honeyspence - Tumblr blog

honeyspence · 3 years

Text

a year in clueless love

the love story that is you and spencer reid. follows a year of the two of you being hopeless (and very stupid) romantics.

tw: teeniest bit of spice, mentions of canon typical violence and guns

a/n: doesn’t really follow a specific episode or case. kind of all over the place. also i picture like,, post prison reid in this? who’s a little more confident and up front but still terrified of losing you/ getting hurt. enjoy!! :)

In retrospect, it had been obvious. The way the two of you sought each other out in every room, like it was gravity. They way it didn’t matter if you were on the jet, on the field, or just at Quantico, the two of you were always touching each other. Thighs pushed together, hands brushing under the table, an arm around your shoulders, elbows bumping against each other; always touching. The way you were able to communicate by just looking at each other, which Garcia was convinced was simply telepathy. All in all, you probably didn’t do the best job at hiding whatever was going on with you and Spencer, and it didn’t exactly help that your family/ best friends/ colleagues were the FBI’s top profilers. They pretty much had it figured out before the two of you did.

In January, Morgan and Garcia decided to keep track. Keep track of the moments you and Spencer were so obviously, deliriously, stupidly falling in love. Morgan had to restrain Garcia from squealing every morning when Spencer brought you coffee and every evening when he walked you to your car. In January, the BAU took a case in Kansas; your first case on the field with the team. You tried your best to hide the nerves, but Spencer, of course, noticed as soon as you were on the jet.

“You okay?”

“Yup!” you say, a little too enthusiastically. Spencer raises an eyebrow. “You suck at lying.” It's a bit worrying, how you’ve only known each other for a couple months but he knows you oh so well already. You quirk a smile at him.

“I’m fine, really. I guess.. I’m just a little nervous. Wanna make a good impression.”

He laughs, and you wish you could replay it as soon as it’s over. “You’ll do great. Everyone already loves you- especially Hotch.” (This is true, Emily told you she hadn’t ever seen Hotch smile until the day you brought him his favorite coffee and a bagel on his birthday.) “Thanks Spence.” You nudge his shoulder with your own and try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

Of course, this exchange didn’t go unnoticed. Morgan, everso dedicated to his “make Spencer find love” mission, added it to his list and texted Garcia so fast you might’ve thought it was an emergency.

In February, Emily and JJ joined Morgan and Garcia in their list making, inspired by an exchange they had witnessed in the office. On a dreary Monday, you had brought a bag of M&Ms and were dropping handfuls in your team’s hands, rambling about how Monday was your favorite day because you got to see your team. When you arrived at Spencer’s desk, smiling broadly at him, hands outstretched with slightly melted, rainbow chocolate, how could he say no?

(He briefly remembered that he hated germs, but with you, he couldn’t bring himself to care.)

Emily’s jaw was practically on the floor.

“JJ,” she whisper-screeched. “Did you- Did you see Spence just-”

JJ is equally shocked. Spencer Reid didn’t even shake hands, much less take warm candy straight from someone’s hand. But of course, to him, you weren’t just someone. Garcia notices this quickly, and in minutes, the three of them are huddled with Morgan, who wastes no time in showing them his ever growing list.

In March, the team went to Chicago. The weather takes a bitter turn, and while you’re outside surveying a crime scene, a horrid wind hits. Spencer immediately noticed your gentle shivering, and without wasting a second, tugs his own jacket off and wraps you in it. His hands wrap around your own, warming your numb fingers without a second thought.

(Again, for a split second, he recalls that he hates germs and that your hands are probably sharing millions right now, but when he sees your grateful smile and feels your hands in his own, he can’t bring himself to give a damn.)

“Thank you Spence,” you sigh through chattering teeth, leaning slightly into him.

The cold turns the tip of Spencer’s nose pink, and it's all you can think about for the next week.

In April, the team had a particularly rough case. 5 children kidnapped, only 3 rescued. The parents of the two lost children’s reaction in front of the team was the worst part.

Rough cases affect everyone in different ways. Morgan gets broody and refuses to talk. Hotch writes in his notebook and facetimes Jack, reminding himself of the good things he has. Emily likes to sketch, says that the pattern of lines calms her. Rossi, believe it or not, chooses to meditate. JJ finds peace in baking, making enough to feed your team for days. Spencer, of course, turns to his books.

