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spencersawkward · 3 years

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switchblade faith//spencer reid - chapter 9

summary: one month after joining the BAU, Clea is still settling in. between solving murders and getting acclimated to DC, the only comfortable thing in her life is her new friendship with Dr. Spencer Reid. (Baby Spence)

pairing: Fem!OC x Spencer

word count: 4.1k

content warnings: tattooing/tattoo aftercare, mostly fluffy!

A/N: hi! it's been a while since i updated this series, but i love it too much to leave it behind and i'm also always going to be obsessed with sub!spence. anyway, all my tattoos are stick and pokes atm so if some of the tattoo stuff if a little off, i'm sorry!

masterlist

it's really a matter of principle that keeps me bound to the promise. if I were a weaker woman, I would back down from the chair, would have shaken my head and told JJ that no, actually, I will not be getting something permanently inked on my body purely for the fulfillment of a bet.

but with most of the team around me and a couple flutes of champagne flowing through my veins, I give in. it's going to be small, even though I'm not going to see it until it's done. Penelope and Morgan being in charge of the design scares me, though. I start to get nervous that I'm going to end up with a unicorn tramp stamp.

"where are you gonna get it?" Garcia nudges my shoulder once we get inside the tattoo parlor. her eyes are traveling over all the intense artwork, which I can already tell is very much not her style. the walls are covered in intricate prints from past customers.

I think to myself for a moment. if I'm being completely honest, there's one place I've been meaning to get a tattoo, but never have. it's easy to hide, which is good. as long as the design they choose isn't horrifically embarrassing, I'll do it.

"I'm thinking..." I pull the waistband of my jeans down a little until it's right below my hip bone. "there."

"sexy." she says suggestively. I laugh.

"depending on what you guys have decided to give me, yeah." I angle for a hint, but Penny isn't caving.

"are you ready?" Morgan asks, having returned from the front desk area, where he's been talking to the artist. I take a deep breath, peer around at the rest of the team. we look like an odd bunch in here, an assortment of ages all gathered in a dark tattoo parlor.

Spencer's watching me with a concerned expression and I realize that I've been staring around for a decent amount of time. he doesn't say anything, although I've noticed that he's got a certain face he makes right before he does-- and he's making it.

"Clea, are you sure you wanna do this? you don't have to." JJ touches my shoulder suddenly. I realize that they think I'm genuinely worried and I let out a laugh.

"yeah, I'm fine," I turn to Morgan. "lead the way, handsome."

the tattoo artist has me lie down while he preps all his tools, snaps on his gloves. everyone sees me on my stomach and Emily gasps.

"are you getting a tramp stamp?"

"what? no," I giggle. "I'm gonna get it here." I show them the spot I just showed Penelope, and Spencer raises his eyebrows. Prentiss whispers something in Morgan's ear and the suave agent smirks.

"you're gonna like this." Penny grins. I glance at the tattoo artist to see how he reacts to that statement, but he's got a good poker face, unfortunately.

"are you being serious or are am I gonna hate all of you?" I ask.

"maybe a bit of both?" Spencer says in a slightly higher pitch, looking pleased to be in on the joke. I stare at him in disbelief.

"he knows what I'm getting, too?" I point disdainfully. Morgan laughs at the attitude.

"I told him on the way here."

I shake my head slowly and turn my attention to the boy genius, who is hiding a proud smile. there's a boyish quality to it that makes me feel a little better. I have to pull the side of my pants down as I turn on my side for the artist, and a peek of my black underwear makes Prentiss let out a whistling noise. my cheeks turn pink.

"shut up."

"are you ready?" the tattoo guy asks me. it's only then that I notice we're close to actually getting this done. I have no idea what's going on my body-- but there's no time like the present, right?

"sure."

it's the buzzing of the machine when he finally touches the needle to my skin that surprises me more than the pain itself. I feel myself resist the urge to move away, but I'm still enough for him to keep working.

"how's it feel?" Emily asks.

