#spencer reid is a loser

[mollymooo]

Dinners Served

spencer reid x reader

summary: even after living alone for almost a year, you still can’t help but make way too much food. not that Spencer’s complaining, he sure can use the company

an: i’m so hungry bro i saw this girl make a lasagna on ig reels and it looked buss

The sound of bubbling water and the low hum of some random song I had heard earlier today bounced off the walls of my rather empty apartment. The smell of fresh tomato sauce made my mouth water and I smiled warmly while I picked up my phone

foods almost done :)

Be over soon.

I smile slightly at the text and giggle to myself as I play some random song on my phone and dance in place. I didn’t even hear the door open nor did I see Spencer leaning against the wall, watching me sing and dance

“You know, it has been proven that dancing allows a persons mind to be free” He sits down at the island and places his head in his hands while he cheekily smirks

“Really? Did YOU know it’s rude to sneak up on people like that?” I lean against the counter top and fold my arms.

This has been our routine for the past year. It all started back when I first moved in.

———

Setting the final box on the floor, I stand and place my hands on my hips. God, how’d it get so late?

I flop down on the couch and call the number on the ad for cheap Chinese food, cuz lord knows i’m not about to whip up a whole meal. I tap around on my phone and practically squeal when I hear my doorbell ring.

I spread out all the food I ordered on the counter almost bursting with excitement

“Oh shit.. This is way too much food.” I groan slightly, it’s way too late to call any friends to come help, so I nervously peak out into the hall and glance at the door next to me. Eh, worth a shot

I knock on the door timidly and hear something, or someone fall over a few seconds later

“Coming!” A man yells out amidst the struggle behind the door and after a moment, the door swings open.

His hair is long and curly, with a pair of glasses on top of his head and a dark black shirt with a pair of loose sleep pants.

“Yes?” He takes his glasses from his mess of hair and places them on his face as he scans me

“Sorry for disturbing you so late, and you can totally say no since you don’t know me and I may very well be a murderer, but I accidentally ordered way too much food, and my fridge doesn’t work.” I mumbled slightly but mainly got the point across. I didn’t expect my neighbor too look like THAT. Much less expect him to be awake.

“Im Spencer, and you must be an angel because I haven’t eaten all day.” He steps out of his apartment and closes the door behind him, following me to my door while I giggle slightly

“No angel here. I’m Y/N”

———

“Hey, I can leave if you think i’m a creep” He starts to stand from his place at the island

“No! I was kidding” He snickers as I rush to grab him and sit him back down “I like your company..” I awkwardly add at the end

“I’m sure I would’ve starved by now if it weren’t for you.” His large hand lands on top of mine still wrapped around his forearm as he sits back down

We lock eyes, just for a moment. But I would’ve sworn that those large eyes glanced down at my lips, just slightly.

“Plus, foods ready!” I awkwardly add, pretty much ruining the moment

Way to go me.

I start to add a hefty amount of pasta to each plate and watch as Spencer adds an absurd amount of sauce and cheese to his own portion. I take my place next to him and practically cry while shoving a bite into my mouth

“Thank you, by the way..” He avoids eye contact while I tilt my head slightly

“For the food? Cuz that’s a thanks LONG overdue-“

“No…For all of this. For just being you, I guess. I’m glad I got to know you”

I smile slightly and wrap one arm around him, pulling him into a tight hug. His lanky arms find solace around my waist while he sighs comfortably

“This means a lot to me” His face nuzzles into my neck, his slight stubble tickling me

“I’m glad you like me, Dr Reid.”

He chuckles slightly and sighs

“You have no idea.”

[tw1npeaks]

who is teaching him this i know it’s not me so WHO!!

[mismatchsocks]

“post prison reid is so tough and badass” ?? the same post prison reid who begged prentiss not to leave the team again??? the same post prison reid who can’t stand group food?? the same post prison reid who bleached his apartment because a woman would be in it for like five minutes??? the same post prison reid who was studying fungi because he found it relatable????

