polka dots on such a scholar, they’re adorable,” you added, your smile broadening as you spoke, hoping to ease his embarrassment by affirming the charm in the situation.

Spencer’s face turned a deeper shade of red, his bashfulness evident. “Well, I wasn’t expecting anyone to see my underwear today,” he mumbled, his words soft and a bit self-deprecating.

“Oh?” You couldn’t resist a playful jab, your smirk playful. “No suitors stopping by later?” you teased, lightening the mood further.

“No suitors, period,” Spencer replied, his tone resigned but gentle, hinting at his acceptance of his solitary lifestyle.

You thought you heard a soft “good” from your own lips, but neither of you dwelled on it, choosing instead to focus on the reason for your visit. Spencer redirected the conversation to his injury, a touch of nervousness returning as he scratched the back of his neck. The simple action unknowingly highlighted his physique, drawing your attention momentarily to the muscle bulging appealingly from his bicep.

Spencer's inadvertent display of vulnerability, combined with the physical closeness of the moment, charged the air between you with an electricity that was hard to ignore. Despite the lighthearted banter, there was a palpable tension that neither of you could completely sidestep.

Clearing his throat, Spencer moved to a more practical topic. "Let me show you the injury," he said, guiding your gaze down to his leg where the reason for your visit lay. He explained, "The bullet grazed here—missed the bone, thankfully."

Spencer, recognizing the need for a bit more comfort as you continued your examination, carefully maneuvered himself over to the couch. With a slight grimace that spoke to the subtle ache still lingering in his leg, he eased down into a seated position. Once settled, he gestured for you to come closer. The move allowed him both the comfort of the soft couch and the chance to observe you more closely as you focused on his injury.

As you knelt closer to inspect Spencer’s leg, the atmosphere between you seemed to shift. The clinical detachment you aimed for was subtly undermined by the intimacy of the moment, with the dim light of the apartment casting soft shadows around you. You gently positioned Spencer's leg to get a better look at the wound, your hands careful and precise.

"It looks like it's healing well," you murmured, your voice low and soothing. Your fingers brushed against his skin, delicate yet deliberate, tracing the line of the scar with a touch light enough to be barely perceptible. The warmth from your fingertips seemed to linger on his skin, an inadvertent caress that was clinical in its intention but personal in its effect.

"You’re lucky it wasn’t worse," you continued, your eyes fixed on the wound but acutely aware of every minute response from Spencer—each small twitch or change in breathing. Your proximity allowed you to notice these subtle cues, each one heightening the charged air between you.

Spencer's response was a soft exhale, a sound that might have been relief mixed with something more restrained. "Yeah, I really am," he agreed, his voice a whisper that matched the quiet intensity of the room. His eyes, fixed on your face as you examined him, seemed to search for something beyond the professional concern you displayed.

As you continued to attend to Spencer's injury, the intimate setting and your proximity began to stir a warmth that was difficult to ignore. The air between you thickened as your hands inadvertently moved beyond the scarred area, softly rubbing up and down his thigh in what started as a comforting gesture.

Spencer's response was almost immediate, a shaky breath escaping him as he felt your touch glide over his skin. The tenderness of your actions, innocent in intent, brought a heightened awareness to the simplicity of touch, sparking a flutter of something deeper between you both.

You couldn't help but giggle lightly at his reaction, breaking the tension with a playful tease. "Wow, Spence. Your legs are so smooth," you commented, your voice a mix of amusement and surprise, trying to keep the atmosphere light and friendly despite the undercurrent of something more stirring beneath the surface.

Spencer chuckled softly, a blush creeping onto his cheeks from your teasing comment about his smooth legs. He tried to deflect a bit, maintaining a light, playful tone. "Well, I guess I have to keep up some standards, don't I?" he quipped, his gaze briefly meeting yours with a twinkle of mirth.

"Oh, absolutely," you responded, grinning as you continued to gently massage his thigh, carefully avoiding the healing wound. "I mean, who knows when you'll have to model for a 'Legs of the BAU' calendar?"

Spencer laughed, the sound rich and genuine, easing some of the tension that had built up. "Oh, no. If we're doing that, you know Morgan's definitely taking Mr. July. I might settle for Mr. November, less pressure."

"You’d make a great Mr. November," you teased back, enjoying the easy banter. "Mysterious and intellectual. Maybe throw in a few leaves and books around you for that autumn scholar vibe."

He raised an eyebrow, playing along. "Books, huh? I thought you’d suggest more polka dots to really sell it."

"You know, that could work," you said with a mock-serious nod. "Polka dots could be your signature style. Very chic."

Spencer laughed again, the warmth in his voice melting into a more confidential tone. "I think I’d rather keep this between you and me, no need for Aaron to find out about me and my polka dots," he joked, but the mention of your husband's name changed the atmosphere abruptly.

"Right, Aaron," you echoed, the reminder jolting you back to reality. You quickly retracted your hands, placing them on your own thighs as a physical barrier to the closeness that had just been. "Well, your leg looks great," you added quickly, trying to steer back into safer waters.

Spencer sensed the shift and regretted his words immediately. "Thanks," he said, his smile faltering into awkwardness as he recognized the boundary he'd nudged.

You stood up, suddenly unsure of how to navigate the space between comfort and propriety. Spencer, watching your hesitation, didn't want the conversation to end on an awkward note.

"Uh, Y/N, do you want to sit down? We could talk," he suggested gently, hoping to extend the olive branch. He knew you weren't eager to return home quickly after your argument with Aaron.

You smiled, the warmth in your expression returning as you appreciated his thoughtfulness. "Thanks, Spence, you're the best," you responded, grateful for his continued support and friendship.

As you sat back down, settling into the couch beside him but at a respectful distance, Spencer continued, trying to lighten the mood again. "So, aside from my fashion choices and medical updates, what else is new with you? Any more adventures in the world of nursing?"

Your laughter returned, easing the tension. "Oh, you know, the usual chaos. But no more polka dots, unfortunately," you quipped, grateful for the return to an easy air. The conversation flowed more freely again, both of you navigating the fine line between personal support and professional boundaries, grateful for the sanctuary of friendship in the complex web of your lives.

—

Returning home after spending hours with Spencer left you feeling a mixture of emotions. The casual and friendly conversation had not only provided comfort but also stoked a confusing array of thoughts and feelings. It was a bittersweet sort of clarity, easing the immediate stress but deepening the internal conflict you were experiencing about your relationship with Aaron and the unexpected connection you felt with Spencer.

As you quietly entered your home, relieved to find Aaron asleep and not immediately faced with the need to explain your prolonged absence or the emotional residue it carried, you had a moment to reflect. The silence of the house offered a stark contrast to the lively, engaging discussions you'd had with Spencer, highlighting the growing chasm in your marriage that seemed more pronounced in the quiet.

Settling into the familiar yet increasingly foreign space of your living room, you grappled with your thoughts. Your actions throughout the evening—seeking solace and comfort in Spencer's company—were not inherently wrong, yet they carried a weight of implications you couldn't easily dismiss. The levity of your interactions with Spencer was a stark reminder of what was missing in your marriage, and your returning thoughts were anything but calm. They flitted, unbidden and unsettling, between your current reality and the 'what ifs' that Spencer represented.

The evening was long, filled with introspection and a tumultuous inner dialogue. You wrestled with feelings of guilt, confusion, and a burgeoning realization that the feelings you had for Spencer might be more profound than simple friendship. These thoughts were lewd both in their nature and in their implication, suggesting a desire for a connection that went beyond platonic, something that felt both thrilling and terrifying given your commitment to Aaron.

That night, the couch became your makeshift bed, a silent statement of your desire not to disturb Aaron, reflecting the distance that had grown between you. When morning light filtered through the windows, it found you still asleep, wrapped in the uneasy peace of slumber away from the shared bed.

Aaron's awakening was starkly different. Upon finding your side of the bed cold and empty, a rush of panic and suspicion flooded him. His thoughts spiraled immediately to the worst-case scenario — that you had chosen to spend the night with Spencer instead of at home. Fuelled by fear and anger, he stormed out of the bedroom, his mind set on confronting what he perceived as a betrayal.

However, the sight of you sleeping on the couch halted him abruptly, though it did little to cool his temper. “Y/N!” he yelled, his voice sharp and loud in the quiet of the morning.

Startled awake, you lost your balance and tumbled off the couch, your heart racing from the sudden shock. “What the fuck, Aaron??” you screamed back, your voice filled with fear and confusion.

“Why are you on the couch? Couldn’t bear to face me after you fucked Spencer?” Aaron accused, his words cutting through the air, heavy with suspicion.

“What is wrong with you? I looked at his wound and we talked,” you replied, forcing yourself to remain calm despite the tumultuous emotions swirling inside you.

Aaron, however, was far from pacified, his anger intensifying at your composed response. “I’m so sure,” he spat sarcastically.

“Why are you so quick to assume I would cheat on you? Are you projecting? Is there something I should know about?” you countered sharply, your eyes narrowing as you scrutinized him, searching for signs of guilt in his own actions.

Aaron’s reaction was immediate and defensive, his body freezing as he responded with paternalistic scolding. “No, Y/N,” he said, his voice cold and dismissive as if he were reprimanding a misbehaving child. “I have not done anything to betray our marriage, unlike you.”

The tension in the room escalated as you confronted Aaron, your voice edged with defiance and pain. “Pray tell, Aaron, what have I done to betray you?” you asked, the word 'betray' laced with cruelty due to the sting of his accusations.

Aaron's response was a bitter laugh, a sound devoid of any actual amusement as he crossed his arms defensively over his chest. “I don’t want to get into this right now,” he deflected, avoiding a direct confrontation but also signaling how deep his frustrations ran.

“Exactly because I haven’t done a goddamn thing,” you retorted sharply, your voice rising slightly, a clear indication of your anger and hurt boiling to the surface.

The room fell into a charged silence, the air thick with unresolved tensions and unspoken grievances. It was Aaron who broke the silence, his voice carrying a weight that was both resigned and decisive. “You know what, Y/N?”

“What?” Your response was terse, bracing for more accusations.

“I want a divorce,” Aaron declared, the words heavy with finality.

The statement hung between you, stark and irrevocable. Yet, instead of the devastation such words might once have wrought, they brought a grim sense of relief. “Me too,” you responded quietly, your voice steady. The admission was not made out of spite but from a profound recognition of the irreparable rift that had grown between you.

The resolution to end your marriage, though born from a place of profound discord, strangely ushered in a wave of relief and mutual understanding between you and Aaron. As the initial shock of the decision faded, an unexpected camaraderie emerged—perhaps it was the absence of the oppressive weight of trying to save a failing relationship, or maybe it was the clarity that came with acknowledging the truth out loud. Whatever the reason, you both found yourselves laughing, the sound mingling with a sense of liberation that hadn't been present in your home for a long time.

Sitting together, perhaps more honestly than you had in months, Aaron began discussing practical next steps. He was methodical, suggesting legal pathways forward, leveraging his connections with friends in the law to ensure that the process would be as smooth and painless as possible. He proposed to find an alternative place to stay temporarily, giving you space to decide your next moves in an environment free of pressure.

"You should take your time figuring things out, Y/N. No rush," Aaron offered, his tone sincere. This gesture reminded you of the man you had fallen for—the kind-hearted, generous person whose presence had once felt like a safe haven.

While the romantic part of your relationship was ending, this newfound platonic understanding sparked a hope within you. Perhaps you hadn't completely lost Aaron; maybe there was a potential to salvage a friendship from the ashes of your marriage. It was a comforting thought, considering how intertwined your lives had become.

"I appreciate that, Aaron. Really," you acknowledged, feeling a genuine gratitude that was devoid of the bitterness that had clouded recent months. "And, maybe we can try to be friends? I'd like that," you suggested tentatively, unsure but hopeful.

Aaron nodded, a small, genuine smile appearing on his face. "I'd like that too, Y/N. I think we could be good at that," he agreed, the idea seeming to please him as well.

—

Monday morning in the BAU was palpably different. The air felt less tense, the usual undercurrents of stress and unspoken emotions seemed to have dissipated somewhat, leaving a lighter atmosphere that even the most preoccupied team members noticed. The change wasn't just personal but had subtly permeated the professional environment as well.

Ross had agreed to let Hotch stay with him while you figured out your living arrangements. This arrangement was made quietly, a testament to Rossi’s understanding of the delicate nature of personal matters and his respect for privacy. He had no intention of sharing this information with the rest of the team, believing that Hotch would disclose the details when he felt appropriate.

The subtle changes in Hotch's demeanor, however, were not lost on Derek. "Hotchner, looking good," he called across the room with a smirk, adding, "Have a relaxing weekend with the missus?"

Hotch, caught somewhat off guard but used to Derek's probing style, managed a small, tight smile in response. The question hung in the air, a bit more pointed than usual, given the personal circumstances Hotch was navigating.

"Something like that," Hotch replied, his tone non-committal.

Rossi, observing the exchange from a distance, gave Derek a subtle look that spoke volumes. It was a silent signal not to push too hard, a reminder of the boundaries they all respected when it came to personal matters.

Derek caught Rossi’s glance and nodded slightly, he shifted his attention back to the task at hand, letting the matter drop without further comment.

—

Your life was undergoing a significant transformation, marked by both endings and new beginnings. The divorce with Aaron, facilitated by his legal knowledge and the connections of his friends, concluded more smoothly than you had anticipated. This closure allowed you to move forward without the lingering bitterness that often accompanies such separations.

Finding the perfect apartment on the other side of town felt like a sign of new opportunities. It was an older building brimming with charm, exactly what you had hoped for—a place without roommates where you could start fresh. The apartment quickly became your sanctuary, reflecting the new phase of your life with its inviting spaces and the personal touches you added.

Professionally, your career was flourishing. Being assigned to oversee the new wave of nursing residents placed you in a vital role at the hospital. This responsibility not only affirmed your skills and experience but also provided a social outlet, connecting you with peers who shared your passion and dedication to healthcare. These new relationships were enriching, offering friendships that matched your energy and enthusiasm.

Your interactions with Aaron had settled into a comfortable, if occasional, rhythm. You both had managed to salvage a friendship from the remains of your marriage, a testament to the mutual respect and platonic love that still existed between you.

Aaron, too, was finding his path. Engaging in triathlon training was initially a way to channel his energy and emotions into something productive. It was during these sessions that he met Beth, someone who was better suited for him in this new chapter of his life. She was closer to his age, shared his interests, and understood the complexities of his past without judgment.

The day you met Beth was serendipitous. Arriving at the house to pick up a few remaining items, you stumbled upon them during a break in their training. The meeting was unexpectedly easy, devoid of any awkwardness. Beth was instantly warm and understanding, recognizing your past role in Aaron's life but also appreciating the boundaries now in place.

Seeing Aaron happy with Beth brought you a genuine sense of peace. It reassured you that moving on was not only possible for you but for Aaron as well. This reassurance was a final piece in resolving any lingering doubts about the divorce. Your life was truly beginning anew, marked by burgeoning friendships, professional fulfillment, and a contentment in your personal life that had been missing for some time.

As you settled further into your new life, it became clear that the decisions made, though difficult, were leading to a brighter, more fulfilled future. You were not only surviving the changes but thriving, finding joy in the freedom to redefine yourself and your relationships on your own terms.

—

When Penelope spotted Hotch and Beth sharing a kiss outside the coffee shop where she was enjoying her afternoon, it sparked a chain reaction of whispers and concerns within the team. Penelope felt compelled to share what she saw with Derek, who then passed the news along through Emily, JJ, and finally to Spencer, who was perhaps the most affected given his close friendship with you.

The news eventually made its way back to Rossi, who felt it was his duty to inform Aaron that the team was aware of his new relationship. With this knowledge, Aaron knew he had to address the situation directly. He called a meeting with the entire team to clear the air.

Sitting in the briefing room, the team waited as Aaron stood at the front, visibly gathering his thoughts. Spencer's emotions were particularly tumultuous, swinging from concern for you to confusion over Aaron's actions.

The BAU team absorbed the news of Hotch's divorce and new relationship with varying reactions, from JJ's sympathetic sigh to Rossi's light-hearted attempt to bring some humor to the situation. Hotch's own laughter, a rare break in his usually stoic demeanor, helped to somewhat lighten the mood, though the underlying seriousness of his announcement lingered in the air.

As Hotch assured everyone that everything was above board and that you were aware of his new relationship, the team members nodded, accepting his words and moving forward with their day. But for Spencer, the revelation stirred a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, each more conflicting than the last.

Caught in his own head, Spencer barely noticed the passage of time as he fixated on what this development meant for his own feelings and the potential of a relationship with you. These nagging thoughts began to consume Spencer more deeply than he anticipated. His contemplation was so intense that he almost missed Derek approaching his desk with a characteristic smirk.

"Hey, pretty boy," Derek greeted, snapping Spencer out of his reverie.

Spencer looked up, slightly startled. "Hey, Morgan. What's up?"

"You gonna ask her out now?" Derek jibed, giving Spencer's shoulder a light shove, his tone teasing but probing.

Spencer's eyes widened in surprise, and he immediately shook his head. "What? No," he blurted out, the idea seeming too sudden, too soon.

Derek tilted his head, a puzzled look crossing his face. "Why not?"

"Um, she just got divorced, she probably needs some time," Spencer rationalized, his voice tinged with hesitation and concern for your well-being.

"Hotch didn’t need any time, and from the sounds of it, it was a mutual decision," Derek pointed out, challenging Spencer's cautious approach.

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration and confusion. "Okay, well she was still with Hotch. That would just be weird," he argued, trying to justify his reluctance to act on his feelings.

"Have you actually talked to him about it? I doubt he’d care, he’s already seeing someone else," Derek countered, pushing Spencer to reconsider the boundaries he had set for himself.

"Maybe Y/N is too," Spencer muttered, the thought striking a chord of insecurity within him. His comment was more to himself than to Derek.

Derek observed Spencer's troubled expression, understanding the respect and apprehension that held him back. "Just think about it, man. Sometimes, you gotta take a chance," he advised before leaving Spencer to his thoughts.

Left alone, Spencer continued to wrestle with his feelings, the conversation with Derek leaving him even more uncertain about the right course of action. He knew he needed to think carefully about his next steps, not just for his sake, but for yours as well, respecting both your recent past and the potential future you might share.

—

The bar was alive with the energy of celebration, the team gathered to unwind after successfully closing another case. Laughter filled the air, with each member of the BAU team indulging in their own version of relaxation. Emily, Elle and Penelope were engrossed in their playful betting, Derek was the life of the party on the dance floor, and Spencer, ever the intellectual showman, was charming a group of college students with his magic tricks.

As the evening progressed, the ambiance was electric, a perfect blend of leisure and fun—until the bar door swung open, ushering in a fresh wave of energy. The sudden shift was palpable as you entered, laughing along with a group of new nursing colleagues. The brief moment when everyone’s attention turned towards the door didn’t go unnoticed by the BAU team.

You spotted Aaron and Beth quickly, approaching with a bright smile to exchange hugs and greetings, showing no signs of awkwardness or residual tension from your past with Aaron. Spencer watched the exchange from a distance, his card trick momentarily forgotten as the students around him found other distractions.

When you moved away from Aaron and headed towards the bar, Spencer found himself inexplicably drawn to the space you had just vacated. Approaching hesitantly, he joined Aaron, Beth, JJ, and Rossi.

“Hey, Reid,” Hotch greeted him with a rare, genuine smile, an expression of peace that seemed to lighten his entire demeanor.

Spencer returned the smile awkwardly, glancing at the group. “Hi. Was that Y/N?” he asked, his voice betraying a hint of his internal churning.

Beth and JJ couldn’t help but giggle, picking up on the undercurrents of Spencer’s interest, while Hotch confirmed with a nod. “Yup. You should say hi, she always liked you,” he said, still smiling warmly.

Spencer was visibly taken aback by the comment, his confusion evident. “Is that not weird for you?” he managed to ask, trying to gauge Hotch’s reaction.

Beth laughed lightly, and JJ chimed in, playfully nudging the conversation forward. “Are you going to ask her out, Spence?”

Mortified, especially with Hotch there, Spencer spluttered, “I—I, uh, well…”

Before he could flounder further, Hotch cut him off with a chuckle, showing a level of understanding and acceptance that Spencer hadn’t expected. “It’s fine, Reid,” he reassured, nodding towards where you stood at the bar. “Go ask her, I bet she says yes.”

Spencer's heart raced as he approached you at the bar, each step filled with apprehension and hope. His friends' eyes followed him, their expressions a blend of encouragement and amusement, knowing just how significant this moment was for him.

When he tapped your shoulder, you turned with a start, and the surprise quickly melted into a warm, inviting smile when you recognized him. "Spencer?" you said, your voice tinged with a delighted confusion.

"Hi," Spencer managed, his grin tight but genuine as he tried to contain the nervous energy bubbling inside him.

"How are you?" you asked, your smile widening. Without waiting for his response, you added, "Can I give you a hug?"

Spencer’s nod was immediate, and he opened his arms, welcoming the comfort and familiarity of your embrace. As you stepped into his arms, both of you were enveloped in a sense of warmth and security, a feeling of coming home that neither of you had anticipated but both deeply appreciated.

As you pulled back slightly, maintaining close contact, you looked up at him, your eyes locking in a moment that felt suspended in time. It was intimate, profound, and spoke volumes of the connection that had quietly grown between you.

Meanwhile, Hotch, sitting at the table with the rest of the team, had discreetly turned his attention away, giving you both the privacy of your moment. Though he couldn’t help but feel a pang of something indescribable, he was genuinely happy to see you moving forward.

"Um," Spencer cleared his throat, his voice thick with emotion as he held you close. "Do you want to go out with me?" he asked, his heart hanging on your answer.

