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Penelope has a plan.
Well, let’s be honest: Penelope always has a plan. However, this plan in particular is one that’s near and dear to her heart: getting you and Spencer to realize that you’re totally, completely in love with each other.
It’s easier said than done—you two seem hellbent on remaining utterly oblivious to your ridiculously obvious feelings for one another. Good thing Penelope never backs down from a challenge.
Never.
*
The moment that makes Penelope snap isn’t a unique one. There isn’t some sudden realization, the pieces magically falling into place as she finally sees what’s right in front of her. In all actuality, this has been going on for almost a year. And by this she means you and Spencer acting like lovesick puppies around each other and being the only two people who don’t seem to realize it.
This time, she’s sitting on Derek’s desk, chatting with him quietly about their plans for the upcoming weekend when she sees it. Well, more accurately, Derek sees it first—you and Spencer are across the room, laughing to each other over some shared secret.
“Jesus,” he mutters under his breath. “How long until they figure it out?”
Penelope knows an opportunity when she sees one. “You want in?”’
“In on what?”
Sometimes she forgets that he can’t actually read her mind. “In on getting Spencer and Y/N to finally realize how madly in love they are—obviously.”
Derek sighs, though he can’t keep the gleam out of his eye. “I’m not sure they need you meddling, mama.”
“It’s not meddling!” He arches an eyebrow, and she continues, “It’s not! I’m just going to… subtly… show them the obvious. And then if they really don’t get it, well, a little meddling might be necessary.”
He seems to contemplate her offer, and then a peal of laughter catches his attention. They both turn towards the source of the noise, watching as you pat Spencer affectionately on the shoulder, your hand lingering for much longer than necessary, his cheeks flushing an unforgiving shade of pink as he’s suddenly unable to meet your eyes.
And that’s all it takes.
Derek turns back to Penelope. “Okay,” he says. “I’m in.”
*
Attempt number one is simple.
Derek catches Spencer staring at you—certainly not for the first time—and decides to simply point it out. That’s their agreed upon plan, after all: point out what’s already happening and hope everything else just falls into place.
Of course, it can never be that easy.
He watches Spencer watching you, a goofy, lovestruck smile on his face, and considers his next move. You’re not doing anything extravagant, just refilling your coffee and talking to Emily, but Spencer’s looking at you as though you’ve hung the stars in the sky.
It’s sickening.
Derek gives him just another moment of uninterrupted staring before sitting down on the edge of his desk. He doesn’t even try to suppress his grin at the little jump it evokes from him.
“Whatcha looking at?” he asks, almost daring Spencer to lie to him.
He does.
“Nothing.”
“Really? Because from here”—Derek turns his head dramatically towards you—“it looks a lot like you’re staring at Y/N. Again.”
Spencer’s eyes go wide. “What? No, I’m not—I’m not staring.”
“I’m just telling you what I see.”
Spencer crosses his arms, immediately on the defensive. “Why are you watching me? Shouldn’t you be doing something else like, I don’t know, your work?”
Attitude. The kid may have a lot of brains, but he also has a lot of attitude. Derek rolls his eyes. “I’m trying, but it’s hard to do with you two lovebirds over here making googly eyes at each other all damn day.”
“Excuse me?” Spencer’s voice goes up an octave, eliciting a knowing smirk from Derek.
He shrugs. “I said what I said. And I saw what I saw.”
“You might want to go get your eyes checked.”
He raises his hands up in defeat. “Okay, kid. Keep telling yourself that.”
Derek doesn’t consider it a complete loss though. Deny it all he wants, Spencer’s eyes tell another story. He’s watching you again, although he keeps looking away this time, clearly afraid he’ll get caught again.
Derek recognizes that look in his eyes. The seed has been planted, just the smallest inkling of an idea beginning to take root. It’s not much, but it’s a start.
*
The next time they give it a go, it’s Penelope’s turn.
The latest case that they’ve been assigned is local, and everyone is hunkered down in the round table room poring over piles of evidence. The days have been long and arduous, and no one is above consuming coffee at ten o’clock at night—especially not Spencer.
You seem to take note of this—of course you do—and Penelope watches with an all too joyous grin when you approach him with a steaming cup of fresh coffee. Her grin grows even wider when she hears your whisper of “Here, love” as you hand him the mug.