[pricklypearflowers]

💔💔 heartbreak high text posts 💔💔

[witchwrestler]

if guys wanting loser girlfriends was as popular a concept as girls wanting loser boyfriends i think i would have much better luck just saying

[sungwanns]

Obsessed with the fact that Spencer has the hand dexterity to knit this scarf, but can’t eat with chopsticks

[frankiebirds]

the face of a man seeing his platonic friend. truly. definitely. (lie)

[viintagefairy]

nerdy, scrawny, awkward men who are emotionally traumatised and deserve the world is the REAL female gaze

[soul-wanderer]

petition to get a spin-off with Blake and Reid where both of them just get to be neurodivergent nerds for 45 minutes not straight each week

[midnightorchids]

Picked up Criminal Minds again… and I’m so down bad for Spencer Reid like it’s literally not even funny how bad I need him :(

[komilys]

oh! a spencer reid x kyi short! post-s9 ending.

or… in which the two discuss their coworkers reaction to their not-so-new relationship and spencer is sad he’s been demoted to ‘reid’.

⌒ ᡣ𐭩 ・ 。

“oh, they’re gonna be so annoyed.”

spencer tilts his head, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “who?”

i looked up at him, curling the edges of the documents before putting them up to his face as if to say ‘what do you think?!’

he blinks, and laughs nervously. “i’m sure they won’t be surprised.” he takes the papers and reads through them, humming. “especially after you came rushing to the office when we got back from texas— ‘spencer?! what happened to him?!’ oh…” he started to chuckle.

who told him? “i did not.” he’s smiling so wide, penelope definitely told him. “and don’t say that as if you weren’t doing the exact same when i was danger!”

his smiles drops a little when i mention it and he goes to place the paper on the table behind me, bringing his hands to rest on my cheeks when he’s done. “yes, i was worried,” he sighs. “how could i not? i could’ve lost you.”

there’s nothing but sincerity and love in his eyes, but i can’t help the sarcastic quip that leaves me. “didn’t think you minded losing me,” i mumble.

i can see it, the brief hurt— regret?— in his eyes but he closes them before i can pin point it exactly. i can’t help but mimic him, and he tilts my head down so he can kiss the top of it. “i do, i’m so sorry,” he pauses, taking a sharp breath. “we don’t have to do this anymore, i can leave.”

it’s noble, he’s offering to leave more than just me, but the bureau. i don’t want him to, not either of them. he’d put the choice of how to proceed with the relationship in my hands, saying it was the least he could do, and that he’d respect whatever i chose to do.

that was weeks ago, and i wanted nothing more than to tell him all i wanted was him, not more time to ‘mull things over’. that would be childish though, and i stopped myself, saying ‘okay’ and let his hand go.

after texas, after he was shot and almost murdered in the hospital, i wasn’t so sure i cared how childish or naive he, or anyone else, thought me to be. i needed spencer reid to know i loved him more than anything in this world.

“even though i hurt you… you..” he spoke softly, but he couldn’t say anything else, just stammering, trying to find his voice.

i raise my head. “i love you, reid.” when i meet his gaze he looks so sad, and my chest aches. “unfortunately, i think i’m cursed to love you no matter what you do.” i whisper, and i smile to let him know i’m only joking.

spencer returns the gesture, and lets his hands drop from my face, sighing and picking up his bag and the papers he’d placed on the table earlier. i followed suit, grabbing my things. work.

as he steps out, holding the door for me and locking it as i exit, i grab his hand, lacing over fingers together. he squeezes it as an acknowledgment of my affection, and flashes a quick smile before tucking his other hand into his pants. “i do wish you’d start calling me spencer again more,” he admits.

it’s adorable. and the way he says it, i know he’s been thinking about this forever.

“i’m sorry, i guess i just got a little too used to it.”

he groans. “get unused to it.” oh, he’s so upset. it’s a little funny.

“oka-aa-ay, doctor, i will.”

[tw1npeaks]

why does he sit like that what’s wrong with him

[mismatchsocks]

i hold season one reid very close to my heart

[prototypeluv]

i’m cute until i get high and start talking about the men i want carnally

[solardrop]

beanstalk.

aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader

summary: a loser at the local pub thinks spencer is your boyfriend. Aaron drags him. tags: fluff. creepy men being creepy. body shaming (of spencer I'm so sorry). spencer just catching strays in general. word count: ~1.7k a/n: based on an ask. I was gonna just write my thoughts or a short 500 word drabble or something but then ended up writing this until the point I forced myself to just end it lmao. I think it gets a bit convoluted and cringe at the end but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it was fun! not proofread. divider cred @/cafekitsune

The pub was going to the rue the day they made half-off appetizers their weekly special.

The team squeezed in two pushed-together tables and binged on the greasy delights. you and Spencer had gotten into sharp back and forth about the apocalypse on the way there, which earned the both of you a quick banishing to a corner of the table where the rest of the team wouldn’t be subject to your bickering.

