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mxchellesworld · 2 years

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An Inconvenient Affection [Chapter 11]

Summary: When a couples’ therapist is suspected of murdering his own patients, Y/N and Spencer must go undercover as a feuding married couple to draw him out.

Chapter Summary: The real world begins to creep in

A/N: Sorry that this so unbelievably late, thank you so much for your patience, as always! Love you all ❤️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fake Dating, Friends to Lovers, Smut, Fluff, Angst

Warnings: NSFW language, sexual themes, language, mentions of stalking & infidelity, discussions of jealousy and possessive behavior, kissing, fingering, oral (female receiving), angst (sorry)

Word Count: 4.7k

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Something about Dr. Harris’ words sits with him long after the session is over. He knew he loved her, but he did want to show it more. In a way it still didn’t feel real, the two of them being together.

Obviously the team didn’t know yet, and they couldn��t act like a happy couple outside of the confines of the apartment. The apartment that didn’t even belong to them. It all felt so strange when he really let himself dwell on it, lounging back on the sofa almost letting himself get fully lost in his thoughts before pulling himself back.

He was going to show her love, as best as he could within these four walls, so he grabbed his coat and raced out of the apartment in a bid to get some shopping done before all the stores closed for the night.

He’s not entirely sure what he’s hoping to find as he wanders the aisles of their local grocery store. Nothing on the shelves really screams romance, until his eyes land on a bouquet of red roses. They’re not perfect, but what did he expect really. So he grabs a bunch, or three, along with some candles, and some champagne, and he’s back at the apartment with a plan.

He has a bit of time before she gets in from her shift. So he really takes him time, setting everything up perfectly. He feels like a little foolish as he pulls the petals off several roses, scattering them around the bathroom as he waits for the water to heat. He leaves some in the water, others along the floor in a little trail out to the bedroom. He feels even sillier when he throws the remaining handful on their bed.

He tries no to let himself overthink it as he lights the candles he’s got set up around the bath. He’d like to think she’ll find the whole thing sweet, but there’s every chance she’ll find it corny and laughable. He just really hopes that’s not the case.

The bath is just about full with steaming water and frothy bubbles when he hears a key in the door and his legs can barely carry him fast enough. In spite of the probably overwhelming scent of roses that’ll hit her as soon as she opens the door, he still wants it to be a surprise.

“Hi?” is the first thing she says, confusion plain on her features when she comes home just before midnight and he’s waiting by the door, right in the same place he had been when she left him earlier.

“H-hey” he rushes out, trying and failing to contain his excitement, “How was work?”

She narrows her eyes as she looks up at him, suspicious now, “What did you do?” is the first thing she thinks to ask, “Did you break something?” is her follow up when he doesn’t answer right away.

“No! No nothing like that” he shakes his head, “Just— god, come with me” he pulls her with him towards their bedroom, leading her straight past the rose-petal covered bed, into the bathroom.

It’s not how she remembered their little bathroom looking. The candles that litter every surface of the bathroom flicker and glow to create a warm light that bounces off the tiles. The bath itself is full of bubbles and water, and the steam rolling off the top of it just makes it look even more inviting. Not to mention the red petals that float on the surface and coat the ground beneath her feet.

When she turns to him she’s almost welling up, little tears in her eyes threading to spill over at the very gesture.

“Oh, what’s wrong? I—is this okay? You don’t have to if you don’t want to— I —I won’t be offended.” he rushing out reassurance so fast he barely notices her head shake from side to side.

“No” she says through a light laugh, “No, it’s perfect you fool! I love it, I love you.” she smiles looking up at him, and he can see it now as he looks into her eyes, that they’re full of nothing but adoration. She places a light kiss on his lips and he can’t help but smile against her.

“I almost forgot” he mumbles as she pulls back, “I got champagne too. I’ll just go grab it from the kitchen” he says through an excited smile.

When he returns with the bottle and glasses she’s already undressed and stepping into the water. He takes a second to admire her from the doorway, still in complete disbelief that she was really his, that she was choosing to be with him of all people.

He places a glass down beside her as she sits into the warm water, watching as it envelops her and seems to dissolve any tension in her body as she sinks further beneath the surface.

“I’ll just be outside, but let me know if you need anything” he says as he places a kiss on her forehead, but she just looks up at him with an utterly confused expression.