He accepts it with a grateful smile and squeezes your hand—neither of which Penelope misses. She’s about to combust from the pure giddiness she’s suddenly experiencing from witnessing this exchange, and that giddiness is what propels her to follow you out of the conference room and back to the kitchen, where you set about preparing a cup of tea for yourself.
“You!” Penelope whisper-shouts.
You jump a little, spinning around. “Me!” You’ve apparently decided to play along, but she can already tell that you truly have no idea what she’s getting at.
“What was that in there?”
You raise an eyebrow. “What was what?”
Penelope has to hold back a groan. Of course you’d be just as obtuse as Spencer. “That,” she repeats. “In there. You know, the whole ‘making Spencer and only Spencer a cup of coffee and then calling him love of all things’? You know, that?”
You’re idly stirring honey into your mug now, not quite looking in Penelope’s direction. You shrug in what appears to be an attempt to seem nonchalant. “He’s my best friend, Pen. Nicknames are normal.”
Her eyes go wide. “Nicknames? Sure, yeah, it’s like almost normal when you call him dingus or doofus, but never—and I mean never—have I heard you call him, or anyone for that matter, love.”
You huff out a sigh, rolling your eyes, but Penelope can tell that she’s caught you off guard. You grab a box of cookies to bring back to the conference room, holding the container out to her. “First pick,” you say, “love.”
Penelope rolls her eyes right back at you, but she can’t hold back her smile at the clumsy way you had shot the nickname out. She can’t help but notice the difference in your delivery, in the way that it had rolled naturally off your tongue when you had said it to Spencer.
She didn’t have to even begin to wonder why that was—she knew. And with any luck, maybe one day you would get it, too.
*
The third time they see something, it’s so painfully obvious that they have to ask themselves how two of the most elite profilers in the world can’t seem to see it.
Penelope only sees it over their video chat—though Derek is sure to snap a picture to send to her immediately—but it’s enough. You walk into the frame, and Penelope’s only just able to hold back her little squeal of joy when she realizes whose sweater you’re wearing: Spencer’s. It’s not just any sweater, either. It’s his favorite cardigan, deep purple and almost impossibly soft.
Derek catches her eye and nods, knowing exactly what she’s thinking. He had seen Spencer give you the sweater. Even more so, he had seen Spencer drape the sweater over your shoulders. It had been sweet enough to make him want to gag—either that or shake the two of you until you saw what was right in front of you.
Neither of you seem to notice Penelope’s burst of happiness, trudging right along with the case. And that’s that, business as usual.
That is, until everyone’s back at the hotel for the night. Everyone’s had to share rooms, and Derek and Spencer have been paired up. Derek never really minds this even under normal circumstances—it’s better than Rossi, who snores like a freight train, or Hotch, who doesn’t seem to sleep at all—but today he feels especially lucky for his good fortune.
Just before Spencer goes to turn off the lights, hoping to catch him while his guard’s down, Derek asks, “You get your sweater back, man?”
“What?”
Derek simply stares at him. He stares back. For a genius, he sure is good at playing dumb. “You heard me.”
Spencer finally shakes his head. “No, Y/N still has it.”
Derek lets out a hum under his breath. “That’s interesting.”
And then, sure enough, Spencer takes the bait. He knew that he would. “How is that interesting?”
“I’ve just never seen you share your clothes with anyone on the team—or anyone at all for that matter.”
Spencer idly fans through the pages of the book on his bedside table, not looking in Derek’s direction. “And?”
“It’s just interesting, is all. Would you give me your sweater?”
“Well, no, but that—that’s because the cologne you use is far too strong. I’d never get it out.”
Likely story. Never—not once—would Spencer ever consider letting anyone but you wear his clothes. Derek knows it, and he does too. Even if he may pretend not to.
Derek rolls his eyes and turns off the lights himself. “Mhm, sure. Keep pretending you believe that.”
There’s no answer, and he can tell that Spencer’s in the other bed, mind racing with possibility. More likely than not, he’s probably just picturing you in his cardigan.
Derek’s work here is done—for now.
*
This time, they’re in a hospital room. Your hospital room, to be more specific.
