Tired and sleepy reader who gets affectionate 10x more than usual with soushiro...... fluff
notes: short and cute... soft and sweet... im very sleepy all the time. this speaks to me. obligatory soundtrack for this lil' thing is this album.
nights like these
soshiro hoshina x gn!reader
no warnings apply, they're just cute.
word count: 808
“it’s 3 AM,” hoshina whispers, leaning close to your face. “you know that, right?”
it’s been an ever-increasing habit of yours to call hoshina over right before you went to bed—you’d frequently call him over in the middle of the night, to increasingly later and later hours–and yet he’d show up each time, without fail. you’d texted him in the middle of the night, holding your phone close to your face, rubbing at your eye as you blearily texted for him to come over.
“mm,” you whine sleepily, reaching out to touch his face, letting your thumbs brush across his cheeks.. “hoshinaa.”
“yes?” hoshina’s voice was soft as he rested his hands on the bed, letting himself lean into your touches. as your thumbs brushed across the corners of his lips, you could feel the way his smile quirked upwards into your touch. one of his fangs poked out a little bit, teasingly biting the pad of your thumb. you whine, ever so softly, and he laughs fondly, pressing his face closer to yours. “what is it?”
“stay,” you mumble. “don’t want you to go. stay here.”
“mm.” hoshina’s hands reached up to wrap around your wrists, his thumb brushing the back of your hands. “greedy. i still have things to do, you know.”
“no you don’t,” you protest, brushing your face against his. you can feel the way he shivers against your skin, “‘m asking you to sleep with me, soshiro, what could be more important?”
“mm…” hoshina’s voice turns into a low drawl–you can feel the way his voice vibrates in his chest. “just don’t wanna get caught. the rest of the third division’s never gonna let this go if they find me…” though as he says this, he’s gently pushing at you ever so slightly, nudging you deeper into your bed, trying to make room for him. “c’mon, darling dearest. move a little bit for me.”
you shift backwards a little, yawning a bit as hoshina takes off his jacket, throwing it somewhere on the floor behind him as he pulls up your covers, slotting himself neatly beside you. you yawn again, pressing your face into his collarbone as soon as he’s settled. for how lithe he is, his chest is hard, too–firm and tensed with muscle. you can feel the way his heart beats, slow and steady.
he hums, wrapping one of his arms around you, pulling you closer.
“you’re so needy, y’know?” hoshina teases, running a hand through your hair. “what am i gonna do with you?”
“mmh,” you kiss his neck, and his skin is warm. he smells faintly of something sweet and clean, and he chuckles.
“hey, i’m talkin’ to you…” he yawns a bit, his body tensing a little bit as he entangles his legs with yours, leaning forward to bury his face in the nape of your neck. “mm…”
“how was work today?” you ask, gently touching at the nape of his neck. he feels warm, a tactile weight beneath your hands, and you can’t help but feel the desperate desire to swallow him fully, fully entangling yourself in him–till you wouldn’t be able to tell where you start and where he ends.
“mm. fine. boring,” hoshina says. “filin’ paperwork keeps me up all night. needed t’write up a report. i’d much rather be out there fightin’.” he presses a kiss to your neck as well, almost biting down against your skin. you shudder, entangling your hands in his hair. “how about you?”
“boring,” you respond. you tilt hoshina’s head up slightly, blinking up at him. his scarlet eyes were ever-so-slightly narrowed with sleep, his expression intense even though his body belied his weariness, how exhausted he really was. but his face is so fond–a fondness that makes your throat squeeze, almost. you lean up to slot your lips together, and he hums ever so slightly, moving his lips against yours sleepily.
“this is the highlight of my day,” you murmur against his lips, and he chuckles.
“sap,” he teases.
“mm. shut it, you. you’re the one in my bed right now,” you mumble, pressing closer to him.
“only after you asked,” hoshina says, but his hand around you is firm, protective–possibly even a little possessive as it moves to the small of your back.
“negotiation’s one of my best traits,” you tease.
“it is,” hoshina says, ever so fondly. his hand reaches up to brush your hair from your face. “n’you’re lucky i love you, and you’re cute when you ask.”
you hum, leaning into his touch, kissing his palm.
“i’m sleepy,” you complain, a pout coming across your lips.