"like getting a tattoo." I wince. Penelope softens, looking between her coworkers guiltily.

"oh no," she complains, then comes over to me and grabs my hand in hers. "is this better?"

I squeeze tightly at the stinging sensation across my thigh, but she doesn't pull away at all.

"yeah." I smile. everyone is watching me intently, so much so that it puts me off a bit. "can we talk about something, maybe? it doesn't help when you're all staring."

"sure," JJ grins. "so..."

the pressure to start a conversation kills any potential for one, and then Spencer clears his throat. "anybody wanna see a cool magic trick?"

I snort and the rest of the team lets out a chuckle as the genius pulls a deck of cards out of his pants pocket. Morgan pats his shoulder. "I hope it works this time."

"it worked last time!" Reid protests, but his cheeks have taken on a slightly rosy hue. I watch him shuffle the mysterious deck and do some fancy tricks that I've never seen before, the corner of his mouth quirking with a sudden air of confidence.

Penelope is still holding my hand, and I can feel the metal of her sparkly rings pressing against my fingers. I choose to focus on the theatrical movements that Spencer is definitely using on purpose instead of the strange, sharp pain.

he fans out the cards and shows them to me, smiling. "pick a card, any card."

"hmm..." I tap my chin thoughtfully and stare at the bright red designs covering the back. I wonder if it's a rigged deck, or if he actually knows tricks. he doesn't seem like the type of person to be into magic. but then again, Spencer is full of surprises. I grab a random one in the middle, pluck it out and memorize it. a red six of spades.

"alright, then..." he grins and slams the deck back into one neat pile, then does some weird shuffling move again and shows the fanned-out deck to Morgan this time. "your turn."

Morgan's gaze flickers between the cards and Reid's face, which is trying to suppress a smile. the dimple on the right side of his cheek twitches once. when Derek taps a card near the end, Spencer nods and does the same thing that he did when I picked one.

except this time, as soon as he's got the whole deck together, he taps them a bit too hard and they go flying. fifty-two-pick-up style, Queens and Kings and Jokers tumbling to the linoleum floor in a defeated descent. my eyes widen and second-hand embarrassment rolls in, followed by the team's stunned silence.

I even feel the tattoo artist falter a bit in his work.

"oh." Spencer says. JJ puts her hand on his shoulder.

"Spence, it's fine."

"no, no, it's not-- I practiced this, like, fifty times last night--" his face is bright red as he drops to his knees. Penelope glances once at you and you return her stare with a pitying expression. Emily goes to help him, then Morgan and JJ.

"let me just..." he gathers up the remaining cards that they hand him, putting them back together into the pile again. I watch as he goes through them, somehow counting at lightning speed before frowning. "we're missing one."

everyone looks around, but it's obvious that there aren't any more stray cards lying about. I feel bad for him, not only because it didn't work but because he practiced it so much. I've been wondering what he does on the weekends-- magic tricks never even crossed my mind.

then Spencer's face lights up.

he comes over to me and gestures to my side, right by the spot where the tattoo artist is working. "may I?"

"uh--" I glance down at where he's pointing, the small patch of bare stomach. "sure?"

his fingertips graze beneath my tummy, between my skin and the smooth leather of the tattoo table, and snatch a card out from under me. it's barely a touch, but my breath hitches in my throat. my fingers tighten just slightly around Penelope's.

he holds up a red six of spades. the enormous grin on his face gives him away. "this wouldn't happen to be your card, would it?"

I gasp and nod, amazement on my face before it's wiped away by the sharp pain of the needle. Spencer displays the red six of spades to the whole team, then basks in their surprised applause.

Emily's smiling in disbelief. "you really had us going for a second."

"wait, wait--" I poke his leg and Spencer turns to me. "how did you do that?"

there's no way he could have hidden it there without me knowing; if he had slipped a card beneath my bare skin, surely I would have felt it. but the magic man just shrugs and shakes his head at me.

