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sillymusings · 2 months ago

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nonexistent rizz

the team is shocked to see that… early seasons!spencer pulls?? and he has pulled???? (aka, the team discovers that early seasons!spence has a girlfriend)

a/n: first cm fic!!! super indulgent, deffo way longer than it had to be but I don’t care, I love love love the dynamic of the s1/s2 team and I NEEDED to write it (look at '#mystery girl!au' on my blog to see more musings about them <3)

cw: alcohol consumption, reader referred to as a woman, reader is around spencer’s age in s1/s2 (23-24), completely inaccurate early 2000s technology i think, cuties being cute, not edited in any way

wc: 2k

part two | part three | mlist

(reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )

“‘O Keefe’s! My wonderful, wonderful sweethearts, we are going out!” The moment the team steps out of the elevator, Penelope is bombarding them, hands moving wildly as words seem to tumble out of her mouth. “And yes, Hotch, I am sure we have no cases lined up yet, and yes, I’m sure JJ can corroborate that the moment she gets to her office and no, you may not stay behind, tonight is compulsory. That stands for you too, Gideon!”

Hotch hasn’t even opened his mouth, shaking his head in defeat as he takes in Garcia’s determined face. Under the watchful eyes of the team, his shoulders slump, a tired hand scrubbing down his face. “Fine. We all have to finish our reports, but if we’re all done in half an hour, we can go. Gideon?” He turns his face, hoping for Gideon to find a way to bunk off, but there’s a glint of amusement in the older man’s eye. “Sounds like there’s no getting out of it.” With that, he walks off, to his office.

Penelope whoops excitedly, “Okay! That means we’re all going! That’s the first time since Gideon came back,” but her face sets slightly when she meets Spencer’s eye. “No. No, Baby Genius, you will not do this to me,”

“Garcia, I have pl-” “No! You are coming out with us, and we’re going to have a great time, and whatever Russian indie film you were going to watch will still be there for you tomorrow. Okay? No more complaining, baby, you know I won’t listen.” With a pat on his shoulder, she flounces off. Defeated, he doesn’t move from the elevator area, shrugging helplessly when Elle, JJ and Morgan brush past him to the bullpen.

With a sigh, he takes out his phone, pressing his newly-programmed speed dial and bringing the phone to his ear. From Derek’s vantage point in the bullpen, he can see Spencer, pacing back and forth in front of the elevator doors, and he can see the moment whoever is on the other side picks up. The younger man’s face lights up, like when he’s on the receiving end of a rare Hotch smile out in the field, but more spirited, buoyant. Only snippets of the conversation float in through the slightly-ajar glass doors, but they’re enough to give him pause, and still his fingers above his keyboard.

“...Garcia’s got this plan for us all, and…”

“Yes, I know, I do like going out with them, but that’s not what I wanted to do…”

“...I took the metro tonight, so I think I’ll just… Really? You want to?”

At that point, Spencer turns, his voice muffling, and keeping Derek from his vested interest in his conversation. But what little he heard is more than enough to pique his interest. He flicks a pencil onto Elle’s desk. “Greenaway. You know if pretty boy’s mom is in town or something?” Elle looks up from her monitor, head tilting, “Not that I know of. Besides, doesn’t she not like flying? I don’t think he’d have her come here. Why do you ask?”

Derek doesn’t reply, simply gesturing to the glass doors, where Spencer is walking inside, his mouth twitching to conceal his smile. His steps are measured, like he’s trying to feign calm. He settles at his desk, hunching his back in a way that can’t be comfortable, typing rapidly as his knee jiggles up and down. Elle turns back to Derek, eyes wide with wonder.

“That is not how you look getting off the phone with your mother.”

The incident is quickly forgotten, however, when the BAU team are crammed into a booth in the back of the low-lit bar. Penelope has roped Hotch into helping her bring drinks back from the bar, and the rest are speaking a little too loudly, arms flinging and bumping into the empty glasses littering the table.

All except for Gideon, who, despite having had three glasses of whiskey, is still just as calm and observant as he is fully sober. It is this that causes him to zero in on Spencer, sitting across from him, sandwiched between Morgan and the newly-returned Garcia.

