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spencerreidswhore187 · 3 months

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Statistically Speaking

Summary: One drunken night, whilst undercover in Vegas, you and your least favourite colleague, Spencer Reid, accidentally get married.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x g!n Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

T/W: Mentions of alcohol and guns

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The neon lights of Las Vegas blurred as the night unfolded. Undercover on a high-stakes case, you and Spencer Reid—your arch-nemesis—found yourselves thrown into the midst of the city's wild energy. For some unknown reason, the two of you had never got on. You were always fighting, arguing and trying to sabotage the other. Well, unknown to Spencer. You only hated him because he made it clear how much he didn't like you from day one - not that you’d ever admit it.

The team had sent you to a casino, undercover as a couple, trying to get a lead on an arms dealer. Instead, you ended up drowning your frustrations and differences in drinks. The night was a whirlwind of laughter, shared secrets, and surprisingly genuine moments. The alcohol flowed freely, clouding your judgment. Before you knew it, you were stumbling back to your hotel room in the early hours of the morning.

Waking up with a pounding headache and a hazy memory, you groggily opened your eyes to find Spencer lying beside you.

“What-”

A flicker of panic surged through you as you noticed a glint on your finger. You held up your hand, squinting at the unexpected sight of a ring.

The band was adorned with small, twinkling crystals that encircled a modest yet sparkling diamond like a constellation.

"What the hell happened last night?" you muttered to yourself. The memories were fragmented, like pieces of a puzzle waiting to be put together.

Spencer stirred beside you, rubbing his temples and blinking against the harsh light. His eyes widened as he slowly processed where the is and the ring on your finger. A moment of stunned silence passed between both of you before he spoke, his voice a mix of confusion and realisation.

"Did we... get married?”

As the weight of Spencer's words hung in the air, you exchanged bewildered glances, both attempting to unravel the mystery of the events that transpired the night before.

"I can't believe this," Spencer mumbled, his voice a mix of disbelief and mild panic. "We were undercover, trying to gather intel on that arms dealer. How did we end up married?”

Pieces of the previous night's escapade start to slowly come together in your mind. Flashes of laughter, clinking glasses, and a hasty decision made in the heat of the moment flood your memory. The realisation hit you both simultaneously, and a burst of nervous laughter escaped your lips.

"We might have, uh, taken the whole 'cover' thing a bit too far," you admit, a sheepish smile forming on your face.

Spencer runs a hand through his tousled hair. "This is... unexpected.”

The sound of urgent footsteps outside the hotel room door interrupted your awkward exchange. Both of you tensed.

"We need to figure out how to handle this," Spencer whispered to you. "But for now, let's focus on the mission. We can deal with the aftermath later.”

As Spencer finished his sentence, a knock echoed through the room. You exchanged a quick, determined glance before Spencer moved to answer the door.

It's the team - Hotch, Rossi, Prentiss, Morgan, Garcia and JJ - ready to discuss the next steps in your undercover operation. Your mind races as you Spencer opens the door.

The team filed into the hotel room. Hotch surveyed the room with his usual intensity, immediately honing in on you and Spencer sitting side by side at the table near the bed. There's a momentary pause, a subtle shift in the atmosphere that doesn't go unnoticed. They know, you realised.

"Reid, Y/N, any new developments?" Hotch asked, his gaze lingering just a fraction longer than usual.

You and Spencer exchange a quick, almost imperceptible glance. Spencer, ever the master of composure, began discussing your latest findings and the potential leads in the case. The team, however, seemed more interested in the unusual dynamic in the room, enjoying the peace and quiet from your constant bickering. Morgan shot a knowing smirk at Rossi, and Prentiss raised an eyebrow, her perceptive gaze fixed on the two of you.

Garcia couldn’t help but interject with her trademark enthusiasm. "Lovebirds, got any post-mission plans? Maybe a little honeymoon action in the city of sin?”

Your cheeks flushed, and Spencer raised an eyebrow at Garcia's comment. The team's reactions ranged from amusement to curiosity. They exchanged glances, clearly aware something had happened between the two of you.

"Let's stay on track,” Hotch commanded. “Y/N, Reid, ensure you're maintaining cover without any compromises. We can address any personal matters once the case is closed.”

The case at hand revolved around an elusive arms dealer known for supplying weapons to various criminal organisations. The BAU had been tracking a series of illegal arms transactions across the country, all leading back to a shadowy figure with connections to international criminal networks.