You rest your head against the cool concrete pillar you were sandwiched against. A table pressed against a half-wall facing outdoors was a hard sell to a bunch of field agents. However, Penelope’s animated declaration for the team to ‘live a little’ —specifically, to do so before Rossi got any greyer— landed you a wonderful view of the outdoors. You could watch all the homey, drunken people sway to the music flowing from the patio. The crisp night air flushes the overwhelming smell of burnt grease away from your nose. Maybe you could convince Hotch to grab a window seat for some date nights, you have to admit, the vibes were growing on you. While you enjoy poking the brain of your younger genius friend, you miss the solid warmth of Aaron beside you. Thankfully, he opted to sit in front of you instead. 

You took the opportunity to tease him. You kick him playfully under the table, stealing his attention away from the conversation he is having with Derek. He turns to squint at you for a moment, only to grab your food to sandwich it between the wall and his thigh in retaliation. His fingers drum a steady rhythm against your ankle, the ticklish tap tap tap making you squirm. You motion to ensnare his ankle with your other leg when Spencer turns to point his flimsy white plastic fork at you. 

“If emergency services were still in full effect during the zombie apocalypse, there would be a drastic increase in the number of people infected and a significant loss in—”

“A significant loss in medical supplies. Spoken like a true prepper Reid. What's next, gonna tell me about the importance of learning how to pickle your own food for rationing?”

“Actually, during the Great Depression housewives pickles things that lasted their families almost—”

His impending rant is cut short by the return of your server. Anticipating the bill, Rossi reached for his wallet before the woman shakes her head at him. Instead, sliding a drink and a folded up napkin on the table and nodding her head at you. 

“For the lovely young miss by the window.” She flashes a smile at you, “One of our lovely patons seems to fancy you.”

All eyes snap to you, all the color draining from your face as you stare down at the offending item. The drink was almost glowing at you, bright pink glitter swirling in the liquid with pink gummy hearts floating at the top and crystal sugar bedazzling the rim. There was no way this was actually something for the human body to consume. Even Penelope’s brows raised in shock at its extreme display. 

You glance at Hotch, his leg picking up a steady bounce next to yours after the waitresses revelation. His face is hardened, jaw rocking back and forth as he glares at the folded paper next to the drink. You clear your throat and face the woman again.

“Can you tell me who sent this?”

She juts her sharp chin over your head towards one of the outdoor tables. Hotch’s neck cranes around before your own, and you lock eyes with an older man sitting a few tables down. His face was unpleasantly square, the outdated sandy mullet crowning his head doing him no favors either. He raises his beer bottle towards you with a wink. You shiver, scooting closer to Spencer when the admirer hauls himself out of his stool to stride towards you. Aaron has turned almost fully towards outside now, his brow raised.

“Ohh this is gonna be good,” JJ whispers from the other side of Reid. The comment earns her a sharp glare from Hotch, a blush burning in her cheeks as she goes back to nursing her cheeto-crusted mozzarella sticks.

“I just don’t understand,” Spencer starts, “There are seven other people at this table including men at this table why would he be bold enough to-”

A sharp knock sounder off the ledge of the short wall. 

“Well, hello darlin’. I don’t mean to interrupt the dinner with your friends here, Hello friends, m’  names Miles!” He flashed his eyes around the table with a toothy, mustached smile. 

“But i couldn’t help but see your pretty little face in this window ‘ere and I had to buy ya’ a drink!” 

“Ah… Thank you but um-”

“Don’t even sweat it beautiful!” Small specs of saliva fly from his mouth, causing even Spencer to jump back pulling on the hem of your shirt. As if to use you as a human shield from the germs the man was spewing in his general direction. Hooray. Your hero. 

“I even wrote my number on that there lil’ napkin for ya’. My momma raised a gentleman, so I gotta buy you more than a lil liquor before I take you down.” His beady eyes shoot down to your cleavage before snapping back to your face, licking his lip. 

The fingers on your ankles pause at this. Aaron stares down the side of the mans face, lips pressd into a fine line spread across his face. You decide to jump in before your boyfriend takes it upon himself to tear the mystery man a new one.

“Listen, I appreciate the sentiment but, I’m here to have dinner with my friends and my boyfriend so… I could pay you back for the drink? No harm done-”

“Boyfriend!?” He steps back, eyes scanning the table once more before landing on Spencer and snorting. 