"Yes," you responded instantly, before he could even finish his question. Your eagerness and certainty cut through any lingering doubts he might have had, filling him with a joy that was almost overwhelming.

The bar around you faded into a blur as you both shared a laugh, relieved and excited about this new beginning. Spencer’s friends, watching from a distance, shared knowing looks and soft smiles, happy for their friend who had finally taken a step toward personal happiness.

As Spencer escorted you back to join the group earlier that evening, there was a notable spring in his step, a visible joy that seemed to radiate from him. The warm greetings from everyone made you feel welcomed and cherished.

After the night came to a close, and your nursing friends gave you a teasing but affectionate goodbye, clearly delighted by the developments they’d observed. Spencer, in a gentlemanly fashion, offered to take you home, a gesture you gladly accepted.

Standing outside of your apartment door, the night quiet around you, you pulled Spencer into another long, rejuvenating hug. It was a moment of comfort, this time, however, he was the one to pull back first. When you looked up at him, he couldn’t help but lean down and plant a gentle kiss on your forehead.

The sweetness of the gesture made you swoon internally; he was so endearing, yet it left you wanting more. With a playful sparkle in your eyes, you teased him, “You missed.”

Spencer’s smile broadened, his nose crinkling adorably as he let out a soft laugh, puzzled. “What?” he asked, the amusement clear in his voice.

You pointed to your lips, closing the small distance between you as you whispered, “Here, this is the target,” and added with a flirtatious tilt of your head, “Doctor’s orders.”

Spencer's smile grew wider as he listened to your teasing words, a light chuckle escaping him. His heart raced at your forwardness, a delightful contrast to his usual careful deliberation in personal matters.

"You're sure?" he asked, his voice a mix of humor and earnest desire to respect your wishes. The proximity of your faces, the warm glow of the porch light casting shadows that danced around you, added a magical quality to the moment.

"Absolutely," you affirmed, your voice soft but confident, your eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Encouraged by your assertiveness and feeling a surge of courage, Spencer closed the remaining distance between you. His lips met yours gently, a tender and careful contact that quickly deepened as both of you confirmed the mutual longing that had been simmering beneath your friendship. The kiss was sweet and slow, a perfect capstone to the emotions and connections of the night.

As you both finally pulled away, a comfortable silence settled around you, filled with unspoken promises and understandings. Spencer's eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of hesitation, but found only warmth and a shared smile.

"I guess I hit the target that time," Spencer said with a relieved and happy grin, his earlier nervousness melting away into a contented ease.

"Yes, you did, doctor," you replied, your voice playful yet sincere. The chemistry between you both felt natural, right.

Standing there, in the quiet of the evening, you both knew that something significant had begun. It was more than just a culmination of mutual affection; it was the start of a new chapter where both of you could explore the depths of your connection.

As Spencer finally said goodnight, leaving with a promise to call you the next day, you entered your apartment with a fluttering heart and a hopeful spirit. The night had not only reaffirmed your new beginnings but had also sparked the potential for something deeply fulfilling and joyful. The future seemed bright, and you were ready to explore it, hand in hand with Spencer.

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reidmarieprentiss · 6 days

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heyyy sorry it is totally my posting day but i am having a HELL week already so probably won’t be posting until tomorrow :(( im sorry !! but thank you all for being so supportive of my page and writing :’))

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reidmarieprentiss · 6 days

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https://www.tumblr.com/reidmarieprentiss/760617658617085952/make-you-feel-my-love

okay this was so good omg i cant!!!

so obviously they don’t get together so what if she is just angry at spencer and starts trying to get over him by sleeping around and spencer finds out and it’s hard realization that he messed up, the girl he has always wanted, wanted him back but he pushed her away so he’s got to find a way to mark it up to her and her to forgive him

okayyyy i was looking for a direction to take this and I LOVE THIS sorry it took me so long to reply i am literally almost finished with part two !!! it should be up tonight <3333

#spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #bau team #spencer reid x reader #bau family #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n

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reidmarieprentiss · 6 days

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Spencer 🫶🏼🫶🏼

#spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds #criminal minds memes

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reidmarieprentiss · 7 days

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Stood Up & Home

Summary: Y/N plans an anniversary date for her and Spencer, he works through it, standing her up. Will they make it through this?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: fighting, arguing, being stood up, forgotten anniversary, mild panic attack, reminders of parents fighting, crying, self-doubt, not feeling good enough, insecurities

Word count: 2.7k

a/n: can be read alone but it is a blurb from Finding Home Again !!

hahaha sorry! our favorites have fights too :( but they love each other so much

main masterlist

The second Spencer walked through the door, he knew something was off. Y/N was sitting on the couch, still in the clothes she had put on for their date—a dress he hadn’t seen before, something stunning, clearly chosen for a special occasion. Her arms were crossed, and though she tried to keep her face neutral, there was no mistaking the tension in the air.

“Hey,” Spencer said cautiously, closing the door behind him. “I just got your text. Sorry, I got caught up with some paperwork. It’s been a long day.”

Y/N didn’t respond. She just kept staring straight ahead, her lips pressed into a thin line. Spencer paused, sensing the unease.

“Honey?” he tried again, stepping closer. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, her tone clipped, her eyes still fixed on the TV even though it wasn’t playing anything.

Spencer raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You seem… upset.”

Y/N took a deep breath, willing herself to stay calm. She didn’t want to talk about it. Not yet. But Spencer wasn’t having it.

“Sweetheart,” he said softly, crouching down in front of her, his hands on her knees. “You know what I do for a living, right? I know when you’re lying to me.”

Y/N’s jaw tightened as she tried to suppress the growing anger. “I’m not lying, Spencer.”

He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at her. “Then why won’t you look at me? What’s going on?”

Y/N finally turned her head to face him, her eyes burning with a mix of hurt and frustration. “I had plans tonight,” she said quietly. “Plans that I made specifically for us.”

Spencer’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What plans? You didn’t tell me we had anything tonight.”

Y/N let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“Forgot what?” Spencer asked, still completely unaware.

“Our anniversary, Spencer,” she snapped, finally letting her emotions spill over. “I made reservations at this nice restaurant. I got dressed up, bought this new dress just for tonight, and I’ve been waiting here for hours. And you—” She stopped, her voice shaking. “You text me that you’re doing paperwork.”

Spencer’s eyes widened in shock, and he quickly pulled out his phone, scrolling through his calendar. “I thought… I thought it was next week,” he muttered, looking up at her, guilt flooding his face. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I really thought—”

“Next week?!” Y/N cut him off, standing up abruptly. “Spencer, how could you forget something like this? I’ve been planning this for weeks, and you didn’t even remember?”

“I swear, I didn’t mean to,” Spencer stammered, standing as well, his hands raised in defense. “I’ve just been so overwhelmed with work lately, and I… I just lost track of time. I thought it was next week.”

Y/N’s hands clenched at her sides, her chest tight with frustration. “Do you know how embarrassing it was? Sitting at the restaurant, waiting for you to show up, and then getting that text? I’ve never felt so stupid.”

Spencer stepped forward, his eyes filled with regret. “You’re not stupid. I’m the one who messed up. I should’ve known, I should’ve been paying more attention.”

Y/N shook her head, backing away. “Spence, I don’t want to talk about this right now. I’m too mad.”

“But—”

“Please,” she interrupted, her voice softer now, though still laced with hurt. “I just need some space.”

Spencer stood there, helpless, watching her retreat to their bedroom. The weight of his mistake hung heavy between them, and he knew that this wasn’t something a simple apology could fix.

"I’m so sorry, Y/N," he called after her, his voice barely above a whisper.

—

As Y/N sat alone in the bedroom, her emotions swirling in a chaotic storm, she couldn't help but feel the familiar sting of rejection creep in. Being stood up by her own fiancé—the man who was supposed to always be there for her—brought up old wounds she thought had since healed.

Not being good enough… that was the thought echoing in her mind. Not good enough to be remembered. Not good enough to be thought of, to be prioritized, to be shown up for.

She pulled her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them as the tears began to fall. She had been so excited for tonight, had put in so much effort to make it special. But instead, she was left feeling forgotten. Like she didn’t matter. Like she was invisible.

The hurt festered, and with it came doubt. Maybe she didn’t deserve love. Maybe it was all an illusion—a fantasy she’d been foolish enough to believe in. Love wasn’t real. Not the kind she dreamed of, anyway.

The idea of retreating into herself felt easier than confronting the hurt. If she let herself grow distant, let herself become numb, maybe she wouldn’t have to feel this crushing disappointment again. Maybe she wouldn’t have to face the painful reality that even the person she loved most in the world could forget about her.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, staring blankly ahead. The weight of the moment felt too heavy, too suffocating. Y/N didn’t know how to pull herself out of it. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to.

All the time spent telling herself she was enough, that she was worthy of love, suddenly felt like lies. Maybe love wasn’t real. Not for her. Maybe it was just a fleeting dream, something she could never hold onto.

—

Y/N fell asleep that night before Spencer could come into the room, exhaustion from the emotional weight of the evening pulling her into unconsciousness. He sighed heavily when he walked in, the sight of her curled up, already asleep, reminding him of just how badly he had hurt her. Spencer stood at the door for a moment, guilt gnawing at him as he tried to figure out how to fix this, how to make things right again.

A plan slowly began to form in his mind—a do-over date. One that would make up for the disappointment, that would hopefully knock her socks off and make her smile the way he loved so much. But that would have to wait. For now, all he could do was climb into bed next to her and hope for the best. He slid under the covers cautiously, but her body shifted slightly, and despite everything, her sleeping form accepted his arms, pulling her close as if nothing had gone wrong. It gave him a little hope, though it also stung, knowing she was more forgiving in sleep than awake.

—

The next morning, Y/N woke with a brief moment of peace, where everything felt fine, as though the night before hadn’t happened. But as soon as she opened her eyes and felt the weight and stickiness of her forgotten makeup clinging to her skin, the emotions of the previous night came flooding back.

The hurt. The disappointment. The feeling of not being enough.

She slipped out of bed quietly, not wanting to wake Spencer, and made her way to the shower. She needed time to think, to wash away the makeup and the memories, to figure out what to do with all of the feelings swirling inside her. The warm water provided some comfort, but not enough to erase the heavy thoughts weighing her down.

—

Spencer woke up much less pleasantly. The absence of Y/N in the bed next to him and the late hour made his heart race as he scrambled to get dressed, realizing with a sinking feeling that she had left for work without waking him. That wasn’t like her, and it hurt more than he wanted to admit.

His day didn’t get any better from there. He arrived at the office late, still flustered and breathless as he stumbled into the conference room.

“Reid, you’re late,” Hotch said, not even bothering to look up from his papers.

Spencer tried to catch his breath. “I know, I’m sorry, my alarm didn’t go off.” It was only a partial lie. His alarm, his usual morning routine, was Y/N. She was the one who woke him, who got him moving in the mornings. But today, she had left extra early, avoiding him, and took his alarm with her.

“Don’t let it happen again,” Hotch said sternly, fixing him with a look.

Spencer nodded, regret heavy in his chest. Today was not off to a great start, and he knew there was a lot more work to do if he wanted to make things right with Y/N.

—

Y/N stewed all day long, her mind constantly drifting back to the argument from the night before. She sat at her desk, trying to focus on her work, but the heavy, almost suffocating emotions she was feeling made it nearly impossible to concentrate. She felt like she was wading through quicksand, trying to accomplish tasks, but every time she made a little progress, she was dragged back down by the weight of her thoughts.

She got enough done to get by, her inbox was cleared, and she responded to a few emails, but none of it felt satisfying. Nothing could distract her from the overwhelming emotions swirling inside her—hurt, anger, sadness, and something deeper that she couldn't quite put her finger on. It was like a knot in her chest that refused to loosen, no matter how much she tried to ignore it.

And then came the shame. Y/N felt silly, letting something as small as a missed anniversary and an argument throw such a huge wrench into her life. She’d always prided herself on being strong, independent, and capable of handling whatever came her way. But this…this was different. The hurt she felt was real, and no amount of logic could untangle the mess in her head.

Yet, even as she chastised herself for feeling this way, she knew she had to remind herself of something important: her feelings mattered. They were valid, no matter how small or silly they seemed to her. The pain she felt, the disappointment and frustration—they were real, and they deserved to be acknowledged.

And more importantly, she needed to believe it too.

—

When Spencer arrived home that night, everything seemed oddly normal—eerily so. Y/N had made dinner, and she was sitting in front of the TV, her plate balanced on her lap as she ate. He stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the sight of her, feeling the tension that still simmered between them.

"Hey, baby," he called out cautiously, testing the waters.

"Hi," she responded, not turning around to look at him. "Pasta’s on the stove, veggies are in the oven."

"Thank you," Spencer said, his heart lifting slightly. Maybe she just needed some time, maybe they were already past this. He smiled gratefully and set about fixing himself a plate, trying to convince himself that the worst was behind them.

They sat together, eating their dinner in front of the TV, making small talk about their days. The news played in the background, but neither was really paying attention. It wasn’t until Spencer casually mentioned Hotch chewing him out for being late that the atmosphere shifted.

"Why were you late?" Y/N asked, genuinely curious, unaware of how her actions that morning had contributed.

Spencer coughed, feeling awkward. He scratched his arm and shifted uncomfortably. "Well... usually you wake me up."

Y/N looked at him, confused. "Me? You don’t set an alarm?"

Spencer let out an uncomfortable laugh. "Have you ever heard an alarm go off?"

"Yeah, it wakes us both up," she replied, still not understanding.

"Right... and it’s on your phone," Spencer explained.

"Oh," Y/N pondered for a second, realization dawning on her. "Didn’t think about that. Sorry," she shrugged, dismissing it casually.

That casual response set off a spark of anger in Spencer. How could she not care? He’d been chewed out by Hotch, and she acted like it was no big deal. "I got in trouble with my boss, Y/N," he said, a bite of frustration slipping into his voice.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. "I don’t see how that’s my fault."

"You took the alarm!" Spencer raised his voice, frustration boiling over.

Y/N stood up abruptly, putting distance between them. "You are a grown man, Spencer. You lived by yourself for years. You cannot hold me responsible for your lack of preparedness," she snapped, her voice trembling with anger.

Spencer stood as well, a sharp, almost cruel look in his eyes. "I’m sorry I forgot our anniversary, and I’m going to make it up to you. But you can’t just run away every time you get upset. It affects my life too!"

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes, his words cutting her deeply. "You’re really throwing that in my face right now?" she choked, her voice full of hurt.

"If the shoe fits," Spencer bit out, anger seething beneath his words.

That was it. Y/N’s heart shattered at his cruel words, feeling once again like she wasn’t good enough. The insecurities she had tried so hard to suppress came flooding back. In a surge of emotion, she ripped the engagement ring off her finger and threw it at Spencer's chest before running to the bedroom and slamming the door shut.

Spencer stood frozen, staring down at the ring that had fallen to the floor. A panic attack gripped him, his chest tightening as he struggled to breathe. His mind was racing, and all he could think about was losing her—the one person who made him feel safe, the one person he loved more than anything.

The sight of the ring on the floor reminded him too much of his parents’ arguments, the screaming, the feeling of helplessness. He couldn't let this happen. He couldn’t lose her.

"Y/N!" Spencer ran to the bedroom door, knocking frantically. "Please, let me in. Please! I’m so sorry... I didn’t mean it. I just need to hold you. Please… I can’t—just... don’t go. Please."

Inside, Y/N was crying into the pillows, her body wracked with sobs. She could hear the panic in his voice, and despite the anger and hurt, her heart ached for him. She knew this wasn’t how they should be, this wasn’t them.

After what felt like an eternity, she unlocked the door and opened it just a crack. Spencer practically stumbled inside, his face pale and his eyes red from holding back his own tears.

Y/N let him hold her, let him wrap his arms around her tightly as if she might disappear if he let go. He buried his face in her neck, shaking as he whispered his apologies over and over.

But even as he held her, Y/N knew they couldn’t just brush this under the rug. She let him hold her because she loved him, but she wasn’t going to let the argument end here. Not without addressing the hurt that had bubbled to the surface.

“We need to talk about this,” she said softly, her voice still thick with tears. "We can’t just… let this go."

“I know,” Spencer whispered back, holding her even tighter. “We will. I promise.”

But for now, they stayed like that—holding each other, letting their tears dry together, knowing that they had a lot of healing to do, but also knowing that they were willing to try.

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reidmarieprentiss · 9 days

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Canon

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reidmarieprentiss · 10 days

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Better Late Than Never

Summary: You and Spencer are best friends, but then you get put into witness protection. Will your friendship (and love) survive the years apart?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU fem!reader

Category: fluff, mild angst

Warnings/Includes: hackers, insecurity, being in witness protection

Word count: 3.2k

a/n: if he doesn't wait for you like this then he isn't worth it tbhhhhh (i can't talk i make horrible dating choices)

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Spencer Reid's first few days at the BAU were overwhelming, to say the least. He had already endured the skepticism of his new colleagues, felt the weight of the cases on his young shoulders, and faced the quiet stares that seemed to ask how someone so young could be trusted with something so important. It was in the midst of this uncertainty that he found a lifeline in you, someone who not only treated him as an equal but made him feel seen in a way he hadn’t experienced before.

You had been with the BAU long enough to know how intimidating it could be to start fresh. Spencer’s brilliance was evident from the start, but so was his anxiety. His nervous, rapid-fire explanations of cases, his reluctance to make eye contact, and the way his hands would tremble slightly when he first met Hotch and Gideon. It didn’t take long for you to notice how uncomfortable he was.

On the third day, when he had already poured over files for hours and the rest of the team had gone for lunch, you saw him sitting at his desk, too focused—or too nervous—to step away. You didn’t ask him to join you for lunch. You just brought a sandwich and sat down across from him, setting it on his desk without a word.

Spencer looked up, startled, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “I—uh—I didn’t ask for—”

“I know,” you cut him off gently, smiling. “But I figured you might need it anyway.”

He blinked a few times, taken aback, and then nodded, his gratitude hidden behind his usual quiet demeanor. “Thanks,” he mumbled, already returning to the files in front of him.

From that moment on, you became the one constant in his chaotic world. The two of you worked on cases together, shared late-night dinners after grueling fieldwork, and sometimes just sat in comfortable silence when Spencer was overwhelmed and needed a break. You never pushed him to open up, knowing that he would come to you when he was ready.

It wasn’t long before he started relying on you for everything. Whether it was asking for help with an obscure task he had trouble with in the middle of a case or just quietly sitting next to you when the weight of the job felt too heavy. You were his anchor in the storm, someone who made the BAU feel less intimidating, less isolating.

One night, after a particularly tough case, Spencer leaned on your desk, his expression tired and pensive. You gestured for him to talk without a word, pushing aside the report you were working on. He didn’t speak right away, just sat down like he had so many times before.

“I feel like I don’t belong here sometimes,” he finally admitted, his voice low. He ran a hand through his hair, staring down at his lap. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to keep up with everyone else.”

You leaned forward, catching his gaze. “You’re already keeping up, Spencer. You’re more than capable. You’re brilliant.”

He smiled faintly but didn’t seem entirely convinced.

“And for what it’s worth,” you continued, “you belong here just as much as anyone else. You’re a part of this team now, and we’ve all got your back. I’ve got your back.”

That seemed to resonate with him. Spencer exhaled slowly, nodding as if trying to let your words sink in. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

The depth of his gratitude hung in the air between you, and though neither of you said it outright, there was an understanding that you had become more than just colleagues. Spencer had found a sense of home in you, a place where he didn’t have to explain himself, didn’t have to prove his worth. He could just be.

From that night on, your bond only grew stronger. You became the person he turned to when he needed to vent about cases, share his excitement over obscure facts, or simply take a break from the pressure of the job. And in return, you found comfort in knowing that you were the one person Spencer trusted completely.

Late-night phone calls became a regular occurrence—sometimes it was work-related, other times it was just Spencer calling to talk about something random, like the history of chess or the nuances of a particular poem he’d been reading. He’d share these little pieces of himself with you, and you’d listen with unwavering patience, no matter the hour.

One evening, after another case closed, you found yourself sitting on the floor of the bullpen, legs tucked under you as Spencer sat next to you, his shoulder brushing against yours. He was uncharacteristically quiet, though the comfortable silence wasn’t new between you.

“Do you ever think about what your life would be like if you didn’t join the BAU?” Spencer asked suddenly, his voice barely more than a murmur.

You turned to look at him, surprised by the question. “Sometimes,” you admitted softly. “But honestly, I can’t imagine it any other way now. And I’m glad it turned out like this.”

Spencer’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Me too,” he said quietly. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt as… at home as I do with you.”

—

The day everything changed began like any other—ordinary, filled with the hum of work, the shuffle of case files, and the comforting presence of your team. But it didn’t take long for that sense of normalcy to shatter.

You had been in danger before. In the BAU, it came with the territory, and you'd faced it head-on more times than you cared to count. But this was different. It was personal. A hacker, targeting you specifically, breached the walls of your life, exposing every facet of who you were to the world—your address, your personal emails, your medical history, even your family. Every private detail had been thrust into the public eye. Spencer had been the first to see the news reports, his heart dropping into his stomach as the headlines flashed across every screen in the bullpen.

"BAU Agent’s Life Leaked to the World," the words blared out. It wasn’t just your job at the FBI that was exposed—it was everything. Things no one but you knew. The fallout was immediate. Your life was suddenly on display for anyone with a computer screen, and that meant you were no longer safe. Witness protection was the only option.

The team scrambled to help, and Spencer, in particular, was beside himself with worry. He was the one who tried to reassure you as the reality set in, even as his own fear crept up on him. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you. The idea of you disappearing, of your presence vanishing from his life, was unimaginable.