“then sleep,” hoshina says, kissing you again on the lips. “i’ll be here.”
“mhm,” you mumble, letting your eyes fall shut as you tuck yourself against hoshina, feeling the warm embrace of sleep take you into its arms.
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When it’s time for his daughter to get her vaccinations it’s Satoru who almost starts crying more than his daughter. Your daughter is notably more composed than your husband who looks at your daughter like she’s about to disappear on spot.
“Do we have to do this?” he asks for what you think is tenth time. “I can protect her. I’ll keep my infinity on and then she won’t have to worry about bacteria or viruses or boys.” He says the last one with a shiver like it’s the worst possible thing on the list.
“Yes she has to get her shots,” you say, not bothering to look up at him. You already know he’s pouting. Instead, you keep your eyes on your daughter, secured to the car seat between you and Satoru. Gently you run your finger over your daughter’s cheek. She gives you a wide, toothless smile that has your heart clenching. It was hard to believe that she was just in your belly just over two months ago. She was growing up so fast. “And no you can’t keep your infinity up forever, you’ll burn your brain out.”
The man continues to mutter anxiously, only worsening your own anxiety. You hated seeing your baby cry no less than he did.
“What if I hollow purple—” he starts again and you send him a withering look, feeling a little bad when he gives you an anxious look. Fatherhood is possibly the only thing that has ever made Gojo Satoru second guess himself. You reach over and gently squeeze his hand, both an apology for the harsh look and for reassurance, and watch as his face softens. He squeezes your hand back before taking his turn at entertaining your little baby.
The rest of ride to the hospital is filled with your baby gurgling joyfully at her father as he makes silly faces at her.
When you finally reaching the hospital, you thank Ichiji and drag Satoru away before he can give the poor man a hard time. Satoru holds the car seat in his hand, the shades on the carrier drawn over to protect your baby from the Sun. You hold the hand that isn't occupied with the carrier, squeezing it for reassurance, as you make your way into the building.
Times seems to fly from there, from the moment you approach the front desk and finish filling out the forms to finally hearing your family name being called.
The nurse gives the both of you a soft, reassuring smile seemingly accustomed to the anxiety of new parents. As she leads you to the back of office she reassures the both of you that this appointment would be quick and easy. She gives a practiced debrief of the vaccines your baby would receive. Satoru takes it upon himself to be a little obnoxious with the questions he asks and she shows no irritation towards him, taking everything in stride.
3 shots. This would not be easy.
You really didn't want to hear your baby cry. You turn your head to your husband who has an unusual, grim look on his face. You try your best to remind yourself that this was for your daughters health and wellbeing. The quicker this was done, the faster the both you could go home and take care of her.
After being seated in the room, the only thing left to do was wait for the doctor. The loud crying of babies from the other room left you feeling uneasy. You watch as Satoru takes her out of the carrier to hold her up in his arms. You soften at the sight. Your two loves.
It reminds you that despite all the fears that Satoru had shared with you about fatherhood, he fell into the role quickly and with little stumble. He was as good at being a Father as he was at anything else. You lay your head on his shoulder, watching your daughter's eyes flutter in the warmth of her father. You wish she'd be this small forever. You think you could fall asleep like this, despite your surrounding. To the feeling of Satoru's lips on your forehead and your daughter tucked safely in his arms.
The little moment is broken by a short knock on the door and doctor's head peaking into the room. You sit up straight preparing yourself. The doctor briefly introduces herself as she makes her way in followed by a nurse.
"I trust that you understand what this entails," she says. "I can go over it again if you need."
"How bad is this going to hurt her?" Your husband asks, his voice taking on a serious he usually doesn't show. You watch as the nurse sets out the three syringes onto the table, each with a translucent cap.
"I will not lie to you, Gojo-san, this will be uncomfortable. The faster we get this done, the easier it will be on her." Her voice is calm. "However, I also cannot say what side effects may occur or may not occur at all." She gets up to wash her hands in the sink before putting on some gloves. "Please place her on the exam table."
"I might have to hollow purple this place."
"What was that, sir?"
"Nothing."
Satoru gives her the fakest smile you've ever seen on his face while gently laying your baby down. He gently smoothes her unruly, white hair and doesn't let go of her hand. You join him at his side, running your hands down her arm, watching as she turns and bends to look at you. Her gummy smile reminds you so much of Satoru, so full of joy and happiness. You really carried her for nine months for her to be a carbon copy of her father.