“Wh- you’re not getting in?” she asks, turning her body to face him as he tries to leave the room.

“No, it’s for you. I wanted you to relax” he says with a soft smile. And it makes her heart swell but she still can’t let him away with it.

“You know what would be even more relaxing?” she asks, and he quirks an eyebrow, “If you got in here with me? Please?”

It doesn’t take much convincing to get him into a bath with his naked girlfriend. She gets him to sit with his back propped up against the smooth porcelain and she slots herself in between his legs.

The second he’s got her body pressed up against his chest, with his arms floating around her, he doesn’t feel like any of this was corny anymore. It’s hard not to feel a little soppy and romantic in a setting like this.

“Are you comfy?” she asks, like he could be anything other than perfectly content in the positions he’s in right now.

“More than” he says through a smile.

And they relax just like that, together. Doing nothing but enjoying the warmth of the water, and of each others company. But before the water gets too cold, she wants him to relax properly too.

Of course he had planned this whole thing for her, to help her unwind a little. But it wasn’t lost on her that he had been wound tight since the very beginning of this case. So she swivels around a little so she can look at him.

“Spence?” she asks, “Can we swap places for a bit?”

He looks a little puzzled at first, but he concedes.

She turns her body around and spreads her legs so that he can nestle in-between them, laying himself against her chest. She lets him rest like that for a few minutes before gently scooping up some water in her hands and pouring it over his soft brown curls.

“Hey!” he giggles, “What are you doing?” he asks, trying to crane his neck around without getting any of the water in his eyes. But he just catches sight of her reaching for the shampoo bottle and catches on quickly.

“Lie back” she orders, squeezing a dollop onto her fingertips as she waits for him to comply, “That’s better”

She takes her soapy fingers and begins to massage them into his hair. Taking her time, she digs them into his scalp, drawing them in patterns along the sensitive skin and watching the way Spencers eyes drift solely closed.

“That feels so nice” he breathes out in a sigh, the tension he perpetually carried in his shoulders slowly starting to dissipate as the evening went on.

She grabs the shower head and uses it to rinse out the lather before coaxing him back into her arms to comb the conditioner through his curls. She lets it sit in his hair then, something she’s sure he never does, in spite of how soft his hair usually was.

He can hear her heart beat slowly thumping as he rests his head against her chest once more, his eyes remaining closed so that he can savor all of the other sensations that little bit more.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this close with anyone” he mumbles out, and he’s more thinking it to himself really, taking notice of just how low his guard has dropped in that moment.

“At least, not like this, this is… I don’t know? I just— I can’t describe it?” he ponders, and he’s almost a little shocked when he feels her giggling against him.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, trying to maneuver his head around so that he can see her joyous little expression.

“I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you speechless before? Spencer Reid, at a loss for words? It’s an honor really.”

He shakes his head as he begins to giggle too, using his palm to flick some of the bath water back towards her with a grin.

“I’m trying to be vulnerable right now and you’re laughing?” he says, with a mock-offended tone, but she just nods enthusiastically.

“I couldn’t resist! I’m sorry!” she yelps as he splashes her again, “But for what it’s worth, I feel the same way”

As much as he loves the words that tumble from her lips, he loves the perfect sound of her laughter even more, so he splashes her again just to hear that melodic sound.

And when their messing continues past the point of lukewarm bathwater, and drenched candles, it’s finally time to get out. Spencer climbs out first, wrapping a towel around his hips before grabbing a large fluffy towel for her. Pulling her out and wrapping it tight around her shoulders, enveloping her in the soft warm fabric and placing a gentle kiss into damp hair.

“God you smell so good” he sighs, holding her wrapped in his arms for another moment, as if they hadn’t been pressed up against each other all evening.

But it’s after getting a little too late, and even though neither of them has a deadline in the morning, they still need rest. So they climb into bed together, foregoing pajamas in favor of freshly washed skin on skin.

— — —

When he wakes to the bed empty beside him his heart all but stops. But the shock only lasts a moment before he fully wakes up and realizes that he can hear the shuffling of pots and pans in the kitchen, and he can smell the warm scent of coffee wafting through the open bedroom door.

So he pries himself out of bed with far less effort than usual, knowing what awaits him in the kitchen makes the task so much simpler. Expecting to find her in her pajamas, cooking breakfast, or reading a newspaper, he hurries to get dressed.