The latest lead pointed to Las Vegas as the epicentre of the dealer's operations. The city's bustling nightlife, intricate web of contacts, and numerous potential buyers made it the perfect hub for illicit activities. The team suspected that the arms dealer was planning a significant deal that could have far-reaching consequences, possibly involving a dangerous new weapon on the market.

Your role, alongside Spencer, was to gather intel, getting as close to the operation as possible by posing as a couple interested in the arms trade.

“We have reason to believe the unsub will be dining at the Aurelia Elegante tonight,” said Prentiss.

“Garcia, can you get a booking there for tonight?” Asked Hotch.

Penelope tapped away on her laptop, giving the team a thumbs up after a few seconds.

“Y/N and Reid, you will both have earpieces and we’ll be waiting in the van around back. Do your best to blend it, do your best to interact with him without raising suspicion. Does everyone understand?”

The team nodded. As the door closed, leaving you and Spencer alone again, the weight of the situation settled in.

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"You know," Spencer started adjusting his tie as you walked towards the entrance of the restaurant, "I never thought I'd have the pleasure of going on a fake date with my sworn enemy.”

"Enemy? Really, Reid? Isn't that a bit dramatic?" you retorted, rolling your eyes.

Spencer smirked, his eyes gleaming. "Just trying to keep things interesting. But don't worry, I'll make sure our marriage is the talk of the town.”

"Let's focus on the mission, shall we?" you replied, masking a smile. "And for the record, we’re arch-nemeses.”

He chuckled, a hint of amusement softening his usual seriousness. "We'll see about that.”

"You know, for someone who claims to have an IQ of 187, you're surprisingly lacking in social skills," you quipped, your eyes narrowing at Spencer.

He shot back with a sardonic grin. "Well, I'd rather be lacking in social skills than tact, Y/N.”

“Wow. You’re hilarious,” you deadpanned.

As you entered the restaurant, the conversation subsided. The team's instructions echoed in your earpieces, guiding you toward the unsub’s location.

Once seated, Spencer leaned in, his eyes glinting mischievously. "So, how do you think our fake dating story should go? High school sweethearts reunited by fate? A spontaneous, drunken wedding in Vegas?”

You scoffed, playing along. "More like sworn enemies forced into a twisted partnership."

His lips curled into a wry smile. “Ah, the classic love story.”

The waiter handed you both menus, and you shifted your focus to the task at hand. As you scanned the room, you caught sight of a figure entering the restaurant—a man whose demeanour exuded confidence and authority. You had spent endless nights awake researching the arms dealer and there was no mistaking that this was him.

Spencer discreetly nudged you, his eyes flicking toward the approaching figure. "Looks like our guest of honour just arrived.”

The arms dealer, known by the alias "Black Serpent," made his way through the restaurant, exchanging nods with select individuals. His presence commanded attention.

Maintaining your cover, you and Spencer continued your conversation, occasionally glancing in the unsubs direction. The challenge now was to find an opportune moment to engage him in a way that wouldn't raise suspicion.

As the evening unfolded, the tension in the air grew. The arms dealer seemed engrossed in discussions with his date, making it difficult to approach him discreetly. The team, monitoring the situation from a distance, communicated updates through your earpieces.

Finally, as dessert arrived, the unsub stood from his table.

There was a shared moment of silent understanding between you and Spencer. The team's voices hummed discreetly in your earpieces.

Hotch’s urgency pierced through the calm facade.

"Stay calm. We need to keep him here," Hotch advised.

Spencer, despite his usual composed demeanour, couldn’t hide the flicker of concern in his eyes.

The menus in your hands suddenly felt heavier, the challenge of keeping him engaged without raising suspicion became more critical with each passing second.

Hotch's voice broke through the static.

"You need to distract him. Find a way to keep him here," Hotch instructed, urgency lacing his words.

In a moment of panic, you discreetly slipped the ring off your finger and passed it to Spencer. He caught on instantly and, with a deft move, took the ring into his hand.

As the arms dealer starts to leave, Spencer seizes the opportunity, his face lighting up with a mix of charm and faux sincerity.

“Y/N, I have been waiting months to do this," Spencer said, dropping to one knee and holding out the engagement ring.

You play along, feigning shock and delight, covering your mouth with shaking hands.

A ripple of surprise moved through the surrounding tables as patrons shifted their attention to you and Spencer. Even the unsub paused, watching curiously to see how this turned out.