"Spencer, I have to go," you had whispered, your voice shaking as you stood in the bureau, knowing it was only a matter of minutes before you were escorted away.

He was pacing, his hand tugging at his hair in frustration. “This isn’t fair,” he said, his voice tight. “This isn’t right. You shouldn’t have to leave because of this.”

You watched him, heart breaking at the sight of his anguish, knowing there was nothing you could do. “I don’t have a choice.”

His steps faltered, and he turned to face you, his eyes filled with desperation. “But what if I never see you again? What if… what if something happens and I can’t find you?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words hitting you. “You won’t,” you said quietly, your throat tightening with emotion. “I can’t contact anyone. It’s safer that way.”

Spencer stared at you as though trying to memorize every detail of your face. “I could go with you,” he whispered. “We could go away together right? They might—”

You didn’t let him finish. You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him in a fierce embrace, burying your face in his chest. He held onto you like you were his lifeline, his arms trembling as they circled around you. The two of you stood there for a long time, the silence punctuated only by the sound of your breathing and the distant noise of the bustling bullpen.

“I’m going to miss you,” you finally said, your voice barely audible against his shirt.

Spencer pressed his cheek against the top of your head, his breath uneven. “I’ll miss you too. More than you know.”

But even those words felt inadequate. What could he say? How could he capture the magnitude of what you meant to him in that moment? There was nothing. So he just held you tighter, his fingers curling into the fabric of your jacket, refusing to let go until the last possible second.

When you were finally pulled away, Spencer watched as you were taken out of the BAU for the last time. He stood there, helpless, unable to do anything but watch you leave, knowing that your absence would echo in every corner of his life from that day forward.

—

The next years crawled by in slow, painful increments. At first, Spencer clung to the hope that he might somehow find a way to track you down, but witness protection was thorough. You had vanished without a trace, and the team was under strict orders not to make any attempts to contact you. Any breach could put your safety at risk, and Spencer couldn’t do that to you, no matter how much he missed you.

He threw himself into his work, burying the ache of your absence beneath the mountains of cases that piled up. He kept a photo of the two of you in his desk drawer, a quiet reminder of the life you once shared, the bond that had defined his early years at the BAU. He would pull it out on the hardest days, staring at it as if willing you to walk through the door.

He missed everything about you—your laugh, your calming presence, the way you always seemed to know exactly what he needed without him having to ask. You had been his best friend, his person, and without you, everything felt just a little colder, a little emptier.

The team noticed, of course. They saw the way Spencer had changed after you left, the way he became more withdrawn, more guarded. But none of them could bring you back, and so they let him grieve in his own way, respecting the silence that surrounded your name.

And of course, it wasn't until you were no longer around that Spencer realized his love for you ran deeper than platonic. It hit him in the quiet moments—the ones where he’d instinctively reach for his phone to text you, only to remember you were gone, or when he’d hear a joke that would’ve made you laugh, and his heart would ache with the weight of your absence.

He struggled with this realization, the gnawing knowledge that he had lost something precious before he ever fully understood what it meant to him. There was nothing he could do now. You were gone, out of his reach in a way that felt so final. He couldn’t tell you, couldn’t whisper the words he had only just found within himself, couldn’t hold you close and say what he should have said long ago.

All he could do was hold onto the memories, the moments when you were his constant, and wonder what might have been if he had realized sooner.

—

It was a Wednesday, just like any other. The BAU was humming with the usual buzz of casework, papers rustling, phones ringing, and agents talking quietly amongst themselves. Spencer sat at his desk, flipping through files, his mind half-occupied with the details of an ongoing case, when the door to the bullpen creaked open.

He didn’t look up at first, too immersed in his thoughts. But then, a familiar voice, one he hadn’t heard in what felt like a lifetime, cut through the air. He froze. His heart stopped. Slowly, he lifted his gaze from the papers in his hands and looked toward the entrance.

It was you.

There you stood, looking just as you had all those years ago, but somehow different. The years had changed you in subtle ways, but your presence, the way you carried yourself—it was unmistakable. Spencer felt like his entire world had been thrown off its axis, spinning in a way that left him breathless.

For a moment, he didn’t know if he was dreaming. His heart pounded in his chest, his palms dampening as his mind raced to catch up with what his eyes were seeing. After years of silence, of wondering where you were, how you were—if you were safe—you were suddenly there, standing in the middle of the BAU like no time had passed at all.

You smiled, a tentative, cautious smile as you stepped further into the room. “Hey,” you said softly, almost as if testing the waters. “I’m back.”

Spencer stood abruptly, the file slipping from his hands and scattering papers across the floor. He didn’t care. All he could see was you. His voice failed him for a moment, his body torn between rushing to you and staying rooted in disbelief.

“You’re… back,” he finally stammered, blinking as if you might disappear if he looked away for too long.

You nodded, stepping closer. “I want to get back into my normal life, or whatever that is now. I don’t even know what normal looks like anymore.”

Normal. The word didn’t seem to apply to the way Spencer was feeling. There was nothing normal about this moment. After years of grieving your absence, of thinking he’d never see you again, of realizing too late how deeply he loved you—here you were. And he didn’t want to waste another second.

In a sudden, impulsive rush, Spencer crossed the room toward you, his heart hammering against his ribs. Without thinking, without any semblance of a plan, the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“Marry me.”

You blinked, your smile faltering for a moment as your eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“Marry me,” Spencer repeated, his voice stronger this time, filled with a hint of desperation and determination. “I should have told you years ago. I should have done something, said something—anything—before you had to leave. I was in love with you back then, and seeing you now? I still am.”

Your lips parted in surprise, a laugh escaping you, not out of malice, but sheer disbelief. “Spencer… are you serious?” You chuckled nervously, shaking your head as if to clear the fog of confusion. “You can’t—this has to be a joke.”

But Spencer wasn’t laughing. His eyes were wide, earnest, his heart laid bare in front of you. “I’m not joking,” he said softly, stepping even closer until he was standing just inches from you. “I’ve spent years regretting not telling you how I felt. I don’t want to lose you again. I don’t want to waste any more time.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in, but it felt surreal. A million emotions swirled in your chest, and you let out another shaky laugh, trying to find your footing in the whirlwind of his sudden proposal. “Spencer, I—I just got back. I’m still figuring out how to… exist in my own life again.”

“I know,” he said, his voice gentle but unwavering. “And I don’t want to rush you. I just… I had to say it. I had to let you know. I don’t want to miss out on what we could have. I love you.”

Your laughter faded as you saw the raw vulnerability in his eyes, and it struck you that he really was serious. You didn’t know what to say. All those years apart, all the changes in your life, and now Spencer was standing in front of you, asking you to marry him as if no time had passed.

A part of you wanted to laugh it off again, to brush it aside as a product of the intensity of the moment. But another part of you, the part that had missed him just as much, felt the familiar warmth in his words, the truth in his gaze.

“Spencer,” you whispered, your voice soft and full of uncertainty. “I… I need time. I can’t just—”

He nodded quickly, cutting you off before you could finish. “I understand. I do. I just needed you to know. I don’t want to scare you off. Take all the time you need.” His expression softened, his hand hovering just shy of yours. “I’m not going anywhere. Not this time.”

You smiled faintly, your heart a confusing mess of emotions. Spencer was something you thought about countless times over the years, getting back to him and being with him. But you never imagined he felt the same, and now that you were faced with the reality that he did, the gravity of his words hit you hard.

Spencer nodded slowly, his heart still racing but his mind catching up with the reality of what he had just done. As he turned to head back to his desk, hoping to salvage at least a little bit of his pride, your voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Spencer?” you called softly.

He turned back to face you, his expression still holding anxiety and hope. Your lips curled into a gentle smile, your eyes soft as you looked at him.

“I love you too, by the way,” you said, the words slipping out with such ease that they caught Spencer completely off guard.

His entire face lit up, his eyes widening as if he hadn’t heard you right. “What?” he breathed, his voice full of disbelief and cautious excitement.

You nodded, a slight blush rising to your cheeks. “Mhm. I love you too. But…” you bit your lip, your smile turning a little playful. “Maybe we should go on a date before we walk down the aisle, yeah?”

For a moment, Spencer stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest as if the world had suddenly righted itself after years of being off balance. He blinked, trying to process what you had just said, and then a wide, genuine grin spread across his face.

“Yeah,” he said breathlessly, his voice filled with relief and a newfound joy. “Yeah, a date. That… that sounds like a good place to start.”

You laughed softly, your heart warming at the sight of his happiness. “We’ve got time,” you assured him. “No need to rush things.”

Spencer nodded eagerly, his mind already racing through every possible date idea, every opportunity he had missed in the years you were gone. But now? Now he had a second chance, and he wasn’t going to waste it.

As the two of you stood there, the tension between you easing into something lighter, more hopeful, Spencer couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He had waited years to hear those words, and now that he had, he knew he wasn’t going to let you go again.

“I’ll pick you up at eight,” he said, still beaming, unable to contain his excitement.

You grinned, shaking your head affectionately. “I’ll be ready.”

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reidmarieprentiss · 10 days

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Too Damn Young: Part One

Summary: You and Spencer meet when you're both 18, you fall in love quickly and everything feels like a dream. Unfortunately, reality reminds you that sometimes even though people don't fall out of love, they don't always stay together.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: suggestive content (16+), loss of virginity (not described) young love, unhappy ending, divorced parents, emotional strain with mom

Word count: 11.5k

a/n: this is not a summer fling!!! they are in loveee and i promise there will be a part two and it will be happier!!!

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It’s the summer after your senior year of high school, and you’re caught in that strange, in-between space where the world feels wide open but also incredibly small. San Luis Obispo, with its familiar streets and faces, starts to feel more like a cage than the cozy town you grew up in. Everyone around you seems to be moving on, heading off to college, or traveling to far-flung places, leaving you behind to figure out what’s next. You’re not sure what you want to do with your life yet, so for now, you’re staying put, even though it feels like the walls are closing in a little more each day.

“Feet off the coffee table, Y/N,” your mother sighed as she walked into the living room, her voice carrying the usual exhaustion and concern.

You glanced up from your phone, your feet still comfortably propped up on the coffee table. “You never cared before…” you muttered, not really in the mood for another one of these talks.

She sighed again, more deeply this time, as if she was bracing herself for what she was about to say. “Well, before, you were in school and not at home all day.”

You frowned, feeling the sting of her words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Why don’t you get a job? Or go make some friends?” she suggested, her tone trying to be encouraging but not quite hitting the mark. “Oh! You could go walk on campus, maybe it will inspire you.”

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to hide your frustration. The last thing you wanted to do was wander around a college campus that wasn’t even yours, pretending to be inspired by something you weren’t sure you even cared about. But the way your mother was looking at you, with hope and a touch of worry, made you bite back the sarcastic response that was on the tip of your tongue.

Instead, you just sighed and looked away, feeling the weight of her expectations pressing down on you. “Maybe,” you mumbled, not committing to anything, but not outright refusing either. You could tell she wanted you to do something, anything, to shake off this sense of being stuck. But the truth was, you weren’t sure where to start, or if you even wanted to.

—

Spencer Reid arrived in town carrying the weight of moving his mother into a mental care facility, something that’s left him feeling more vulnerable than ever. Starting his PhD program in a new place where he doesn’t know anyone is daunting, but there’s a flicker of hope that things might be different this time. He’s no longer the child prodigy being scrutinized by older students; now, at least, he’s finally an adult, and maybe—just maybe—people will see him as one.

He opened the door to his new apartment, the hinges creaking slightly as it swung open to reveal the small, yet functional space that would be his home for the foreseeable future. The apartment was modest, furnished with the bare essentials, but it was clean and had a certain charm, or so he tried to convince himself. This place was provided by the program he was a part of, a stroke of pure luck.

Spencer set down his suitcase and took a slow, deliberate breath, trying to ground himself in this new reality. As he began to unpack and organize, the familiar rhythm of settling in started to take over, a ritual he had grown accustomed to over the years. But as he moved from room to room, he quickly realized something unsettling—he lacked a lot of the basic things that had always been provided for him in other housing situations, like the dorms and shared accommodations he had known before.

No dish soap, no paper towels, no trash bags—nothing that could help him actually live in this space comfortably. The realization hit him harder than it should have, maybe because of the long day, or maybe because of everything else weighing on his mind.

Spencer glanced at the clock. It was just past midnight. The last thing he wanted to do was venture out into the world right now, but he knew he had to. He couldn’t just sit here, surrounded by empty shelves and a lingering sense of displacement. With a resigned sigh, he decided it was time to go on a mission—a mission to find a store that was open this late.

He grabbed his jacket, mentally preparing himself for the challenge ahead. “How many people could really be out at 12 a.m. on a Tuesday?” he muttered to himself, trying to inject some optimism into his tone, though it came out more as a question than a statement.

As he stepped outside into the cool night air, the streets of San Luis Obispo were quieter than he expected, almost eerily so. The unfamiliarity of the town, combined with the late hour, made him feel like he was stepping into a different world altogether. But there was a certain solace in the solitude, a small comfort in the fact that he wouldn’t have to navigate crowds or make small talk with strangers.

—

You wandered down the aisles of the 24-hour market, the quiet hum of the overhead lights and the distant sound of a radio playing in the background the only noise in the otherwise silent store. It was strange to see it so empty, almost eerie, but there was a certain comfort in not having to navigate through crowds or make polite small talk with anyone. Tonight was all about one thing: satisfying that sudden, undeniable craving for your favorite ice cream.

As you rounded the corner into the freezer section, your mind focused on the treat you were about to indulge in, a sharp pain shot through your foot. "Ow!" you yelped, instinctively jumping back from the source of the pain—a shopping cart that had just run over your toes.

"Oh my god, I am so, so sorry! I didn’t see you there," came a voice from the other side of the cart, the owner of it looking every bit like a kicked puppy. His face was a mix of genuine concern and a hint of panic, as if this small accident was the last thing he needed tonight.

You bit back the initial irritation, quickly realizing this guy was already on the verge of a meltdown. "It’s fine, man, it’s not like there’s a lot of people around to watch out for anyway," you joked, hoping to ease the tension. The last thing you wanted was for this to turn into some big, awkward thing.

He tried to laugh, though it came out shaky and unsure. “Ye—yeah, it’s pretty late.”

You nodded, sensing his awkwardness and suddenly feeling a bit of it yourself. "Yup, well, try not to run anyone else over," you teased lightly, giving him a small smile before stepping past him to continue your mission.

As you walked away, Spencer shook his head, his expression clouding over with self-reproach. He started mumbling to himself, words of self-criticism spilling out in a low voice, but you didn’t catch any of it. Your mind was already back on your goal, and when you finally spotted your favorite ice cream, all thoughts of the encounter slipped away.

With your prize in hand, you made your way to the checkout and then headed home, unaware of the lingering impact that brief interaction had left on him.

—

Spencer finally felt like he had made his new apartment feel like home. The once-empty shelves were now stocked with cleaning supplies and other basic necessities, and though he wasn’t really one for decorating, the furniture provided by the campus and his own collection of books, awards, and memorabilia gave the space a sense of familiarity. It wasn’t flashy, but it was his.

Yet, after a few days of getting settled, Spencer began to feel something gnawing at him—a sense of being cooped up. He was no stranger to spending long hours alone, buried in his studies or lost in thought, but the endless California sunshine streaming through his windows, and the distant sounds of laughter and life happening outside, started to pull at him. The world outside felt alive in a way his apartment couldn’t match.

Spencer stood by his bookshelf, running a finger along the spines of his well-loved volumes, but the itch to get out and breathe the fresh air was undeniable. Maybe it was time to explore a little, to break up the routine and experience something new. He recalled reading about a bookstore down by the beach, a place that sounded like the perfect combination of quiet and lively—somewhere he could disappear into a sea of books but still feel connected to the world outside.

Grabbing his tote bag, empty and ready to be filled with new reads, Spencer slung it over his shoulder. With one last glance around his apartment, he stepped out, feeling a sense of excitement with a touch of nerves. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for, but he knew he needed to be out there, under that California sun, even if just for a little while. The bookstore by the beach seemed like the perfect place to start.

—

Your mom had really been on your case lately, pushing you to get out of the house and do something with your time. She’d made it clear that your late-night escapades didn’t count, much to your dismay. Each time you’d excitedly recount your quiet midnight walks or the random people you’d encounter, she would just shake her head, unimpressed. She meant during the day—when the sun was shining and the world was alive.

So, in an effort to appease her, you started to drag yourself out of bed each morning and head down to the beach. If you had to be outside, you might as well make the most of it. Lazing around on the sand didn’t seem so bad, especially when you could feel the warmth of the sun on your skin. You convinced yourself that at least you’d get a tan out of this forced outdoor time, right?

After a few days of this new routine, something caught your eye—a "help wanted" sign hanging in the window of a small bookstore that sat right along the sandy sidewalk of the beach. You paused, considering it for a moment. Working in a bookstore couldn’t be all that bad. After all, you loved reading. The idea of spending your days surrounded by books sounded infinitely better than more awkward mother-daughter conversations about your lack of daytime activities.

With that thought, you stepped inside and inquired about the position. The place smelled like old paper and salt air, and the sweet old man behind the counter greeted you with a kind, if tired, smile. He explained that he desperately needed help; his partner had passed recently, and he had been struggling to keep the shop running on his own. They had no children or kin to pass the shop along to, and he had resigned himself to working alone—until you walked in.

You applied on the spot and, to your surprise, heard back immediately. They really needed the help. The next day, you started as their first and only employee, stepping into a quiet world of books and stories just waiting to be discovered.

—

The bell above the door dinged, signaling a customer had entered the bookstore. You bookmarked your place in the novel you’d been reading and set it aside before calling out, “Welcome in.”

At first glance, the customer paid no attention to you, his focus solely on the shelves of books in front of him. But as you looked up from your counter, you froze for a second—it was the guy from the 24-hour market. The one who had run over your toes with his cart. For a brief moment, panic surged through you, the irrational thought crossing your mind that maybe he was stalking you. But that idea quickly faded when you remembered how adorably awkward he had been. And, if you were honest with yourself, even if he was stalking you, you might just be flattered. He was quite attractive—adorable in a geeky way, charming in an awkward way, and just plain handsome.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you slid off your stool behind the counter and walked over to where he was browsing, his nose already buried in the pages of a book. “Can I help you find anything?” you asked, leaning over his shoulder with your hands behind your back, trying to get a glimpse of what he was reading.

Spencer, completely absorbed in the first chapter of the book, didn’t hear you approach. He yelped and dropped the book, spinning around to face you with wide eyes. “Uh—um, no—no thank you, miss,” he stammered, clearly flustered both from the shock of your sudden presence and the quick realization that you were the same person he’d bumped into at the market. And now, seeing you up close in the daylight, he was even more struck by how pretty you were.

You chuckled, reaching down to grab the book he had dropped. “This is a good one,” you said, handing it back to him with a friendly smile. “I read it last week. I’d definitely recommend it.”

Spencer took the book from your hand, his own hands almost shaking. “Th-thank you,” he managed, clearing his throat. “Thank you…”

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself, grinning a little wider. “And you are?”

“Spencer Reid. Uh, Spencer.”

“Well, Spencer Reid,” you teased, “it’s nice to see you again. Are my toes safe this time?”

Spencer blinked, and then recognition lit his eyes as he remembered. His face flushed with embarrassment, but he gave you a small, sheepish smile. “Yes, your toes are perfectly safe this time,” he assured you, still clearly flustered but trying to keep his cool.

“That’s good to hear,” you stifled a laugh, unable to resist teasing him further. “I can’t say the same about yours, though,” you added over your shoulder, turning to walk back toward the counter.

Spencer, intrigued and not quite understanding what you meant, quickly asked, “What? Why not?” He followed after you, just as you had hoped he would.

When you reached the counter, you nodded your head toward him, silently encouraging him to join you. He hesitated, glancing around the quiet, empty store, but when he saw no one else there, he finally gave in and walked over.

“She’s why,” you giggled softly, leaning down to scratch the head of an old tabby cat that had appeared on the counter. She purred loudly, her eyes half-closed in contentment. Spencer’s eyes softened at the sight of the cat.

“Oh, she’s so pretty,” he mused, leaning in next to you to scratch the cat as well.

“Careful,” you began to warn, “she—oh,” you said, surprised as Nala, the cat, nuzzled affectionately into Spencer’s hand. “She usually doesn’t take well to strangers, especially men.”

Spencer blushed a little, his eyes widening slightly in disbelief. “Really?”

You nodded, watching the way Nala practically melted under his touch. “Yeah, I guess you’re special,” you said, smiling at him.

And you weren’t wrong. As Spencer continued to visit the bookstore at least once a week, sometimes just to browse, sometimes to chat, you’d come to realize just how special he really was. Nala certainly knew it first, and as time went on, you couldn’t help but see it too.

—

“So,” you sighed dramatically, flipping through the newspaper in search of the crossword puzzle, “my mom is making me go out to our lake house in Lake Tahoe all by myself this year to check on it. She doesn’t want to go without her new girlfriend, and the girlfriend doesn’t want to go, period.” You rolled your eyes, clearly exasperated, as you vented to Spencer. He nodded along, his eyes fixed on you, absorbing every word like it was the most important thing in the world.

“I have to drive all the way there, almost seven hours, just to make sure the heat pump still works, the pipes didn’t burst during the winter, and all that other nonsense,” you continued, your frustration spilling out in each sentence.

Spencer seemed to mull over your words for a moment, the gears in his mind turning before he casually shrugged and said, “I’ll go with you.”

Your head snapped up, your voice jumping an octave. “What?”