“This lil’ stringbean? You can’t possibly be serious” He smiles at Spencer before he continues “Jack and the beanstalk here could barely muscle steel so ya’ll stuck him with plastic,” He waves a crooked finger aimlessly around the table, “And you expect me to believe he’s wrangling a fine figure like yourself down every night?”

That seems to hit a sore spot for Reid, who finally peeps his head from around you. He takes the moment to ramble about the millions of germs and pathogens that could be found on community utensils even after a full wash cycle. Much to the dismay of the creep and team alike, so much so that Derek had to nudge him with his foot. With the conclusion of Spencer’s monologue the man continues

“Anyways, darlin’ for one night let me take you for a spin. Lil' boy like that won't do ya' any good. I promise you only a bigger, older man knows how to really take care of someone crafted as fine as you.” His eyes lower to your chest again and stay there. 

“I assure you she already knows that,” Aaron spits. 

Your eyes snap to his face. He seemd deceptively calm now, his expression almost bored. 

“Pardon?” Miles asks, half-heartedly turning his body towards him. 

“I’ll put it like this for you Miles. Stringbean over here isn’t her boyfriend,” Spencer begins to squeak out in opposition to his new pet name, but Hotch’s voice bellows out above his own, “I know you’re pathetic, that was apparent from the moment you walked up here puffing your chest after buying the cheapest drink on the menu as a gift. But I’m almost surprised you made your impotence so obvious too, considering you made eye contact with everyone you view as non threatening, the women, the man in his late years, the kid.”

Aaron lazily cocks his head towards Morgan, “But not me and my friend here in the corner. But I’m sure you thought you got away with that. Now, I’d suggest you move. The cologne you sprayed to mask the smell of Motel 8 is starting to wear off.”

Your ears warm at his words. Every sharp word honeyed by his calm, almost sweet tone. He spoke as if he was reading the well thought out profile of an elusive crimminal instead of just some ass in a sit down. God you wanted to kiss him. He’d have to let team politics go just this once right? Just a thank you peck. 

Before you can move to move ask him for one, Miles sputters out, “Talkin’ to me like I’m some dumbass— Who the hell d’ya think you are man!?”

Each syllable causes a spray of spit to launch out his mouth, forcing you to scoot even closer to spencer to evade the line of fire. His face shines with sweat and grease, red rising from his shirt collar as he barks at Hotch’s words. 

“I’m her man. Her bigger, older man. But I’m sure you already knew that, since you still refuse to look at me.” Aaron reaches down into his pockets, flipping out his credentials with deft fingers, “And I’m also an agent. As is everyone at the table including the woman you’ve spent the past several minutes sexually harassing.” He scowls, “Now, go sit down and shut the hell up.”

Miles' eyes finally rip away from you to meet his now. The angered flush erupts across his whole body now. He opens his mouth several times before closing it again, iced out by the cold stare Hotch gives him. He turns on his heel and marches back to his table without a fight. He sniffs his collar before jumping back in clear disgust.

A beat passes and the whole table erupts into laughter at the absurd happenings. Aaron’s face softens, still frowning in the general direction of the slimy man. Jolting when Derek claps him on the back and shakes him in praise. 

“Alright Hotch! Racing to defend your girl, I didn’t know you had it like that!”

“Well, I’m not surprised,” You stretch across the table to grasp his hand, kissing his knuckles before he could protest. He envelopes your hand in both of his and gives you a warm smile,  “my man is my hero in and out of the field.” He breathes out a laugh, knocking his knee against yours for your teasing. 

“Next time, you and String Bean get into it, we’re doing a different seating arrangement.”

[nereidprinc3ss]

early seasons spencer and bau reader undercover at a club and it’s just like. he is so flustered but also weirdly confident and do with this what you will

in which spencer reid and BAU fem!reader have to pose as a couple at a club. she's more than a little flirty. the conversation actually gets quite suggestive. he's cute when he gets flustered.

warnings/tags: discussions of sex, reader wears a tight dress and makeup and heels, discussions of blushing but r's skin color is not implied to be light, i just needed a reason to talk about sex flush LOL, if u don't visibly blush this will still read fine

a/n: I LOVE EARLY SEASONS SPENCER X FLIRTY READER OH MY GODDD thank you for this request angel from heaven I hope you all like this as much as I do teehee

The bass buzzes through the floor and vibrates your teeth. House music has never really been your thing. Neither have tight dresses and high heels while on the job—but you’re willing to objectify yourself just a little if it will lure yet another loser who likes to chop up young couples into the awaiting arms of the American correctional system. 