"Remember that time in Chicago when we stumbled upon that bookstore trying to get out of the rain? It didn’t matter that you were drenched, you were entranced by the old books. I watched you drag your finger across their old spines as you hummed to yourself. There was a small, beautiful smile on your face as if someone had told a joke only you were privy to. At that moment, I knew there was something truly special about you," Spencer continues, his eyes locked onto yours.

You had been on a case a year or two ago when that happened; you didn’t think that Spencer had remembered.

The surrounding tables become hushed as Spencer continued.

"I've witnessed you at your best and your worst, Y/N. Through it all, I have been nothing but enamoured by you. I-I love you, I always have. Even during our occasional bickering," he added, a playful smile playing on his lips. “Will you do me the honour of being my wife?”

"Yes," you responded, the word escaping your lips with a hint of genuine emotion. Momentarily, you forgot this was all fake, an act, a performance. Momentarily, you forgot that you and Spencer were not the only people in the room.

The boundaries between reality and the undercover performance started to blur, and a haze of uncertainty clouded your thoughts. In that split second, you had to keep reminding yourself that this was a charade. The charm in Spencer's eyes feels genuine, and for a heartbeat, you entertain the notion that he truly, truly loved you.

But then, reality came crashing down.

The earpiece buzzed with updates from the team, snapping you out of the fleeting illusion. You remembered the undercover mission, the arms dealer, and the necessity of the proposal diversion.

Amidst the applause and cheers from the surrounding tables, you play your part, feigning surprise and joy as Spencer slips the ring onto your finger.

Distracted, you watch the unsub start moving towards the exit. Spencer dropped several notes on the table and grabbed your hand as you two rushed off to follow him.

You and Spencer navigated the alleyway. There, at the end, the unsub had started a deal in a shadowy corner, several metres away from you.

Spencer pulled you close against him so you could discretely observe, waiting for the right moment to take him down.

You were still rattled by Spencer's words, his unexpected description of that rainy day in Chicago. There was this weird feeling in your stomach. You were shocked annoyed and irritated that you had been lost in the act. But the most confusing thing was that Spencer had not yet let go of your hand.

"That was quite the performance, boy genius. Didn't know you had it in you," you whispered, a teasing glint in your eyes.

Spencer smirked, "Well, necessity and whatnot, Y/N. And you played your part quite convincingly too.”

But the arms dealer must have heard you as he cocked his gun, aiming it towards you as he shouted “Who’s there?”

Spencer didn’t miss a beat; he grabbed your face, pressing his lips to yours. You didn’t hesitate, the kiss was unexpected but you knew what he was doing - keeping up appearances.

The kiss started tentatively but soon your movements became frantic and desperate. As the seconds pass, you couldn’t help but feel a strange connection, a hint of something beyond the act.

Real or not, if you knew he was this good a kisser, you would have married him much earlier.

Spencer's hand, warm and steady, found its way to the small of your back, pulling you closer. The dampness of the alley beneath your feet and the impending chaos seemed inconsequential at this moment.

As you pulled away, you dropped Spencer’s hand. Putting on a sweet, fake smile you walked towards the unsub.

“Ohmygosh I’m so sorry,” you gushed. “This is so so embarrassing! I thought we were alone out here, oh gosh.” You walked towards the unsub who seemed momentarily taken aback.

“We just got engaged, you see!” You explained, gesturing at Spencer who hesitantly hovered behind you.

“Congratulations,” said the man hesitantly. As he spoke, you widened your eyes, discretely trying to indicate what you were planning to Spencer. He seemed to understand.

“Show him the ring, babe,” Spencer said.

Excitedly, you raised your hand to show the unsub the ring. You had to admit, although it pained you, Spencer had good taste.

As the unsub leaned in for a closer look, you seized the opportunity. In a swift motion, you grabbed his wrists, pinning his arms behind his back as you spun him around and handcuffed him.

You read the dealer his rights as Spencer chased after the figure he was selling to.

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After the successful arrest of the arms dealer, the team dispersed. You offered a quick "goodnight" to your colleagues. You hoped Spencer, ever observant, didn’t notice the subtle tension in your demeanour. As you made your way to your room, a flood of conflicting emotions overwhelmed you.

Entering the quiet solitude of your room, you couldn’t shake the residual confusion from the case. The success of the operation was overshadowed by the unexpected array of emotions you had started to feel. Especially the lingering disappointment that none of it was real.

As you prepared for a restless night, a knock interrupted your thoughts. You opened the door to find Spencer standing there, an uncharacteristic nervousness in his demeanour. "Can I come in?" he asked, his eyes searching yours.