“Yeah,” he repeated, more cautiously this time. “I mean, if you want me to. I could keep you company. I don’t know how to drive, but… you wouldn’t be alone.”

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown by his offer. “Wait—what? You don’t know how to drive? How old are you again?”

“Y/N…” Spencer’s face flushed with embarrassment, his eyes dropping for a second before he met your gaze again. “You know I’m 18, and you know I was a child prodigy. I didn’t have time to learn how to drive.”

The realization made you laugh, an idea immediately sparking in your mind. “I could teach you!” you said, jumping off your stool in excitement.

“No, no, that’s a bad idea,” Spencer protested quickly, shaking his head as if the thought of being behind the wheel terrified him.

“It’s a great idea!” you argued, grinning at him. “You come to Tahoe with me, and I’ll teach you how to drive. It’s perfect!”

Spencer hesitated, clearly unsure about the whole thing, but your enthusiasm was hard to resist. Even he couldn’t deny that the trip might be a little more interesting with you by his side.

“Fine,” Spencer finally relented, though the nervous edge to his voice lingered. “But on my terms.”

You grinned, raising your hands in surrender. “Deal! Oh my god, this is so exciting. Now I’m actually looking forward to it!”

Spencer smiled shyly, his heart doing an odd little flip at your enthusiasm. Over the past few weeks, he had realized that his crush on you had grown significantly, but he couldn’t quite figure out if you felt the same. Sometimes, he thought you might—there were moments when your smiles lingered a little too long or your teasing became just a little too playful. But then there were the times when you casually mentioned people asking you out, and it made him doubt whether you saw him that way at all.

“When are we going?” he asked, trying to push the uncertainty out of his mind.

“Oh, yeah, hah,” you laughed lightly, “We’d leave Saturday morning.”

“Oh!” Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise. “As in two days from now? Why are you just now telling me?”

“My mom just told me!” you said, shrugging like it wasn’t that big of a deal.

“Fair enough.” Spencer sighed, already mentally preparing himself for the trip. “I’ll go home and start packing. See you Saturday? Should I meet you here?”

You shook your head and handed him your phone, your fingers brushing against his as he took it. “Hmm, no. Here, put in your number and text me your address. I’ll pick you up.”

Spencer blushed, the warmth creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. “Okay…” he mumbled as he carefully entered his number into your phone, hoping his hands weren’t shaking too noticeably.

You took the phone back, flashing him one last grin before heading back to the counter. Spencer, now flustered and nervous about the weekend ahead, could only hope that maybe—just maybe—this trip would give him the chance to figure out where he stood with you.

—

As you drove along the winding roads leading to the lake house, Spencer's knuckles turned white as he clutched the door handle, his life flashing before his eyes with every sharp turn and sudden stop. Your driving might have been a bit... enthusiastic, but he found it hard to complain when he saw how happy you were, with the wind in your hair and a bright smile on your face. The open road seemed to breathe life back into you, away from home and responsibilities.

Spencer found himself utterly captivated. It wasn’t just the excitement of the trip—it was you. The way you belted out lyrics to your favorite songs without a care in the world, or how you launched into endless stories that would zigzag through a million different tangents before somehow snapping back to the original point. It was chaotic, but in the best way. In those moments, he could easily say this was already shaping up to be the best summer of his life.

At one point, you caught him staring, and with a mischievous smile, you asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Spencer shook himself out of his daze, heat creeping up his neck. “Oh, uh, you’re really pre—crazy. You’re a crazy driver,” he blurted out, sticking his tongue out playfully.

Your laughter echoed in the car, ignoring his slip-up as you teased, “You love it.”

Eventually, the car rolled to a stop in the driveway of your vacation home, a secluded and stunning house nestled right by the water. The lake stretched out in front of it, reflecting the trees and the sky in the stillness of the water. Spencer took in the sight, his unease fading as he realized just how beautiful and peaceful the place was.

“Wait…” Spencer said, a hint of mock worry creeping into his voice. “You didn’t bring me out here to kill me, did you?”

That startled a huge laugh out of you. “Shit, that was precisely my plan, but now you’ve ruined it!”

You both grabbed your bags and a few supplies from the car before making your way into the cozy lake house. The moment you stepped inside, you were hit with the scent of pine and the comforting warmth of the space. You couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement—it had been a while since you'd been here, and it felt like a retreat from everything back home.

“Okay!” you clapped your hands together. “Why don’t you go and take a look around? I’ll handle the checks really quick so we can just enjoy our time here!”

Spencer nodded, feeling a sense of awe as he wandered off to explore. The house was even more beautiful inside, with large windows showcasing the shimmering lake, tall ceilings, and wooden accents that gave it a rustic charm. It felt like the perfect getaway. He couldn’t help but think how lucky he was to be here, to experience something like this with you.

Despite growing up in Nevada, his family never brought him to places like this. His father had left when Spencer was young, and his mother’s declining health meant that traveling was difficult, even impossible at times. As he wandered through the house, looking at the furniture, the wooden beams, and the peaceful surroundings, Spencer felt a twinge of sadness mixed with gratitude. This was new for him—a taste of something he hadn’t even realized he missed out on.

“Hey, Spence, you good?” you asked, coming up behind him, startling him once again.

He jumped slightly, spinning around to face you with a sheepish grin. “Yup! Just… taking in the view.”

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” you sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder, the gesture so casual yet intimate. The two of you stood in silence for a moment, soaking in the peaceful surroundings through the large windows overlooking the lake.

Spencer felt the warmth of your presence, the soft weight of your head on his shoulder, and for a brief second, the world outside seemed to fade away. He glanced down at you, trying to calm the flutter of his heart, feeling like maybe—just maybe—you were seeing this moment the same way he was.

—

The sky had turned into a blanket of stars, each one twinkling like a small firefly against the deep navy blue. The crisp night air had set in, making the warmth of the blanket you had wrapped around yourself all the more comforting as you sat on the deck, gazing up at the infinite sky.

Spencer was sitting nearby, his eyes occasionally darting from the stars to you, as if he were trying to capture both views. His natural curiosity about the universe seemed to blend with the simple contentment of just being here with you. The soft sound of water lapping against the dock and the quiet chirping of night creatures made everything feel serene.

You noticed him shiver slightly from the cool breeze that had picked up, and without thinking twice, you lifted the corner of the blanket and turned toward him. “Hey, come join me under here. It’s freezing out.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, his eyes widening as he processed the invitation, but after only a beat, he scooted closer, accepting your offer. He slid under the blanket beside you, his arm brushing against yours as he tried to get comfortable.

“Better?” you teased, a soft smile playing on your lips as you looked at him from the corner of your eye.

He nodded, the warmth from the blanket and your closeness making him feel more at ease. “Much better,” he replied, a shy but pleased smile tugging at his lips.

You chuckled softly and leaned in just a little closer. “You know, Spence, I never pegged you for a stargazer.”

He glanced up at the sky again, his eyes shining with the reflection of the stars above. “I guess I’ve just never really had the opportunity to appreciate it. But this…” He gestured slightly to the sky and then to you, his voice soft. “It’s kind of perfect.”

You felt a warm flush at his words, your smile deepening as you nudged him playfully. “I’ll take the credit for the blanket and the company, but I can’t do much about the stars.”

Spencer chuckled, his laughter quiet and warm. “Well, you’re definitely making it better,” he said, his tone flirtatious but still unsure, like he was testing the waters. He shifted just slightly under the blanket, your shoulders now pressed against each other, the warmth between you a comforting contrast to the cool night air.

You turned your head toward him, catching his gaze in the soft glow of the moonlight. “I think you’re the one making it better, actually,” you teased lightly, the flirty edge in your voice impossible to miss.

Spencer’s breath caught for just a second, and he smiled—a real, genuine, and slightly bashful smile that made your heart skip. Neither of you said anything more for a moment, just sitting there, cozy under the shared blanket, watching the stars as the night wrapped itself around you.

—

The next morning, Spencer woke up feeling something he hadn’t felt in a long time—excitement. He jumped out of bed, an unusual spring in his step as he followed the delicious smell of pancakes drifting through the house. His heart was still fluttering from the night before, but the cozy warmth he felt with you had turned into something more eager and alive.

As he stepped into the kitchen, the sight before him stopped him dead in his tracks. You were standing at the stove, wearing the tiniest pair of shorts Spencer had ever seen, paired with a tight tank top that hugged your curves and rolls in ways that made his pulse race. His mouth went dry—well, until the smell of the pancakes reached him again, and he couldn’t tell if his hunger was for the food or… well, you.

You turned at the sound of his footsteps, flashing him a playful smile. “Good morning, sleepyhead! I know you’ve got a sweet tooth, so don’t even think about telling me you don’t like pancakes,” you teased, pointing a spatula at him in mock accusation.

For a moment, Spencer was utterly starstruck. You looked radiant, the soft morning light streaming in through the windows making you glow. But what really sent him reeling was how the thin material of your tank top clung to you, especially how your breasts pressed against it as you moved. He quickly looked up, his face already heating, but his brain seemed to short-circuit for a second.

“Uh, um, yeah, I love pancakes,” he stammered, trying his best to sound normal. “Thank you.”

You smiled sweetly, seemingly unaware of the internal chaos you’d stirred in him. “Good, because I made way too many,” you said with a wink, plating up a stack of pancakes and setting it on the counter. “Come on, grab a seat. They’re best when they’re hot.”

Spencer nodded, his movements slightly robotic as he took a seat, forcing himself to focus on the food and not how close you were as you set the plate in front of him. The morning air was warm, but the atmosphere between you two felt even warmer. As you sat down across from him, he couldn’t help but feel like something was shifting between you—something exciting, and possibly dangerous for his already fragile composure.

—

That afternoon, you and Spencer strolled through the charming town center of Lake Tahoe, taking in the relaxed vibe and the quaint shops lining the streets. The day had been filled with lighthearted fun—nothing too serious, just the two of you enjoying each other’s company. You couldn’t help but smile as you pointed out little details of the town, laughing at Spencer’s commentary and feeling a sense of ease that came so naturally with him.

But then, as you browsed one of the boutique shops, a mischievous thought crossed your mind. You turned to Spencer, feigning an innocent realization. “Oh, I totally forgot to pack a swimsuit!”

He blinked, caught off guard by your sudden announcement. “You… you forgot to pack a swimsuit?”

You shrugged casually, glancing toward the back of the shop where the swimwear section was. “Yeah, I mean, I’m gonna need one if we want to hit the water, right?”

Spencer nodded slowly, looking a little confused but following along. You weren’t entirely sure, but you were starting to feel like maybe he saw you as more than just a friend. There had been glances, small moments—like when you caught him staring or how he’d shyly brush against you. And truth be told, you felt a spark with him too, something that made you want to push the boundaries just a little, to see how far they would stretch.

“Do you… uh, want my help choosing one?” Spencer asked, his voice a little shaky as he tried to keep his cool.

You smiled sweetly, barely able to contain your amusement. “Well, yeah, Spence,” you giggled. “I need a second opinion! I can’t buy something that makes me look bad, right?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but before his brain could stop him, the words slipped out. “I don’t think you could look bad in anything.”

The second the sentence left his lips, Spencer’s face turned a shade of red you’d only seen once before when he’d been particularly flustered. His eyes widened in panic, as though he couldn’t believe he’d said that out loud.

You couldn’t help but giggle, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the sunshine outside. “Aw, Spence,” you teased gently, reaching out to touch his arm. “That’s sweet.”

Spencer looked away, clearly embarrassed, but you could see the tiniest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It was adorable how easily he could be thrown off balance around you, and you secretly loved that you had that effect on him.

“Okay, so I personally think I look good in red…” you mused aloud, casually flipping through the racks of swimsuits that, if Spencer had a weak heart, would definitely send him into cardiac arrest. You picked up a bold red bikini and glanced over at him with a raised brow. “But your favorite color is purple, right?”

“Huh?” Spencer was caught off guard, blinking rapidly as he processed your question. “Yeah, it is.” He was surprised, and admittedly touched, that you remembered something so seemingly small.

“Well then, let’s try this on!” you declared with a bright smile, grabbing a deep purple swimsuit off the rack in one hand and reaching for Spencer’s hand with the other. Before he could protest, you were dragging him toward the fitting rooms.

“Y/N, I can’t come back there with you,” he said, his voice rising in a panic as the realization of what was happening hit him.

You sent him a playful glare over your shoulder, the kind that made his heart race even faster. “You can and you will, unless you think I should walk out here and let the whole store see me?”

“Nope!” Spencer yelped immediately, his face turning an impressive shade of red. He hated that idea. The thought of other people seeing you in something as revealing as a swimsuit made his stomach churn, and the words left his mouth before he could think twice. “I’ll come back…”

The fitting room was more casual than expected—just one room with a curtain separating the changing area from a small sitting spot. Spencer sat down on a cushioned bench, his heart pounding in his chest as you slipped behind the curtain, out of sight.

For a moment, he could only stare at the fabric of the curtain, feeling like he was in some surreal daydream. The small sounds of you moving around behind the curtain sent his imagination spiraling in ways he really didn’t want it to go, but he couldn’t help it.

“How’s it going back there?” Spencer asked awkwardly, fidgeting with his hands as he tried to distract himself from the situation.

You giggled softly from behind the curtain, and he could hear the light rustling of fabric as you adjusted the swimsuit. “Almost ready. Just… a sec.”

Spencer swallowed hard, unsure if he was ready for whatever was coming next. His heart beat faster with every passing second, and he wasn’t sure whether to brace himself for a disaster or… something else entirely.

And then you stepped out from behind the curtain, more confident than Spencer could ever hope to be. The swimsuit you had chosen—a soft purple that hugged your curves and contrasted beautifully with your skin—made Spencer’s heart stop. For a moment, all he could do was stare, frozen in place, his mind short-circuiting at the sight of you standing there in all your stunning glory.

You did a small, playful spin, the movement so effortless and carefree, and Spencer choked on his spit at the sight of your ass as you turned. His face went from pale to a deep, crimson red in less than a second.

“Well…?” you asked, your voice playful, a little teasing as you caught his stunned expression. “What do you think?”

Spencer blinked rapidly, trying to regain his composure, but the words seemed to be stuck in his throat. He opened his mouth to respond but all that came out was a strangled noise that sounded somewhere between awe and panic.

You smiled, clearly amused by his flustered reaction. “Come on, Spence,” you pressed gently, stepping closer to him, “I need to know if it’s a keeper or not.”

He finally managed to stammer something that resembled coherence. “I-I think… it’s perfect.” He gulped. “You look… incredible.”

You grinned, pleased by his approval. “You sure? I mean, I don’t want to walk around looking bad.”

Spencer shook his head quickly. “No, no, not at all. You… you couldn’t look bad if you tried.”

Your smile softened, and for a moment, the teasing air between you two shifted into something warmer, something real. Spencer was still blushing furiously, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes, something more than just admiration.

“Thanks, Spence,” you said quietly, the playful edge fading as you felt the weight of his gaze on you. It wasn’t just about the swimsuit anymore—it was about the way he looked at you, like you were the most beautiful thing in the room. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to make you feel it too.

The air between you shifted, the teasing moment turning into something heavier, more charged. You suddenly felt shy, your confidence wavering as you caught the intensity of Spencer’s gaze, still lingering on you.

“Um… Spence?” you asked, your voice softer now.

“Yeah?” he responded, his voice quiet, his eyes still fixed on you like he was in a haze.

You bit your lip, your heart racing as you glanced at the mirror. “Can you, uh… help me adjust the straps? I can’t reach,” you said, the words tumbling out. It was a lie, and you both knew it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You wanted to feel his hands on you, to see if the tension in the air was something more than just a moment.

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, but without a word, he stood up, his movements slow and deliberate, almost as if he was on autopilot. He walked toward you, his steps careful, the space between you closing with every second.

You turned to face the mirror inside the changing room, stepping just a little closer to the glass, forcing Spencer to enter the small space with you. The two of you were now standing so close, his breath warm against the back of your neck. You could feel the heat radiating off him as his fingers lightly brushed against your skin, adjusting the strap of the swimsuit with a tenderness that made your pulse quicken.

The moment stretched, neither of you speaking, both of you hyper-aware of the other’s presence. His hands lingered on your shoulders, and when you glanced at his reflection in the mirror, you saw the way his eyes had darkened, his gaze flicking between your face and the curve of your neck.

You swallowed, feeling the tension thick between you. “Spence…” you whispered, turning your head slightly to look up at him over your shoulder.

His gaze locked with yours, and for a moment, it felt like time had stopped. The small space, the mirror, the soft rustling of clothes in the distance—it all faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in this intimate moment.

Without thinking, you turned fully, facing him now. Your heart was beating so fast you were sure he could hear it. His hands were still on your shoulders, his fingers trembling slightly. And then, before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in, closing the distance between you and pressing your lips softly against his.

Spencer froze for a split second, his mind trying to catch up with what was happening, but then he melted into the kiss, his hands sliding down to your waist, pulling you closer. It was soft at first, shy, tentative, like both of you were testing the waters. But then, as you deepened the kiss, the shyness started to fade, replaced by something warmer, something real.

You pulled back slowly, not wanting to push things too far in such a public place, but you couldn’t resist the tender moment. Your thumb dragged lightly across Spencer’s bottom lip, his mouth curving into a soft smile under your touch.

“I hope that was okay,” you whispered, suddenly afraid to break the delicate bubble the two of you had created. The world outside seemed distant, as though it didn’t exist beyond this tiny, intimate space.

Spencer let out a soft laugh, his voice still filled with a mix of awe and shyness. “Considering that was my first kiss, it was amazing.”

You blinked, looking at him in shock. “That was your first kiss? Oh, Spencer, I’m so sorry! I didn’t even ask if you—” But before you could finish your frantic apology, Spencer leaned down and kissed you again, his hands resting on your waist, pulling you closer.

The kiss was slower this time, more confident. He wasn’t holding back, and neither were you. When he pulled back, his lips barely an inch from yours, he whispered against your skin, “I could not have asked for a better person.”

Your heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his voice making the moment feel even more special. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling like this was a turning point—something that was destined to happen, like you were meant to share this with him.

—

That night, everything felt light and easy between you and Spencer. The kitchen was filled with laughter and warmth as you both cooked dinner together. Every so often, you’d lean over to steal a playful kiss, the steam from the boiling noodles creating a cozy, almost magical atmosphere around you. Spencer’s awkwardness had melted away by then, replaced with a soft confidence that showed in the way he kissed you back, teasing you as he pretended to stir the sauce.

After dinner, you found yourselves sitting on the floor, playing a few rounds of Mancala, each of you laughing as you tried to out-strategize the other. But eventually, the pull of the hot tub outside became too tempting to resist.

You changed into your new swimsuit and waited outside, the night air cool against your skin but the anticipation of the hot water—and of Spencer—keeping you warm. When he finally stepped outside, you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips.

There he was, standing in the doorway in blue banana-print swim trunks, his lanky frame looking more adorable than you could have imagined. You felt a rush of excitement at seeing him like this, so much of him exposed, his vulnerability on full display in the cutest way possible.

“Don’t laugh,” Spencer whined, clearly embarrassed, his cheeks flushing pink.

“Spence, they’re cute!” you reassured him, still grinning as you tried to hold back more laughter. You walked over and tugged lightly at the waistband of his trunks, giving him a playful smile. “I love them.”

He looked at you, his shyness melting away under your warmth, and after a moment, he finally smiled. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, I mean it,” you said, stepping closer, your hands resting on his chest. “They’re very you.”

Spencer rolled his eyes but his smile remained, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear before taking your hand and leading you toward the hot tub. The playful teasing was replaced by a quiet excitement, the warmth of the tub waiting for you both.

You and Spencer settled into the hot tub, the warmth of the water enveloping both of you as you leaned back, the night sky above dotted with stars. The steam curled around your bodies, making everything feel soft and dreamlike. You let out a contented sigh, closing your eyes for a moment.

“This is perfect,” you murmured, glancing over at Spencer, who was sitting stiffly on the opposite side, his hands gripping the edge of the tub.

“It’s… nice,” he replied, though his face was scrunched up in thought, like something was bothering him.

You raised an eyebrow at him, amused by his hesitance. “You okay, Spence?”

He hesitated for a moment, then blurted, “Do you know how many germs are in a hot tub?”

You burst out laughing, completely caught off guard. “What? No! Spencer, don’t ruin this for me!” you teased, splashing a little water in his direction.

“I’m serious!” he insisted, his voice rising slightly as he adjusted his glasses, which were already fogging up from the steam. “Hot tubs are like… breeding grounds for bacteria. The warm water creates the perfect environment for microorganisms to thrive, and if the pH or chlorine levels aren’t properly maintained, it can lead to a whole range of infections—skin, respiratory, you name it.”

You giggled, shaking your head in disbelief. “Only you would bring up bacteria in a hot tub. Come on, relax for once!”

Spencer’s face was a mix of genuine concern and embarrassment as he continued, clearly unable to stop himself now that he’d gotten started. “No, really, the CDC recommends monitoring hot tub water regularly because—"

You cut him off by playfully splashing him again, this time a bit more, laughing as you watched him sputter, pushing his glasses up as they slid down his nose.

“Okay, okay, I get it!” you said between fits of giggles. “But you’re in here now, so unless you want to hop out and start running tests, you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

Spencer looked at you for a moment, as if considering the possibility of actually running tests, but then he laughed softly, shaking his head. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though there was a fondness in his voice that made you smile.

“Look, the hot tub may be full of germs, but at least I’m not,” you teased, leaning a little closer to him. “So how about you just focus on me instead of all the invisible bacteria?”

He blinked, his eyes darting between yours and the water for a moment before he finally let out a breath and relaxed, a small smile playing on his lips. “You make a good argument,” he admitted.