"Okay, we're gonna count to three and administer one to each thigh," you nod, steeling yourself. "One, Two, Three..."
Your daughter wails and the shots are done just like that. The doctor and the nurse work quickly and efficiently, caping the used needles. Her piercing cries hurt your heart and you take her into your arms rocking her, trying your best to calm her down. Satoru, on the other hand, looks as though he wants to throw hands with the doctor, the glare behind his dark glasses is harsh.
"I know, baby, I know," you cajole, trying to get her to stop crying. Her crying continues for a while and you give your husband a little helpless look. He catches on quickly and gently takes her from your arms, taking his turn at rocking her against him.
"We're never doing this again," he says. Your daughter finally starts to calm a little. Tears continue to stream down her face but she no longer wails in pain. You wipe her face with your hand, smoothing your hand on her cheek. Your throat feels tight.
The rest of the time from the hospital back to your house is a blur. Your daughter sleeps safely in her nursery having been lulled to sleep from all the crying and some milk.
The both of you are sat on the couch in the living room. The baby monitor placed on the coffee table in front of you. Satoru is in your arms, his head buried in your neck. You sat in his lap, gently combing your hands through his hair. You had two babies to take care of.
"I hated that," he says, a little whiny. "Can we never do that again?"
"She's gonna have to get more no matter what we do."
"If I get rid of every vaccine produced ever and the companies making them, we'll never have to do this again." The statement is ridiculous and is enough to make you laugh which has him whining into you neck again.
"I'M SERIOUS DON'T LAUGHT AT ME." Which only serves to make you giggle harder. You place a kiss on his forehead.
"You're a good father you know," you say, directing the conversation in another direction instead of the doom of pharmaceutical companies at the hands of Gojo Satoru. "She's lucky to have you."
"Of course she is, I'm THE Gojo—" you place your hand over his mouth cutting his bragging short. You take your hand away once you're sure he's not gonna say anything silly. And before he has a chance to lick it.
"I'm being serious."
"You really think so?"
"I know so."
You think back to the conversation you had before your daughter was born. The one where Satoru had spilled his heart out, confiding his fears of being a bad and absent father. You remember being in a similar position as you are now, seated in his lap and running a hand through his hair. You felt him squeeze your waist in the same way, one that told you that despite pretending he didn't need it, even the strongest needed comfort.
"I love you, sweetheart," he murmurs. "Thank you for everything."
"I love you too, toru."
Your lips lock in a soft, gentle kiss. He was your everything and more. The silence between you both is sweet and comfortable as you bask in each other warmth.
Silence, however, never lasts long in the Gojo household. Especially when it comes to Gojo Satoru.
"So what do you say about practicing for our second?"
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pairing: spencer reid x reader
set sometime in early s2; you get stuck sharing a room with your favorite boy genius who absolutely cannot know that you have feelings for him. and also, there’s only one bed. fluff, f!reader (i think there's only two usages of gender markers)
word count: 4.7k
notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3. i'm thinking i'll do more of these, i've got a few spencer fics in the vault and it was fun to rework this and see how my style has changed :)
You shivered against the cold desert air. Twirling a keyring around your finger, you headed for the door marked 3. You were exhausted from the day and so, so ready to collapse into bed as soon as you got inside your room.
You turned the key in the lock while Spencer waited behind you. It was late, and you and the team had pulled into a motel for the night, having been dragged out to a tiny rural town by the unsub after days of tracking him through surrounding areas. He’d been apprehended, finally, and handed over to local police around midnight. You all had decided it best to spend the night before driving back into town in the morning for take off.
So here you were, at one of those single story motels that still used actual keys instead of key cards. Given the time of night, you knew vacancies would be scarce, so you’d already expected to have to double up on rooms. Gideon had stayed behind at Quantico, leaving Hotch and Morgan in one room and JJ and Prentiss in another, with you and Spencer sharing the last room. You’d hung back while JJ got everything figured out with the concierge (who was just a bored looking kid posted at the desk), and then she’d passed you your key with its little keyring attachment listing the room number and you all bade each other goodnight.