But when he rounds the corner, the picture in front of him is far less innocent. He’s caught off guard by the sight of her bare legs, swinging off the edge of the counter as she sits on the surface. The smooth skin stretching all the way up, only to be covered by one of his sweaters that just about reached her hip.

But he wasn’t entirely off base, she does have a newspaper folded in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other as she sits on the countertop, seemingly too engrossed to notice he’s even entered the room yet. But he doesn’t mind, it gives him a moment longer to really savor the scene.

“It’s not fair that you look so much better in my clothes than I do” he says with a soft sigh, crossing the room to join her, finally making his presence known.

“While I appreciate the flattery, that’s just not true” she smiles up at him as he comes closer. Nudging her knees further apart so that he can stand in-between them, filling the empty space with his body. “You look perfect in your clothes, sexy, even.”

He shakes his head softly in disbelief. He’s not really convinced that he’d ever believe she liked him the same way he liked her, no matter how many times she proved it to him.

“God, it smells so good in here” he mumbles, only now noticing the sweet smell that was beginning to fill the room.

“I know” she says with a grin, “I’m making muffins, they’ll be ready in about 10 minutes” she tells him as she reaches her arms up around his neck, pulling him in closer so that he’s got no choice but to inhale the perfect smell of her hair mixed with his detergent. Something about the combination makes him happier than he can really explain.

“Hmm” he ponders right against her ear, “I don’t know if I can wait that long to eat…” it comes out as a rough whisper, and she knows that tone instantly, her own breath catching in her throat when she tries to speak.

“Always so impatient” she reprimands as he pulls away, slowly sinking down further and further.

His hands find her bare thighs, long fingers drawing patterns along the sensitive skin.

“I’ve spent far too long being patient” he says, his voice low, “I don’t think I can do it anymore” his nails sink in to the flesh as he speaks, slowly building enough pressure to leave crescent shaped marks in their wake.

When she lets out a stifled whimper he can’t hold himself back a second longer. From his squatting position, he hooks his hands behind each of her knees and pulls her forward, right up to the edge of the counter top where he was waiting eager between her legs. His breath hot against her already sensitive skin.

Looking up at her he places hungry kisses in a little trail, each one inching closer and closer to the damp cotton that barely covered her. When he meets her eyes, and they’re filled with the same fire that was certainly in his own, he let his fingers pull at the sides of her panties, tugging them off of her gently until there was nothing in his way.

“Fuck” he breathes, the warm air ghosting over her core, and forcing her to stifle a pathetic moan, borne out of his very proximity to her rather than any real touch. “Ah, so wet for me” he’s quick to praise, taking an extra second to admire the way she glistened in front of him.

“Is this okay?” he takes the time to ask, his eyes casting a glance up at her own, soft and sweet in their question. And she nods, maneuvering to drape a leg gently over either one of his shoulders, pulling him in even closer as an unequivocal signal that this is what she wanted, more than anything in that moment.

And he doesn’t need any more convincing than that as he leans in closer, dragging his tongue in one self-assured stripe between her folds, savoring the taste, the sounds, the feeling, as her muscles tightened instantly, a jolt of pleasure running through her.

She let out a pleased little whimper, barely audible if he weren’t so attuned to her every sound. As much as he wants to devour her, to lose himself in a pleasure he’s been waiting so long for, he just about manages to savor it. Pulling himself back after that first taste, that tease, to praise her even further.

“You taste like heaven” he groans as he places a wet kiss on the inside of her thigh.

“Fuck” she says through a shiver, her hands braced on the edge of the countertop, trying their best not to reposition him. But before she can really consider it he’s made his way back. But this time it’s his fingers that are toying with her. Not penetrating her just yet, just trailing delicately around the outside, gathering her arousal on his fingertips until her knuckles were blanched with the anticipation.

“Ah, please” she says in a tiny whimper.

He almost wants to tease her, to ask her what she means, to tell him what it is that she’s so desperate for. Purely so that he can hear it from her own lips that it’s him, it’s him that she wants so much that she felt the need to beg. But the thought alone is enough, and he can’t stop himself from giving her what she wants.

So he pushes his middle finger inside of her, slow, and gentle. Noticing the way she was so warm around the digit. So wet and unresistant as she lets out a pleased sigh. So he adds another, the two fingers stretching her out that little bit more so that her breathing grew harsher with each ragged inhale.

