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ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat · 30 days ago

Text

GODDDDDDD DON'T DO THIS TO MEEEEE

I'M YOUNG AND FERTILE!!!!!

little dad!spencer fic because i was ovulating :)

oliver's little legs hang off the edge of yours and spencer's bed, swinging as he waits. he's patient, but antsy, bouncing lightly on the mattress, as you go to grab a pair of socks from his dresser.

you kneel by his feet, tucking your fingers into the sock and stretching it out so it can fit over his toes. giggling when you tickle him, you pull the sock over his ankle and hold out the opposite one for his other foot.

he pulls his leg away with a huff, prompting you to look up at him, confused. his eyebrows crease, a stubborn line blooming down the middle, big eyes squinting, an expression eerily similar to a certain someone you know.

"come on, little man. we gotta put your socks on or you can’t wear your shoes," you murmur, reaching out with prying fingers.

he squirms further away. with an air of defiance, he folds his arms over his chest, an adorable pout tugging at his lips.

"no, i wanna wear 'nother one like daddy," he grumbles.

of course, the first thing your child would pick up from both of you would be his father's tendency to never wear the same socks.

and speak of the devil, spencer walks in, black velcro shoes in hand as he takes in the scene before him. you turn on your knees to face him and point a lazy, accusatory finger in his direction.

"you're teaching our son bad habits."

he frowns, affronted, confused by the unimpressed yet amused expression on your face. "what did i do?" he asks, his voice trailing higher toward the end like it usually does.

you dangle the rejected sock between your fingers. "he doesn't want to wear the matching pair; he says he wants to wear another one like daddy."

you think the look he gives you could knock you off your feet if your knees weren't so firmly planted on the ground. he smiles, ecstatic and proud, eyes wide and crinkling at the corners as he crouches in front of your son with you.

"is that right?" spencer coos up at the boy, holding his calf in his hand. you still can't seem to get over how small he is.

oliver nods curtly. you can't help but break into a smile. jumping to your feet, you quickly go to get a different pair.

"you're in charge of pairing his socks after laundry," you say when you return, handing a purple and blue striped sock to spencer that contrasts with the orange of the other one.

"gladly," he grins. you watch as he carefully puts it on, slipping on oliver's shoes as well. “happy?”

oliver grins, one that he undoubtedly inherited from his father, jumping off the bed in a way that almost frightens you but doesn't, as spencer's hand quickly secures itself around his waist, catching him.

spencer pulls the little boy into his lap, and his fingers mercilessly begin to tickle him. oliver squirms and squirms, trying to escape, but spencer's arms keep him caged in. gasping giggles fill the room, mingled with your own chuckles.

spencer's gaze drifts to you when he hears you laugh; god, he loves that sound.

with a shared, mischievous glance between the two of them–one that you don't notice–the attack shifts to you. spencer lifts oliver from his lap to yours, little hands reaching out to grab and scrunch at your stomach, not quite tickling you, but enough to leave you writhing.

you yelp, falling backward as the onset of poking surprises you. spencer's hand cushions the back of your head before it hits the ground, his fingers moving under your arms and tickling you as well.

“hey! no fai-” you gasp, interrupted by another laugh that bubbles out of you. you clutch your stomach, trying to cover the area of weakness, but you're no match for oliver's eager fingers. he pokes at your belly like he's pressing buttons, and spencer thinks it's hilarious.

he doubles over as if it's the funniest thing he's ever seen; you’re gonna kill him.

spencer lingers just below your armpit, where he knows you’re more sensitive, laughing, like he’s the one being tickled. you’re a mess, breathless with hair sticking to your face, your abdomen is starting to ache from exertion, when, finally-

saved by the bell–literally, as it rings through the apartment–penelope arrives. she unlocks the door with her set of backup keys, the sound providing you a brief reprieve as it distracts oliver.

“honey, i’m home! the sun is out and a picnic is a-calling,” she announces, sing-song, from the living room.

you breathe out a sigh of relief when oliver hops off you, sprinting to see his auntie penelope.

“slow down,” spencer calls after him, still chuckling quietly as he sits by your head, while you catch your breath.

“you are so done for,” you pant. “you better sleep with one eye open tonight, doctor reid.”

“oh, official titles. i’m terrified,” he feigns surrender as he looms over you, albeit upside down.

“you’re insufferable,” you mumble, looking up at him with a glare. it softens, however, when his big hands cradle your face. your eyes flutter shut for just a moment as you try to maintain the annoyed facade and ignore how warm his palms are.

“you love me,” he replies, brushing a strand of hair from your eyes. he leans down to kiss you, still upside down, his chin pressing against your nose. you begrudgingly kiss him back, your lips curling into a smile when he hums.

“c’mon, a picnic is a-calling.”

#michaela's recs<3 #alisha🎆#spencer reid x reader

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