Chapter Text
"The only person that deserves a special place in your life is someone that never made you feel like you were an option in theirs." -Shannon L. Alder
She had dark hair.
Maybe that's what pulled him in- the sheer deepness of her long, wavy hair that framed her face well. A comfortable aloofness surrounded her, warm waves cascading off her as she smiled to seemingly no one, eyes lost in a large book. She delicately pushed a piece of said black hair behind her ear, though her body was anything but. She was neither rail-thin nor weighty, but a healthy in between that offered soft curves and made her look full. He never had a preference for body type, for he thought everyone was beautiful- male and female- even with knobby knees or stretch marks.
It was a little off-putting, realizing that she was bigger than him. Not in height, though she was quite average, but in overall girth. Staring down at his pale, chicken legs, he frowned at the thought of being with a woman like her. She'd never even glance his way.
Doctor Spencer Reid pried his eyes off the girl, instead choosing to settle on his own book.
However, the thought of her came crawling back the moment he began reading the next paragraph. Sparing a passing glance, he found that she was reading a rather juvenile novel. Though that didn't necessarily bother him, as she seemed to be annotating it quite intelligently with multi-colored sticky notes and highlighters. In fact, she seemed rather bored at the book though she was grinning at the pages.
Amused, perhaps.
In all honesty, Spencer couldn't see how anyone could quite enjoy the Twilight series. Judging by the fact that she was already on the third book, however, he supposed she must be somewhat into it.
That's something I think I can overlook, the young doctor thinks assuredly with a curt nod to himself.
Now, if only he could actually convince himself to even talk to her.
The library was quiet, which was expected, but Spencer was glad to see that it was fairly empty apart from the elderly woman at the front desk and the occasional teenager or two in search for a summer reading assignment. It was slow for a Tuesday afternoon, as most of the mothers would visit while their children were at school to catch up on some alone time. The man enjoyed watching the women search endlessly through the many isles, holding two or even three books in their arms as they took their sweet time, no whining children to look after or other motherly-duties to tend to.
It was a bit disheartening to look around and see mostly empty shelves, void of any bookworms.
So much for a good day off. He had been excited to people-watch from morning to closing, like he did often on his days off.
Shaking his head softly, Spencer paid mind to the book cradled in his arms; a classic by R.D. Blackmore. A sickeningly sweet romance called "Lorna Doone,"which was a far cry from the material he was used to reading. He found himself feeling rather disdainful towards those blasted Doones. It was actually putting a damper on his good mood.
That was, until, an angelic voice broke through his inner turmoil.
Whipping his head around silently, he was met with the gorgeous face of the Twilight woman, which he cleverly dubbed her. Her eyes were soft and a deep blue, mimicking that of a grey rather than the typical bright sky-blue he saw daily. No, these were raw pinpricks of the ocean poised deep into her eye-sockets for all to see. Mysterious, and yet somehow they were drawing him in. She had a scar through her eyebrow, though it looks as though she had attempted to fill it in with makeup. Her lips were slightly uneven, although it was unnoticeable unless you were looking. She had a rather large nose and it fit her face well, somehow. And all he can think is that she was perfect.
"Hey, there," The woman smiles kindly. Spencer's lips twitch nervously. "My name is..."
And so she tells him her name and he nods, feeling the tension in his shoulder dissipate as he shakes her hand politely. Her grip is strong and he can't help but profile her, even a little bit. A confident young woman around twenty-six, possibly having been or currently in, the military. Caucasian, though he wouldn't be surprised if she had a close relative of Asian descent.
"I'm Re- I-I mean Spencer. Doctor Spencer Reid. I like your ring. Is it jade?"
She giggles, twirling the piece of jewelry around her finger with a nod. Her eyes meet Spencer's and he feels the world come to a halt, his mouth suddenly feeling as dry as a desert. And as if all the moisture that once resided in his mouth somehow ended up on his palms, he felt them begin to clam up. Rubbing them against his slacks, he curses himself.
"Yeah, actually. My dad got it for me years ago as a birthday present. It's a little to flashy for me, but I was feeling rather eccentric today so I thought, why the hell not! You know?"
Spencer smiles. He doesn't know. The genius sticks to browns and greys, navy and black. He likes the dull colors and how natural they make him feel. For nothing but the sight up a nice sweater vest over a pair of ironed slacks and beat up converse looked nice on him. Someone that was as precise as him should remember to fix his hair, though he liked it curly and slightly unkept. It made him feel human.
"Yes, well, it's really beautiful."
She laughs again, a dorky sound that fills him with joy and for a brief moment, he lets himself chuckle as well.
"Thanks again. Anyways, I didn't come over here to talk jewelry, silly. I came over here to tell you to stop looking at me. Didn't your mother ever tell you that staring is rude?"