There’s a pink flush across his high cheekbones, and he’s incredibly giggly, all things that are completely expected for him, a few drinks in. However, what the experienced profiler picks up on, are his darting eyes. Spencer can often be found staring into the middle distance, or, since Gideon taught him the importance of building rapport with victims and officers alike, trained steadily on the space between someone’s eyebrows, but this time it’s different.

His eyes flick to whoever’s talking, feigning interest, but every few seconds, it turns back down to his lap, where something is clutched in the hand he keeps under the table. If it were Hotch, Gideon would know with absolute certainty that he was watching his phone, waiting for a text from Haley.

But this is Spencer. The youngest person he knows. The youngest person he knows whose technological knowledge is somehow worse than Gideon’s own. What on earth would have Spencer acting-

Oh. Gideon nearly gasps at Spencer’s movements. On his fifteenth peek down at his lap, Spencer stiffens, then draws his hand up from his lap to get closer to his face. It is his phone, and Spencer Reid has somehow learned to text as quickly as Morgan does. His thumbs fly over the buttons on his phone, and he can’t hold back the smile that spreads on his face.

Gideon’s eyes furrow, and he can’t hold back from nudging Hotch’s shoulder, pointing in Spencer’s direction. Hotch pulls himself away from his conversation with JJ, and Gideon can see his expression morph from mild interest, to confusion, to complete bewilderment. After a beat, his face turns to meet Gideon’s and his normally stoic demeanor is shaken, eyes wide.

Spencer, however, doesn’t even notice his mentors’ faces, still tapping away at his phone and craning his neck to look around the bar.

It’s a while later, when JJ has pulled the team (minus Hotch and Gideon) onto the dance floor, a few drinks past tipsy at this point. She’s laughing out loud, holding Elle’s hand and twirling her under her arm. Penelope and Derek are mock-waltzing, bursting into laughter every few steps, and Spencer…

JJ pauses for a moment, before Elle pulls her into moving again. Her head whips around, trying to find Spencer, before giving up. He must be back at the table with Hotch and Gideon, he was never very comfortable dancing anyway.

The four on the dance floor quickly devolve into a mess, swapping partners until they’re all dizzy and laughing. JJ and Penelope are shimmying back and forth together, when Penelope gasps a little, tapping JJ’s arm without ceasing her movements. “Jayj! Look, see that girl at the bar?” She gestures subtly at a younger woman, probably in her early twenties, wearing a purple wrap top that has JJ sighing wistfully.

“Pen, I think I’ve seen my soulmate. Would it be weird for me to crawl over there and beg her for her shirt?” Penelope giggles, gripping JJ’s forearms so they can sway to the music dramatically. “Just a little, my sweet. How about we go ask her where it’s from, though? I think that would be a little more…” She goes uncharacteristically silent, and it has JJ twisting to see what shut her up. However, Penelope tightens her grip on her arms, keeping her from moving.

“JJ. My love, my heart. You’ll always be honest with me, won’t you?” Now she’s worried. JJ nods quickly, deciding to just focus on Penelope. “Yeah, Garcia, of course. What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m seeing things, and you are one of the most qualified people in the world to tell me if I’m going crazy. I’m going to turn us around, and you’re going to look at the woman in that gorgeous top, and you are going to either scream, or send me off to Hotch for a psychological evaluation.” Her tone is serious, hushed, and JJ nods solemnly.

The intricate plan is conducted, and JJ is now facing the bar, her eyes searching for the girl, when she stiffens, sucking in a breath. “Yes! I’m not crazy, you see it right? What is going on!” Penelope smacks her arm repeatedly, but JJ can’t tear her eyes away from it. It being something she couldn’t possibly have prepared herself for, not in her wildest imaginations.

The girl is sitting on a barstool, sipping at a cocktail, and chatting to… Spencer. Spencer, the BAU’s Spencer, child-prodigy-lovable-dork-awkward-mess Spencer Reid, is stood in between her legs, smiling down at Mystery Girl without a hint of fear. It’s devastatingly sweet, his eyes soft in a way she’s never seen before, as he nods along with whatever she’s saying. Penelope jolts her out of her trance with a tap to the arm, JJ whispering, “He’s so… carefree.”