It almost feels like too much of a cheap shot to pull this out now, knowing the vulnerability of the situation. Keyword: almost.
You’re surprisingly still awake despite the lateness of the hour, mindlessly watching a rerun of a soap opera that’s playing on the tiny television while Spencer is fast asleep beside you. He’s in one of those uncomfortable chairs, pulled as close to your bed as humanly possible, upper body slumped completely over and his head resting on your lap.
Derek watches from the doorway, taking in the absolute domesticity of the scene. Your hand is in Spencer’s hair, absentmindedly running through the curls as though it’s second nature. He gives you another moment before entering quietly, sinking into the chair on the other side of you.
“Hey,” you whisper.
Derek squeezes your free hand. “Hey yourself. I’m really glad you’re alright.” You nod, and he motions towards Spencer. “I’m also glad to see that Reid’s finally calmed down. I didn’t know if he’d ever sleep again.”
Confusion washes over your face, settling in among the cuts and bruises. “What do you mean?”
“He pretty much went ballistic when he learned that you were alone in there.” It’s true—Derek had never seen Spencer like that. He had been all but ready to storm in there himself, with nothing but his bare hands. It had taken both Derek and Hotch to hold him back, and even then Derek had been half-convinced that he was going to punch one of them in the face—or at least try to.
“Really?” you ask softly. “That doesn’t seem like Spence.”
He shrugs. “All bets are off when it comes to you.” He watches your face for a reaction, notices how your eyes go wide before you can stop yourself. He can’t help but push it just a little bit more. “Now why do you think that is?”
You let out a yawn and shake your head. “Derek, you know I love you, but I think you’re starting to imagine things. I’m sure he was just stressed—it happens to all of us.”
“You think he’d try to run into a burning building for anyone else?”
You nod, your eyelids fluttering closed. “Of course he would. He’s the best person I know.”
Now, Derek can’t disagree with you there.
*
By attempt number five, their patience is running out.
It’s been literal months at this point—not to mention the entire year that had passed before this little scheme of theirs was set into motion. Either way, it’s started to become borderline ridiculous. Derek rolls his eyes to himself as he sends a picture to Penelope: you and Spencer cuddled together on the jet, tangled up with one another. Your head is on his chest, his arm is around you, and the two of you are sound asleep.
It’s not an entirely unfamiliar scene. You always sit together on the jet, and once or twice Derek has caught you with your hand resting on top of Spencer’s, but he’s never seen you so unabashedly wrapped around one another. Maybe it’s from the freedom that sleep brings, the unconscious mind finally able to do what you hadn’t allowed it to while awake.
Either way, he eyes you both fondly—adorable morons—but then a little movement catches his attention. At first he thinks maybe he’s woken you up, but then he sees it. Spencer shifts ever so slightly, still fast asleep, and presses a kiss to the top of your head before pulling you in closer.
Derek snaps another picture, this time of the completely blissful smiles that have graced both of your faces.
“Sending that to Garcia?” Hotch asks from across the aisle.
Of course he knows. “It’s her turn to have a go at it.”
And have a go at it she does. When the team makes it back to the office, she practically pulls Spencer into the bat cave by the arm, ignoring his protests and shutting the door behind them.
“You!” she says, jabbing an accusing finger into his chest.
“What are you doing?” She doesn’t answer, just grabs her phone and holds it up to his face, nearly against his nose. “I can’t—I can’t see that.” She pulls it farther away and watches his eyes come into focus, realization hitting him all at once. “How did you get that?”
It’s a pointless question—they both know exactly how she got that.
“See anything?” Penelope asks.
Spencer shakes his head, though he can’t hide the blush creeping up his face. “Am I supposed to see something? Other than a massive invasion of privacy?”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re cuddling on the jet in front of the entire team, I think we have bigger things to focus on.”
“Such as?”
God, he really can be stubborn. She decides just to spell it out for him. It’s about time, after all.
“Such as the fact that you’re clearly in love with Y/N.”
Spencer practically chokes on air, his mouth opening and closing but nothing coming out until: “That’s—that’s absurd.”
“Is it though?”
“It is!” His voice pitches up, clearly defensive, and Penelope has to hold back her smirk. “It is absurd. She’s my best friend. We just—we were just trying to sleep comfortably on the jet.”