He curves them up ever so slightly after a few moments, and he’s reassured in his actions by the way her heels dig into his back, completely lost in the pleasure before he’d really even gotten started.

“Such a good girl” he coos in between sloppy kisses against her knees that made their way up to her thighs until he was right back where he started. His lips pressing a soft kiss against her pubic bone before placing a matching one against her warm, wet, centre, eliciting a perfect little cry from the woman above him. And the second the sound is gone, he misses it.

Continuing the steady rhythm of his fingers, he begins to suck gently on her most sensitive point and her back began to arch against him. Her hands giving in and finding their way into his hair in spite of how impatient it made her look. But it made him chuckle, a vibration that only served to further her pleasure, and in turn, his own.

“Ah, Spence— fuck, I…” she rasped out between shallow breaths, her hands knotted in his hair, her hips rocking against his face, chasing her release.

Again, he wanted to tease her, to ask her what was wrong, was she close, could she not even form a sentence. But his lips and his tongue had better things to tend to.

Feeling the way her walls tightened around his fingers with each movement, the way her hips alternated between grinding against him, and pulling away from the stimulation. It all gave her away. So before she could think to pull away any further, he sunk the nails of his free hand into the skin of her back, pulling her tight against him so that she couldn’t squirm away as she came. Whimpering desperate little pleas, a mixture of his name, and half hearted attempt to tell him she was too sensitive while continuing to shiver with pleasure from the shockwaves.

He nursed her through the dregs of her orgasm, only retreating when her grip on his hair actually pulled him away finally.

“Jesus! Spence” she gasps, her chest heaving with each labored breath.

He rose to his feet once again, taking his lower lip gently between his teeth to stop a self-assured grin form taking over his features.

“What?” he asks, and she rolls her eyes at his self-effacing little half-smile.

“What? That. Spence, what the hell was that? Have you been able to do that this whole time?”

He doesn’t stop himself from beaming then, but he still shrugs his shoulders, “You know I’m an overachiever”

She shakes her head right as the oven-timer begins to blare. Shocking her out of her little daze and bringing her back to reality, which was more like a waking dream as of late anyway.

Hopping off the countertop to reach the oven, she lands on her feet and almost falls instantly. Her legs all of a sudden unable to bare her full weight. But Spencer is quick to reach out and steady her, his tongue catching in between his teeth to stop himself from chucking.

“Sorry” he says, “I guess that’s my fault” he holds her steady by her waist, gesturing down to her trembling legs.

“Stop it, or you’re gonna get a big head” she reprimands before she reconsiders, “Actually don’t stop, I think I like it.”

With a little help she manages to get the food out of the oven. They sit at the table together eating breakfast, sometimes sitting in silence, sometimes reading the newspaper, sometimes talking. Half-way through she lifts her legs into his lap and he accepts them, his thumb rubbing gentle circles over the skin of her ankle with one hand while he holds his newspaper in the other.

— — —

A whole day stretched out in front of them felt too good to be true. And it was. Y/N’s phone begins to chime half-way through their movie, and she’s too comfy curled up against Spencer’s side to even reach for it on the coffee table. So he’s the one that has to shift, reaching his long arm forward and handing it to her with an amused eye roll.

She mouthes a quick ‘thank you’ up at him before she picks up.

“Hey Pen” she answers and is immediately countered with Garcia’s ‘serious voice’.

“I’ve been calling for like 30 minutes” she groans and Y/N just chuckles

“30 seconds”

“Whatever, it’s time sensitive! Is Reid around?” she immediately sits upright, her spine straightening out with the adrenaline, which makes Spencer do the same, looking over at her with a puzzled expression.

“Yeah, he’s right here, I’ll put you on speaker, hold on” she presses the button and leaves the phone down on the sofa.

“Hey Garcia” Spencer calls down to the phone.

“Oh great, I’ve got the both of you! So, the rest of the team is just finishing up a case in Michigan, they’ll be home tonight but not for long so we have to start making moves, I’m not sure they can keep going without the two of you for much longer. Hotch doesn’t think so anyway, and he’s been reviewing your reports and sessions and he thinks Dr. Harris is close to a breaking point so he wants to make the next move” Garcia explains and Y/N can’t stop fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, searching for any sort of distraction from the trajectory of this conversation.

“How soon are we talking, what’s our window?” Spencer asks, his leg bouncing up and down, filled with that same nervous energy.