You’d been on the team nearly a year already, but you were still the rookie compared to everyone else. Even Spence had two years on you. But seeing as you two were the youngest, and the least inclined toward the more physical parts of your job– the chasing, tackling, firing your weapon parts– you were paired off with him more often than not.
You weren’t complaining. You’d come to know Spencer pretty well, and you didn’t feel much apprehension at the thought of sharing a room with him for one night.
That is, until you opened the door.
“Oh,” you said involuntarily.
"There's only one bed,” Spencer said.
“Sure looks that way.”
"At least it's a queen?"
There was a brief pause before you both started speaking at the same time.
"Maybe we can go back to the concierge–" Spencer began.
"I mean, I guess I don't really–"
"–although, JJ did say we got the last–"
"–mind as long as you–"
You cut yourself off this time. It’s not like there was another good option, unless one of you wanted to sleep in the car. "This is fine?" it came out as a question rather than a statement.
"I think so? I wouldn't want to– to make you uncomfortable or anything."
"This is fine," you repeated, more sure of yourself this time. “And you don’t make me uncomfortable.”
It was only kind of a lie. You trusted Spencer with your life, of course. But he also made you nervous. He was sweet, kind, always seeming genuinely interested in anything you had to say. And of course, anyone could see that he was attractive. You were developing feelings for him, and in a job where your coworkers and your crush himself were all adept at reading people, it really wasn’t a good position for you to be in. You just hoped Spencer was as oblivious with women as Derek made him out to be.
"We should get out of the doorway," Spencer suggested, and you realized you'd been standing in the threshold this whole time.
"Right."
The two of you walked in, Spencer closing and locking the door behind you. It was a modest room in a tiny town; your standard ugly-patterned, faded bedspread draped over the queen bed in the center, a window looking out into the parking lot, and a dresser that didn’t even have a TV on top of it. You headed straight for the bed, sitting on the edge and removing your shoes while Spencer stood by with his hands in his pockets.
"You know, if it's a problem I can sleep on the cou– uh, the chair," Spencer offered, looking back mid-sentence and realizing that the only additional furniture this motel offered was one rigid looking armchair by the window.
"No, you're not doing that."
"What?" he asked, taken aback by the quickness of your response.
"You're not sleeping in that chair. It looks horribly uncomfortable and I’m sure it’s never been cleaned, and I know how you’d feel about that.”
Spencer grimaced, not having thought about that particular detail. “Yeah, but, I mean… I’d do it for you.”
God, why did he have to say stuff like that? Like you were something special. And why now, when you were stuck in the same room with him until morning? It probably didn’t even mean the same thing to him as it meant to you. He was one of the most caring people you’d ever met. He’d probably say that to any one of you on the team.
Or maybe sleeping in a chair meant nothing to him at all. Maybe he actually didn’t want to share the bed with you and that’s why he was trying so hard to avoid it.
Ugh. You just wanted this day to be over. It was late, the case had been a week long, and now you were probably in for a fun night of overthinking and second guessing when you’d been expecting silence and easy, dreamless sleep.
Okay, maybe that last part was never really an option, but still.
“Look,” you sighed, “I know this isn't an ideal situation but there's a perfectly good bed here, so let’s just share it. If you’re okay with that. It's just one night and tomorrow we'll be back home and nobody has to know about it."
You had to fight from squeezing your eyes shut in regret. You wished that had come out differently. You chanced a look at Spencer, realizing that you’d been staring down at the faded carpet pattern while you spoke.
The look on his face was one you hadn’t seen before, and you almost couldn't place it. He seemed sort of disappointed. Disappointed that he had to share a bed with you? Or that you'd made it sound like you didn't want to share a bed with him? Nope, you could not go down that road tonight. You shook your head once as if it would clear the thoughts from your tired mind.
“I’m okay with that," he said, casually enough that you could almost convince yourself that you’d just imagined the look on his face before. "So, do you want the shower first, or...?" Spencer asked.
"No, I can wait, you go ahead," you said. You desperately needed the moment to yourself anyway.
You started rifling through your bag for pajamas, toiletries, and your charger as an excuse to look busy while Spencer made his way into the bathroom with his things. As soon as the door closed behind him, you flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if it might hold all the answers.