“Oh, really?” She gives him one last chance to come clean, but he refuses to budge and she decides to go in for the kill. “You kiss everyone you cuddle with on the jet?”
Spencer suddenly looks as though he’s seen a ghost. “Excuse me?”
“Yeah, you don’t remember that, do you? Giving her a big old smooch right on the top of the head?”
“That’s—that didn’t really happen.”
“How sure are you?”
It’s silent for a moment, Spencer looking everywhere but at her. Finally he says, “You’re ridiculous. You know that, right?”
Success.
One step closer to the finish line.
*
Derek’s not quite ready to give into Penelope’s meddling ways just yet.
He convinces her to let him have one last attempt at simply showing the two of you what’s already there. If that fails, which Penelope is convinced it will, then he supposes it will finally be time to move on.
He waits for the perfect opportunity to arise, which, knowing you, won’t take all that long. And he’s right.
He’s sitting next to you at the local precinct, digging through evidence as you try to wrap up the latest case, when he hears it. Or, to be more accurate, you both hear it. A shrill giggle cuts across the room, and your head snaps to attention.
Derek watches you as you watch the scene unfold: one of the detectives is talking to Spencer, laughing much too loudly and leaning in much too closely. Your eyes widen and Derek almost chokes on his coffee when she says, “You should take me out on a date when this is all over, baby.”
Spencer bats away her hand as she reaches for his tie, side stepping away from the desk absolutely gracelessly. He bumps into a chair, nearly toppling it over, before making his excuses and scurrying towards Hotch’s makeshift office. He passes you and Derek without a word, his eyes focused on the ground.
When he all but slams the door shut behind him, Derek follows your gaze from the closed office to the detective who is still sitting behind her desk. She just shrugs to her coworker and you let out a scoff under your breath.
“What?” Derek asks.
You gape at him. “What do you mean? That was so goddamn unprofessional. Like… absurd levels of unprofessional. Holy shit.”
Derek doesn’t say anything, just hums a little under his breath. A second passes, then another as he waits for you to take the bait.
Your eyes narrow. “And what exactly are you ‘hmmm’ing about, Morgan?”
This is almost too easy. He shrugs, grinning widely. “Oh, nothing. Just wondering why you’re so upset about Pretty Boy getting hit on.”
You fold your arms, instantly defensive. “I told you why. Because we’re at work. On a case with these people. It’s wildly inappropriate.”
“Oh, okay. So you’d be this upset if she was hitting on me or Emily?” You roll your eyes and start to respond, but Derek continues, “Even though we’re not the ones that you’re in love with?”
There’s a beat of silence before you choke out, “Excuse me?” It comes out far too high, and Derek has to suppress a laugh when you wince.
“You know exactly what I mean.”
You laugh, but it’s so forced that he knows that even you have to hear it. “I think Penelope’s making you watch too many romcoms.”
Maybe he could let it go at this point, but he can’t help but say just one more thing. “Deny it all you want, it doesn’t make it any less true.”
“Shut up,” you say, suddenly busying yourself with the piles of paperwork on the table, shuffling them together even though you had just finished with them, no longer able to meet his eyes.
Derek resists the urge to raise a celebratory fist à la Breakfast Club, opting instead to shoot a quick text to Penelope, complete with confetti emojis.
This is it. He’s sure of it.
*
That was, in fact, not it.
It’s been another few weeks since the scene with the overenthusiastic detective, and Derek cannot believe that neither of you have made a move.
One thing is for certain, however: something has definitely changed. There are more awkward moments between you and Spencer, more instances where you accidentally brush up against one another and pull away with stammered apologies. There’s a tension in the air that wasn’t there before.
You don’t even let yourself fall asleep on the jet anymore.
“I think we broke them,” Derek whispers to Penelope as they watch the two of you clumsily step around one another in the break-room.
She shakes her head and tuts. “No way, sugar. This is a necessary stage of development. It’s like re-breaking a bone so you can set it properly. It might hurt for a sec, but it’s worth it in the end.”
“Jesus, am I glad you’re not my doctor.”
Penelope shoots a dirty look his way. “You sound like Reid.”
“The man is a genius.” He catches her hand as she attempts to whack him in the stomach, bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to it. “Okay, so what’s the next move?”