You open the door wider, letting him enter. The atmosphere in the room was charged with an unusual tension. "Um-" you begin, but Spencer speaks at the same time, “So-“

The simultaneous interruption elicited a brief, nervous chuckle from both of you, breaking the ice just a fraction. Spencer took a step forward, his eyes searching yours for a clue about what's on your mind.

Spencer hesitated for a moment before speaking, "I noticed something was bothering you back there. Are you okay?”

You glanced at him, conflicted emotions swirling beneath the surface. "It's just been a long day, Spencer. Successful mission, but there were some…unexpected moments.”

He nods, seemingly understanding, but the tension between you remained palpable. An awkward silence descended, unusual for two individuals whose interactions usually consisted of insults and jibes.

"You know," he started, his voice softer than usual, "we make a good team when we put our differences aside.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the unexpected sincerity in his words. "Are you saying you enjoyed our date tonight?”

Spencer smirked, a hint of humour playing on his lips. "It was surprisingly effective, and you played your part convincingly.”

The tension eased a bit. ”Well, don't get used to it. This doesn't mean I like you," you retort, but there's a subtle twinkle in your eye.

Spencer chuckled, the atmosphere shifted from awkward to slightly more relaxed. "Fair enough. But seriously, if something's bothering you, you can talk to me. We're a team, after all.”

You hesitate for a moment, the conflicting emotions from the undercover mission and the unusual connection with Spencer weighing on you. "It's just... tonight felt so real. And... um, we were drunk and got married in Vegas? I’ve not really processed that yet.”

Spencer's expression shifted, a flicker of realisation in his eyes. “We’ve been so busy with the case we haven’t discussed it yet. Do you remember much?”

It all started coming back to you then: the laughter that echoed as you and Spencer stumbled into a chapel, impulsively deciding to partake in a makeshift wedding ceremony.

The Elvis impersonator, a short figure in a bedazzled jumpsuit, was the officiator. Grinning as you and Spencer, caught in the whirlwind of a drunken escapade, prepared to exchange vows.

Spencer's usually reserved demeanour seemed to dissolve in the face of the unexpected festivities. His eyes, usually focused, held a glint of unbridled amusement. The corners of his lips curled into a rare and somewhat goofy smile as he faced you.

The Elvis impersonator, with a theatrical flourish, prompted Spencer to begin his improvised vows. Spencer, swaying slightly on his feet, cleared his throat, a nervous playing on his lips.

“Uh, Y/N, where do I begin?” Spencer began, his words punctuated by the occasional glance towards the glittering jumpsuit-clad officiator. “I, um, I suppose I've never been good at expressing, you know, feelings. But, well, here we are, in this... unique situation.”

The crowd of tipsy onlookers erupted in laughter. Spencer’s gaze locked onto yours with a strange sincerity in his eyes.

“I've spent pretty much my entire life analysing statistics, probabilities, and patterns," he continued. “But, Y/N, you're the most unexpected, unpredictable variable I've ever encountered. And, um, that's strangely…fascinating.”

A ripple of laughter and cheers echoed through the chapel.

As the officiator prompted you to exchange rings, Spencer fumbled with the small band, his usually nimble fingers betraying his drunkenness.

It was your turn for vows. You took a deep breath, locking eyes with Spencer, and slurred, “Spencer, Spence, we might be, like, a weird match, and usually, you're my, uh, adversary - especially when we're both sober. But, in this super strange moment... what's the word? There’s nowhere I’d rather be. Yeah, here, with you.”

Laughter erupted again, and Spencer's eyes met yours with a mix of surprise and genuine delight

“You're the anomaly in my carefully calculated world, Spencer," you continued, a playful and gentle smile gracing your lips. "So, here's to embracing the unexpected, facing the unknown, and, well, defying the odds.”

With a theatrical flair, the officiator declared you “partners in crime” and, to the cheers of the onlookers, pronounced you “sort of, kind of, legally bound by the power vested in a tipsy Elvis impersonator.”

As the laughter echoed through the chapel, you and Spencer, gently swaying together in an attempt to stay upright, sealed the moment with a brief peck on the lips.

Spencer’s nervous chuckle brings you back to the present.

"Well, at least our drunken alter egos know how to keep things interesting," he remarked, a nervous smile playing on his lips.

You couldn’t help but laugh. "Who would've thought.”

Both of you settled onto the end of the bed, the reality of the situation sinking in.