"a good magician never shares their secrets, Clea."

this time, the blush spreads over my cheeks. he's cocky right now, and I'd be lying if I said I'm not enjoying it. he's in his element, I realize, even if it is an unexpected one. and as he puts the cards into his back pocket, the group erupts with questions.

he's done magic before in front of them, but they seem to be awestruck by his performance this time. admittedly, I think the whole klutz act really added a nice dramatic element to it.

I'm mostly quiet for the rest of the tattooing process, although everyone else is chattering about the trick and how well the ink is going to turn out. I'm still wracking my brain for ideas of what they chose, but I honestly don't know. I've been banned from peeking.

maybe this was a mistake-- I've only recently joined this team, and already allowed them to decide what's going to be on my body forever. at least it's small. and maybe I'll actually like it; who knows?

when the artist lets out a satisfied sigh and turns the needle off, however, I find myself twisting around and staring frantically at the new design.

"oh my god."

it's a tiny airplane, with two dotted loopty-loops behind it. just small enough to be adorable.

"what do you think?" Garcia asks, eyeing it herself. they all gather around to admire the new design that sits on the outside of my upper thigh. I giggle.

"I love it."

"don't sound so relieved." Emily laughs. I can't help the bubbly excitement in my stomach.

"sorry, I just didn't know what to expect."

Spencer is staring at the ink when he turns to the tattoo artist. "how long until you think it'll be healed?"

the guy stands up to get treatment stuff for it. "I'd say about two weeks, but it varies from person to person." he leaves to grab cling film.

"I thought for sure you'd be the one to know that." I smirk at the genius. he shoves his hands in his pockets, makes sure the artist is out of earshot, and then looks back at you.

"I do know." he scoffs.

"uh huh." I laugh.

"actually, for the record," he lowers his voice. "I'd recommend at least three weeks instead of two. the last thing you want is infected flesh."

"yum, Spencer. thanks for that image." I smile with wide eyes and he shrugs.

...

it's quiet when I shut the door of my apartment shut behind me. I've got a bag full of supplies with me to clean the new art, and I'm feeling lethargic after getting lunch with the team. because Rossi wasn't around to foot the bill, I made the mistake of offering to pay.

we've got the day off after the most recent slew of cases, so I've determined to spend the rest of my day well. I could curl up with a nice documentary, or I could scrub my kitchen and do a little tidying up around here. god knows the film of dust on my bookshelves needs to be wiped away.

oh my god.

am I boring? maybe. possibly.

I shake the thought from my head and bring my things into the kitchen to organize. after spending a few hours cleaning up, I go out grocery shopping, then come home to sit down with a book. my errands take up so much time, I don't even notice the DC sunlight sinking beneath the harsh lines of the city, drenching my apartment in a silky darkness poked through with lit lamps.

it's already 9pm and I kind of want to hang out with someone, but I doubt any of the team wants to spend any more time with me than they did before lunch. or they might have plans with their families.

well, I know one person who definitely doesn't have plans.

I pull out my phone and hit Spencer's contact before I can talk myself out of it, knowing full well that it's not a big deal but still becoming a little nervous. it rings three times before he picks up.

"hello?"

"hey, Spencer."

"Clea. what's-- what's up?" he sounds more confused than anything. probably because I just saw him about an hour ago.

"I know it's late, but do you wanna come over? I'm bored and I feel like you know more about tattoo cleaning than I do." it's a weak excuse.

"why would I know more about tattoo cleaning--"

"you know damn well why, Reid," I laugh. "don't fish for compliments."

there's a slight laugh on the other end of the line before he replies. "I'll be over soon."

I wait patiently, preparing two mugs of coffee in the meantime. I'm sure we'll both want the caffeine, because I have no urge to turn in early tonight. my stomach twists a bit when he calls to tell me he's here, and I go to let him in. I'm not nervous.

except I actually am a little bit nervous when I open the door and there's Spencer with a shy smile and a coat that's a bit too big for him. it hangs off his narrow frame, and I realize that it must have just started raining. his hair is wet and there are dark spots on his clothes where the water has seeped through.