There’s a dangerous gleam in her eye, and Derek can’t help but laugh as she wiggles her eyebrows and says under her breath, “It’s meddling time.”
Like I said, Penelope always has a plan.
*
She’s bringing out the big guns this time.
“Are you sure about this?” Derek asks, arching an eyebrow that snaps back into place the moment she levels her gaze at him. He raises his hands in defeat. “Okay, okay, I get it.”
“I’m sure I’m sure. In fact, I’ve never been more sure.”
Derek barely suppresses a fond eyeroll. “Okay, so explain. How is this going to help these two out?”
Penelope sighs dramatically. “Because, Y/N’s going to go on this date and immediately realize who she really wishes she was with, and Spencer’s going to absolutely lose it over the fact that she’s on a date in the first place.” She nudges Derek with her elbow. “Go on, say it. I’m a genius.”
“And what happens if she has a great time on this date?” Penelope glares at him, and he shrugs. “What? Anderson could sweep her off her feet for all we know.”
“Are we talking about the same Anderson here?”
“Hey! Don’t be mean, mama. It doesn’t suit you.”
She exhales a huff of air. “Okay, fine. But anyway, I know for a fact that it’s going to work, because we’ve got a spy on the inside.”
It takes Derek a moment to fully process exactly what she means. He blinks wildly, amazed that she still somehow manages to surprise him after all this time. “You got Anderson in on this?”
Penelope nods, a self-satisfied grin spreading across her face. “He’s quite the team player.”
He lets out a low whistle, shaking his head in astonishment. “Damn, you really are a miracle worker.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
He could never.
*
Only a few days later, it’s time.
Penelope is certain that tonight is the night. The entire BAU is gathered at one of their favorite bars—except for you. You’re on your date with Anderson, at a restaurant that is very conveniently only a few blocks away.
There’s only one issue: she’s pretty sure Spencer has no idea where you are. He seems to be looking for you, glancing up every time the bell over the door chimes with a new arrival. The good news is that Penelope had already accounted for that, and as if on cue, her phone dings with an alert of its own.
“Y/N coming tonight?” Derek asks casually, posing the question to the group. He is good, Penelope has to admit. Not that she didn’t know that before.
“Later,” she replies with a flippant wave of her hand. “After her hot date.”
Without even looking in his direction, she knows that Spencer’s head has just snapped to attention.
“Date?” he squeaks out before he can seem to stop himself.
Penelope nods and—as casually as she can—pulls up the text from Anderson and holds it up for everyone to see. It’s a photo of the two of you with raised glasses and cheesy smiles. (Penelope had made it very clear to Anderson that you weren’t to have a horrible time. He was just… going to subtly help you realize who you really wanted to be with. Fingers crossed.)
“Anderson?” Emily asks. “Really?”
Penelope shrugs. “She told me he asked her out of the clear blue sky and she figured why not? I mean, Grant’s a great guy.”
(This isn’t quite the whole truth. Penelope had had to do a fair amount of convincing to get you to say yes—although you wouldn’t so much as tell her why you were so hesitant in the first place.)
“His name is Grant?”
“Em, are you fucking serious?” Derek asks, snorting out a laugh.
She raises her hands in defeat. “Sorry for not being up to date with everyone in the Bureau.”
Penelope practically guffaws. “It’s his name, it’s not exactly his social security number or his credit score. Although I’m sure I could get those for you if you really wanted.” Hotch clears his throat, and she hurries to say, “Not that I would ever. I just did a little cursory background check to make sure he was, in fact, a great guy. And he passed. He seems pretty cool.”
Hotch gives a little nod of acceptance. “Good for them.”
“Is he—are they coming here after?”
Penelope has to hold back a laugh at the way Spencer’s face twists as he asks. He’s clearly trying—and failing—to put on an indifferent front, but she knows better.
In fact, everyone knows better. Apparently everyone but Spencer.
“I don’t know,” she says, even though she most certainly does. Better to let him sweat a little. After months of the two of you being both ridiculously stubborn and oblivious, she feels like she and Derek deserve this moment. Best enjoy it. “Guess it depends on how well the date goes.”