In April, Spencer learns that you get touchy. Of course, you already were, but after particularly bad cases, it’s a little more extreme. Hands constantly somewhere on someone (usually Spencer) whether it be hand holding, hair braiding, or cuddles. You just wanted to be near someone. In April, Spencer was that someone. A blanket wrapped around the two of you on the jet heading home, Spencer fighting a blush. Hands knotted together under the blanket, your thumb moving back and forth slowly on his hand. Your head on his shoulder, his head resting gently on top. His fingers thumbed at his book, but in all honesty he was too focused on you, already half asleep in his arms.

In May, Rossi has a birthday party. The team gathers at his home, where everyone enjoys his famous pasta and what is probably far too much wine for 4 in the afternoon.

Wine drunk FBI agents are a lot more fun than you ever expected. You spend the afternoon laughing far too hard at Rossi’s old stories and playing hide and seek with Jack and Henry. You also spend far too long avoiding Derek’s pointed looks everytime Spencer holds a door for you or pours you a drink or, in Derek’s thoughts, does something that proves Spencer is so clearly head over heels in love with you.

In May, as the evening dies down, Rossi plays music you’ve never even heard before. Some old classical stuff you had never cared for, but when you see Spencer’s eyes light up with joy at the opening notes, you make a beeline to Rossi because you would do anything, including make yourself listen to classical music, just to have a reason to make Spencer’s eyes shine with happiness like that again.

“What song is this?” you ask Rossi, who gives you an incredulous look.

“You spend all this time with boy wonder over there and you can’t recognize Beethoven?”

You swat at his arm. He laughs at you, tells you it’s Moonlight Sonata, and then winks at you.

He very much knows why you asked, and his suspicions are proven true because right after, you practically skip towards Spencer.

He elbows Hotch and whispers under his breath, “I think our blind love birds might finally have a moment here.” The two of them quietly move the rest of the team inside, and suddenly it’s just you and Spencer outside.

In May, Spencer thinks he drooled when you told him you loved Moonlight Sonata. In a moment of what he can’t decide was brilliance or utter stupidity, he says to you,

“Will you dance with me?”

You’re a blushing, stuttering mess immediately (although he’s not much better), but you manage to tell him yes, absolutely.

In May, as the sun sets slowly, he takes your hand and you dance. He’s wonderful at it, and you’re dreadful, but he couldn’t care less because he has the most beautiful girl on the planet dancing with him. He can hardly believe he’s not dreaming, even when you trip over his feet and apologize a million times, because all he can think about is how beautiful you are, how the pink and orange glow of the sky lights you up like a goddess.

He twirls you, holding your twinkling gaze and biting back his absolutely massive smile as your green dress flows around you over and over again, the white flowers on it dancing with you.

(He never realized how much he loved green until he sees you in it. Then again, he thinks he’d love a garbage bag on you too.)

The air smells like spring and his cologne and his smile makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter so. Damn. Hard.

He whispers to you, “You’re beautiful,” as you rest on his chest, still slowly swaying to the music.

In May, you both leave Rossi’s house with your hearts doing cartwheels.

In June, Owen from 2 levels down asks you to coffee. Tells you he thinks you’re beautiful and that he would love to get to know you. You say yes, trying to ignore the tiny voice telling you that you didn’t want Owen, you want someone else.

In June, Spencer realizes he is hopelessly, terribly, ragingly jealous. He sees you talking to Owen, the gentle touching between you two, the moments of quiet intimacy Spencer realized he wanted with you so. Damn. Bad.

In June, Spencer just wants to go back to May. The night you two danced to Moonlight Sonata, your feet tripping over his and your perfume surrounding him. He curses himself for not telling you right then that you were all he wanted. He desperately wishes he had had the damn guts to kiss you that night.

In June, you go on two dates with Owen before ending it. He was funny, sweet, kind. But he didn’t go on tangents about The Illustrated Man with you. He didn’t bring you coffee in the morning or wear cardigans to work.

In June, Spencer is quietly overjoyed when you tell him you ended things with Owen, that he just “wasn’t right for you.”

In July, he was terrified. A case gone horribly wrong ended with you in the ICU, a bullet lodged in your side. In the bathroom of the hospital, he cried, thinking about how desperately he wished it could have been him. Should’ve been him who took the bullet, should’ve been him in critical condition. How badly he wishes he told you how he felt about you the moment he saw you with Owen. When he comes out, Morgan wraps his arms around him and he is scared.