“See?” you said, inching even closer to him, your shoulders almost touching. “Now, doesn’t this feel better than worrying about germs?”

Spencer chuckled, his arm sliding across the back of the tub as he allowed himself to relax a bit more. “Yeah,” he admitted softly. “Much better.”

The playful conversation in the hot tub eventually faded into a comfortable silence, the only sound being the soft bubbling of the water. You noticed Spencer had gone quiet, and when you glanced over at him, you realized why. His eyes kept darting down to your chest, unable to hide his fascination.

You tried to hold back a giggle but couldn’t. “Spence… my eyes are up here,” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

He immediately flushed red, looking away in embarrassment. “I-I’m sorry! It’s just… I didn’t know that…” He trailed off, unsure how to finish his sentence without digging himself deeper into the hole of awkwardness he had created.

“Didn’t know what?” you asked, amused by how flustered he was becoming. “That they could float?”

Spencer hesitated before nodding, clearly mortified. “Well… yeah,” he admitted quietly. “I guess I didn’t think about it before, but, uh, it’s interesting. Scientifically, I mean.”

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, causing Spencer’s blush to deepen even further. “Oh, Spence, you’re adorable,” you said, still giggling. “They’re just balls of fat, you know?”

He blinked at you, his curiosity piqued now that you’d made it sound so simple. “I guess that makes sense,” he murmured, still staring despite his best efforts to focus on something else.

A playful, daring thought popped into your head then. You leaned in closer, biting your lip slightly before whispering, “You know… if you want, you can touch them.”

Spencer’s eyes went wide, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. “W-What?” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked at you in disbelief, as if he wasn’t sure whether he’d heard you correctly.

You smiled, your expression soft but teasing. “I’m serious,” you said, your voice gentle but laced with curiosity. “It’s okay if you want to. I mean… it’s not like I mind.”

For a moment, Spencer seemed frozen, his mind likely racing through a million thoughts all at once. You could see the internal battle on his face—his logical brain warring with his curiosity and the undeniable attraction between the two of you. Finally, he swallowed hard and nodded, still unsure but willing to trust you.

Slowly, almost cautiously, his hand reached out, fingers trembling slightly as they hovered near your chest. When his hand finally made contact, his touch was soft and hesitant, like he was afraid to hurt you. His wide eyes stayed fixed on you the entire time, clearly amazed by the experience but also checking to make sure you were okay with it.

“Wow,” he breathed out, his voice barely audible, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your breast as if he were studying it in awe. You could see the genuine fascination on his face, his scientific curiosity mixing with something much more intimate.

You smiled softly at him, letting him take his time, feeling the weight of the moment between you two. This wasn’t just a playful interaction anymore—it had shifted into something more vulnerable, more personal. And in that moment, you both felt it.

"Spencer?" you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up, his wide eyes meeting yours, his hands still gently fondling your breasts as if he were afraid to break the delicate moment between you. "Yeah?" he responded, his voice just as soft, the world around you both feeling smaller, quieter.

"Kiss me," you breathed out, the words slipping from your lips like a secret you’d been holding in, waiting for just the right moment to share.

For a second, Spencer just stared at you, his mind seemingly struggling to catch up with what you had said. Then, slowly, as if in a trance, he leaned in, his breath warm against your lips. His hands, still resting on your chest, slid down to your waist, pulling you closer as he closed the distance between you.

The kiss was soft, tender at first, like he was still testing the waters, but the heat between you was undeniable. His lips pressed against yours with more confidence as the moment deepened, his touch growing bolder. You could feel the tremble in his hands, the nervousness and excitement coursing through him, mirroring your own feelings.

You leaned into him, your arms sliding around his neck as the kiss deepened. The steam from the hot tub swirled around you both, but the warmth between you was far more intense than the water. When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other.

"Spence…" you whispered, your voice filled with a mixture of affection and awe. You could feel the shift between you two, the unspoken understanding that this moment had changed everything.

He smiled shyly, his hands still resting gently on your skin. "That… was amazing," he whispered back, his voice filled with wonder, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

You grinned, pressing a soft kiss to his lips again, a silent promise of more to come.

That night, under the soft glow of the moon and the warmth of the water still clinging to your skin, you and Spencer shared something deeper than either of you had anticipated. What started as tender kisses turned into a night of exploration, vulnerability, and intimacy. You took each other’s virginity, not in a rushed or hurried way, but slowly, carefully, cherishing each touch, each whispered word of affection.

It wasn’t just physical; it felt like you were sharing more than just your bodies. You both made quiet promises, unspoken at first, then whispered into the darkness—promises of staying together, of not letting this be a fleeting summer memory. You could feel the weight of it, the significance of this moment between you two, and you knew Spencer felt it too.

By the time the night faded into dawn, you were no longer just friends. You had come to the lake house as two people testing the waters of something deeper, but you were leaving as partners, bound by the connection you had built together over these few days. It felt like the start of something real, something lasting. And in your heart, you knew it was.

—

A year later, everything had fallen into place in ways you couldn’t have imagined. You and Spencer were stronger than ever, navigating your lives together as you both pursued your dreams. Spencer was deep into his PhD program, doing incredible work that often left you in awe of just how brilliant he was. You, on the other hand, had officially taken ownership of the bookstore after Mr. Jannell, the original owner, retired, and though it was a huge responsibility, it felt like you were carving out a life you were proud of. At just 19, both of you were on paths that felt meaningful and fulfilling.

Spencer had taken you to meet his mom, Diana, and you two had bonded almost instantly. Diana adored you, and before long, the two of you were “thick as thieves,” as Spencer liked to put it—sometimes much to his own chagrin. He’d always joke about how he couldn’t keep up with the way you and his mother teamed up against him during conversations, but deep down, you knew how much it meant to him that you got along so well.

When it came time for you to introduce Spencer to your family, it was a bit more complex. Your mom and her girlfriend liked Spencer well enough, and while he was perfectly polite, the truth was, you didn’t care much about their approval. The meeting you were really excited for was the one with your dad. He lived in Oregon, and though you had once planned to move there to be closer to him, meeting Spencer had changed your plans.

The trip to Oregon was everything you had hoped it would be. Your dad and Spencer hit it off immediately, bonding over literature, fine arts, sports statistics, and even chess. You could see the relief on Spencer’s face when he realized that your dad was a kind-hearted, free spirit—someone who truly understood and appreciated you. It meant the world to Spencer to have a father figure he could trust, and your dad made sure to let him know that he was always welcome to reach out, even giving him his personal number.

It was during that trip that both you and Spencer felt the confirmation that you were absolutely perfect for each other. The shared dreams, the easy companionship, the way your lives fit together—it all seemed to point to something greater.

So, when Spencer finished his PhD program at the age of 20, it felt like the most natural next step when he proposed. The way he looked at you, the ring in his hand, and the soft words he spoke made your heart swell. You had come so far together, and now, the future stretched out before you, full of possibilities you were ready to explore as partners for life.

"Oh my god, Spencer, yes!" you screamed, your heart racing with excitement. "Of course I'll marry you!"

And just like that, everything changed. You and Spencer were married, two best friends who had found each other in your small hometown and realized there was no one else in the world you’d rather spend your life with. It felt surreal at times—how lucky you were to have met and married someone who knew you better than anyone, someone who adored every part of you.

Spencer, for his part, was over the moon. He couldn’t believe that he’d found the perfect woman who not only supported him but loved him in ways he never thought possible. You were his best friend, his confidant, and now, his wife. It was a dream come true, and there wasn’t a day that passed where he didn’t marvel at the life you were building together.

Diana was beyond thrilled for the two of you, offering nothing but love and encouragement. Your father had been equally supportive, loving Spencer like a son from the moment they met. As for your mom and her girlfriend, they had expressed concern about how young you both were, warning you about the challenges of getting married so early in life. But, as always, their warnings fell on deaf ears—you had never really taken their advice to heart, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

You and Spencer knew, deep down, that what you had was real and lasting. You had both seen the future stretched out before you, and it was full of promise—promises you were ready to make good on, together.

—

It wasn’t until two years into your marriage that the cracks started to show, subtle at first but growing more obvious as time passed. Spencer had been on the lookout for new work, eager to challenge himself in ways his current job couldn’t. So when the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI reached out to him, it felt like a sign—an opportunity to use his big, brilliant mind in ways that could really make a difference. You couldn’t have been more proud of him when he told you, beaming as he shared the news. Your heart swelled with pride.

But the excitement quickly turned into a complicated issue. You had worked so hard over the past few years, growing your business until you owned not just one but two popular storefronts. Both were thriving, and while you had employees, your presence was necessary almost daily to keep things running smoothly. There was always something that needed your attention, always a fire to put out. The idea of uprooting everything and moving to Virginia for Spencer’s new role felt impossible—laughable even.

The moment Spencer saw how you reacted, the light in his eyes dimmed. He didn’t argue, didn’t push the idea. Instead, he swallowed his feelings and forced a smile, telling you that it was okay, that he didn’t need to move, that his job at Caltech was enough. He could stay. How could he tell the love of his life that he did want more? That he wanted to move, grow, and do something that felt more important than the work he was doing here?

So, he stayed silent. He resolved to push the opportunity aside and stay in California, continuing his work in the engineering department. But you noticed. Over the next few months, Spencer changed. He wasn’t the same bright-eyed, enthusiastic man who used to come home excited to tell you about his day. Instead, he was coming home fatigued, emotionally drained, going to bed earlier than usual and struggling to get up in the mornings. There was a heaviness about him, a weariness that worried you more with each passing day.

You could see the signs, but you didn’t know what was causing them. Your heart ached with the thought that Spencer might be struggling with something deeper, something like depression. You didn’t know how to help him, and that uncertainty weighed on you both.

“Hey, baby,” you greeted softly as Spencer walked through the door. He dropped his bag and jacket in the hall closet before slumping onto the couch next to you, immediately curling into your side, his head finding its usual spot against your chest.

“Hi,” he mumbled, his voice muffled as he pressed his face into you, seeking comfort.

You instinctively began stroking his hair, knowing it always soothed him. “How was your day?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light, even though you could already sense that something was wrong.

“Boring,” he muttered. “Long.”

You hummed softly, continuing to run your fingers through his hair. “I was thinking,” you began hesitantly, “maybe this weekend we could go visit your mom?”

Spencer’s head lifted slightly, his eyes suddenly alert with concern. “Why? Is she okay?”

You quickly shook your head, reaching for his hands. “Yes, love, she’s fine,” you assured him. “It’s just… I can tell you’ve been feeling down recently, and I thought seeing your mom might help. Maybe it would lift your spirits.”

Spencer huffed a breath through his nose, his gaze shifting to the side as he pulled away slightly. “It won’t.”

Your concern deepened, and you searched his face, wondering what was really going on. “What do you mean?” you asked softly, your voice laced with worry.

Spencer sighed heavily, the weight of whatever he had been holding back finally too much to bear. “I got fired today,” he admitted, his voice flat, like he was trying to keep the emotion out of it.

Your heart dropped. “What? Baby, why?” you asked, your tone frantic, already running through every possible reason in your mind.

“I told my boss about the offer from the FBI,” he explained, his hands fidgeting as he spoke. “They said if they fired me, then I could collect unemployment until I start my new job and I would get a severance package.”

Your heart stopped. The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp. “...Start your new job?” you repeated slowly, barely able to get the words out.

Spencer nodded, his gaze still averted. “I accepted the job in Virginia,” he said, his voice quiet, almost as if he were afraid to say it out loud.

“Without telling me? Or asking me?” Your voice trembled slightly as you tried to keep your emotions in check.

Spencer, exhausted and clearly fed up, scoffed, “I didn’t think I needed your permission.”

His tone carried a sharpness that stung, a sass that only came out when he was truly drained. It wasn’t like him to be dismissive, but this felt different. You took a breath, trying to steady yourself.

“No, you don’t,” you said flatly, your voice colder than you intended. “But I am your wife, and I’m pretty sure that decision is going to impact us both. I would have liked to have a say.”

Spencer let out a frustrated breath, his posture stiffening. “So you could say no again?” he snapped, his exhaustion now seeping into anger.

You stared at him, bewildered. “When did I ever say no?” you asked, your voice rising with disbelief.

“When I brought it up the first time, you laughed!” Spencer shot back, his voice louder now, frustration overtaking the sadness that had been weighing him down. “You didn’t take me seriously.”

Your heart raced, and you could feel the tension building. Fighting like this wasn’t something you were used to, especially with him. You hated this feeling of everything slipping through your fingers. “Baby, I didn’t know you were seriously considering it. You never brought it up again.”

“I didn’t want you to tell me we couldn’t make it work,” he said, his voice cracking with sadness now. The frustration in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a deep hurt that made your chest ache.

You stared at him, the weight of his words settling in. This wasn’t just a fight about a job. It was about more—about unspoken fears, miscommunication, and the silent distance that had crept in between the two of you. You had both been living in your own worlds, not realizing how far apart you were drifting.

The silence between you was heavy, and for the first time, the possibility that maybe—just maybe—you were heading in different directions hung in the air.

“I didn’t say we couldn’t make it work,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, your own sadness mixing with the confusion. “But you made the decision without me… and that’s what hurts.”

Spencer looked at you, his eyes softening, but there was something there—an understanding, maybe—that this was bigger than either of you had anticipated. He hadn’t thought you’d react like this. You hadn’t expected him to push forward without you.

And in that moment, the future you both had built together seemed fragile, hanging in the balance of a choice neither of you had prepared for.

“What are you saying?” Spencer asked carefully, his voice softening, though there was still a thread of hope lingering in his words. “We can make it work? You’ll move with me?”

You hesitated, the weight of his question sinking in. You had both avoided the depth of this conversation for so long, but now it was staring you in the face. “Spencer… I have my stores,” you began, trying to make him understand the complexity of the situation, the commitment you had to your work.

“Can’t you sell them? Or… run them from Virginia?” he suggested, his tone almost casual, as if the solution were that simple.

You blinked, staring at him in disbelief. “It’s not that easy, Spence,” you replied, your voice tight with frustration. “If something goes wrong, I need to be there. I need to be in person to fix it. It’s my business. I can’t just run it from across the country.”

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “I just… my work is important too. Don’t you see that? I’m talking about saving lives, helping people in ways that can make a real difference.”

You felt the sting of his words, the implication behind them cutting deeper than you expected. “What are you saying, Spencer?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, a mixture of disbelief and hurt. “That what I do doesn’t matter?”

Spencer shook his head quickly. “No, that’s not what I meant—”

“But that’s exactly what it sounds like,” you interrupted, your voice louder now, the hurt rising to the surface. “You think because I’m not saving lives, because I’m not doing what you’re doing, that it’s less important? These stores… they mean everything to me. Just because it’s not life or death doesn’t mean it’s not important.”

“I guess I thought I meant everything to you,” Spencer whispered, tears spilling down his cheeks, his voice trembling with heartbreak.

Your own tears began to fall, your chest tightening as you watched the love of your life in such pain. “I thought so too,” you replied, your voice cracking. “But… would you leave everything behind and move across the country for me?” It was a question that hung heavy between you, one that neither of you had ever truly confronted before.

Spencer stared at you, his eyes red and glassy. “What is this?” he asked, his voice shaky. “Are we… are we breaking up?”

Your heart shattered at the thought, and you sobbed softly. “I don’t… I don’t know, Spence. But if you’re moving, I don’t see how we can make this work.” The weight of that reality crushed you both, the finality of it sinking in.

“You won’t even think about coming with me?” Spencer asked, his voice laced with desperation. He wanted to believe there was a chance, a way to bridge the gap.

You shook your head slowly, wiping at your tear-streaked face. “Not right now, not when I’m just getting started. I can’t walk away from it.”

Spencer stood then, his movements sharp, final. “Well, I’m just getting started too,” he said, his voice breaking as he tried to hold back his emotions. “Maybe… maybe we were too young.”

You looked up at him, crying harder now. “You don’t mean that,” you choked out, shaking your head. The idea that he could regret the life you’d built together was too much to bear.

But Spencer looked down at you, his face full of sadness and regret. “I think I do,” he said softly, the words hanging between you like a dark cloud. “What were we thinking? We didn’t know what we were going to do with our lives. We should have waited, or… or talked about the future more.”

His words cut deep, each one a painful reminder of how far apart you had grown. The love was still there, strong and undeniable, but the reality of your different paths, your conflicting dreams, was threatening to tear you apart. And neither of you had any idea how to stop it.

—

At the airport, you walked Spencer as far as security would allow, neither of you ready to let go just yet. The reality of the moment weighed heavily on both of you, and as you pulled him into a tight hug, the tears flowed freely, unbidden.

“Spencer,” you whispered as you pulled back slightly, holding his face in your hands so you could look into his eyes. “I am so proud of you. You’re an amazing, wonderful, brilliant person, and you’re going to do great things. Please, don’t be a stranger.”

Spencer smiled through his tears, his expression soft but filled with pain. “Thank you, Y/N. That means so much coming from you. I know you’re going to do great things too. Keep me updated—I still want to be involved in your life.”

You nodded, your heart breaking as you tried to smile through the sadness. “I love you so much, Spence.”

“I love you too, Y/N,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “More than I can handle.”

The two of you stood there, holding each other, neither wanting to let go. It felt like an eternity and no time at all before the final call for his flight came over the loudspeaker. Reluctantly, Spencer pulled away, wiping his eyes as he looked at you one last time.

And then, just like that, he was gone.

You stood there for a moment, watching him disappear through security, the reality of it all hitting you like a wave. Alone, 22 years old, divorced, and still in your hometown, the life you’d imagined for the two of you now felt like a distant dream.

To be continued…

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reidmarieprentiss · 11 days

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man if I gotta write bad fics, it should at least be easy! But it’s not! It is also hard to write this bad fic

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reidmarieprentiss · 11 days

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Breaking Point

Summary: Spencer has a partner, his partner is not necessarily a great person. You really just want to connect with him, he is your roommate, Penelope's, friend after all. But Spencer just does not seem to like you, can you change that?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: Spencer has a partner, implied bisexual Spencer, non-graphic cheating, emotionally distant partner, controlling partner, Spencer is sassy and kind of mean, mention of Spencer's drug problem, insecurities

Word count: 14.6k

a/n: i know i can treat you better than they cannnnn -- happy one day early post !!!!

main masterlist

The evening was typical for you—a night out with the team at one of their usual spots, a lively bar that served as the backdrop for many of their post-case celebrations. You were perched on a high stool at the bar, sipping on a cocktail Penelope, your roommate, had insisted you try, something bright and fruity with just the right amount of sweetness. The music was loud enough to make conversation a bit challenging, but not so much that it drowned everyone out.

You leaned back slightly, your eyes casually scanning the room. Derek was engaged in a playful argument with JJ about some obscure movie reference, and Rossi was deep in conversation with Hotch. Everyone seemed relaxed, their faces lit with the glow of well-deserved downtime.

But then, something caught your eye—a flash of movement at the other end of the bar. Spencer, the quiet and reserved member of the team who had always been somewhat of a mystery to you, was engaged in what looked like a rather intense conversation with someone you didn’t recognize. The contrast between Spencer’s usual timid demeanor and the animated gestures he was making now piqued your curiosity.

You leaned closer to Penelope, who was sitting beside you, tapping away on her phone as usual, her fingers a blur of activity. "Who’s that?" you asked, nodding toward Spencer and the unknown person.

Penelope glanced up from her screen, following your gaze, and immediately sighed, rolling her eyes in a way that suggested this was a scene she had witnessed more times than she cared to count. "That’s Eli," she said, the name laced with a tone that was hard to miss. "Spencer’s partner."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Spencer has a partner?" The revelation blew your mind. You'd known the team for over a year, seen and been seen in all sorts of situations—some more embarrassing than others—and not once had Spencer ever mentioned having a partner. It was like discovering a hidden chapter in a book you thought you knew well.

Penelope gave you a knowing look, her lips pressing together as if she were debating whether or not to continue. You nudged her lightly, urging her on. "What is it? You can’t just leave me hanging."

She sighed again, this time more softly, and leaned in closer so that only you could hear. "It just doesn’t seem like they’re very happy together, you know? They always seem to be arguing about something or other. I don't think I’ve ever seen them have a normal conversation."

You turned your attention back to Spencer and Eli, who were still deep in conversation—if you could even call it that. From where you were sitting, it looked more like Eli was doing most of the talking, their tone sharp, while Spencer listened, his face a mask of confusion and quiet frustration.

"Why does he stay with them if they’re so unhappy?" you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

Penelope shrugged, taking a sip of her drink before responding. "Spencer's complicated, you know? I think part of him feels…responsible or something. Like he has to make it work, even if it’s not working."

You nodded, still watching the exchange between Spencer and Eli, feeling a strange mix of emotions. Part of you was shocked that Spencer, someone who always seemed so put-together, was caught up in a relationship that didn’t seem to bring him any joy. And another part of you, the part that had always felt a bit of an inexplicable attachment to him, felt a pang of something else—something almost like protectiveness.

"I never would’ve guessed," you murmured, more to yourself than to Penelope.

"Yeah, well," Penelope replied, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "There’s a lot about Spencer that’s easy to miss if you’re not looking closely."

As the night wore on, you couldn't help but keep glancing in Spencer's direction, wondering what else you might have missed about him over the past year. The more you thought about it, the more you realized how little you actually knew about the man who had somehow managed to become both a puzzle and an enigma in your life.

—

You’re not sure what brought on this new damn near obsession with Spencer Reid, but ever since you found out about him having a partner, you’ve been thinking about him differently. It was as if knowing he was capable of being in a relationship made you want to be the one who showed him what a healthy one looks like. The thought had wormed its way into your mind and now, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop thinking about him in your daily life.