That’s the only way to describe it. He’s looking down at her, eyes locked onto hers, and he’s still. His hands aren’t tapping, his leg isn’t shaking. He’s just looking at her.

JJ can feel Morgan and Elle huddle near her, questioning Penelope about what they’re looking at, before shutting up as they see it. She hears them take twin gasps, and huddle even closer. They stand in silence, surely a hindrance to the people dancing, but they can’t tear themselves away.

It’s only when Spencer shatters their worlds once more that they finally find themselves able to move. Four pairs of eyes follow him, as he leans even further towards Mystery Girl, and they all bulge at once when he raises a hand, carding his fingers through her hair. Penelope whispers, “oh my god”, Elle grips JJ’s arm in a vice grip, and Derek makes an unseemly noise, before gripping their arms, tugging them back to the booth.

They collapse in the seats, faces pale as they look at each other, next to a very confused Gideon and Hotch.

“What? What is it?” Hotch questions them, brow furrowed deeply. None of them speak, however. Only Elle lifts a weak hand to point. She directs their attention to the sight at the bar, and they all turn back to it, gasping once again. They’re… “kissing,” Derek breathes, shocked. Hotch and Gideon stiffen, but still crane their heads until their eyes fall on what has rendered their highly trained team speechless. And their reactions are just as silent.

Mystery Girl has stood up, her arms around Spencer’s neck, and he’s leaned down to meet her lips, hands braced on her hips. It’s honestly not that scandalous, a lazy, casual kiss that they part from with twin smiles, but the FBI agents can’t handle it. They don’t say a word, straining their ears to hear whatever she is saying as he holds her hand (Penelope lets out a squeak at that), and walks with her towards the door, not even noticing that his coworkers have returned to the booth. Her voice is low, but Hotch manages to pick up a few of the words.

“...go home and watch that movie I was telling you about? Metropolis, I think you’ll really…” And they’re off. Spencer Reid has left a bar, holding hands with a girl (that he’s apparently spoken to multiple times? Who refers to a place as home for both of them?), acting like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

The group sits in silence, unable to muster a comment, when Penelope’s phone buzzes. She checks it, and silently turns the screen over so they can all read it.

BOY GENIUS: Hey Garcia. I wasn’t feeling well so I decided to go home. See you Monday :-)

“What?”

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sillymusings · 2 months ago

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summary: Spencer and you haven't been dating for long, but you decide you're ready to take the next step together.

word count: 2241 words

a/n: My first fic on here so I hope you like it!!

Spencer had always known that the world could be a dark place. He had never quite been naive, but years as a profiler in the FBI had shown him just how evil mankind could be. It was something of a domino effect. Cause and effect, or often cause and consequence, suggested that everything connected. As a profiler and a "perceived" genius —he still had his doubts about whether intelligence could be accurately quantified—it was in his nature and training to notice these connections.

Years in the field had shown him how easy one could be consumed by the weight of it all. It was a constant exercise, he had realized, to not become jaded and hold onto hope. He'd had introspective conversations with his teammates before about the hollowness he felt after cases sometimes and all their advice had circled back to one key idea: find things you love and hold onto them like crazy. And Spencer realized that for all the pain, and the evil, and the hate, there were just as many things that he loved. He loved learning and teaching. He loved magic and ghost stories. He loved making a difference. He loved the team and he loved his mom. And he loved you.

You had only joined the team a year prior, but the closeness that had developed between you and them felt like you had known each other for decades. Spencer was the person you had grown close to the quickest. One month into working at the BAU, you were already trading book recommendations and tagging along with him to foreign film festivals where he would give an added bonus of simultaneous whisper translations for the movies without subtitles. You'd had a crush on him immediately, of course. How could you not? Spencer was kind and tender. He was so incredibly knowledgeable, but he wasn't a know-it-all. He didn't display his knowledge as an act of superiority but rather as a form of sharing. His rants made you inexplicably happy because it was like he was giving you leeway into seeing what fascinated him and why. The more he said, the more you understood him, and the more you liked him.