"So, technically, we're married," you said, a wry smile on your face.

Spencer nods, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "In the eyes of an Elvis impersonator, at least. I don't think that holds up in court, though.”

The laughter continued, a strange sense of camaraderie emerging. The usual jabs and insults were replaced by a more genuine exchange as if the bizarre circumstances of the last 24 hours had lifted a veil.

“It's just surreal, you know? One moment we're at each other's throats, and the next, “ you paused to do air quotes, “we're legally bound by the whims of a very tipsy Elvis.”

Spencer leant back, mirroring your contemplative expression. "Life has a way of throwing curveballs, especially in our line of work. I never would've predicted this turn of events, but here we are.”

The room was filled with a sense of shared understanding and, for a moment, the complexities of your lives seemed distant. It was just Spencer and you.

The laughter and banter gradually faded, leaving a moment of quiet introspection as you and Spencer sat side by side on the edge of the bed.

As the silence stretched, Spencer took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on some distant point in the room. The air was thick with anticipation as he finally spoke.

"Hey, so, um, I know our dynamic is... unconventional and I've been terrible at expressing it. But you know, statistically speaking, couples that bicker a lot actually tend to have a longer-lasting relationship. It's this paradox of communication and—"

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, and you turned to face him, cutting off his rambling. "Spence, are you trying to tell me something here?"

He stumbled over his words for a moment before taking another deep breath. "Yes, exactly. I mean, not about the statistics. Well, yes, about the statistics, but also about us. I've liked you, like, romantically liked you, and statistically—"

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face at the endearing awkwardness of Spencer's attempt to express his feelings. "Spencer, you don't need statistics to tell me that. I get it."

His eyes widened, a mix of relief and surprise. "Oh, good. I was worried I might have overwhelmed you with the statistical details. You know, statistically, most love confessions—"

You decided to cut off his statistical analysis in the most effective way possible. With a sly grin, you grabbed Spencer's tie and pulled him towards you, closing the gap between you. His eyes widened in surprise, but there was a hint of curiosity in them.

The kiss starts tentatively, Spencer, initially stunned by your bold move, quickly caught on. His lips were softer than you remembered, different to when you had kissed in the alley - real.

There was a moment of hesitation, a silent question hanging in the air—do you want this as much as he does? Your response was an enthusiastic one; the kiss deepened.

Spencer’s hand finds its way to the small of your back, a gentle yet firm grip that pulls you closer. Your own hands navigate the planes of his shoulders, the fabric of his tie feeling smooth against your fingertips.

As you pull away, there's a shared moment of breathlessness between you two.

“We have one more night in Vegas, maybe I could show you around.”

The simplicity of his suggestion caught you off guard, and you couldn’t help but smile. The idea of Spencer Reid nervously asking you out is endearing in its own right.

"Are you asking me on a date, Spencer?" you teased.

He nodded, a hint of a smile breaking through his usually serious demeanour. "Yeah, I guess I am. I mean, technically, we're already married," he adds, a chuckle escaping him.

You laughed at the irony of the situation. “True…we did have that spontaneous Vegas wedding. But yes, I'd love to go on a date with you.”

"Great. I'll, uh, figure something out. Something... not statistically likely to go wrong.” Spencer said.

Mustering the confidence to ask, you turned to him. "Did you mean what you said in the restaurant...about Chicago?"

"I meant every word." Spencer's eyes never leave yours.

"I thought we were rivals, arch-nemeses, sworn enemies? I thought you hated me"

"I hated the way you made me feel, I've not been able to stop thinking about you since you first walked through the doors of the BAU."

You smiled.

“So Reid, what’s the statistical probability that Hollywood will turn our story into a full-blown romantic comedy?” you quipped, a mischievous glint in your eye.

“Well, if we factor in our unpredictability and the inherent chaos of our lives, it's safe to say we're defying statistical norms.”

You laughed, "So, what's our romantic comedy title then? 'Undercover Hearts' or 'Marriage by Probability'?"

Spencer paused, considering the options. "I'd go with 'Mathematical Mismatch.' It has a certain statistical ring to it."

You playfully nudged him, "Well, as long as it's not 'Statistically Ever After,' we should be fine."

Spencer raised an eyebrow, "Are you implying our story won't have a fairy-tale ending?"

You smirked, "Oh, I'm sure it will be a uniquely chaotic and statistically improbable ending, just the way we like it."

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A/N: Thank you for reading ◡̈

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