Derek’s knee bumps hers under the table, and she grins up at him despite herself. She can’t help it.
The conversation eventually turns to something else, everyone moving on to the next thing, but she knows that Spencer won’t be able to let it go. And she’s right.
He seems even more restless than usual, twisting and contorting the bendy straw from his drink until it’s unrecognizable. Derek waits until everyone else has gotten up from the table, either in search of more drinks or a game of pool. When it’s just the two of them, he slides down the bench until he’s in front of Spencer.
“What’s up with you, man?”
“What?” He drops the straw. “Nothing. I—I’m good.”
“Spencer,” Derek says flatly.
“What?”
“You’ve been weird all night. Ever since Penelope told us about Y/N and Anderson.”
Spencer looks up at that, and Derek catches the way his face somehow falls even more. “No, I haven’t.”
“Spencer.”
“You can’t just keep saying my name and expecting anything in this conversation to change,” he huffs, crossing his arms across his chest, and suddenly Derek feels the slightest bit bad for this situation that they’ve created.
Just the slightest.
“What’s on your mind?” he dares to ask, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the events of the last few months compounded with the news of tonight’s date might have finally pushed him over the edge.
Spencer takes a deep breath, and Derek finds himself counting in his head. And three, two, one—
“What if I’m too late?” Spencer says in a rush, the words practically spilling out of him.
Derek says a small thanks to a god he’s not quite sure he believes in, and to one Penelope Garcia who he most certainly believes in. “Too late for what?”
“For Y/N. What if—what if it’s too late to tell her how I feel? What if she falls in love with Anderson? What if this is it and I let the best thing in my life slip through my fingers?”
Spencer’s talking so fast that Derek can hardly keep up. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down there, Reid. I really don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“You don’t know that.”
Derek shrugs. “I think I have a pretty good idea.”
Spencer lets out another dramatic sigh, cut off by the tinkling of the bell above the front door. They both turn instinctively to look, and even Derek is a bit taken aback by the fact that it’s you and Anderson walking in together. Penelope really is a miracle worker.
He only turns back when he hears a soft thump. He has to choke back a laugh when he realizes that Spencer’s head is now resting on the table, face down.
Poor kid.
“Come on, man. Sit up,” Derek says. “Can you imagine the stuff that has been on that table?”
It works like a charm. Spencer sits up instantly. “She brought him here,” he says under his breath.
“So? He’s come to the bar with us before, this isn’t the first time.”
“Yeah, but it’s the first time it’s been after a date with Y/N.” He sighs. “I’m too late.”
“Reid, it’s been one date. How on earth could you be too late?”
Spencer slumps back in his seat. “I bet they had a wonderful time.”
*
“Pen,” you hiss after cornering her. “He would not go home.”
Perfection.
“Aw, come on,” she says. “It can’t have been that bad. I saw the picture!”
Your shoulders untense just the tiniest bit as you sigh. “No, no, it wasn’t bad. Not at all. He’s great, actually.”
This is going exactly according to Penelope’s plan. She’s almost even surprised herself with how well it’s working. “So what’s the problem, angel? It sounds like a pretty good first date.”
“Yeah, it was. It’s just…” You seem to be searching for the right words. “It wasn’t—he isn’t…”
“Not the right guy?” Penelope asks softly. Maybe you just need a gentle push in the right direction.
You glance from the corner where Anderson stands talking to Emily and Hotch to Spencer and Derek’s table before nodding, so slightly that it’s barely perceptible. “Yeah.”
Penelope blows out a huge burst of air, unable to contain the wave of excitement that hits her. “Oh my god, finally.”
You tilt your head, blinking as though you can’t quite believe what she’s just said. “Excuse me?”
She bounces up and down on her toes. “You do know who the right guy is, right?” She cannot have gotten this far just for you to still refuse to see the truth.
Your gaze flickers back to Spencer and she feels the rush of triumph all over again. Thank god. Penelope may be a genius, but even she has her scheming limits. Besides, she’s tired. It’s been a long few months.
“I—” you sigh, and she tries to brace herself for the denial. “I don’t know, Pen. I don’t… He’s my best friend. I don’t think he sees me as anything other than that. I don’t want to ruin everything.”