Almost like winning the lottery, he liked you back. You started dating two months into your time at the BAU. He asked you out with a magic trick because he knew how much you loved it when he performed them. He eventually revealed that he had spent weeks stressing about how to do it and it wasn't until Derek suggested using something that made him "feel like an expert" that he had gotten the idea. Eight months later, you were going strong, seeking any opportunity to escape into romantic bliss. There was never a boring day spent between the two of you. You went to movies and conventions. You read books together. Between cases, you played Chess and Go on the jet (he usually won, but you were getting better) and you took lots and lots of naps. Your lockscreen was a photo that Derek had taken of the two of you napping. Spencer had his arm around you as your head rested on his shoulder, the two of you fast asleep.

Then there were the days like this. Another case had wrapped up in Vegas and you'd been on a journey to cheer Spencer up because you knew that cases in his home state were always a little bit tougher on him. You'd insisted that the two of you request an extra day and Spencer had shown you all the nooks and crannies he hung out in throughout adolescence. You noticed that those spots were a bit more isolated, away from the places that he pointed out his classmates had frequented. Spencer had told you the awful stories of what it was like to be in high school as a 12-year-old genius and let's just say that you hoped—for their sake—that you would never run into any of those people. You hadn't exactly been "miss popular" in high school either, so you knew that it wasn't super accommodating to those that deviated from the status quo.

Afterward, you went to see his mom for the first time. You talked for a couple of hours and to Spencer's chagrin, she told you the things that he had said about you in his letters to her. She's intelligent, and witty, and beautiful, mom. And when I'm with her I don't get nervous that she'll think I'm too much or too little, but I get the sense that she thinks I'm exactly enough. She's exactly enough for me, anyway. Spencer's cheeks had turned bright red and the look of appreciation on your face and your adoring teasing had done nothing to hide the overwhelming love that you had for this man, not that you wanted it to. When Spencer stepped out to use the restroom, Diana took your hands.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For loving him. For reminding him that it's okay to want and need love. For reminding him that he deserves to be happy. This life is short, this world is so dark, and love is the only thing that makes any of it worth it."

It was early in the evening when the two of you finally left, wandering into a nearby park. You sat on the worn wooden bench with your sides pressed together and your hands intertwined. Your mind was racing. Maybe it was because his mother's words kept playing in your head even after you said your goodbyes. Maybe it was the remnants of the last case you’d been on, which, outside of the sour taste it had left in your mouths, had carried along the promise that tomorrow wasn’t given. Or maybe it was a combination of all of it.

Your hands cradled his face, hearts full and lips flushed from the kiss you’d just shared.

“What is it?” Spencer asked, softly. He knew that inquisitive look of yours, the furrow of your eyebrows that was the physical manifestion of the gears shifting in your brain.

It was normal for what was on the other side of that to take him by surprise. Sometimes it was fun facts you had learned and wanted to share with him because you were on a mission to find something that he didn’t already know, a silly challenge between the two of you. Other times, it was something more outrageous. Would he love you if you were a worm, or a spider, or a bird?

At first, he struggled not to focus on the unrealistic nature of the questions, but over time he mastered the art of conversations with you. If you were a worm, he would make you a beautiful garden that you could live in. If you were a spider, he would never get rid of your web (to which you had scrunched up your nose in disgust). If you were a bird, he would build you a bird house. You giggled each time, flattered by the answers he gave and grateful that he loved you enough to be silly with you.

And your laugh, gosh it made him feel like he was ten feet tall. How lucky he was to be loved by a woman like you. One that was so kind, so intelligent, so captivating. The questions were ridiculous but he loved them because he loved you. Yet, nothing had ever surprised him as much as the words that came out of your mouth next.

“Will you marry me?”

“What?” His eyes, big and brown, searched yours for some sort of sign that you were pulling a prank on him. You had been known to pull a practical joke or twenty. You were a fun girl, really. But this wasn't one of your pranks. In fact, you had quite possibly never been this serious or sure of anything in your life.

