Work Text:
It's the best day ever.
Your day had started pretty normal to be honest, you would even say it was kind of shitty since you had missed the subway you usually took for your daily commute to the BAU.
But, as wiser people say: Everything happens for a reason.
Because as you are making your way to work, your ears catch the soft sound of a creature whimpering. Trying to find the source, you give a couple tentative steps with your head turning from left to right like you are a hunting hound.
Ironically, behind the decorative bushes that surround the FBI building entrance, you find the origin of the sound.
It's not a hound but it's close enough. It's a puppy.
A beautiful, chocolate spotted puppy.
"Oh my god, sweetie, come here!" you gush automatically, your hand extending gently to reach for the animal currently crying between the bushes and the wall.
The adorable puppy looks up at you a bit hesitant at first, big brown eyes meeting yours. It gives a sniff to the air, checking the scent of your palm from afar, you almost squeal for how cute it looks.
Then it wags its tail.
You make kissy noises to coax him closer, your voice getting two tones higher, "Come here puppy!"
It works because soon enough it walks out of its hiding spot and nuzzles into your palm eagerly, tail wagging from side to side.
You practically lunge to grab the poor thing, "Look at you! You are so cute!"
The puppy doesn't seem to mind your cuteness aggression though, its fluffy body melting on your arms when you scratch behind its long ears, "You're coming home with me."
Best day ever.
But you can't just ignore your responsibilities and walk back home to stay with it, and it wouldn't be sensible to leave such a young puppy alone in your apartment either.
So you do the next most reasonable thing.
Your smile almost takes up your whole face when you walk out of the elevator with the puppy in your arms.
Penelope spots you first, immediately dropping the files on her hands on a random desk to come rushing to you, "Oh my god! Oh my god! It's that a puppy my eyes are seeing?!"
You giggle, pretty much vibrating with joy at this point, "Yes, isn't it the cutest thing ever?"
"Aww, my heart can't deal with this!" she cries, hands fanning herself dramatically.
"Where did you get it?" Prentiss chirps in, hers and almost every other head in the bullpen looking up from their desk to look at you. Well, at the puppy.
You keep walking into the office with Garcia looming all over you, "It was crying outside. This little thing was all alone in the bushes."
A hoard of agents are suddenly surrounding you, eager to get a closer look.
"You'll have to look if it belongs to someone," Morgan says, which makes you instantly pout.
"It doesn't have a collar, idiot," Emily argues quickly, "Such a profiler you are."
"I wanna keep it," you smile brightly, "I think it's a boy."
You turn the puppy onto it's back.
"Yep, definitely a boy," Morgan chuckles, he attempts to pet its head but the creature recoils in your arms, clearly overwhelmed at the amount of people.
Noticing the puppy is a bit scared, you pull back from the crowd, only then you notice a certain agent who remains seated on his desk.
“Don't you want to see it, Spencer?” you ask eagerly.
He shakes his head, his body leaning away slightly, “I can see it from right here, don't worry.”
“Oh, come on Reid, don't tell me you are afraid of dogs,” Derek never loses a chance to tease him.
Spencer gives him a flat look, “I'm not scared of dogs, I’m just aware of the amount of diseases they can transmit to humans.”
You tsk your tongue. “But he's so cute, and it doesn't look like it has rabies or anything,” you look down at the dog while approaching his desk, talking directly at it with a baby voice, “Tell me, do you have rabies, little puppy?”
It just stares blankly at you. Proof enough. “See?”
Spencer, ever the statistics expert, begins his rant, “Well, actually, rabies is not the most common disease dogs can carry, nor the only one. Illnesses that pass between animals and humans are known as zoonotic diseases and a 2007 study based in Finland shows that noroviruses are one of the leading causes of diarrheal diseases among people of all age groups and that these can survive in dogs and be passed along to– Please don't get that thing any closer.”
You chuckle at the panic look Spencer gives you when you reach his side. Truthfully, you aren't going to make him touch the puppy if he's uncomfortable with it, but a little bit of teasing is at the order of the day, “Oh, really? Come on, holding it for a second won't kill you.”
You pull the puppy up next to your face and give him your best puppy eyes, mimicking talking as the puppy, “Please? Am I not cute enough to pet?”
Spencer gives you a long look, “Yes, very cute.”
Forcing down your blush, you extend the puppy to him, “Then pet it.”
He presses his lips in a line, his coming hands up defensively as he rolls backwards on his office chair, “I think I'll pass.”
You chuckle and are about to back off when the puppy squirms in your arms, leaping out from your hands.
The scene unfolds in front of your eyes almost in slow motion. You watch how the pup flies in the air, its short body extended as a superhero.
Spencer catches it, thank god.
“Oh, no,” he squeaks when he realizes what he's done, holding the puppy as if it were about to explode, panickedly starting to name every possible disease, “Pasteurella, Salmonella, Brucella, Yersinia enterocolitica, Leptospira–”
His alarmed ramble gets interrupted by the enthusiastic puppy licking up his cheek.
You freeze for a moment, expecting him to die from a heart attack.
Spencer giggles.
“It's giving me kisses,” his face scrunches up adorably at the onslaught of affection, “It tickles, buddy.”
You can't help the relieved laugh that escapes your lips, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I'm going to have to wash my face with antibacterial soap though,” he chuckles as he puts the puppy down on his lap, away from further kisses.
Oh, and you've just fucked up so bad because your heart gets squeezed inside your chest at the endering sight of Spencer and the puppy staring at each other.
“You are right, he's cute,” Spencer turns to smile at you, the animal's tail wagging incessantly.
You fucked up good.
“Aww, look at you two,” Penelope says excitedly, “It even looks like you, Reid!”
Your gaze shifts back and forth from your coworker to the creature on his lap. Penelope has a point, you can kind of see the resemblance. The puppy has long ears with soft, brown curls covering them that look similar to Spencer's long hair. The cute, hazel puppy dog eyes go without saying.
Morgan snorts, “Babygirl, you are right, it kind of looks like the kid.”
You pick up the puppy and smile, “Seems like I got myself my own mini Doctor Reid,”
Spencer is about to say something back when Hotch’s office opens, both him and Rossi entering the bullpen.
“Agent, please tell me that's not a dog you have there.” Hotch gives you a stern look.
“It is not, sir,” you answer, smiling apologetically and holding the puppy closer against your chest.
He sighs, shaking his head. “Everyone to the meeting room, we've got a case.”
The puppy lets out a tiny bark, and you make your way to the meeting room before Hotch can tell you anything else.
Spencer sits next to you on the round table and whispers against your ear as everyone is filling in, “I'll help you take care of little Doc here if you decide to keep him.”
Not even the gruesome details of the case are enough to sour your mood.
Best day ever.