Or to the wrong end of Emily's Glock. Whatever comes first.  

You scan the club—it’s not your usual scene, and you can only imagine how Dr. Reid is faring. As far as you can tell this is essentially his nightmare. It’s sensory overload central even for you. 

Your eyes catch on him at the bar, tucked away from the writhing crowd. He’s standing near the end, one arm resting on the surface while the other hand is jammed in his pocket. He seems completely unaware of the several women circling closer and closer. The whole earnest and dorky but still handsome thing seems to work well for him. Or, it would, if he had any interest in utilizing it. He’s dressed a little sharper than usual—no doubt styled by Morgan and Prentiss. Hell, the earnest dorkiness and the well fitted dark suit is working for you if nobody else. 

Sometimes he just looks… edible. 

And self-discipline doesn't always come naturally to you. 

“Doctor,” you purr in greeting, grazing the forearm propped up on the bar with white-tipped nails as you insert yourself in front of him. His fingers twitch under your light touch. 

Spencer doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes sink down your frame, sticking to every highlighted curve like you’re dripping honey. Or maybe he just doesn’t realize that you can see that’s what he’s doing. 

“Hi. You look nice.”

“Aw,” you smile, dulling the salacious edge to your voice, “you didn’t have to say that. Someone’s improvising.”

“I meant it. That dress looks nice on you,” he says, simply, and you hate his specific brand of charm because it’s not intentional. It’s not something he puts on. It comes out of nowhere and always knocks you on your ass when it hits—even in the smallest doses. His eyes narrow and he leans closer. You can feel the energy rippling around him like a force field as he examines you. “You’re wearing more makeup than you normally do.”

“Do you like it? Penelope ordered the wrong shade of blush and gave it to me. Supposedly it’s meant to make me look like I just had an orgasm. I don’t know if I believe it.”

Much to your disappointment, Spencer leans back, scanning the crowd for your target and speaking as if he’s only half-interested. 

“That’s not what you would look like. Sex flush deepens the color of your entire face and chest, not just your cheeks.”

Your brows knit as you contend with unwelcome butterflies. 

“Buy me a drink before you start telling me what I’ll look like after I orgasm.”

That catches his attention, and his suddenly wide eyes snap to you. If he had a drink, he’d be choking on it. 

“I wasn’t—it was a general you, I’d never—that would be inappropriate. It was. It was inappropriate. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

You lean with your back to the bar, elbows propped on black granite, and swing your hair over your shoulder. Spencer’s eyes dart back down to your décolletage and then up to the ceiling like he regrets being born. You smile wickedly. Much better. This is the way God intended for you to interact with Spencer Reid. 

“I’ll consider forgiving you. And I don’t blush. Not when I orgasm, not ever.”

Admittedly, you just want to milk the whole talking about you orgasming thing to see how pink you can make him. It’s not often you’re gifted with an opportunity to be so candid about your sexuality or flirt this unabashedly. But you are supposed to be posing as a couple. Maybe you’re just feeling extra in character. 

Instead of stumbling over his words some more, Spencer smiles with a degree of bemusement like he’s caught you in a white lie. 

His smile is so nice. His teeth are perfect, and his lips—

“Yes you do.”

Always so convinced he’s right, this one. 

It’s annoying. And kind of hot. 

“Uh, I promise you I do not.”

“Everyone blushes. It's a sympathetic nervous system activation response wherein blood rushes to your face. Your blood vessels dilate when you get flustered or anxious. Your face gets hot and your undertone changes.”

You raise your brows. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was challenging you. 

“Yeah? Wanna bet?”

“Actually, no,” he mutters, losing any bravado and casting his eyes downward subserviently. “You have a habit of proving me wrong.”

“That’s right,” you gloat, smiling wide. Someone bumps into you, and you turn around, highly unprofessional insult locked and loaded—but it’s just a drunk girl who apologizes and stumbles off. The encounter does, however, remind you that you’re supposed to be finding a killer. “Do you think this is the best positioning? He might not be able to find us way over here.”

“You think we should move?”

You look back at him and nod, holding your hand out. He looks at it uncertainly. You waggle your fingers and infuse your words with sugar. 

“Oh, come on. I don’t want to lose you. And we’re supposed to look like a couple, remember?”

Gingerly he accepts your hand. His is bigger than you’d have thought. Not nearly as freezing as your own perpetually are. It occurs to you as you grab his hand that his bone structure really is bigger than yours. He’s… tall. He is, at the end of the day, a real life adult man. His presence is palpable behind you and you enjoy the weight of his hand in yours as you tug him through the crowd, perhaps not taking the most direct route through the throng just so you can savor being able to touch him like this for a little longer. 