Whether you were at work, at home, or out with friends, your thoughts always seemed to drift back to Spencer—his quiet demeanor, the way he fiddled with his hands when he was nervous, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about something he was passionate about. You found yourself daydreaming about what it would be like to be the one who made him smile, the one who could take away the stress you’d seen him carry.

Weeks passed, and you tried to push these thoughts to the back of your mind, but they always crept back in. So when Penelope proposed a night at Rossi’s, you jumped at the opportunity, hoping that maybe being around him might help you understand why you were feeling this way.

When you arrived at Rossi’s, the place was buzzing with laughter and conversation. Penelope was already engaged in a lively discussion with Derek and JJ, and Rossi was busy pouring drinks for everyone. As you scanned the room, your eyes landed on Spencer, standing off to the side, a drink in hand. He was alone—no Eli in sight.

Your heart skipped a beat, and before you knew it, you were making your way over to him, driven by an urge to finally talk to him alone. Maybe this was your chance to get to know him better, to bridge the gap that had always seemed to exist between you two.

“Hey, Spencer,” you greeted, nudging your elbow gently against his as you walked up next to him.

“Oh, hi, Y/N,” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of confusion as he looked at you. It was as if he wasn’t quite sure why you had come over.

“How are you?” you asked, trying to sound casual, though your heart was beating a little faster than you’d like to admit.

“Fine, thanks,” he nodded, his gaze drifting away from you almost immediately. “And you?”

“I’m great, thank you!” you answered with a smile, hoping to ease the tension that seemed to hang in the air between you.

But Spencer didn’t reply. Instead, he stood there, clearly feeling awkward, his eyes focused on some distant point in the room. You bit your lip, trying to think of something else to say, something that might spark a real conversation.

“So…I didn’t know you were seeing someone,” you ventured, letting out a small, nervous laugh, hoping to lighten the mood.

At that, Spencer stiffened. He finally turned to look at you, his expression hardening in a way that caught you off guard. “Well, you don’t really know me, do you?” he said, his tone colder than you’d ever heard it before.

“What?” you asked, taken aback by his sudden shift in demeanor. The sharpness in his voice sent a jolt through you, making you feel like you’d stepped onto thin ice without realizing it.

But he didn’t stop there. “You don’t know me at all, Y/N,” he continued, his voice carrying an edge of bitterness as he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Why would you be privy to intimate details of my life?”

The words hit you like a slap in the face, and you stood there, stunned and at a loss for words. “Oh—I don’t know, I’m sorry,” you stuttered, your confidence crumbling as you tried to process what had just happened. You had expected many things from this conversation, but this level of hostility wasn’t one of them.

“Yeah, okay,” Spencer muttered, a bitter laugh escaping his lips as he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you standing there, violently confused.

You watched him retreat, your mind racing to understand what had just happened. The warmth and excitement you had felt moments ago were now replaced by a cold, sinking feeling in your chest. What had you done wrong? Why had he reacted that way?

As you stood there, the lively chatter and laughter of the party continued around you, but it all felt distant, muffled. All you could think about was Spencer’s harsh words, and the way he had looked at you—like you were a stranger, like you had crossed a line you didn’t even know existed.

“Hey mama, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. You good?” Derek’s deep, familiar voice cut through the fog of your thoughts, grounding you back in the present.

You blinked a few times, forcing a smile onto your face as you turned to face Derek. “Huh? Oh yeah, I’m fine,” you replied, doing your best to sound convincing. “It’s good to see you!”

Derek didn’t seem entirely convinced, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied you, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he smiled back, his usual warmth returning as he pulled you into a quick hug. “Good to see you too, girl. Let’s get you back in the spirit of the night, huh?”

You nodded, grateful for his easy going nature as you allowed yourself to be swept back into the flow of the evening. Derek had a way of making everything feel a little lighter, and as the two of you rejoined the group, you found yourself easing back into the laughter and conversation around you. It wasn’t hard to get caught up in the fun, especially with Penelope’s infectious energy and Rossi’s endless supply of stories.

But no matter how much you tried to focus on the good vibes of the night, there was a nagging thought at the back of your mind—a quiet, persistent echo of your brief and bewildering interaction with Spencer. You couldn’t shake the image of his face, the sudden hardness in his eyes, and the way his tone had shifted so drastically from the Spencer you thought you knew.

You stole a glance across the room, where Spencer was now engaged in a conversation with JJ, his expression relaxed, his laughter genuine. It was as if nothing had happened at all, as if your exchange just moments earlier hadn’t rattled you to your core.

The contrast was jarring, and it left you feeling even more confused. How could he seem so unaffected, so nonchalant, after what had just transpired? It was like the sweet, shy man you’d come to know had been ripped away in an instant, replaced by someone who was colder, more distant, and completely unreadable.

You couldn’t help but wonder what you had done wrong, why such an innocent question had triggered such a reaction from him. It was just one question—one that, in hindsight, seemed harmless. And yet, his response had been anything but.

“Hey, earth to Y/N,” Derek’s voice snapped you back again, this time with a playful nudge. “Where’d you go just now? I was asking if you wanted another drink.”

You blinked, realizing you had zoned out again. “Oh, sorry! Yeah, I could use another one,” you said, offering him another smile. This time, you meant it. Maybe another drink would help you forget the odd tension for a little while, help you push Spencer out of your mind.

—

That night, as the evening began to wind down, you noticed Spencer slipping out quietly after saying his goodbyes to everyone but you. A pang of something—hurt, maybe?—struck you as you watched him head toward the front door, his figure receding into the night. You tried to brush it off, telling yourself it was just the lingering awkwardness from earlier, nothing more.

But then you noticed something out of place—Spencer had left his satchel behind, the one he always carried with him, filled with books, notes, and who knows what else. Without thinking, you grabbed it and rushed out the door after him, your heart pounding with adrenaline and the hope of another chance to talk.

“Spencer! Wait!” you called out, your voice echoing in the cool night air as you ran down the driveway, the gravel crunching under your feet.

Spencer, already halfway into the passenger seat of the car, paused at the sound of your voice. He looked back over his shoulder, his expression immediately shifting to one of mild annoyance when he realized it was you. For a brief moment, you wondered if he was hoping it would be anyone else but you.

“You left your bag,” you panted, holding it up as you caught up to him.

“Oh,” he replied, his tone flat, his eyes glancing at the bag as if it was the last thing on his mind. “Thanks,” Spencer added, his voice barely above a mumble as he took the satchel from your hands.

You forced a smile, trying to ignore the awkward tension hanging between you. But just as you were about to wish him a good night, your eyes shifted to the driver’s seat where Eli was sitting, glaring at you with a cold, suspicious gaze that sent a shiver down your spine. The intensity of their stare made you falter, your words catching in your throat.

“Have a good ni—” you started, but before you could finish, Eli’s hand jerked the car into gear, and the tires screeched against the pavement as they peeled out of the driveway. The door barely had time to close behind Spencer before they were speeding off into the night.

You stood there, breathless and confused, watching the taillights disappear down the road. The cold night air seemed to wrap around you, a stark contrast to the warmth that had filled Rossi’s home just minutes ago.

You couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that had settled deep in your chest. The way Spencer had looked at you, the way Eli had glared, the way the car had sped off as if they couldn’t wait to leave you behind—it all left you feeling more out of sorts than ever.

—

The next time you saw Spencer, it was completely by accident. You were excitedly attending the grand opening of a vintage bookstore that had been on your calendar for months. The store was rumored to have an original copy of Pride and Prejudice, and you were determined to get your hands on it. As you approached the entrance, ready to join the line that had already started forming, a tall, familiar figure caught your eye.

Spencer was standing off to the side, hunched in on himself as he spoke into his phone. His posture was tense, and his voice, though hushed, carried a tone of desperation and frustration that made you slow your steps.

“—you said you would be here! You know how important this is to me…” His voice wavered, and he paused, listening to whoever was on the other end of the line.

Your heart ached as you watched him, his expression filled with hurt and disappointment. His next words were spoken with an urgency that tugged at something deep inside you.

“I went to your comicon, waited all night in line to get a video game for you, and I did that…thing! This morning, remember?”

You couldn’t hear what Eli was saying, but from the look on Spencer’s face, it was clear that whatever it was, it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. You could hear the strain in his voice, the way it shook as he tried to hold back his emotions.

“Eli,” Spencer sighed, the sound so full of defeat that it nearly broke your heart. He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. “I never ask you to do anything…it does matter! It’s not stupid…okay. Yeah. Bye. Love you too.”

As he ended the call, you watched as he put his phone in his pocket, his shoulders slumping as he sniffled, clearly trying to compose himself. The vulnerability in his posture made you want to reach out, to comfort him, to tell him that he deserved so much better than this.

But before he could see you, you quickly made your way past him and into the line, your heart racing. You didn’t want to embarrass him by acknowledging what you had overheard. It felt too private, too raw, and you knew that if the roles were reversed, you wouldn’t want someone to witness such a moment of weakness.

Little did you know that Spencer had seen you walk by, his heart sinking further as he realized you might have heard his conversation. The idea of you knowing how he couldn’t even get his partner to come to a bookstore—a place that meant so much to him—was mortifying. It was bad enough that Eli had chosen to watch football with their friends instead of joining him, but the thought of you knowing about it only added to his embarrassment.

Spencer fell into line a few people behind you, trying to shake off the lingering feelings of rejection. He wished that the rift between you two didn’t exist, especially on a day like today. The thought of walking through the store with someone, discussing books, sharing little discoveries, was something that would have brought him immense joy. But now, with the awkwardness hanging between you like a thick fog, he knew it wasn’t possible.

As the line moved forward, you tried to focus on the excitement of the bookstore’s opening, but you couldn’t help but steal glances back at Spencer. He looked so alone, so isolated, and it made your chest tighten with an emotion you didn’t quite want to name. The bookstore should have been a place of happiness for him, but all you could see was the shadow of his disappointment.

You had managed to find the original Pride and Prejudice that you wanted, and your heart felt so full it was almost overwhelming. This book meant the world to you, bringing back memories of your grandmother reading it to you when you were sick as a child. The familiar scent of old pages and the sight of the worn, delicate cover brought a lump to your throat, but it was the good kind, the kind of feeling that reminded you of warmth and love.

As you clutched the book to your chest, savoring the moment, a voice came from behind you, pulling you out of your reverie. “Great choice, I can’t believe they have an original.”

You turned, surprised, to see a very attractive stranger standing there. They had strikingly beautiful eyes that seemed to draw you in, making you momentarily forget where you were. “Yeah, it’s my favorite,” you replied with a bright smile. “I’m so glad I was able to get it.”

“Shane,” they offered, extending their hand with an easy, confident smile. “Nice to meet you.”

You took their hand, feeling a pleasant warmth from the gesture. “Y/N,” you said, your smile widening. “Nice to meet you too.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly after that. You and Shane chatted about literature, the excitement of the new bookstore, and your mutual love for classic novels. Their enthusiasm for books mirrored your own, and you found yourself enjoying the banter, feeling a sense of connection with this person you’d just met.

What you didn’t realize was that Spencer was watching from afar, his heart twisting in knots as he observed how easily you interacted with new people. It was something he envied—how naturally you navigated social situations, how the friendly vibes seemed to radiate off you in waves. Anyone could see how nice you were, how approachable, and it only made him more aware of the tension that had built up between the two of you.

He wished things could have gotten off to a better start between you. But every time he thought about trying to fix things, that cold interaction from the other night lingered in his mind, making him think it was too late. And now, seeing you so effortlessly connect with someone else, someone who had already made you smile, only deepened the pang of jealousy in his chest.

As you made your way to the register, Shane walked with you, continuing the conversation. Just before you reached the counter, Shane asked, “Hey, would it be okay if I got your number? I’d love to keep talking about books and maybe grab a coffee sometime.”

You smiled, feeling flattered by the request. “Sure, I’d like that.” You exchanged numbers, feeling a small flutter of excitement as you parted ways with Shane.

Meanwhile, Spencer watched from a distance, the jealousy tightening its grip. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the effortless way in which you interacted with others, or if it was the fact that someone else had gotten your number so easily—something he knew he could never have done. Either way, the feeling gnawed at him, making him feel even more isolated than before.

When it was your turn to pay, you glanced back and noticed Spencer standing behind you in line. His eyes were downcast, his expression unreadable, but you remembered how upset he had been earlier. Knowing he was having a bad day and sensing the awkward vibes that had developed between the two of you, you decided to do something small to brighten his day.

Leaning in to the cashier, you whispered, “Could you estimate how much his books would cost?”

The cashier smiled and nodded, quickly scanning the stack of books in Spencer’s hands with their eyes. They told you the amount, and you quietly pulled out your bills, paying for Spencer’s purchases along with your own. Without saying a word to him, you took your bag and left the store, hoping that this small act of kindness might bring a bit of light into his day.

As Spencer approached the counter, still lost in his thoughts, the cashier smiled warmly at him. “You’re all set, sir. The woman in front of you already paid for your books.”

Spencer blinked, momentarily stunned. “She… she did what?” he asked, his voice filled with disbelief.

The cashier nodded, still smiling. “She paid for everything. Said she hoped you’d have a good day.”

Spencer stood there, dumbfounded, holding the bag of books as if it were the most precious thing in the world. His mind raced, trying to make sense of why you would do something so kind for him when he had been nothing but cold to you since you met. The memory of your most recent awkward exchange at Rossi’s house replayed in his head, and guilt washed over him like a tidal wave.

Why would you do such a kind thing? He didn’t deserve it, not after the way he had treated you. And yet, you had done it anyway, without a word, without expecting anything in return.

As Spencer left the store, the bag of books clutched in his hand, he was overwhelmed by a mix of gratitude, guilt, and a growing sense of something missing. He’d had doubts about his relationship with Eli before, but he had always convinced himself that this was just how relationships were—messy and full of compromises.

But after seeing your kindness and how effortlessly you connected with others, Spencer couldn’t help but wonder if he was missing out on something better. For the first time, he questioned whether he deserved more than what he had settled for with Eli. Your simple act of paying for his books had cracked open a door in his mind, making him realize that maybe there was a different, happier path he could take—one that might even include someone like you.

—

When Spencer walked into the bullpen that Monday, he immediately noticed Penelope animatedly talking with Derek and Emily. The moment she heard someone enter, her eyes lit up as she saw him.

“Reid!” she exclaimed with her usual enthusiasm.

Spencer couldn’t help but smile as he walked over to her instead of heading straight to his desk. “What’s up?” he asked, his tone light and amused.

“Look!” Penelope gushed, thrusting a book into his hands with excitement.

Spencer glanced down, recognizing the book instantly—it was a first edition of a title he knew Penelope loved. His eyes widened in genuine awe. “Wow! Where did you find this?” he asked, marveling at the rare find.

Penelope sighed happily, clutching her hands to her heart. “Y/N got it for me! I couldn’t make it to the new bookstore, and she knew how sad I was, so she bought this to cheer me up!”

Spencer processed this new piece of information, feeling a warmth spread through him. Of course you did, he thought to himself, you’re the nicest person ever. “That’s… that’s really great, Garcia,” he said with a sincere smile.

“Isn’t she just the sweetest?” Penelope beamed, taking the book back and staring at it as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

Derek chuckled, adding, “Yeah, mama. That girl is a gem. I’m glad someone is treating you good when I’m not around.”

Spencer nodded, his mind lingering on you. It was just another reminder of the kind of person you were, and it made him think even more about what he might be missing out on.

"Something brewing in that big brain?" Emily teased, noticing Spencer had gone quiet, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

"Hmm?" Spencer responded, looking up at her, momentarily pulled from his reverie.

"Are you okay, Reid?" she tried again, her voice tinged with concern.

Spencer shifted uncomfortably under the weight of their stares. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Just... haven't had my coffee yet," he replied, forcing a tight-lipped smile.

Derek chuckled, sensing Spencer's discomfort. "Rossi just made a new pot. I'll go grab a cup with you, pretty boy."

Spencer nodded gratefully as the two men headed to the breakroom, which was mostly empty, save for a few agents from other departments who were too engrossed in their own conversations to pay them any mind.

"Do anything fun this weekend?" Derek asked casually as he started making his coffee, glancing over at Spencer with a curious look.

Spencer allowed himself a small smile as he replied, "Yeah, I went to that new bookstore. They had their grand opening."

Derek thought for a moment, then asked, "Did you see Y/N there?"

Spencer's hand froze mid-stir, his expression faltering. "Oh, uh, no," he said, clearing his throat awkwardly, clearly caught off guard by the question.

Derek narrowed his eyes, not missing the way Spencer suddenly seemed on edge. "Alright, spit it out, kid," he pressed, sensing there was more to the story.

"Spit what out?" Spencer sassed, attempting to deflect, but his tone lacked conviction.

Derek just sighed, giving him a look that said, Don't bullshit me. "I've noticed you don't necessarily... enjoy Y/N's company. Did you run into her? Was it weird?"

Spencer let out a sigh, knowing there was no point in trying to hide it from Derek. "Yeah, I saw her," he admitted quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor. "But it wasn't weird. I mean, not exactly. It’s just... complicated."

Derek raised an eyebrow, waiting for Spencer to continue. "Complicated how?"

Spencer hesitated, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I think she might have overheard me on the phone with Eli... They were supposed to come with me to the bookstore, but they didn’t. I was upset," Spencer shrugged, trying to downplay the hurt in his voice.

Derek softened his gaze, sensing the vulnerability in Spencer’s words. "I’m sorry, man. Did they give a good reason?"

Spencer shrugged again, his eyes welling up as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. "Um, they said they needed to watch the football game. Something to do with the fantasy league they’re in."

Derek rolled his eyes, his frustration evident. "That is not a good reason. Eli should have known this was important to you."

Spencer cleared his throat, staring intently at his coffee, willing the tears not to fall. "They knew... I don’t know if they cared."

"Reid..." Derek began, his voice gentle, but Spencer quickly waved his hand, cutting him off.

"No, no. It’s fine—we talked about it," Spencer said, his voice wavering but firm, clearly wanting to move past the topic.

Seeing that Spencer didn’t want to delve deeper into the matter, Derek decided to let it go for now, though he still hadn’t gotten the answer to his earlier question. "What does that have to do with Y/N?"

Spencer sighed heavily, the weight of his embarrassment pressing down on him. "She was walking past during the end of the call. I think she might have heard me, but she was too polite to say anything. I don’t know… I’m just embarrassed. My own partner wouldn’t show up to something that important to me, and she probably heard how pathetic that sounded."

Derek frowned, his heart going out to his friend. "You’re not pathetic, Reid. You’ve just been dealt a rough hand. And Y/N… well, she’s not the kind of person to judge you for that. If anything, she probably feels bad that you were hurt."

Spencer nodded, though the shame still lingered. "Yeah, maybe. It’s just hard, you know? I don’t want her—or anyone—to see me like that."

Derek gave him a reassuring pat on the back. "I get it, man. But Y/N… she’s good people. Maybe talking to her might help, even if it’s just to clear the air."

Spencer considered Derek’s words, the idea of reaching out to you both comforting and terrifying. But deep down, he knew Derek was right. It wasn’t too late to make things right, and maybe—just maybe—you’d be the understanding ear he desperately needed.

After parting ways with Derek, Spencer realized he’d forgotten to mention how you had quietly paid for his books at the bookstore. Wrapped up in the emotions of their conversation, it had slipped his mind. But as he returned to his desk, the memory resurfaced, and he found himself holding onto it like a cherished secret.

Spencer wanted to keep that moment to himself, a private reminder of your kindness. It had meant more to him than words could express, especially in a time when he often felt overlooked. Your simple act of generosity was a bright spot, making him feel seen and cared for in a way he rarely experienced.

—

Thursday evening marked your first date with Shane, and it was everything you had hoped for. They had called earlier in the week to make plans, and you were excited to have someone showing genuine interest and making an effort. Penelope had eagerly offered to help you get ready, her expertise in all things beauty proving invaluable.

"Pen, you’re seriously the best," you gushed as she applied the finishing touches to your look. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Penelope giggled, her eyes twinkling. "Probably show up looking a lot less flamboyant!"

"And we would not want that," you teased with a smile, savoring every moment of girl time with your roommate and best friend.

When Shane arrived to pick you up, they were the epitome of courteousness—opening doors, pulling out your chair, and keeping the conversation lively throughout the evening. It was an amazing first date, made even better by Shane’s undeniable attractiveness. You enjoyed yourself thoroughly, feeling a spark of excitement about where this could lead.

Meanwhile, across the restaurant, Spencer sat at a table with Eli, his view of you unobstructed. What should have been a special anniversary dinner had been overshadowed by the effort it took to even get Eli to agree to go out. Spencer had to beg them to celebrate, with Eli initially resisting, claiming they didn’t want to spend the money. Spencer had insisted it was worth it, that their relationship was worth celebrating. Eli eventually caved, but only because they didn’t want Spencer to start crying—again.

As Spencer watched you laugh and smile with Shane, he felt a sharp pang in his chest, the desire to drown his sorrows in a bottle of wine nearly overwhelming. The contrast between your joyous date and his own crumbling relationship was stark. Eli sat across from him, more interested in checking their fantasy football league stats than in engaging with him.

Of course, you would go on a date with the attractive person from the bookstore. In Spencer’s eyes, they were everything he wasn’t. It made sense that you’d find happiness with someone like that, while he watched his own chances at joy slip further away. It was just another reminder that good things, happiness, were always just out of reach for him. As he sat there, barely holding back his tears, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of his own choices, the realization that he had pushed away someone who might have brought him the kind of happiness he saw reflected in your smile from across the room.

After Shane paid the bill for your dinner, causing you to swoon at the kind gesture, the two of you walked toward the exit, Shane’s hand resting intimately on your lower back. As you passed by Spencer's table, you couldn’t resist saying hello, the expensive wine Shane had ordered loosening your tongue.