“As soon as possible, tomorrow? Y/N you’re working tomorrow night aren't you?”

Spencer looks over to her and her eyes are wide, her mouth fumbling over the words, “Uh, I—um…”

“Yeah, she starts around 8” Spencer is quick to interject, his hand reaching out to rest softly on her knee, smoothing his thumb in little circles against her skin.

“Okay great, I’ll gather the team once they’re off the jet and we’ll all talk the plan through in the morning. Does 9am suit for a call?”

“Mmhmm, yeah” Y/N finally answers.

“Oh good, I can’t wait to have my babies home again. The end of this case can’t come soon enough” Garcia gushes down the line, and Y/N wishes it made her feel anything other than nauseous.

“Yeah, can’t wait” Spencer says with a half-hearted smile.

“Alright, I’ll let you two get some rest, you’ve got a big day ahead of you! Goodnight my loves”

When the line goes dead the two of them sit in stunned silence for a few moments too long. They both knew this was coming, it was an inevitability of the case, they’d been operating on borrowed time, but it still didn’t feel like enough.

Spencer opened his mouth, only to take in a shallow breath and close it again right away.

“Wanna let me in on what you’re thinking over there?” she decides to prod him a little and he shakes his head.

“I don’t know? I just— I don’t want this to be over? I know that’s stupid, I know this isn’t the real world but it just— it feels so…” he rambles, his eyes fixed on the carpet while hers just stay trained on him.

“It’s not stupid” she sighs, “I feel the same way, I don’t want anything to change, I love our little fake life” he lets out a small laugh at that which makes her smile.

“What do we do?” he asks then, finally looking up and catching her eye, “Do we tell the team? Should we tell them? Should we wait? How long should we wait— what happens if— ”

Her heart all but stops beating as he rattles off questions, she knows the end of the sentence from the way his face falls.

What if we break up?

“It’s going to be alright Spencer” she says, gulping down the lump in her throat to force the words out, “You’re my best friend, before anything else, that’s what you are to me” she reaches out to touch him as she speaks, resting her hand on top of his.

“That’s what—” he flinches at his own train of thought, “that’s what I’m afraid of”

“What do you mean?”

He shakes his head then, standing up from the sofa, slipping out of her grip. His hands come up to his hair then, running through the unruly curls and tugging at them with a little too much force.

“You’re just so important to me, and you have been for so, so, long. I—” he pauses to take a labored breath, “You’re the person I rely on for, well, everything really. You take care of me, and I take care of you, and you make me so happy right to my core… and…. I really don’t know what I’d do without you?”

She just looks up at him, her body slowly curling further into itself, her arms wrapping tight around her folded legs in an effort to shield herself.

“Please say something” he pleads quietly when he’s only met with silence.

“Well, I guess. I understand.” she says before she has to clear her throat, “If we… break up, we mightn’t— we could lose each other.” she can barely get her mouth to form the words, the very thought too painful to wrap her head around. The only thing that might hurt more than that thought, was the way she felt this conversation going.

So she fell silent again, willing the tears not to spill over.

“I don’t know why I started saying this” he says through a nervous laugh, but when he stops pacing and catches sight of her crumpled body on the sofa, her face buried in the crook of her elbow, he has to stop himself from diving in beside her.

“Shit, wait no— I’m sorry” he rushes out, and she peeks up at him, her cheeks already stained from the few tears that had escaped, and the little half-smile she gives him is enough to make him weak.

“It’s fine— I do understand. But the idea of not having you in my life…” she blinks back the fresh tears that start to gather, “I don’t really want to think about it”

“Well then let’s not” he’s quick to offer, holding her face in his hands, thumbs gently wiping away the wet tracks on her cheeks. “Let’s just go to bed, I think we’re both tired, okay?” he coaxes.

So she nods, and lets him help her up, guiding her to their bedroom. She tries not to dwell on the fact that it wont be their bedroom for much longer.

When they’re tucked under the covers he pulls her in tight against his chest so that she can hear his heartbeat.

“You know I love you” she says, clinging onto him just a little tighter as she speaks.

“And I love you too, no matter what”

— — — Let me know what you thought about this chapter here <3

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mxchellesworld · 2 years

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World-Lines

Summary: After attending a party full of intellectuals with Spencer, you start to worry that you’re not smart enough to be with him. Filled with determination, you decide to try and do something about it.