Spencer couldn't know about your feelings. For one thing, you were pretty sure there was a rule against dating your colleagues in the BAU. If not, there probably should be. You were such a close knit team, and if anything went wrong… you couldn’t imagine how difficult that would be. But then, the evil and uncooperative part of you also couldn’t help but think that things might go right.
From the beginning of your time at the BAU, you’d been drawn to Spencer. It just kind of made sense. You’d gotten through school at an accelerated pace– though not as quickly as him, the man was on another fucking level when it came to academics– and you were one of the only people who found his fact dropping actually interesting, often asking him follow up questions. He’d looked adorably shocked the first few times you’d done that.
He listened intently to your passionate rants about your favorite films and tv shows, even though he hadn’t seen any of them. When the two of you had discovered a shared interest in mythology and folklore, Hotch nearly had to separate you so you would actually get some work done. It was like you were a kid in school again, and you might’ve been embarrassed if you didn’t find it so funny, if you weren’t so giddy at the idea of a friendship that could make you feel like a kid again.
Spencer understood you in a way that other people didn’t, laughing at your jokes even when they didn’t land for anybody else. When people interrupted or spoke over you, he always paid attention, and in situations where you were trying to add details to the profile he’d bring the conversation back around to you.
Throughout your life you’d learned– through painstaking trial and error– to fit in pretty well in most any group you found yourself in, but you’d always considered yourself to be a little weird. A little too different. But when you were with Spencer, you felt like you didn’t have to try so hard. You could both be a little different, together.
Spencer opened the bathroom door then, startling you. You’d been so lost in thought you hadn’t even noticed the water turn off. You looked over to see him wearing a loose white t-shirt and pajama pants, his hair still damp. And now you knew what Spencer looked like fresh out of a shower. And of course it was endearing as hell.
“If that’s how you’re planning to sleep,” Spencer began, referencing how you were laid out in the dead center of the bed, your arms fully outstretched and hands hanging off the mattress, “then I think we might have a slight problem after all.”
You walked out of the bathroom a short while later, dressed in your usual sleepwear of shorts and an oversized shirt. You’d put your hair up in a bun to protect it while you showered, and now it hung loose around your shoulders. You simultaneously wished your outfit was cuter and uglier; knowing your giant t-shirt wasn’t flattering your figure while also feeling like you had too much skin exposed. Not that it mattered. You were just going to get some sleep and then wake up in the morning and head home. Everything would be back to normal.
Spencer’s in bed already. He’d turned off the big light while you were showering, the lamps on either side of the bed casting him in a softer, warmer glow. He looked up from his book to find you standing there, and the soft, familiar look in his big brown eyes had you rooted to the spot.
“Hey,” he said softly, patting the space next to him in invitation.
You conceded, finding your legs again and sliding into bed beside him. “Hey.”
He fidgeted with the pages of his book, ultimately shutting it closed on his index finger to mark the page. “So, uh, are we okay?”
“Yeah, of course,” you answered genuinely, feeling bad that your internal struggle had manifested in a way that worried him.
“Okay, cool,” he said. He paused long enough to let you explain if you wanted to, another invitation. You knew he wouldn’t push it if you didn’t offer something up. You wanted to give him an explanation, but you couldn’t bring yourself to.
“Sorry,” you managed.
“For what?”
“I don’t know… acting weird, I guess. It’s just been a long day.”
“Oh, well, you don’t need to be sorry about that. You’re always weird.”
Your mouth dropped open as you looked at him. “Look who’s fucking talking,” you scoffed. Some of the tension dropped from your shoulders, glad he hadn’t questioned you further.
“Language, please,” he held up a hand to stop you. “I’m delicate.”
“Wha–?” you let out a surprised little laugh. “You’re an idiot!”
“Yeah okay, tell that to my I–.”
“Oh, my IQ of 187,” you finished for him, rolling your eyes. Even that was full of endearment. “God, you are so annoying.”
“Hm. Y’know, this might be a long night for you. I’d hate to keep you up with my annoyingness.”
“I feel like you could’ve come up with a better word than annoyingness, Mr. 187,” you tilted your head where it rested against the headboard, looking up at him.
“Oh, she’s being a smartass now!” he split into a surprised grin, and you could swear your heart skipped a beat.
“You just said ass.”
“Wow. How quickly you’ve corrupted me.”
“Right, of course. It’s my fault.”