"get inside, my god." I move aside so he can come into the apartment and warm up. he walks in, looks around at my walls. I realize that he's never been here before. "welcome to my humble abode, Dr. Reid."

"it's nice." he compliments without much emotion. I lock the door and turn just in time to see his hand shaking at his side.

"thanks. let me take your coat." I glance out the window, where I now notice the rain pelting the glass.

Spencer shrugs off his jacket and hesitantly lets me hang it on the hook by the door before turning to him with my hands on my hips. "so, how are you?"

"I'm good," he smiles a little and runs a hand through his hair. "I actually read an article on the way here about those psychedelic mushrooms we were discussing the other day."

"is that, like, our thing, now?" I joke and gesture to the couch, where two mugs of hot coffee rest on coasters. he sits down gingerly on the cushions, sitting at the very opposite end of the couch from me.

"I can send it to you, if you'd like." he smiles.

"please do. I've been hoping for some titillating reading, recently." I hand him the mug and he stop before taking a sip.

"how many sugars did you put in this?"

"relax, genius, I'm not out to get you--" I catch his eye. "yet."

he giggles and takes a sip, then another. the smile tugging at my lips is too obvious for my liking; I'm just glad that I got the amount of sugar correct. it would have been funny to ambush him with a sweetness attack, although I think making him come here in the rain was punishment enough.

"have you ever had oat milk?" he asks out of the blue. I frown.

"yeah, why?"

"just wondering. I'm lactose intolerant and was considering trying it."

"you're lactose intolerant?"

"mhmm." he nods enthusiastically.

"I watched you eat three yogurt cups in a row yesterday." I chuckle at the memory of it. he eats so much and remains as skinny as a telephone pole.

"I love dairy." he shrugs it off. I pull my legs up beneath me on the couch and give him a serious expression.

"well, personally, I think oat milk tastes horrendous and it makes me want to vomit, but you should try it."

"noted."

we start to talk about various nondairy alternatives for coffee and it ends up being a surprisingly fun conversation. talking to Spencer has its own charm-- it's not just a conversation, it's a fully immersive experience. from his ambitious vocabulary to the unconscious gestures he makes, all of it keeps me hooked.

I rest my cheek on my palm, elbow leaning against the back of the couch while I nod along to him talking about almond farming. he's got a disdainful expression on his face as he brings up its environmental consequences, punctuating every few sentences with another sip of his coffee.

the rain is still pouring outside. thunder occasionally rolls over the sky and shakes the windows in their panes. my eyes flit from his face to the view when a flash of lightning catches my attention.

"--sorry, we should clean your tattoo." he seems to catch himself mid-thought, realizing that he came here to help me and not just rant about the business of almonds. I smile.

"no worries. this stuff is interesting to me, too."

"there's this documentary out now about it, too, that I've been meaning to watch."

"really?"

"yeah!" his face lights up. "if you want, we can--" he clears his throat. "we can watch it together."

he blushes as he says it, and I can tell that he's worried about how his intentions will come off. he can't take it back, so he runs the pad of his index over his middle finger and fidgets in a subtle way.

"that sounds like fun." I don't want him to feel weird. we've only hung out a few times, and I'm sort of looking forward to it.

"great," he straightens and adjusts his shirt, which has gotten slightly rumpled from his curling up on the couch. his tie is crooked, too. "where are the cleaning supplies?"

"in the kitchen."

"perfect, we should be doing it in there anyway." he stands, pushes a bit of his hair behind his ear while he waits for me to follow-- and I do, albeit with a wince from my tender side. it doesn't hurt as much as I expected.

he follows me into the minuscule kitchen and doesn't hesitate to start going through the things the artist gave me to take home. there's some foam wash and special moisturizer for it, not a lot. it's small enough that the care will be minimal, which is reassuring.

it's only when Spencer's washing his hands that I realize I'll need to unbutton my pants again in order to reach the tattoo. which means this is about to get at least slightly awkward for the both of us.

he turns around just in time to see me unzipping my jeans and his eyes widen.