“I know that it seems sudden, and maybe it is in a way, but who’s to say that’s not the point? To act on your love when you have it? I don’t want another gruesome case or a tragedy or even aliens to descend on earth when I am not your wife.” You knew that Spencer could probably give you some statistic about how marriages that happened too soon were more likely to end in divorce, but statistics couldn't account for the way your heart raced when he looked at you like you were everything that was good and beautiful in this world. And you knew that when looked at you like that, with the same eyes that had seen horror after horror and the ways that this world could be twisty, he meant it.

You could be very forward. You knew that. It had gotten you into trouble a time or two, branding you as being “difficult” or “intimidating”, but you had always believed it to be one of the things that Spencer loved most about you. You had a fiery spirit that insisted you always spoke your mind. But seeing the look on his face at that moment made it hard not to think that you took it too far sometimes.

You let out an awkward laugh, wondering how you could take words back that you had meant so deeply. “I’m sorry. That was silly. I shouldn’t have sprung this on you.”

You started to retract your hands, hoping that that your eyes weren’t bright with embarrassment and that the rejection that you feared would swallow you whole wasn’t emanating off of you in waves. Spencer wouldn’t say it if he could feel it. He was a good guy, empathetic, and kind. He didn't derive pleasure in hurting others.

Before your hands were fully out of sight, he gently pulled them back to him.

“Honey,” the word laced with tender intonation, the same one he always used when he spoke to you. “I’m not saying no, I-I just. . .”

Sometimes words weren’t enough. He let go of one of your hands and reached into the brown leather jacket you had gotten him, pulling out a black velvet box. You felt your breath hitch. “I just couldn’t believe that you beat me to the punch,” he smiled nervously. He stood from the bench and got on one knee in front of you.

“Oh, Spence, you don’t have to do–"

“Baby, this is one tradition I’ve always wanted to keep.” And so you let him.

“Y/N L/N, I used to worry that I wouldn't know enough about romantic love to notice it if it ever came. I always wanted to fall in love and start a family, but I worried that my childhood or my job or the terrible things that had happened in my life would stand in the way. But when you came into my life, it all became clear. You always describe yourself as a tornado, but honey, that’s nowhere close to accurate. What you are is a paradigm shift, a critical shift in approach.” You laughed because only Spencer Reid would use science to propose to someone. It was so niche and unusual and exactly what you had never known you wanted. “You shifted how I saw the world, how I saw myself, and how I saw my life. Now, I can never go back and I never want to. I love you. I love you so much that I've searched in science and literature and art, but nothing comes close to describing it. And just like right now, you remind me that there is never a right enough time to wait to show someone that you love them. There is only the present. I might not know whether there will be a tomorrow, but if there is one, there is no doubt in my mind that I want to spend it with you.”

"Wow," You breathed. "I love you so much it hurts. And this is crazy. We haven't even been dating that long." You didn't know why you said it. Maybe for the need to point out some time down the line that you'd had some semblance of rationality in the moment. That some part of you had considered the weirdness of it all. But let's face it, you had already made your decision. You threw rationality out the window the moment you met this man.

"Hey, you just asked me!" Spencer laughed.

You nodded. "I've always been crazy though. But you. . .I've made you crazy!"

"Yeah, you have. I like to believe that it was always inside of me and I just needed someone to bring it out. Will you keep being that person for me? For the rest of our lives?"

Gosh, your voice had never trembled the way it did as you muttered yes after yes after yes.

There were tears in his eyes and tears in your eyes. His hands shook as he pulled the ring out (a center-piece diamond like you’d always dreamed) and your hands shook as he slipped the ring onto your finger and he kissed you like something out of a film. It was perfect. He was perfect.

You strolled out of the park that night with the love of your life, your heart bursting with love, and a beautiful rock.

“Technically, I proposed to you first and we have to tell everyone that now, okay?” You instructed.

He smiled. “Anything you want, baby.”

#spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer reid #Spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #spencer reid x you #Spencer reid fanfic

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