“I knew you’d agree.”
“Shut the fuck up,” you laughed.
Things felt a little bit more normal after that, joking around with Spencer like you normally did made the rest of the night feel less daunting.
Shortly after that, the two of you agreed that you should get some sleep, each reaching over to turn out the light on your respective sides of the bed.
You let yourself sink into your pillow, the exhaustion you had been feeling giving way to a hyper awareness of Reid’s body next to you. You were kept awake, completely overcome by the foot of space between you and Spencer; the consequences of crossing that space, the way it might feel, the curiosity over whether he was laying awake too, thinking the same thoughts as you. Even with that foot of space separating you, you could feel his body heat. You longed to move closer to him, to touch him, to let his warmth seep into you and lull you to sleep.
But you didn’t, and you wouldn’t, because this was just an unfortunate booking mishap. It didn’t mean anything. Tomorrow it would be over, and you could more easily go back to hiding your feelings from everyone else and yourself.
Eventually, exhaustion won out.
You woke what could’ve been a few minutes or a few hours later, the sky still dark. You couldn’t tell what exactly had woken you up, only the sense that you’d moved, almost like you’d fallen. But fallen from what?
You blinked in the dark, the street lamps in the parking lot providing enough residual light to keep the room from being pitch black.
Reid was sitting up. He must’ve bolted upright, you thought. Had that been what moved you? Were you lying on him?!
“Hey, you okay?”
“Sorry. Just a nightmare,” he said as if it was nothing. “Sorry to wake you.”
“What was it about?” you ignored his apologies, sitting up as well.
“I don't really even remember,” he breathed, almost like it was funny. “Just having a physiological reaction to whatever it was, I guess.”
You had nightmares too, of course. You all did. You hated remembering them, but you also hated the times when you woke up in the dark, dazed and inexplicably scared. Without thinking, you reached for his hand.
He turned to look at you then. “I really didn't mean to wake you,” he reiterated.
“I figured,” you smiled slightly. You noticed his breathing was just a bit too fast. You rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand, leaning over to rest your weight against his side, your head on his shoulder. His nervous system would regulate itself quicker this way.
“You were on my pillow, by the way.”
“What?” you ask, your head jerking back from him.
“I totally called it. You rolled right into the center of the bed in your sleep. Total bed hog.”
“Hey!” you protested, pulling your hand back from his in embarrassment. So you had been lying on top of him. Or at least really close to him. His hand chased after yours, finding you again.
“That wasn’t me complaining about it.”
“Oh,” was all you could think to say back.
It was quiet for a minute. You let your head fall back onto Spencer’s shoulder, but your heart raced in your chest.
“Can I ask you something?” he questioned, his tone becoming more serious.
“Oh– of course,” you answered, your brow creasing.
“What did you mean when you said ‘it’s not ideal’ and ‘nobody has to know about it’?”
“Wh– I– Spencer, come on.”
He didn’t give you an out this time. Just waited for an answer.
“I don’t even really know,” you sighed.
“I believe you’re being partially truthful about that.”
“Don’t profile me.”
“I’m not. I just know you.”
You sighed. “You know, sometimes I hate that stupid memory of yours.”
“I don’t need an eidetic memory to remember that. It was a weird thing to say, and it happened like four hours ago.”
“You’re guesstimating. And it wasn’t that weird.”
“Maybe not, but the way you said it was. And you’re avoiding my question.”
You continued to avoid it, biting down on your bottom lip.
“And you stuttered when I brought it up.”
“I told you to stop profiling me.”
This time, he just hummed in response.
“And so what if I stuttered?”
“Stuttering is usually more my thing. A nervousness thing.”
Maybe this was actually your nightmare. Maybe you’d wake up soon and none of this would’ve been real, and you wouldn’t have had to explain to Spencer that the reason you’d had an attitude was because the situation tonight had made it harder to hide your feelings from him. Big feelings that became a lot harder to ignore when he was this close to you, still holding your hand, the mix of scents from his detergent and deodorant clouding your judgment. Of all the embarrassing scenarios that you could’ve imagined playing out tonight, this was very high up on the list.
“I said ‘it’s not ideal’ because it’s not, just by definition. We were supposed to get a double room and we didn’t. Not ideal. And I said no one has to find out because I can already see Morgan having a field day with it and I know the exact expression that’ll be on his face–”
“The eyebrows,” he nodded, lips pursed.