"how else do you expect to clean it?" I laugh, and he gulps, visibly. his Adam's apple bobs in his throat and he nods in understanding.

"y-yeah, of course." his eyes are everywhere but on me. suddenly, my kitchen walls are incredibly interesting.

I shove down the waistband of my pants until they're just below my upper thigh, then I sit up on the counter and clear my throat. "I can cover some of myself if that makes you more comfortable."

"no, no, that's okay--" he speaks too quickly, then recognizes his mistake. "it's okay. this shouldn't take very long, anyway."

without another word, I shrug and watch him delicately peel away the film. his fingertips are back to barely touching my skin, just like when he pulled that card out from beneath me, and I stop breathing for a moment.

there's also a gel-like substance under the covering, which he tells me is just standard petroleum jelly. Spencer moves with a near surgical (and altogether unnecessary) precision. his eyes are glued to my skin as if forcing them not to stray to my now exposed panties. it doesn't feel sexual at all because it's not, thankfully.

when he uses the foam wash and begins to rub it into my skin, he frowns with concern and looks up at me. "is this okay? you can do it yourself if--"

"it's fine, Reid," I answer too quickly this time. heat rushes to my cheeks. "I honestly thought this was going to be a more complicated process than it really is."

"it's pretty simple, especially for something this small." he shrugs. "obviously, you don't want to get it infected, so I'd just think of it as treating a cut."

silence in our respective positions at the moment makes me nervous, so I change the subject.

"magic tricks, huh?" if anything, I need to distract myself from the way his hand is rubbing over my skin in a totally nonsexual and platonic way.

he relaxes a little, lifting his gaze to mine with a somewhat pleased countenance. "yeah, I love magic."

it's like peeling back a corner of wallpaper and seeing a shade of red beneath; not a lot, but enough to pique my curiosity. "a man of science?"

Spencer shakes his head at the air of faux sophistication I pour into it. "the world needs some wonder."

he says it in an offhand way, although I feel the weight of it from the way he runs a damp paper towel over the last of the cleansing foam. his touch presses into me and his eyes are lowered in a slightly distant way.

"how long have you been into it?" I fight the urge to ask a million questions at once.

"since I was a kid," he jerks back to attention. the grin on his face tells you just how special this is to him. "I used to buy all the books and practice for my mom constantly."

"did you ever do the trick with the never-ending string of handkerchiefs?" I recall one of the only classic moves I know. Reid laughs.

"that one's easy."

"what about the coin behind the ear?" I throw out another one.

Spencer straightens, doesn't even bother to set down the paper towel, before reaching up behind my ear and pulling away with a shiny quarter set between his thumb and forefinger. "you mean this one?"

there it is again, that confidence I saw in the tattoo parlor. he's standing just close enough for me to notice, and I grin as I snatch the metal out of his hand and set it on the counter beside me. "thanks."

"no problem." he laughs.

"you should do that more often."

"the coin trick? I'd go broke." he jokes. I laugh at the rare appearance of Spencer's playful side, hoping to get a bit more of it before we have to go back to being serious at work.

"magic in general, I mean. I think it would brighten up the office a bit."

he thinks about it for a moment, washing his hands again. the sound of the faucet reminds me to put my lotion on my leg. I get to it while he thinks of what to say.

"yeah, maybe you're right."

"I still find it funny that you're into that kind of stuff." I say honestly. of all the things for him to nerd out about, this feels almost comically unexpected. but Reid only gives me a shy smile before replying.

"it always made my mom laugh when I was a kid."

"is she also good at it?"

"tricks? no," he chuckles. there's a washcloth between his long, slender fingers that he's been using to dry them for the past two minutes. at this point, I think he's doing it to keep from fidgeting. "she says it's an old fashioned thing, and that only made me wanna do it more."

"well," I cap the bottle and set it down on the counter, pull my jeans up and lean against the counter with a smile. "I like old fashioned."

Spencer gives a friendly smile. "me too."

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