Spencer's heart all but shatters at the sentence. Had he been reading her wrong? The boy had thought that maybe she was actually hitting on him! But, alas, he knew it was to good to be true. Wishful thinking, really, that such a perfect woman such as herself would ever want to associate with the likes of him. Nothing but a nerdy, skinny freak with a brain the size of Russia and the social skills of a peanut.
He felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.
"Oh! I-I didn't mean to... I mean I was-wasn't trying to offend you in any way..."
She grins. "I was just joking, handsome. I came over here to talk to you. You looked... interesting, to say the least. And I have got to say, I'm really digging the sweater vest look you have going on. Very nerdy-chic, if you ask me."
I'm an idiot, Spencer thinks bitterly as he huffs out a relieved laugh. He knew his sweaters would come in handy one day. And to think, Morgan had told him he needed to upgrade his wardrobe to get any action. In your face, Derek Morgan, Spencer mentally cursed with a confident smirk.
"Why, thank you. You looked intriguing as well, because I know for a fact that no normal person could ever possibly read through the whole Twilight series in one go without gagging."
The two laugh so hard, the elderly librarian has to shush them from the front desk, the furrow in her brow intimidating to say the least. Spencer knew not to mess with her, though she did happen to give out the best hard candy out of all the old woman that worked there.
"Trust me, it took me months to get through the first book."
"So, you annotate out of enjoyment than?"
"You don't?" She smirked.
"Of course I do! I wouldn't be a quote-on-quote 'geek' if I didn't."
"You're a funny one, Dr. Reid," Her eyes darken suddenly, the wind nearly escaping his lungs as her dark blue eyes turn to black, her lips curving. "Would you like to go out for coffee with me? Mm, say, Friday?"
"Uh, ye-yeah! Yes, yeah, of course. I-I mean, I would love to."
Can you sound anymore desperate? As he was silently berating herself, she nodded with a quiet giggle, shifting to gather her belongs from a few seats over, stuffing them into her book bag and draping it over her shoulder.
"Sounds good, Doctor," She scribbles down a number on a sliver of paper she had ripped off from a pink post-it. Handing it over, Spencer felt his heart skip a beat at the phone number that glared daggers back at him. Beat that, Morgan, he smirked to himself again. I scored a date within five minutes and I didn't have to grind on her, like you do, to do so. Reid- One, Morgan- Zero. "Text me when you get the chance. Catch you later, handsome."
Spencer does, hours later when he has sunken into his duvet with no intention of actually faking asleep.
Hey. It’s Spencer. Spencer Reid.
Hiya, handsome ;)
Just checking in to make sure I got the right number. It appears that I did.
Of course! I wouldn't gaslight u like that. Now, about that coffee date...
Date?
Duh! I thot I was being obvious! Cmon dr reid I thought u were smarter than that
Sorry, I just haven't been on a date in a long time. Plus, I'm sort of oblivious to these things... I'm sorry.
Don't apologize, cutie. Ur confusion makes u that much more adorable <3
A heart. What does a heart mean? Not that she loves him, she couldn't possibly love him already! They just met that afternoon! Maybe she was just being friendly? A little overly friendly, perhaps. How does he respond to a heart? With his own? He wasn't quite sure if he were comfortable sending his own little heart back.
How does 7:30 work? I know it's a bit late, but I don't get out of work until 7:00. Also, I should warn you that plans are difficult to make in my line of work so I'm sorry if I have to raincheck.
Wat do u do?
I work for the FBI. The Behavioral Analysis Unit to be precise. We catch serial killers, rapists and other spree killers.
I do like a man in uniform... 7:30 works for me, hot stuff ;)
Hot stuff? Hot stuff?! Spencer felt absolutely giddy.
See you there! :)
Night, handsome. C u Friday!!!
Friday comes around all to slowly, and Spencer finds himself just as nervous as the day in the library. His hands shake around the bouquet of roses, crimson in color and dethorned. He runs the pad of his finger against the butt of one of the thorns, focusing on the slight poke the cut edge offered rather than his overwhelming nerves.
Spencer didn't go on many "dates."
His most recent encounter with another individual in a romantic sense had been with an older man at a club the team had went to after a particularly grueling case. The man had been kind, offering to buy him a drink and not being too pushy- keeping his distance and not once trying to invade the boy's personal space. Morgan had been winking at him from across the bar, exciting a round of giggles from the girls and fond smiles from Hotch and Rossi, who were watching the interaction with curious eyes. More specifically, watching the other male's hands to ensure he didn't try to slip anything into the drink. Reid, though he had quite the disdain for being babied, had actually appreciated their concern. The last thing he wanted was to be drugged and possibly raped and-or kidnapped on a Thursday night.
Luckily, the man hadn't tried anything.
And they had danced.