When the nurse comes out, he braces himself for the worst, pushing the panic down. The thought of losing you- he can’t bring himself to look up when she stands in front of him. When she says that you’re alright and resting, he nearly collapses with relief. When she says you can have visitors now, he is immediately on his feet and rushes until he is by your side.

You sleep as he sits on the chair next to you, far after the rest of the team leaves. Hotch had asked him to get back and get rest, but he refused, instead sitting on the hospital chair with his hand holding your own, like he had all those months ago when he gave you his coat in Chicago.

He watches your gentle breathing, thinking about how peaceful and happy you look in your sleep, despite your recent brush with death. And when you wake up, he presses your hand to his lips and tells you with teary eyes to never, ever scare him like that again.

“I’ll try,” you yawn. “You didn’t have to stay here, ya know. You need to sleep.”

“As if I can sleep when you’re here. Nope, no way. Idiot.” He says, and you hear how his voice is slightly choked up as he starts rambling about how having visitors in the hospital is statistically more beneficial. You can’t quite lift yourself up yet, but you grab his hand and bring it to your own lips as he had done, and press it there for a moment.

(He is blushing. So hard he trails off and stops talking, instead too focused on the way your lips on his hand are so soft. So pretty and gentle and pink and-)

“Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you for staying. I don’t know what I would do without you.” You say, your heart pounding.

The team comes back in the morning and finds both you and Spencer fast asleep, his head on your hospital bed, your hands knotted tightly. Morgan complains about how long his list has gotten.

In August, Spencer asked you on a date. Well, he doesn’t call it a date. He calls it “dinner with a friend.” But he desperately wants to call it a date. He picks you up from your apartment with a bouquet of pink tulips.

“Spencer! You didn’t have to do that,” you say, batting his arm while trying to hide your delight. (No one had ever bought you flowers on a date before.)

But Spencer is so busy staring at you, all dolled up in a little red dress you just knew he’d love.

“N-No- I mean yes, yes I did,” he stumbled. “I mean, you look… you look stunning.”

He takes you to a new Italian place, where you eat on the terrace under the stars and he absolutely refuses to let you touch the bill. He talks to you about his mom, about Mexico, and at the end of it all, he tells you that you make him feel safe. Like he can be himself and ramble on and on; like he can breathe. In August, Spencer drives you home and walks you to your doorstep with your arm looped through his own, your head on his shoulder.

In August, Spencer kissed you so gently, so carefully in front of your front door you think he feared you might break. He held you like a porcelain doll, delicately but oh-so tightly. His lips up against yours, timidly, softly, sweetly, and you felt yourself melt into a fucking puddle when he pulled away and rested his forehead on yours.

In September, you took him to your favorite bookstore. It was a tiny place with a flower garden in front and shelves lined with hundreds of books. It smelled like coffee and old books and lavender, and when you walked in, arm and arm with Spencer, you knew this was heaven. The two of you sat at a little table in the corner for hours, drinking coffee and sharing doughnuts and reading. So much reading. When you finally leave, he buys you the three books you had been reading (at his recommendation.)

“No- no Spence stop!” you say, trying to wrestle his arm away from the checkout. He just laughs at you and pays for them.

In September, Spencer asks you to be his girlfriend outside of the bookstore. He was a clumsy, nervous wreck, but he was finally your clumsy, nervous wreck.

In October, you and Spencer were a secret from the rest of your team. Work lives and personal lives just needed to stay separate, you decided.

(The irony of this was not lost on either of you.)

October was spent with kisses in quiet corners and sneaking into hotel rooms like high schoolers when you were traveling for cases. It was a month of countless movie marathons and Spencer falling asleep with you in his arms, countless mornings of driving each other to work and Spencer’s hand on your thigh. Longing stares at each other from across the office, little doodles and notes left on post-its on each other's desks. Hands knotted together under tables, quiet hugs whenever they seemed the least suspicious. Spencer bringing you flowers on every date, you kissing the tip of his nose in thanks and smiling when it always turns pink.

(He still says it’s from the cold. You’re starting to think you just have that effect on him.)

Of course, when you work with profilers, they tend to notice these things. Yet, none of them put together that you and Spencer were actually together. They just kept building their now massive list and watched the two of you fall even harder. Watched you take Garcia’s unicorn stickers and leave them on Spencer’s cheek, where he would leave it there for hours. Watched Spencer bring you a new book every Monday and then discuss it with you every Friday.