“Spencer! Hi!” you greeted excitedly, your smile wide.

Spencer looked up at you, clearly caught off guard, his expression quickly shifting to a polite smile. “Hello,” he replied, trying to mask his surprise.

“What are you doing here? Is this Eli?” You turned to the person sitting across from him, offering a warm smile.

Eli, however, gave you a cold, sinister look. “Wow, beauty and brains, what a catch,” they remarked snidely, directing their comment at Shane.

The sarcasm completely flew over your head, and you responded cheerfully, “I think you’re pretty too! It’s so nice to meet you, and Spencer, so good to see you! Bye!” You gave a little wave, before taking Shane’s hand and dragging them toward the car, their laughter following behind you. Shane, having had much less to drink, simply smiled, amused by your tipsy enthusiasm.

As soon as you were out of earshot, Spencer grew even more quiet, while Eli’s anger simmered, their face contorting with irritation.

“What the fuck was that?” Eli asked, their voice low and venomous.

Spencer’s head snapped up, startled by the harshness in Eli’s tone. “What? Y/N? She’s drunk,” he replied, trying to defuse the situation, though he felt increasingly uncomfortable under Eli’s glare.

“No shit, Spencer,” Eli scoffed, rolling their eyes with frustration. “But why did they say hi to you?”

Spencer fumbled for an explanation, feeling cornered. “Umm… I guess we’re kind of friends by association?” he offered, his words uncertain, as even he wasn’t sure how to define your relationship.

Eli’s eyes narrowed, their anger intensifying. “I told you not to talk to her. I asked you to do one fucking thing in this relationship—how hard is it to not talk to some dumb bimbo?” they snarled.

Spencer shrank in his seat, feeling like a scolded child. His embarrassment was palpable as he tried to explain, “I can’t help that she’s Penelope’s roommate. I like to be civil.”

“Civil, sure,” Eli spat, their tone dripping with contempt. “But I’m serious, Spencer. Don’t. Fucking. Talk to her.”

Spencer sat there, shrinking further under Eli’s gaze, a sense of helplessness washing over him. The contrast between your cheerful, lighthearted demeanor and Eli’s seething anger left him feeling more isolated than ever. The joy you had shown in such a simple greeting only highlighted the growing chasm between him and his partner, making him question, yet again, why he was holding onto something that felt so toxic and damaging.

—

It was a few weeks before your paths crossed with Spencer again, and during that time, he couldn't help but wonder if Eli had somehow managed to keep you away from him. But today, here you were, standing in the bullpen with Penelope’s phone in hand, panting slightly from your rush to deliver it.

“Y/N! You’re a lifesaver!” Penelope cried out, pulling you into a tight hug.

You laughed, catching your breath. “I don’t even know how you made it out of the house without this thing, I thought it was attached to you!”

Derek and Emily joined in the laughter, clearly enjoying the interaction. “Baby girl was excited to come in today—they gave her a new monitor,” Derek teased, grinning.

“Ohh, show me!” you clapped your hands in excitement, your enthusiasm infectious.

As you followed Penelope to her office, you passed by Spencer’s desk, giving him a soft, “Hi, Spencer,” your voice low and warm.

But Spencer didn’t look up. He simply stared down at the file in front of him, his mind far from his work. Eli’s threat echoed in his head, reminding him that he couldn’t talk to you. The lack of response went unnoticed by everyone except for you and Emily.

After you disappeared into Penelope’s office, Emily walked over to Spencer’s desk, her expression concerned. “Reid…? Is something wrong?” she asked cautiously, her voice gentle.

Spencer looked up, shaking his head as if to brush off her concern. “No,” he replied curtly, but his tone was anything but reassuring.

Emily wasn’t convinced. “Okay, well, it’s just… you ignored Y/N pretty harshly. I think she was just trying to be nice.”

Spencer knew it was an overreaction, but the turmoil in his mind was overwhelming, clouding his judgment. He felt cornered, and before he could stop himself, he snapped, “Oh yeah, Emily? Is that what you think? I’m sure you’re right, seeing as you know everything.”

With that, he abruptly stood up, storming out of the bullpen, leaving Emily and Derek in stunned silence.

Rossi, who had been quietly working at his desk nearby, looked up, his brow furrowed with concern as he fixed Emily and Derek with a questioning gaze. “Is he using again?” he asked, his voice heavy with worry.

“Fuck,” Derek muttered under his breath, quickly getting up to chase after Spencer, his heart pounding with fear and urgency.

Emily exchanged a worried glance with Rossi, both of them hoping that whatever was going on with Spencer could be addressed before it spiraled out of control.

"Reid, wait up!" Derek called out as he watched Spencer stride quickly down the hall, his pace fueled by frustration and confusion. Spencer, too caught up in his thoughts, didn’t stop or even acknowledge Derek's voice. But Derek was determined, and he quickened his pace, finally catching up to Spencer and grabbing his arm, halting him in his tracks.

"Kid, I need you to tell me right here and now if you’re using again," Derek panted, his concern clear in his voice.

Spencer's face immediately morphed into one of shock and offense. "What? No! I’m clean," he replied, his tone defensive but honest.

Derek sighed deeply, relief flooding him. "Okay, thank God."

Spencer frowned, still reeling from the accusation. "Why would you think that?"

Derek looked at him intently. "Did you hear yourself just now? You were out of line with Prentiss. She was only trying to help."

Spencer let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and sharp. "Isn’t that what everyone wants to do? Help poor, defenseless Spencer," he said sarcastically. "Why can’t I ever just take care of myself?"

Derek gave him a sympathetic look, his concern deepening. "That’s not what I meant. I’m just worried about you. Is it more stuff with Eli?"

The mention of Eli’s name set Spencer off again, the anger bubbling back to the surface. "Christ, is there no privacy anymore?" he snapped, his voice tight with frustration.

Derek held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I’m not trying to invade your privacy, man. I just want to make sure you’re okay. You’ve been off lately, and I’m concerned. We all are."

Spencer’s shoulders slumped slightly, the weight of everything pressing down on him. "It’s… nothing, Derek."

Derek nodded, his tone softening. "It doesn’t seem like nothing, kid."

Spencer looked down, his voice small and almost defeated. "Can you just… stop being a big brother for a second?"

Derek’s expression softened even more as he asked gently, "Who do you want me to be?"

Spencer let out a weary sigh. "I don’t know… a wizard? Then maybe you could help me go back in time."

Derek started to ask, "Why do you need–" but before he could finish, his phone rang, the familiar tone signaling a new case. He glanced at the screen, then back at Spencer with a resigned look. "Time to go."

Spencer nodded, the moment slipping away as the reality of their work took precedence. But as they walked back toward the bullpen, Derek couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more going on beneath the surface—something that Spencer wasn’t ready to share yet.

—

When the team arrived back from the case, Spencer dreaded going home. He hadn't talked to Eli since the day they left, sending only a brief text to let them know he was heading out on a case and another just now to inform them he was back. But as usual, there were no messages waiting for him in return. Eli had done this before—the silent treatment. It was their way of letting Spencer know he had messed up, though the reason was often unclear until Eli decided to spell it out.

As Spencer approached his front door, the familiar feeling of anxiety settled in his chest. He knew what awaited him: the cold, silent disapproval from Eli, followed by the inevitable confrontation. It was why he was dreading going home, but there was no avoiding it.

When Spencer unlocked the front door, he was greeted by the sound of football blaring from the TV, and not much else. The usual signs of Eli’s presence—a drink on the coffee table, their shoes kicked off haphazardly—were all there, but the silence from Eli themselves was telling.

He announced his presence quietly, hoping to gauge the mood before he ventured further into the house. Without much of a response, Spencer headed to the laundry room, deciding to busy himself with washing his clothes. It was a mundane task, but it gave him something to focus on, a way to delay the inevitable confrontation.

What Spencer wasn’t expecting was for Eli to suddenly come up behind him, wrapping their arms around his waist and kissing the back of his neck. The affectionate gesture caught him off guard.

“Hey, baby,” Eli whispered, their voice soft and intimate.

“He–hey, Eli,” Spencer stammered, unsure of how to respond. He couldn’t tell if this was going to lead to something good or if it was just a precursor to another argument.

“I missed you while you were gone,” Eli mumbled, their lips trailing across Spencer’s neck, planting gentle kisses along his skin.

“Yeah?” Spencer sighed, tilting his head slightly to give Eli more access, his body instinctively responding to the affection despite the uncertainty gnawing at him.

“Mhm, it’s so lonely here without you,” Eli murmured, continuing their gentle assault of kisses.

That evening, Spencer found himself in the company of a sweet, loving, and cherishing Eli. It was a side of his partner he didn’t see often, and he was left wondering what he had done to deserve this sudden tenderness. But instead of questioning it, he allowed himself to be swept up in the rare affection, choosing to savor the moment rather than dwell on the why.

For that night, at least, Spencer let himself believe that everything was okay, that maybe this time things would be different. Even if it was just for a little while, he wasn’t going to complain.

—

You got a mysterious text from Shane, asking if they could come over to talk. You agreed, of course, but a nervous feeling settled in your stomach. Things had been going really well between the two of you—multiple dates, kisses, and they had even met Penelope. But as you opened the door to let them in, you immediately sensed that this wasn’t going to be good news.

"Hey, Y/N," Shane greeted with a sigh, giving you a sad smile. "Can I come in?"

You opened the door wider and motioned for them to enter, trying to brace yourself for whatever was coming. The two of you sat in the chairs by the window, the tension palpable as you waited for Shane to speak.

"What’s up, Shane?" you asked cautiously, your heart already preparing for the worst.

Shane sighed again, scratching the back of their head, clearly uncomfortable. "Well, I really respect you, so I felt it was only fair to tell you face to face... that I met someone. Someone I want to pursue things with exclusively."

Your heart sank. Of course, the one genuine person you meet found someone better than you. "Oh," was all you could manage to say, the word barely escaping your lips as you processed the rejection.

"I’m sorry, Y/N," Shane continued, their expression full of pity. "You’re a lovely person, and I really enjoyed our time together. But I just—"

"You don’t have to explain," you interrupted, forcing a small, tight-lipped smile despite the ache building in your chest. "I get it."

Shane frowned, clearly feeling bad, but they didn’t push further. They stood, clearly sensing that it was time to leave. "I really do wish you the best, Y/N. You deserve someone amazing."

You nodded, but the words felt hollow in the space between you. After you closed the door behind them, you sank into your chair, the weight of disappointment settling heavily on your shoulders. You hadn’t expected this, and now you were left alone, wondering why this always seemed to happen—just when things seemed to be going well, they unraveled.

As you sat there, staring blankly out the window, the weight of the rejection settled deep into your chest. You tried to convince yourself that it wasn’t a big deal, that these things happen, but the familiar voice of self-doubt crept in, louder and sharper than ever. Of course they found someone better. Why wouldn’t they?

You couldn’t shake the feeling that it was always you—never enough, never quite the right fit. You replayed the last few weeks in your mind, analyzing every detail, every moment, searching for where you might have fallen short. Maybe you weren’t interesting enough, not exciting enough, not worth sticking around for.

What if I’m just not the kind of person people choose? The thought gnawed at you, sinking deeper into your mind. Every small flaw, every insecurity felt magnified, and you couldn’t help but wonder if this was just how things would always be. Always second place. Always left behind.

—

Meanwhile, everything between Spencer and Eli seemed to improve dramatically. Eli was suddenly attentive in ways Spencer hadn’t experienced in a long time. They bought Spencer flowers, cooked him dinner, and even made an effort to engage in the things Spencer loved—whether it was sitting with him through documentaries or accompanying him on long walks through the city.

Spencer wasn’t sure what had sparked this radical change in Eli, but he didn’t dare question it. Part of him was afraid that if he asked, the magic would break, and everything would go back to the way it was before—the cold indifference, the emotional distance. For now, he clung to the fleeting happiness, allowing himself to believe that maybe this was the turning point he had been waiting for.

But in the back of his mind, a quiet voice whispered that good things never lasted for him, and any moment, it could all disappear. He knew better than to get comfortable, but for now, he basked in the attention, unwilling to let go of this brief glimpse of a perfect relationship.

Eli had never been one for grand gestures, but lately, everything felt different. Spencer came home one evening to find a bouquet of brightly colored flowers on the kitchen table, their fragrance filling the room.

"Hey, you’re home!" Eli called from the kitchen, a warm smile on their face as they stirred something on the stove. "I made your favorite—pasta with garlic bread. Thought you might like something comforting after your day."

Spencer blinked, his mind racing as he tried to process the shift. He set his bag down, cautiously approaching the flowers. "You… got these for me?" he asked, his voice soft, unsure.

Eli chuckled and walked over to him, wiping their hands on a dish towel before wrapping their arms around his waist. "Of course, I did. You deserve it, Spencie."

Spencer smiled, though his brow furrowed slightly in confusion. This wasn’t like Eli at all. "I… thank you. They’re beautiful." He leaned down to smell the flowers, a wave of warmth flooding him, but a lingering doubt hovered at the back of his mind.

Later that week, they were sitting together on the couch, something they rarely did. Eli had insisted on watching one of Spencer’s favorite documentaries, something about ancient civilizations that Spencer would usually watch alone.

"I never knew this stuff was so interesting," Eli commented, their head resting on Spencer’s shoulder. "Why didn’t you make me watch this with you sooner?"

Spencer looked down at them, unsure of how to respond. "I didn’t think it was really your thing," he admitted, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the fabric of Eli’s shirt. "You’ve never really… wanted to before."

Eli sat up slightly, turning to face Spencer, their hand coming to rest on his knee. "Well, I want to now," they said, smiling softly.

Spencer’s heart swelled at the words, but the confusion deepened. This was everything he had wanted from Eli for so long, but the sudden shift left him off-balance. Still, he wasn’t ready to question it—not when things were finally good. He forced himself to smile back, leaning in to kiss Eli’s forehead.

"I appreciate that," he whispered, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. "I just…I’m happy."

Eli kissed him softly on the lips, pulling him closer. "I love you, Spencie," they murmured, their words sweet and tender. "And I want to make sure you know that."

Spencer wrapped his arms around them, his mind swirling with unanswered questions. He wanted to ask what had caused this change, what had made Eli suddenly decide to be the partner he had always hoped for. But the fear of losing this fleeting happiness kept him silent. He wasn’t ready to risk it all, not yet.

—

Penelope had been watching you closely for days, her eyes filled with concern. She knew something was wrong, but you had been keeping your walls up, retreating further into your sadness after things fell apart with Shane. Every attempt she made to drag you out of the apartment had been met with a firm, “I’m just not feeling up to it, Pen.”

But Penelope wasn’t one to give up so easily. "Come on, honey, you can’t just sit here and stew over that idiot forever," she urged, practically bouncing on her feet. "We need to go out, have some fun, and remind the world who the hell we are!"

"I don’t know…" you trailed off, glancing at the TV as though it had something to offer. But you knew it didn’t. You just didn’t have the energy.

"Y/N," Penelope said firmly, placing her hands on her hips, "I love you, but sitting in pajamas while watching reality shows for the third night in a row is not how we get over this. You are coming with me."

You sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to relent. "Fine," you groaned, finally giving in.

Penelope’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Yes! Shower, now. I’m doing your makeup, and we are going to paint the town red!"

It wasn’t long before she had you dolled up, feeling like a different version of yourself. The two of you hit the town with one goal: to get drunk and forget all about stupid people like Shane. JJ, Emily, and Derek met up with you at the bar, and soon you were all dancing up a storm. The music, the energy, and the friends surrounding you were doing exactly what Penelope had intended—they were lifting you out of your funk.

You loved the attention you were getting, and it was absolutely helping you feel better about everything that had happened. The compliments, the laughs, the warmth of your friends—it was like a balm to the hurt you had been carrying.

After a while, you started feeling parched from all the dancing, so you drifted away from the group to grab some water at the bar. As you reached the counter, you bumped into someone.

"Oh, I’m sorry," you yelped, turning quickly to see who it was you’d run into.

To your surprise, the body turned around, and there, standing in front of you, was Eli. Your stomach dropped slightly, expecting some snide remark, a cutting comment like the ones you’d heard before.

But instead, Eli let out a light laugh. "No problem!" they said with a smile, their tone unusually friendly.

You blinked, taken aback by the unexpected response. Even Spencer, standing next to Eli, looked just as surprised, his brow furrowed slightly at Eli’s easygoing attitude toward you.

"Uh… thanks," you said, forcing a polite smile, still not entirely sure what to make of the encounter.

Eli nodded, still smiling, before turning back to their drink, leaving you standing there, feeling slightly bewildered. You couldn’t help but glance at Spencer, who gave you a small, almost apologetic smile, as if to acknowledge how strange the moment had been.

The interaction left you feeling a bit off-kilter, but as you grabbed your water and headed back to the dance floor, you pushed the weirdness aside. Tonight was about you, about having fun and moving on. Whatever Eli’s sudden kindness meant, you weren’t going to let it throw you off track.

Soon, you couldn’t just brush off the strange interaction because, much to your surprise, Spencer and Eli joined the rest of you on the dance floor. It was a sight you hadn’t expected.

“Whoa, pretty boy! I didn’t think you’d show!” Derek cheered, clearly having invited Spencer without anyone else knowing.

Spencer gave a half-smile, looking awkward as he stood on the outskirts of the group. “Yeah, uh… Eli thought it would be fun,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, his discomfort obvious.

“Well, loosen up, genius!” Emily called out, playfully nudging him. “We’re here to have fun.”

Eli, however, had no problem jumping right in, grabbing Spencer by the hips and guiding him into the rhythm of the music. Spencer’s movement was stilted, clearly uncomfortable with the attention, but Eli didn’t seem to mind, dancing all around him, their hands sliding over his shoulders and down his sides. The contrast between Spencer’s stiff posture and Eli’s free-spirited movements made for an interesting sight.

You tried to brush it off, but the more you watched, the more an odd sense of jealousy began to brew in your chest. It’s just because I’m newly single, you told yourself, trying to rationalize the pang of envy. But it didn’t feel that simple, and as you watched Eli spin Spencer with a grin, you couldn’t help but wonder why it bothered you so much.

Penelope noticed your mood shift immediately, her eyes following your gaze. She knew you too well, and it wasn’t long before she saw you slipping off the dance floor, making your way outside for some air. She wasn’t surprised at all—you needed a moment to clear your head.

What did surprise you, though, was when the door opened a few minutes later, and Spencer stepped out, his hands shoved into his pockets as he came to stand next to you. The cool night air felt refreshing against your heated skin, but Spencer’s presence made your heart race slightly, unsure of what to say or do.

Neither of you spoke for a moment, the silence hanging between you like a thread waiting to be pulled.

“You okay?” Spencer finally asked, his voice soft as he looked at you, the concern clear in his expression.

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone light despite the heaviness in your chest. “Yeah, just needed some air. It was getting a little... crowded in there.”

Spencer nodded, his gaze drifting down the street before returning to you. “Yeah, I get that,” he said quietly. He shifted his weight, looking almost as uncomfortable out here as he did on the dance floor.

You glanced over at him, curiosity tugging at you. “You don’t really seem like a club guy,” you said, half teasing.

Spencer chuckled awkwardly, his shoulders rising and falling in a small shrug. “I’m not,” he admitted. “I, uh, don’t really dance. Eli’s more into that.”

You nodded, watching him for a moment. There was something in his eyes—something that made you feel like he wasn’t entirely thrilled to be out here either.

“Eli seems really into it,” you said, testing the waters, unsure why you even brought it up.

Spencer’s smile faltered for a split second before he nodded again. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice quieter this time. He didn’t elaborate, and the silence between you grew, filled with unspoken thoughts and emotions that neither of you seemed ready to address.

After a moment, you decided to break the tension. “I didn’t expect to see you out tonight.”

Spencer chuckled softly, kicking at a loose pebble with his shoe. “I didn’t expect to be out, to be honest,” he admitted. “But, well... here I am.”

You smiled, feeling a strange connection in that shared sentiment. “Yeah, here we are.”

Spencer didn’t know why he followed you. Maybe it was the way you quietly slipped away from the group, or maybe it was something deeper—a feeling he couldn’t quite explain, like an invisible string pulling him after you. He had hesitated for a moment, glancing at Eli before deciding he needed to step outside.

“Hey, uh... is it okay if I step out for some air?” Spencer asked, trying to sound casual.

Eli’s eyes flickered toward the door, then back to him. “With Y/N?” they asked, their tone neutral, but it made Spencer catch his breath, suddenly nervous that Eli might get upset in front of everyone.

Spencer swallowed hard. “Is that... okay?” he asked tentatively, trying to gauge Eli’s reaction.

Eli’s face softened, a sweet smile forming as they nodded. “Yeah, Spencie! Go check on your friend.”

Relief washed over Spencer, though a small knot of confusion lingered. Eli’s sudden sweetness left him feeling a bit unsettled, but he didn’t question it. Instead, he gave a small smile in return before quietly making his way outside to join you.

As he stood next to you in the cool night air, the questions he had about Eli faded, replaced by an inexplicable need to be there with you, to share this quiet moment away from the chaos of the night.

You and Spencer remained side by side, chatting politely, both enjoying the quiet reprieve from the crowd inside. The cool night air felt refreshing, a stark contrast to the warm chaos of the dance floor.

“Are you, uh—still seeing that person from the other week?” Spencer asked awkwardly, his words stumbling out as he glanced at you.

You stiffened slightly at the mention of Shane, the wound still fresh, not something you wanted to discuss right now, especially not here. "No," you said simply, hoping to leave it at that.