“And then everyone else will get in on it and I just figured…” you sighed. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to deal with that.”
“That all makes total sense.”
“Good,” you breathed. Too relieved.
“Now tell me the rest of it.”
“God, Spencer–” you huffed out, frustrated. He knew you too well.
You wanted to run. Maybe you could go sleep in the car after all. And then ignore Spencer for the rest of the day, and then the year, and your life, and–
“Don’t make me say it,” you breathed. This had to be a dream.
“But there is something to be said?” he questioned, his tone hushed, almost reverent.
It was just vague enough. You could pretend it was nothing.
“Yes.”
You felt like you’d just blown your life up with one word.
Spencer took a deep breath, your body cresting and falling with the movement of it.
“You make me feel better about being myself,” he confessed.
You shut your eyes. You had a constricting feeling in your throat suddenly, and the awful realization that you might cry.
He spoke again, because you couldn’t. “I haven’t always felt good about it, you know? And then you joined the team, and, well– you changed a lot of things for me. And you’re beautiful, obviously, and I was scared to mess up what we have, because it’s special, I think–”
“It is.”
“–and then you started freaking out when you saw the bed,” he was smiling now, you could hear it, “and I thought, maybe it wouldn’t be so crazy… maybe I could make you feel that way too.”
“You do. Of course you do. I feel like I can be my full self with you. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt like that before.”
Spencer laughed, a little delirious giggle, and squeezed your hand in his. You’d managed to avoid crying, thankfully, and you grinned along with him, looking down at your joined hands as you squeezed him back.
Things seemed to still for a beat, the two of you sitting with this moment and letting it stretch out. You still couldn’t really believe this was happening. You might have to tell Spencer to pinch you.
“So what does that mean for us now?” you asked.
“Well, for right now at least, I think it just means that we can go back to sleep without overthinking things into oblivion.”
“I was not–”
“Okay, this time I am profiling you, and you’re lying,” he cut you off, his smile still evident.
“Oh, this was such a mistake.”
He continued like you hadn’t spoken, laughing a little as he went. “I could practically hear it. It’s like, you know when a computer is trying to use too much processing power and the fan starts whirring really loud? Like that but just like right next to me, like tangible—“
“Okay! Thank you so much, I actually totally got it, you can stop now.”
He laughed, and your cheeks warmed.
“For the record, I meant we could both stop overthinking.” Then he shifted a little, facing you a bit more. With the hand that wasn’t holding yours, he brushed a strand of hair from your face, a fake pout on his lips. “Sorry I make you nervous.”
You cackled at that, if it was possible to cackle in hushed tones. “Oh, I bet you are. Besides, I know you like me now, so you’ve lost that card.”
“Are you certain of that?”
“Certain that you like me or certain that you can’t make me nervous?”
“The latter. I do like you, if that was unclear.”
Your heart sped up, contradicting you as you answered, “Then I’m certain you can’t make me nervous.”
He titled your face up to his then, using his index finger underneath your chin to make you look at him. “You’re an awful liar.”
You just shrugged, watching triumphantly as Spencer’s gaze fell to your lips. “It’s been working out pretty well for me so far.”
“I guess it has,” he murmured, closing the distance between you and finally kissing you.
After so many months of imagining (and berating yourself for imagining) what Spencer’s lips might feel like on yours, you weren’t disappointed.
For once you didn’t have to think at all, the chemistry between you and him drowning out everything else. His hand fell to your waist, and yours moved to the curve of his jaw, pulling him closer as his mouth moved against yours. Your teeth grazed his bottom lip and he gasped, and your skin felt like it was lit up from the inside.
You pulled away to breathe, and to process, and to try and stop your head from swimming. You were rewarded with the awestruck look in Spencer’s eyes as he opened them again.
“Okay, was it just me, or–”
“That was crazy,” you breathed.
“Crazy,” he agreed.
“Spence?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t think we’re getting back to sleep tonight.” Your eyes widened at the implication of saying those words at that time. “Not, like, in the sex way, though,” you hurried to correct yourself. “I need like, 4-5 business days to process things first, and I– well, I just meant, like– you know?”