A/N: Sorry it’s a bit later this week! Recently I hit 100 followers so thank you so much for that; made me very happy :) Let me know what you think!

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The party was more an intellectual soirée than an all out rager. Whilst your college days were far behind you, you would have rathered the latter. You were a successful professional, a career in the FBI spanning years at this point, but somehow all these dusty professors surrounding you made you feel small. You knew you weren’t stupid, there were plenty of things you particularly excelled at, but you certainly weren’t a genius.

A few of the attendees had struck up conversation with you, seeming nice enough until it became clear you were not an academic; most of them left fairly quickly, finding more stimulating conversation elsewhere. Some, however, stuck around.

Somehow, they managed to annoy you even more. They were fascinated by your relationship with Spencer, entirely confounded that the pair of you ever managed to find anything to talk about considering the grand difference between your respective IQs and asking probing questions into how you had even met. Of course, they all punctuated these personal questions with assurances that it was “all in good fun” and attempted to placate you with the knowledge that they were “sure you must be very happy together”.

It all felt entirely passive aggressive but you doubted these intellectuals even realised it was offensive.

Eventually, you took to hiding in a darkened corner and nursing your second glass of red. As you swirled the velvety liquid around the glass, watching the legs cling to the surface, you wondered whether all these strangers really had a point. Spencer wasn’t just smart, he was a bonafide genius. Why was he with you?

You couldn’t add any information to his life that he didn’t already know. You couldn’t provide a fresh take on classic Russian literature. You couldn’t even understand most of his jokes well enough to laugh. You knew Spencer loved you, his actions and words both speaking loud enough, but surely that wouldn’t stop him from getting bored eventually.

You watched him across the room, chatting animatedly with someone you hadn’t had the pleasure of being spoken down to by, and felt an anxiety coil in your chest. Surely it was only a matter of time.

Quickly finishing off your wine, nabbing another glass from a passing waiter, you tried to think of some solution. How could you connect with him intellectually?

As half-baked plans tumbled through your mind your gaze unfocused into the middle distance, leaving you entirely vulnerable to an unnoticed visitor. “Do you like the wine?”

The unidentified warm hand lightly gripping your arm caused you to jerk suddenly. The wine sloshing dangerously around the glass, the contents somehow remaining contained. Hand over your chest, heartbeat trilling rapidly beneath it, you looked to Spencer with wide eyes. “Don’t sneak up on me,” you breathed out as your heart rate slowly resettled.

Amusement danced in his eyes and the sight softened your previous anxiety somewhat. Palms raised in surrender, he relented. He gestured vaguely to a generally disapproving older gentleman conversing quite animatedly with a younger colleague. “Riemann told me that he tried to convince the organisers not to allow alcohol tonight,” you screwed up your face in response and earned a husky chuckle as you took a rebellious sip of wine. “He gave me an entire speech about the ‘stimulation of conversation being inebriation enough’.”

You giggled in response, leaning closer to Spencer even as you hid your face behind the wine. “He sounds like fun,” you commented, around another sip of wine. Eyes darting to the man you were busy gossiping about you found his attention flickering to the pair of you. “Spencer,” you exclaimed pointlessly, his attention was already upon you, “he’s looking this way!” Holding the glass out to him, you asked with a wicked smirk; “You want some?”

A full grin pulled your features as he took the offered glass and, with a last little laugh, took a large gulp. Eyes quickly darting back to Riemann, giggling at the disapproval now being glared at the pair of you, you murmured lowly to Spencer. “We’re such trouble makers.”

Handing you back the now half emptied glass he smiled down at you - seemingly not daring to look at your disgruntled audience. Instead he was focusing on you in that intense way he sometimes did; his warm eyes somehow lit up, his lips twitching upwards as though he simply couldn’t help himself, and his focus fell entirely upon you. You never felt more loved than you did when he looked at you like this.

Your previous worries were forgotten, for now at least, as you matched his gaze with wide eyes. “Are you having fun?” You asked, almost shyly diverting his intensity.

He nodded quickly, stepping closer to you as a waiter struggled to get past him, and proceeded to give you an in depth run down of some of the evenings more interesting conversations.

As the evening itself drew to a close, Spencer spent most of his time by your side. Hovering close, a hand splayed over your back, even as people ambled over to speak to him.