Spencer shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting away before he coughed. "Oh," he mumbled, then added, "I’m sorry. They’re an idiot."

You couldn’t help but smile, the warmth of his words cutting through some of the lingering pain. "Thank you," you said softly, genuinely appreciating his attempt to comfort you.

Spencer nodded, and when he finally looked at you, something in his expression changed. His eyes locked with yours, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to stand still. He realized in that instant that what he felt looking into your eyes—this connection, this spark—was stronger than anything he’d ever felt with Eli. Every moment he had shared with Eli over the course of their relationship paled in comparison to what he felt standing there with you now.

The realization hit him like a tidal wave, both exhilarating and terrifying. He wasn’t sure what to do with this feeling, and the fear of what it meant gripped him tightly. Spencer wasn’t ready to confront it, but in that moment, he knew something had shifted between the two of you. And that scared him more than anything.

—

The next time you saw him, Eli was by his side once again. The team was gathered to celebrate Aaron Hotchner’s birthday with a fancy dinner followed by a play, and the atmosphere was light, filled with laughter and easy conversation. The dinner had been delicious, and everyone was in high spirits as you all made your way to the theater, excitement buzzing in the air.

Finding your seats, you realized the universe must have been playing some sort of twisted joke. The numbers on your tickets had placed you directly next to Spencer. It seemed innocent enough—JJ was on your other side, and Eli sat beside Spencer—but the proximity between you two felt charged in a way that was hard to ignore.

The lights dimmed, and the show began, captivating the audience almost immediately. You focused on the performance, but you had no idea that Spencer's mind was far from the stage. Since the moment you walked into the restaurant tonight, Spencer’s mind had been a chaotic kaleidoscope of images of you. The way you looked, the way you moved, the sound of your laugh—it was overwhelming.

Sitting so close to you now, he felt a primal, almost feral need stirring inside him, something he'd never experienced so intensely before. It was beyond mere attraction; it was hunger. He could barely focus on the play as his thoughts drifted to you again and again.

Spencer’s chest tightened with guilt as his mind began slipping away from innocent thoughts. At first, his musings were harmless, but they quickly escalated to PG-13, and then further, to places he had never allowed himself to go before. He couldn’t shake it, this wild, uncontrollable pull toward you. He wanted to tear his thoughts away, but every fiber of his being was hyper-aware of your presence next to him.

It was horrible—he felt like he was betraying Eli, even though the thoughts stayed locked inside his own head. He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white as he tried to suppress the desire building within him. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking about you like this, not when Eli was sitting right next to him. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the intense attraction coursing through his body. The guilt gnawed at him, but the desire burned even stronger.

He felt trapped, stuck between the relationship he had and the undeniable draw he felt toward you. And in that dark theater, surrounded by his friends, Spencer’s thoughts were anything but innocent.

During intermission, Spencer excused himself, practically fleeing to the restroom. Once there, he splashed cold water on his face, hoping to wash away the guilty, indecent thoughts that had plagued him throughout the first half of the play. What the hell is wrong with me? he thought, staring at his reflection, trying to regain control of himself.

Meanwhile, you headed to the concession stand, grabbing a lemonade. It came with a straw, which you twirled absentmindedly as you made your way back to your seat. You settled in, sipping slowly as everyone found their spots again.

When Spencer returned and sat next to you, he tried to focus on anything but you—the play, Eli, anything—but his eyes kept drifting to your lips as you wrapped them around the straw, sipping your drink. The way you casually sipped, completely unaware of the effect you were having on him, made his throat dry.

You noticed his lingering gaze and raised an eyebrow, suppressing a small smile. "Want a sip?" you offered, holding the drink out toward him, your voice teasing but light.

Spencer hesitated for a second, knowing that accepting it would be a bad idea. But then again, what harm could one sip do? "Sure," he replied, his voice low, almost strained.

Instead of taking the cup from your hand, Spencer leaned over, resting his hand lightly on your thigh as he bent toward you. His touch sent a jolt of warmth through you, and your breath hitched as he brought his lips to the straw still clasped in your hand. He took a slow sip, his hand remaining firmly in place, his fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of your dress.

Your face flushed a deep crimson, the simple act of him drinking from the same straw suddenly charged with an intimacy you hadn’t anticipated. You glanced quickly at Eli, but they were preoccupied, furiously typing away on their phone, not even noticing what was happening between you and Spencer.

As the lights flickered, signaling the end of intermission, Spencer pulled back, the drink slipping from his lips, but his hand stayed where it was, resting warmly on your thigh. The lights dimmed once more, and the play resumed, but Spencer’s touch remained, grounding you in a way that made it impossible to focus on anything else.

Neither of you said a word, but the unspoken tension between you hung in the air, heavier than ever. You didn’t dare move, and neither did he. And as the minutes passed, you could feel the weight of that moment, the quiet acknowledgement that whatever was happening between you was more than just fleeting glances or stolen moments.

Spencer’s hand stayed on your thigh for the rest of the show, and you tried to rationalize it. It’s probably just the wine he had with dinner, you thought, convincing yourself he was just feeling a bit more friendly than usual. After all, the two of you had bonded that night at the club, and maybe this was just an extension of that. Still, the warmth of his hand lingered longer than it should have, sending ripples of confusion through you.

When the lights came back on and the play ended, you quickly stood, clapping in applause and efficiently removing Spencer’s hand from your leg. You didn’t want to dwell on it, but the moment left you feeling uneasy. As the theater cleared, the group gathered outside to say their goodbyes, but you found yourself avoiding Spencer’s gaze.

Leaning over to Penelope, you whispered, "I’m not feeling so great. I think I need to head out."

Concern flashed across her face, but she didn’t question you. "Of course, babe. Let’s go."

After wishing Aaron a happy birthday, you and Penelope left before you could make any eye contact with Spencer. Your thoughts raced as you hurried away, unsure why he had acted the way he did. You didn’t hate what had happened, and that made it worse. He has a partner, you reminded yourself, the guilt settling heavily in your chest.

Meanwhile, Spencer and Eli made their way home as well. The silence between them was thick with unspoken tension, but when they arrived, Eli wasted no time initiating an intimate night. Spencer let it happen, going through the motions as his mind drifted back to you. He felt a surge of guilt and self-loathing. As Eli’s hands moved over him, Spencer’s thoughts were filled with the image of you, your laughter, the feel of your thigh beneath his palm. It made him feel like a monster, like he was betraying not only Eli, but you as well.

But what Spencer didn’t realize was that he wasn’t the only one with someone else on his mind. As Eli kissed him, their thoughts weren’t on Spencer either. The unspoken fractures in their relationship were growing wider, with both of them secretly imagining someone else, locked in a cycle of unaddressed desires and unvoiced doubts.

—

It was October now, and Halloween was rapidly approaching—Spencer's favorite time of year and his absolute favorite holiday. The excitement had been building for weeks, and it was palpable. He loved everything about Halloween—the history, the traditions, and, of course, the chance to dress up and lose himself in the festive spirit.

But as the holiday approached, so did the Halloween party you and Penelope were throwing. The entire team had been invited, along with their partners and a few other friends. It was going to be a night full of fun, laughter, and celebration, and you couldn't wait to show everyone the apartment, which was fully decked out in spooky decorations.

Though you were looking forward to the party, there was one thought that kept crossing your mind: Spencer. He’d be there, of course, with Eli by his side. It was hard to shake the feeling that no matter how much time had passed since that strange, tension-filled evening at the theater, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The truth was, you knew you couldn’t have him—he was spoken for, and no matter what had happened or hadn’t happened, he was off-limits.

But that didn’t stop you from hoping your costume might catch his eye.

You’d spent extra time picking out the perfect outfit—something that was fun and playful, but with just enough edge to make an impression. Part of you wondered if he would notice, if he would look at you the way he had during the play. Even though you knew it was dangerous territory, the thought lingered in the back of your mind.

As you finished adjusting the final Halloween decorations, you glanced around the apartment, satisfied with how everything had turned out. The anticipation of the party and seeing everyone—especially Spencer—left a mix of excitement and nervousness brewing inside you.

One night, you thought. One night to celebrate, to have fun. Just let it be enough.

By the time people started arriving, your apartment had been fully transformed into a Halloween wonderland. The living room is draped in warm, spooky hues of purple and orange, with bats hanging from the ceiling and a wreath made of autumn leaves and tiny pumpkins framing the window. The couches are decorated with plush pillows and blankets, and a coffee table sits adorned with jack-o'-lanterns, flickering with eerie candlelight, surrounded by scattered fall leaves.

The hallway leading to the party area is wrapped in dark, twisting branches and shimmering orange lights, creating a haunting yet whimsical path. A skeleton sits at the dining table, illuminated by the warm glow of string lights that crisscross overhead, casting playful shadows along the walls.

Further in, an archway framed with grinning pumpkins welcomes guests into a dining area, bathed in the glow of purple lights. Jack-o'-lanterns of all shapes and sizes line the walls, giving the space a playful but eerie ambiance. It’s the kind of atmosphere that will make the party unforgettable, setting the perfect tone for the night.

You and Penelope stood by the door, greeting your guests as they entered your neon-lit, spooky apartment, handing out glowing necklaces as a fun touch to set the party's mood. Amid the excitement and stress of hosting, you nearly forgot that Spencer would be walking through that door any minute now. Your thoughts had been focused on making sure everything was perfect, greeting the steady stream of guests, and keeping the energy light and fun.

Just as you were handing another glowing necklace to a guest, the front door burst open, and in strolled Derek, as confident as ever, with Emily on one arm and JJ on the other. Emily looked striking in her sleek Morticia Addams costume, with her sharp features highlighted by her dark makeup, and JJ exuded playful fierceness in her Kill Bill-inspired outfit. Penelope, as usual, was a burst of color and creativity in her neon-pink, revealing Alice in Wonderland-esc cat costume.

Derek, dressed as a dashing fighter pilot, took one look at you and Penelope, his eyes wide with exaggerated awe. “Wow! My god, you gorgeous ladies are gonna give me a heart attack!” he playfully swooned, placing a hand dramatically over his chest.

Penelope grinned, striking a pose next to you, her Cheshire cat grin almost matching the one she had painted on her face. "Careful, Morgan. You might need to be resuscitated."

You couldn’t help but laugh at the exchange, but your heart fluttered slightly as you realized that any moment, Spencer would be walking in, and you wondered what he would think when he saw you in your costume.

The whole team had arrived about 20 minutes ago, with everyone dressed to impress, save for Spencer. You couldn’t help but worry he wasn’t going to come, despite his excitement about Halloween. You tried to stay positive, especially since everyone else seemed to be in good spirits. Even Hotch and Rossi had put in some effort, dressing up as Men in Black, though it was hardly a stretch from their usual look—very creative you thought with a smirk.

The party had started in full swing, laughter and music filling the room, but you couldn’t shake the slight disappointment. What if he doesn’t show?

Then, suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Without thinking, you crossed the room and swung it open, your jaw practically hitting the floor when you saw who was standing on the other side.

There, in all his unnervingly handsome glory, was Spencer—no Eli in sight. He was dressed as Patrick Bateman from American Psycho, complete with a suit, raincoat, and an ax slung over his shoulder. His normally disheveled hair was slicked back, and the blood splatter across his face made him look dangerously alluring. You could feel your heart stutter in your chest.

You stood there with your hand still on the door, staring at him for far too long to be socially acceptable. But Spencer wasn’t faring much better. His eyes had widened when he saw you in your Ghostface costume—though this was your take of the infamous killer, your fitted corset and thigh-high slit showing more than enough to leave Spencer speechless.

His lips parted slightly, the two of you caught in an awkward, electrifying silence. Neither of you moved or spoke, both seemingly frozen in the moment. You tried to find something to say, but your brain refused to cooperate. He looked breathtaking, and from the look in his eyes, you were certain he thought the same about you.

"Uh… wow," Spencer finally managed, his voice low, almost reverent.

You blinked, snapping out of your trance and feeling your cheeks heat up. "Spencer… you… look…" You trailed off, biting your lip as your eyes roamed over his form again.

"Yeah," he murmured, his gaze dropping to your costume. "You too." He cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly but never taking his eyes off you.

You stepped aside, finally remembering your manners. "Come in," you said, your voice breathless.

As he walked past you, your heart fluttered wildly in your chest. Tonight was going to be interesting.

“Boy wonder!” Penelope squealed as she caught sight of Spencer walking into the party. Her arms flung open dramatically before pulling him into a big squeeze.

"Hey, Pen, great party!" Spencer laughed, his voice warm as he returned her embrace.

JJ approached, tilting her head curiously. "Where’s Eli?"

Spencer didn’t seem fazed by the question as he shrugged casually. "Oh, their friend is having a party tonight too. They might stop by later, but I wouldn’t count on it," he replied with a small laugh, seemingly unbothered by Eli’s absence.

Derek, being a sharp observer of Spencer’s moods, raised an eyebrow. “...And you’re cool with this?”

Spencer just smiled brightly, brushing it off with a light chuckle. “Yup! We don’t have to do everything together.” He laughed again, the sound easygoing and relaxed.

Everyone seemed to accept his answer, nodding along before the party really began to kick into gear. Laughter and conversation flowed easily around the room, the energy of the Halloween festivities keeping everyone entertained.

But despite the natural rhythm of the night, you couldn’t quite shake the nagging feeling in the back of your mind. Something about Spencer seemed off—not in a bad way, but different. He seemed almost too happy that Eli hadn’t joined him. There was something about his energy, a lightness that hadn’t been there before, and the more you watched him throughout the evening, the more you wondered what was really going on beneath that bright smile of his.

You were in the kitchen, pouring yourself a drink, when the sound of footsteps behind you caught your attention. Without hesitation, you glanced over your shoulder and saw Spencer standing there. Instinctively, you turned to face him, not wanting to give him the chance to sneak up on you.

"Hello, Spencer," you greeted with a warm smile, trying to mask the sudden nervous energy that surged through you.

"Y/N," he nodded, stepping a little closer. "You know, maybe we should team up. Might make things easier," he added with a smirk, his costume and demeanor making him look every bit the psycho he was dressed as. The sight of him like that sent your heart racing, and to your dismay, you found yourself stuttering.

"Wh–what? You, an–an–me?"

Spencer just laughed, the sound low and amused. "Ghostface and Patrick Bateman? We’d make quite the team."

You chuckled nervously, trying to shake off the butterflies in your stomach. "Oh, hah, yeah, you’re right. So, um, who’s our first victim?" you asked, playing along with the joke.

Spencer rubbed his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. "Hmm… I’d say we start with the Men in Black. Take out the authority first."

You couldn’t help it—the laugh that erupted from you was genuine and loud, a real cackle that caught you off guard. You quickly covered your mouth, embarrassed by how loud it was.

But before you could fully hide, Spencer reached out and gently grabbed your wrist, lowering your hand. "Don’t cover up," he said softly, his eyes locking with yours. "I like your laugh."

His touch sent a warm shiver down your spine, and for a moment, the playful atmosphere shifted into something heavier, something unspoken hanging between you both. You smiled, the blush creeping up your cheeks, unsure of how to respond to the sudden intimacy.

"Thanks," you murmured, your heart thudding in your chest, the moment feeling far more charged than a simple Halloween joke should have been.

You cleared your throat, turning back to focus on your drink, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "So, um, how do we take them out?" you asked, trying to keep the conversation light and playful.

Spencer tapped his chin in mock thought before flashing you a mischievous smirk. "Let's make it a game," he said, his voice low, adding to the playful tension between you. "We have to turn off their glowing necklaces without them noticing. If you’re successful, you get a point. Most points by the end of the night wins."

You grinned at the idea, nodding in agreement. "Alright, you’re on."

And just like that, the game began. You and Spencer spent the rest of the evening sneaking around the party, laughing and conspiring together like mischievous children. You’d catch each other’s eye from across the room, silently plotting, and then spring into action, working to stealthily turn off people’s glowing necklaces without them noticing.

Every time one of you was successful, you’d stifle giggles, slipping back into the crowd with a triumphant grin. The whole dynamic between you and Spencer had shifted into something new—something light, fun, and undeniably flirtatious. Your shared laughter echoed through the room, drawing the attention of the other guests.

It didn’t take long for people to notice the change. Derek raised an eyebrow at the two of you, watching as you and Spencer darted around with smiles and whispered jokes. JJ and Emily exchanged knowing glances, clearly curious about this unexpected shift in your relationship. Even Penelope caught on, throwing you a sly look that said she’d definitely be asking you about this later.

Everyone seemed to be wondering the same thing: Since when did these two get along so well?

But you didn’t care. For the first time in a long while, you were having fun—real fun—with Spencer. And, despite the attention from everyone else, you weren’t ready for it to stop.

—

As the night wrapped up, the energy was still buzzing. Everyone had enjoyed themselves, and the party had been a huge success. You felt a sense of pride as you waved goodbye to your guests, making sure everyone had a designated driver or had called a cab. Once the last person had left, you closed the door, feeling the peaceful silence settle in.

But the quiet didn’t last long.

Penelope wasted no time, immediately bombarding you with questions, her eyes wide with curiosity. "Okay, spill! What was that? You and Boy Wonder sneaking around, giggling like a couple of high schoolers? Since when are you and Spencer all… flirty?!"

You laughed, still riding the high of the evening, but you could see the concern in Penelope’s eyes. She leaned in closer, her expression softening as she lowered her voice. "Look, I loved seeing you have fun tonight. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you smile like that," she admitted, "but I just want you to be careful. Spencer and Eli seem very happy together, and I don’t want you getting hurt."

You hesitated, knowing she was right. "I know, Pen," you sighed. "It’s just… it was harmless fun, you know? Nothing serious."

Penelope gave you a look, the one that said she wasn’t buying it. "I just don’t want you caught up in something messy," she said softly. "You deserve someone who’s all in, not someone who’s already got someone else."

You nodded, appreciating her concern, but at the same time, you couldn’t shake the way Spencer had looked at you tonight, the way you’d both laughed together like nothing else mattered.

Meanwhile, Spencer drove home in silence, not having had a single drink all night. His mind was still racing from the party, the memories of sneaking around with you and laughing filling his head. The evening had been… unexpected. He couldn’t deny that he’d had fun, maybe more fun than he’d had in a while.

When he pulled into the parking garage, he noticed Eli’s car wasn’t there. He assumed they were still out, maybe spending the night at their friend’s place. It wasn’t unusual for Eli to stay out late when they were with friends, and Spencer didn’t give it much thought as he unlocked the front door and walked inside.

He moved through the apartment quietly, heading down the hall to the bedroom. But what he didn’t expect—what stopped him dead in his tracks—was the sight that greeted him when he opened the bedroom door.

There, in his bed, was Eli. And they weren’t alone.

It took a moment for Spencer’s brain to register what he was seeing, but when it did, the shock hit him like a tidal wave. The person with Eli—the one tangled up in the sheets, very clearly entwined with his partner—was none other than Shane, the same person who had taken you on a date.

His heart pounded in his chest as the weight of the betrayal sank in, the scene before him twisting his stomach into knots.

Shane looked up at the sound of the door opening, pulling away from Eli and quickly covering both of them with the blankets, their face contorting into a mix of shock and confusion.

“What the hell?” Shane yelled, voice panicked.

That finally snapped Spencer out of his state of shock. “What the hell? What the hell! Get out of my fucking bed!” he screamed, his voice cracking with raw emotion.

“Your bed?” Shane’s face instantly fell, their eyes darting to Eli, whose expression was now cold, almost indifferent. “Are you married?” Shane asked, their voice trembling with fear and disbelief.

Eli scoffed, pushing themselves out of bed, making no effort to cover up. “No,” they said with a lazy shrug, “this is Spencer.”

“And who is Spencer?” Shane asked, sounding utterly heartbroken.

Spencer’s voice trembled with emotion as he stood frozen in the doorway, tears welling up in his eyes. “Yeah, Eli... who is Spencer?”

Eli rolled their eyes, casually pulling on a robe, unfazed by the entire situation. “My partner,” they said dismissively, as if it meant nothing.

“What?” Shane cried out, turning to Spencer, tears streaming down their face. “I am so sorry, I had no idea. We—we’ve been seeing each other for weeks.” Shane’s voice cracked with guilt and devastation.

Spencer felt like he should have been more hurt by the revelation, but the truth was, Shane’s emotional investment was far greater than his own. He saw now why Eli had been so suddenly attentive and kind—there had been someone else.

“It’s—it’s fine,” Spencer muttered, running a shaky hand through his hair, trying to keep it together. “I’ll, um, I’ll stay somewhere else tonight. Eli, let’s talk later, okay?”

Eli just nodded, entirely unaffected. “Cool.”

With that, Spencer grabbed a few things and left the apartment, feeling numb and hollow.

—

Back at your place, you and Penelope were still sitting on the couch, talking about the party, when there was a sudden knock at the door. You exchanged a curious look, not expecting anyone else to stop by at this hour.

Penelope shot up, tiptoeing over to the door and peeking through the peephole. She gasped loudly before rushing back to you, whispering in a hurried panic, “It’s Spencer!” And then, without any warning, she dashed off to her bedroom, the unmistakable sound of the door locking echoing through the apartment.

You let out a long sigh, standing up and making your way over to the door, wondering what could have brought Spencer here so late. You expected him to say he’d forgotten his phone or maybe just needed something small.

But when you opened the door, Spencer didn’t say a word.

He didn’t ask for anything, didn’t explain himself. Instead, he stepped forward, his eyes heavy with emotion, and before you could even react, he reached out, grabbing your face gently but with a sense of urgency. Then, without hesitation, Spencer pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that was both desperate and full of longing.

The world seemed to stop in that moment, your heart pounding as the warmth of his lips consumed you, every thought and question vanishing into the kiss.

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