Spencer was nodding at you even as his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “Can I still kiss you during those 4-5 business days?”
“Oh, yeah,” you said, sounding breathless.
“Cool,” he agreed. “You seem really nervous, by the way.”
“Well, you kissed me.”
“I did.”
“How were you not nervous?” you breathed.
“Oh, I was. Your reaction is making me feel a whole lot better about it though.”
You scoffed half-heartedly. “I do so much for you.”
“You do,” he replied earnestly, letting go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “We could lie back down, if you want. Like we were before I so rudely woke you up.”
“Yeah, I’m super mad about that,” you joked. “Anyway, I was asleep for that, so you’ll have to show me what I was doing.”
He seemed all too pleased to do so. “Okay, so you were basically like,” he leaned back against the pillows, pulling you down with him, moving his hand to the side of your head to guide you to the place where his shoulder met his chest, “Like that, and then your arm was over here,” he picked up your arm and guided it around his waist.
“Oh god, that’s so embarrassing,” you said, realizing that he must’ve been awake when you’d done it.
“Yeah, I know. Really terrible time for me.”
“I can imagine. I can scoot back over to my side of the bed, just say the word.”
“Don’t you dare,” he said, squeezing you closer.
You trailed your fingers up and down his waist, feeling more content than you had in ages.
“I can’t believe you’d suggest that I would have sex with you right after confessing my feelings. Like, take me to dinner first at least.”
“Oh my god,” you half-exclaimed, half-laughed. You felt your cheeks heat up again, grateful it was still too dark in the room to be noticeable. “You’re right, I’m so sorry. How’s next Friday?”
“Hmm, I don’t know. My work schedule is kind of unpredictable. I’ll have to get back to you.”
“You’re such an ass.”
A few short hours later, you were back on the jet with the rest of the team. You were lying on the couch while Spencer sat in a seat one row up and across from you, both to avoid suspicion and so you could try to catch up on sleep. He sat facing away from you, but with the angle you were at you could still see one side of his face if you tilted your head up.
You were just beginning to fade when your phone buzzed next to you.
Spencer: I have to tell you something, coworker to coworker.
You looked up to see him blank faced, looking down at the book in his right hand, holding his phone in the left.
You text back: okay?
Spencer: My crush asked me out last night.
You’re exceptionally glad no one was sitting close enough to see you. Spencer had caught you off guard, and you felt an infatuated grin spreading across your face.
You: what did u say?
Spencer: Wanted to get your opinion first.
You: i think u should say yes, obviously.
Spencer: Idk, I’m kinda nervous. I think she’s trying to jump me on the first date.
You just barely managed to refrain from laughing out loud. You looked up at Spencer again, and he’s looking at his phone as if it contained nothing more than a weather report. You’re astounded.
You: one could argue that technically you’ve already slept together, so there’s less to be nervous abt
You saw his eyebrows raise just slightly. Success.
Spencer: You’re trouble, you know that? See you Friday night
You: i promise i won’t try to jump you
Spencer: Oh
Spencer: I fear I may have shot myself in the foot here
You: i wouldn’t worry about it too much
Spencer: That’s rich coming from you
You rolled your eyes even though he couldn't see you.
You: whatever. wear something sexy ;)
You heard him blow air out of his nose, an almost laugh.
“Something funny?” you heard Derek ask.
Shit.
“This book contains a historical inaccuracy that was proven incorrect eight years before its publishing date,” Spencer replied without missing a beat.
Unbelievable.
You: you’re unhinged :*
Spencer: Go to sleep already, would you?
You: coworker to coworker? my crush keeps interrupting my beauty sleep
Spencer: He’s probably worried about the worldwide implications of you becoming any more beautiful
You: i guess that’s why the universe gave you insomnia :( too pretty
Spencer: Stop flirting with me
You: bc you’re too delicate??
Spencer: Yes
You snapped your phone shut, feeling dazed. You watched the clouds go by in the window across from you, and you couldn’t help letting your gaze slide over to Spencer. He’d put his phone down as well, concentrating on his book. Or pretending to concentrate. He was turning the pages much too slowly for his actual pace.
You: you have got to do a better job of fake reading than that
You heard a page turn.
You looked up again to see the ghost of a smile threatening the corner of his mouth.
This was going to be fun. And also, you were so screwed.
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