Miraculously you spot an empty booth and slide into it. It’s a deep alcove, shadowy and secluded at the back. That’s where you settle, against black vinyl, and where you wave at Spencer to join you. 

He lingers at the edge of the table, glancing around at the groups of dancing and drinking young adults. 

“I don’t know. Can you even see the dance floor from back there?”

“Part of it. But I’m sure he’ll be looking in the booths for couples. He’ll come to us.”

Spencer faces you again and sighs ruefully, a begrudging smirk playing at his lips as he slides into the booth and joins you against the back wall. His side is warm against yours. He smells nice. Clean. Almost herbal, like patchouli or vetiver. 

“What? You really hate sitting next to me that much?”

Spencer’s lips part wryly before he speaks, like he almost thought better of it but decided to anyway. 

“I think you just wanted a reason to get me alone and secluded so you can finally accost me.”

Your knees bump. You lean into it. 

“Accost you? That seems harsh,” you pout, leaning toward him clandestinely to undo his top button.

“I don’t see how. You are literally trying to take my clothing off as we speak.”

“I’m just increasing your sex appeal. It’ll be good, trust me. Maybe you’ll even end up taking one of those girls from the bar home. Or—back to the hotel, I should say.”

Spencer covers your fussy hands with his own sweetly, like he can sense the true jealousy simmering underneath the sarcasm, and places them in your lap. The touch lingers.

“Are you always like this?” He murmurs, voice lower than you can recall ever hearing it and twisted into the shape of a smile. 

“Only with you, Dr. Reid. Speaking of, how about you? Do you flirt with many other FBI agents on official business?”

“Just the one. She’s kind of a full-time job.”

“Shut up. I’m basically your babysitter. If anything, I should be paid extra for dealing with you.”

“Attempting to seduce your charge seems like a bad business model. There are definitely some ethical issues there.”

His hands still rest on yours. You lace your fingers with his and speak sweetly, meeting his eyes best you can in the dark. 

“I wasn’t aware I was seducing you. Do you feel seduced?”

He’s the first to look away after a few seconds pass—pulls your hands apart gently, politely arranging them back on your lap. 

“I think you’re incorrigible and a terrible influence. In all honesty, you terrify me and more often than not I walk away from our interactions a little confused.”

You clap a hand to your heart, the bare skin revealed by your low cut dress warm under your fingers. 

“Spencer… that kind of turned me on.”

He just looks at you for a moment, a hint of a smile on his pretty face, long enough to make you feel a bit nervous. 

Then he’s leaning forward, and unconsciously so are you, almost forgetting to breath when you’re practically pressed against him in this booth and he’s whispering so low and sweet into your ear. 

“He’s watching us. Right across the floor, next to the girl in the blue dress. White button up and a leather jacket.” His hand slides over yours, fingers skimming your collarbone in the process as he interlocks your grasp once more. “Keep your hand right here and lean closer. We need to maintain his interest.”

“I don’t think I can lean any closer,” you breathe, hoping it doesn’t register as nervous as it really is. You’re supposed to be the confident one who teases him. “But if you want me to sit on your lap, just ask. I won’t say no.”

He chuckles, too loud to be amorous. It’s clearly genuine. It sounds like the way his reddened cheeks always look. It almost does more for you than the bedroom voice.

“You… you are beyond help. I don’t think you could be appropriate if your life depended on it.”

Slowly you pull back so you can look into his eyes—much closer than you normally have an excuse to. They dart wildly over your face, partially obscured by the dark which cuts shadows deep into the dramatic hollows of his bone structure. He really is so pretty. 

You glance toward the man, who’s pretending not to watch you. When you focus your attention back on Spencer, sliding your hand up the curve of his jaw, you find yourself making a dangerous wish. You find yourself wishing that you didn’t have an audience. That this wasn’t all for show. That neither of you had earpieces in.

His pulse hammers under your little finger, and his lips part slightly as he doesn’t have the wherewithal to not glance at yours. He’s so unaware of how obvious he’s being. It’s cute. 

You run the tips of your fingers through the hair in front of his ear, the one sans bluetooth, pushing it back, before leaning in close once more to whisper. 

“Good thing we’re not going for appropriate. Actually—your hands could stand to wander a little more, Dr. Reid. Let me know if you need me to tell you where to put them.”