In October, Spencer had you pushed up against the wall of his apartment, his shirt halfway unbuttoned and yours already halfway off. Gentle kisses up and down your neck, hands wandering up and down your body. Pulled you into his room, stared at you with those warm brown eyes you absolutely adored. Your hands in his hair, his mouth on your own when someone knocks on the door.

“Maybe,” he pants breathlessly against you,”Maybe if we ignore them, they’ll just leave.” You’re in no position to argue; you have no desire to stop. You hum in agreement and pull him back to you when the knock gets harder and you hear, “Spencer! Open the door, it’s Garcia and Morgan!”

Your first instinct is to literally hide. The worst two people to find you like this, but here they were. Spencer convinces you this is a bad idea and throws you your clothes as the two of you scramble to look presentable and like you were absolutely not doing what you absolutely had been doing.

In October, you thought you managed to convince Morgan and Garcia that you two were just hanging out. They left Spencer’s apartment in a whirlwind of giggles and were elated. Needless to say, the rest of your team was alerted to your antics within the next 10 minutes.

In November, you had the “big confrontation.” Also known as Hotch pulling the two of you into his office with a stern look.

(Which he was actually struggling very hard to hold because he was so-very-happy-Spencer-was-happy and the-joy-radiating-off-the-two-of-you-was-quite- frankly-contagious.)

He tells you not to be all over each other in the office and to remain professional and blah blah blah, but Spencer swears that Hotch actually smiled when the two of you left his office.

In November, your team is overjoyed. Garcia tears up when you take Spencer’s hand in front of the team. Morgan and Rossi offer to throw a party the first time they watch Spencer kiss you on the cheek. JJ and Emily squeal when you sneak your arms around Spencer’s waist while he packs up. And Hotch, Hotch struggled to hide how goddamn happy he was. He was so thankful every time he saw you together, because you radiated smiles and happiness and joy, which was something he knew Spencer always needed more of. When Spencer fell asleep on the jet after a grueling case, his head on your shoulder and your head gently on his, Hotch couldn’t resist taking a picture.

For your 3 months, Spencer brings you a gift on your way to work. He’s a burning, blushing red when he hands you the package wrapped messily (and very sweetly) in pastel pink wrapping paper, your name scrawled across the top and decorated with hearts, making your own heart glow.

When you open it, you think your heart actually manages to burst. He bought the two of you fluffy gray cardigans, each with an embroidered pink heart on the right. He’s looking shyly at you, a hand rubbing the back of his neck, a blush still dancing on his cheeks, as if he can’t tell how much you absolutely adore it.

You make it obvious when you fling yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your head in the crook, and you can feel him exhale the nervous breath he had been holding. He smells like fresh laundry and old books and the cinnamon cake you made that morning. He holds you like you’re his lifeline, and you feel his smile against your head.

“I’m so glad you like it, I was so nervous and I- I didn’t know you’d think it was stupid-”

“Shut up.” You kiss him. He shuts up.

“I love it Spencer.”

In November, you learn Spencer gives the best presents and the best hugs.

In December, you have your first fight. It was stupid- you had been working a case and Spencer had asked you not to go to the suspects house with Emily because you resembled the unsub's type. You went anyways, and as Spencer feared, the unsub went ballistic when you tried to apprehend him and you were separated from the rest of the team.

He took you into his car and stole your gun. He pressed it to your temple and attempted to drive away with one hand, but Morgan saved you. Shot straight through the window and into the unsub’s head, his blood all over you. You stumbled out of the car where Morgan grabbed you and hugged you. Took you back to the team, where Spencer could barely look at you.

You reassured him you were fine afterwards nothing had even happened, but he didn’t care. He had asked you, and you had ignored. You were so close to leaving him. Forever. In December, Spencer left the jet and went to his apartment without saying goodbye to you for the first time. In December, you avoided each other for a whole week.

In December, you went to his apartment with a book in your hands. A peace offering. He answered the door in your favorite blue cardigan and you let it out. You apologized, pouring your heart out, and you said it. And to your absolute relief, he wrapped his arms around you and apologized as well. And he said it back.

In December, Spencer Reid told you that he couldn’t bear to lose you. That the thought of it had made him realize- he was head over heels in love with you.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #spencer read x reader #spencer reid gif #spencer reid blurb #mgg x y/n #mathew gray gubler #spencer reid story #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x you

100 notes · View notes