Oh, how the two of them had danced the night away as if they were the only two people in the room. The rest of the world faded away as they waltzed, Reid's hands around the man's neck and the latter's on the younger's slim hips as they swayed. Chatting endlessly about mindless things, the night ended early when the tell-take sound of Hotch's phone run from the table.
Another case.
Spencer never did get the man's number, though he had thought about it for days afterward, his heart aching to see the man with dark hair and smoldering eyes once more.
Shaking his head and reminding himself that he was currently waiting for his current date (and definitely should not he focusing on the total hotty from the bar), he smiled and twitched from his seat.
Lifting his wrists anxiously to check his watch, he let out a relived breath. 7:25. He was still early.
As if the universe had heard his nervous thoughts, the front door to the small cafe opened and in walked her. She was wearing a dress, around mid-thigh in length and loose on her body, though Spencer could make out her thin waste and the cute bit of pudge on her stomach. He smiled. She looked around the main area with inquisitive eyes before latching on to Spencer's table, locking gazes before grinning softly and walking over. Spencer stood, pulling out the chair for her, causing her to giggle quietly and mutter in thanks. She hung up her purse on the back of the chair and settled in.
"So, how are you-..." Spencer, if it were even possible, purred out her name, through no fault of his own.
"Just peachy, Dr. Reid. And, no, I'm not being sarcastic. Guess who just got a raise!"
Spencer allowed and open-mouth grin to crawl on to his lips. "Woah! That's great! Where did you say you worked again?"
"I didn't," He could have sworn he remembered her... "But I work at a law firm down on 46th. I hang around the big boys, Spencer, so I know how to deal with men. Something tells me you aren't like those dicks though, huh?"
Spencer knew what it was like to feel out of place in a male-dominated field. Because, though he was a cis-gendered male, he wasn't necessarily the 'picture perfect' man people see in magazines. He was lanky, impossibly so, with rail-thin legs and protruding hip bones. His ribs were visible, especially under thinner dress-shirts, which made it essential that he never encounter a pool-party, as he refused to change. Though he wasn't as confident in his body as a person like Hotchner or Morgan, he didn't feel the need to change at the moment, nor had he actively been trying to better his life style.
That being said, he knew what it was like to feel undermined. Under-appreciated. Bullied or even harassed.
Morgan meant well with his jokes... he truly did, but Spencer has a bad habit about letting people's words seep into his skin, running through his veins like a virus. He knew he wasn't the poster-child for testosterone, nor did he want to be the embodiment of an alpha male. It didn't bother him that he tagged along on 'girl's nights' with Prentiss, JJ and Garcia. In fact, if anything, it make him feel better about himself.
"I understand. You can imagine what it's like working with literal FBI agents, can't you? You'd think they all had hero-complexes or something of the sort."
They order their drinks; Spencer a latte with three teaspoons of sugar and a dash of caramel swirl while she gets a basic coffee with cream.
"Everyone thinks that just because your different, that you can't do your job," She sighed and traced the lip of her mug, gripping the handle tightly before taking a long sip. Spencer preferred to savor his drink, taking short slurps every few minutes or so. "Can't complain though. I mean, you catch serial killers for fuck's sake!"
Reid barks out a quiet laugh. "Well, hate them or love them, my team wouldn't be anywhere without our typical 'alpha males.' Who would kick down all the doors?"
She laughs and there it is again- the adorable little snort that makes his stomach sprout butterflies. "Without checking if their unlocked first?"
"That's the only way to do it, I suppose."
They talk. Hours upon hours until it's nearing ten in the evening and the owner of the cafe is having to shoo them out the front door. And even then, they spend the rest of the night strolling the street, gazing through strip-mall windows and stopping at a convient store for candy because she quote-on-quote, 'felt like it.' He can't complain either- some sour gummy worms sounded really good right about then.
They head there separate ways, but not before Spencer walks her to the front door of her apartment to ensure she got home safely. And even once she has gotten inside, he waits for her text to assure him that she's okay. Because god forbid anything happen to that woman on his watch, he simply wouldn't be able to forgive himself. Spencer goes home.
A horrible dirtiness settles within him, weighing him down until all he can do is lay in his bed. He had fun tonight, why couldn't he let it stay that way? Why did he have to go and ruin it all? Every wrong thing he may have said, or every wrong move flashed through his mind from the night. What if she hated him? What if she never wanted to see him again?
His phone buzzes and he realizes he's crying.
Goodnight, handsome! I had fun tonight. Same time next week ;) <3
Totally! Let me know when you're free!
Okie dokie artichoke! Night
His fingers shake, thumbs feeling heavy under the pad of his palm as he makes contact with the keyboard, eyes filling with tears as a hand grips his heart painfully.
<3
“Don't judge yourself by what others did to you.” -C. Kennedy