His presence made you feel much better, the quiet support he always offered you soothing you immensely. In fact, your anxious feelings did not return until he was snoring beside you.

In the quiet of the night you found ample time to worry over the longevity of your relationship. At around three thirty am you came to the groggy conclusion that you really had to do something about it; starting tomorrow of course.

Over the next few weeks you carefully carved out time for yourself wherever you could, whenever you thought Spencer might not notice. An extra hour or so at the gym, staying a little later at work with a promise to meet Spencer at home after you had finished your paperwork, and even purposefully sitting away from him on the jet home.

To begin with you had tried to read one of his favourite books but quickly gave up when you spent more time staring blankly at the pages than actually reading. You had found an English translation but the archaic sentence structure meant that the words still seemed foreign. Eventually you found a niche that made you feel as though you were getting somewhere; a pithy podcast so helpfully titled ‘physics for dummies’. It was surprisingly easy to follow and whilst you still couldn’t hope to follow Spencer’s long-winded science ramblings you could at least pick out a few words that you actually understood.

Spencer wasn’t aware of your extra curricular activity and you were hoping to keep it that way, at least for now.

This particular plan of yours was scuppered, however, during a challenging case involving an erotomaniac with an obsession for a high school physics teacher. After hitting several roadblocks in the investigation you and the rest of the team were crowded around a table working through the mountainous pile of letters your unsub had sent the object of his desire.

So far this had yielded little, but when Luke read out an excerpt your ears immediately picked out a familiar word. “‘And in that moment where our world-lines collide, you’ll know without doubt that we were meant to be….’” Luke huffed, slapping the paper back on the desk beside his empty coffee cup, and leaned back with a curse and a groan. “What does that even mean?”

Spencer went to reply but you got there first, your own focus still upon the letter in your hand. “World-lines describe the paths that particles take in space, encapsulating every event they have and will experience. It kinda sounds like he’s trying to say that their paths are fated to cross?”

A beat of quiet met your almost flippant response and your gaze flickered up to find surprise pointed at you. “Alright, Dr Reid,” JJ commented with a well humoured sarcasm. Spencer himself, said nothing.

Peeking at Spencer, you were expecting surprise certainly but you were entirely unprepared for how upset he suddenly looked. His eyes were fixed unseeingly upon his left hand, idly scratching at the grooves of the table, and he didn’t even look up at you.

Your shoulders bunched around you as you felt embarrassment heat your cheeks. “Sorry,” you squeaked out, hoping he would look at you; he didn’t.

The others made no mention of Spencer’s strange lack of response, sensing his strange agitation and attempting to move on quickly with a discussion about the case itself.

You didn’t get your answers until the case had been successfully closed. Despite your impatience to work out what was picking at him, you knew it was likely more professional to wait until the pair of you were off the clock. Whilst you knew that, it didn’t make his avoidance of you any easier to handle.

With the unsub in custody, the rest of the team were busily making evening plans - a night at a local bar seemed to be winning the vote at the moment - but Spencer had other plans. Sidling up to you whilst the others were busy with their excitement, he murmured a question to you in a strangely husky tone; his voice rough as though he were greatly upset. “Can we talk?”

Nodding softly, you followed him silently as he led the pair of you into an unoccupied interview room. His eyes couldn’t meet yours, falling instead just below your searching gaze, and you squirmed under this sudden strangeness. His hands were pushed into his pockets, a sign of forced casualness that was more telling of how uncertain he was.

Taking a step forwards, you broached the heavy silence with a soft question. “Spencer, what’s wrong?”

Swallowing thickly, he cleared his throat. When he finally met your gaze you were forced to stop yourself from reaching out to him. The shine in his eyes curled a concern into you that was hard to tamp down, but you knew he needed space to articulate whatever was eating at him.

Finally, he formed the words he seemed to have been thinking very hard about. “Are you seeing someone else?”

The question floored you entirely. Surely you had misheard. “Wait, what?” Sniffing, he dropped his head but didn’t repeat himself. After a silence that stretched for far too long, your brain finally caught up with his question and you rushed to reassure him. “No! God no, Spencer!” Raising his head, his eyes worked slowly over your features in a search for deception. “How could you even ask me that?!”

Lips twisting, he looked away and carded a hand through his hair. “You’ve been spending so much time away; last month you spent an average of four hours a week at the gym. This month it’s increased to eight.”