Penelope grits her teeth. The two of you are going to give her grey hair. “You have got to be—”
“Y/N?” She blinks and suddenly Spencer is standing in front of you. “Can I talk to you?”
Your eyes are wide and you look from him to Penelope. She gives you what she hopes is a reassuring nod, though she’s not quite sure that it comes across right. She’s too excited. She’s seen the look in Spencer’s eyes—she knows the look in Spencer’s eyes.
This is it.
She takes a few steps back until she bumps into the table and feels Derek wrap his arm around her shoulder. “Look at them,” she whispers.
“What is he going to do?”
“Sh!” Penelope scolds, a finger to her lips as she turns back to you and Spencer. You’re only a few feet away, seemingly blissfully unaware that you’re within hearing distance.
“What’s up, Spence?” you ask, feigning an air of nonchalance, but Penelope can hear the tremor in your voice.
“I don’t want you to go on another date with Anderson.”
Derek presses his lips together, his eyes going wide. He and Penelope share a wordless moment of absolute astonishment—neither of them had anticipated it going quite like this.
“Excuse me?” You’ve been caught completely off guard, your mouth hanging open as you stare at Spencer.
It appears as though he may also not have anticipated it going like this. He stammers for a moment, the flush on his cheeks apparent even in the dim bar lighting. “I mean—I, uh—”
“Why do you care who I date? You’ve been acting weird for weeks.” It comes out a snap, equal parts confused and hurt.
“Because… because I…” he pauses, and Derek can practically see the mental gymnastics he’s doing as he attempts to find just the right words. Spencer inhales sharply and shakes his head, more to himself than anyone else.
And then the unthinkable happens.
He takes your face in his hands, in the middle of this bar, in front of everyone—strangers, his friends and coworkers, even Anderson, who’s now watching the spectacle with a wide grin—and kisses you, long and slow and as though he might just never come up for air again.
There’s a split second where your hands hover in the air, completely thrown off and unsure of what to do, before you tangle them in Spencer’s hair, pulling him in closer.
And Penelope is about to lose. her. shit.
She’s practically vibrating with excitement, waving her hands in front of her face and letting out a high pitched squeal. Someone behind her—Emily, she’s almost one hundred percent certain—wolf whistles right as the two of you finally pull away, both adorably out of breath. Turns out you can’t, in fact, not come up for air.
She jumps up from her seat, about to rush towards you, but Derek holds up a finger. “Wait.” She pauses.
“I love you,” she hears Spencer say softly, as bashful as if he didn’t just kiss you in front of a bar full of strangers. “That’s why.”
Penelope has to fight back the happy tears that suddenly threaten to fall. Curse her sensitive romantic sensibilities. Derek takes her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“I love you too,” you say, pulling Spencer back towards you and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Sorry it took me so long to catch up.”
Penelope’s fairly certain that her heart can’t take any more. She glances at Derek. He nods and she’s off and running, scooping the two of you into a bone crushing hug.
When she finally releases her hold on you, you laugh brightly. “Oof, Pen, what was that for?”
“I love love,” she says simply, glancing towards Derek as he joins the commotion. “And I love the two of you most of all.”
“Took you two long enough," he adds. “And not a moment too soon—I was worried that Penelope’s next plan would veer into illegal territory.”
You and Spencer exchange glances. “Plan?” you ask, arching an eyebrow.
Derek motions across the bar towards Anderson who shrugs sheepishly, giving you a little wave.
Your jaw drops and you whack Derek in the chest, soliciting an exaggerated ow. “You little rats!”
“Hey! What makes you think I had anything to do with it?” You narrow your eyes without a word, and he admits, “Okay, fine, fine.”
“What else did you do?”
“It’s a long story,” Derek says. “We’ll tell you another time.”
“Maybe on our first double date,” Penelope adds with a mischievous smile.
“Rats!” you repeat, though you’re unable to hold back your own grin as Spencer takes your hand in his.
“They were right though,” he says quietly, eyes studying you, and Penelope’s heart takes its umpteenth beating of the night. Now that look? She knows that look better than anything.
He’s looking at you as though you’re the only person in the world. And she knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that you’re looking at him just the same.
To be quite honest, it’s not really all that different from all those times before, except now you both see exactly what had been there all of this time.
Mission accomplished.