You tried to shrug this point off, stomach twisting as you realised he had clearly misread your admittedly odd behaviour this past month. “I’ve been working out more.” Even you could hear the lie in your words.

Your poor response seemed to upset him even more, face crumbling as he struggled to keep a hold of his emotions in the face of an obvious lie. “No, you’re not.” You had no answer for that, he seemed so certain and you didn’t want to lie again. “You… you’re staying later at work but I know you haven’t gotten any outstanding paperwork to do.” Considering the emotion welled in his words you realised how much he must have thought about all of this. “And now you know what world-lines are, something I know we haven’t spoken about!” He heaved a last sigh, face falling as he noted your answering silence. “If - if there’s someone else,” he swallowed thickly then, struggling against the tears still within his eyes, “can you just tell me what’s going on? Please.”

“There isn’t anyone else,” you reassured imploringly. A step forward brought you before him and you pressed a hand to his cheek. “I- I’ll tell you what’s going on but… promise not to laugh at me?”

That seemed to settle him a little and he allowed himself to lean into your affection. At his answering nod, you took a centring breath before explaining.

“So, that party thing we went to a few weeks ago…”

Eyebrows pulling together, he nodded slowly. “I remember.” He confirmed.

“Yeah, of course you do.” You tried to laugh, to encourage him to, but the noise became caught in your throat. Shaking your head, realising he wasn’t quite in the mood to laugh with you just yet, you continued. “Anyway, erm, a bunch of people came to talk to me. I guess they kinda assumed that since you’re with me that I must be super smart too. But obviously… I’m not.”

You felt some relief when he brought his hands to your arms, the warmth of them reassuring you that he was here and he was open to listen. “But why have you been avoiding me?”

Dropping your hand to his chest, you averted your gaze. “Well, they were all just so surprised that you would be with someone who was… I don’t know, average.” You tried to look back at him, your own awkwardness making this confession difficult. “And it kinda got me thinking that I don’t really know why you’re with me.” Immediately, he went to cut you off but you barrelled past his attempted reassurance. “And I started to panic that yknow you’d get bored of me one day so I started listening to this stupid podcast every chance I got to try and learn something that would make me more interesting.”

He said nothing to begin with. Eyes downcast but you felt immediately disgruntled when a quiet laughter peeled from him. It was certainly better than the sight of his emotional distress but it still irked you. Lightly slapping his chest, you pulled away but he quickly tightened his grip upon you. “No, I’m sorry - I’m sorry…” he calmed you, but a strange little smile was still pulling at his lips, “it’s just that, you tried to learn about physics just to be closer to me.”

“Well, yeah.” You told him, as though it were the the most obvious thing in the world. “I love you.”

His tears had entirely disappeared, replaced with an obvious wave of relief. “When we first started dating, do you remember we went to an art gallery?” You nodded, remembering the shyness of Spencer back then and smiling into the memory. “I talked way too much,” you chuckled and shook your head wryly, “I told you the year that everything had been painted, the medium used, the artistic style… I told you everything i could think of.”

Quirking a brow, you made a lightly teasing joke. “I remember thinking you were gonna give me a pop quiz at the end of the night.”

Ducking his head, he gave a laugh as he squeezed your arms. Some of his past shyness returning briefly before he looked back at you. “The point is, you eventually interrupted me to ask me what I thought of the painting I was talking about.” He paused, a reminiscence shining in his eyes. “And I didn’t have an answer, I had to stop and think about it.” He told you this like it was some great revelation, but you couldn’t work out what he was trying to tell you. Sensing that you hadn’t quite captured his meaning, he explained further. “I will never get bored of you,” he told you with so much certainty it was impossible not to believe him, “you make me see the world in ways I didn’t think possible.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you teetered on your tiptoes to peck his lips. “Especially now,” you teased, “now with my newfound expertise in all things space physics.”

Eyes narrowing slightly, he hummed in an affectionate kind of humour hands slipping to the small of your back. “You mean astrophysics.”

With a dramatic roll of your eyes, you teetered forwards once more to kiss him, murmuring “whatever” in the space between you.

A languid kiss later and his gaze shifted past you and to the door. “Should we try to catch up with the others?”

Twisting your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, you pouted and shook your head. “Why don’t we go back to the hotel?”

He laughed lightly as he fell forwards to rest his forehead against yours. “Let’s go.”

#fic rec #super cute!!

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