Chapter Text
Spencer frowned at the file open on the table in front of him. The case was a long cold one that involved stolen art—not his usual cup of tea, or rather not his usual cup of coffee. He picked up his mug and absently sipped the hot liquid; the bakery he sat in had some of the best coffee around. He didn’t make a habit of working in a café, but today he found himself sitting in The Greatest Cake, mulling over a stack of cold cases he was given because there was nothing to do in the office.
"You know, you really shouldn't just automatically drink whatever is put in front of you." A man said, standing casually next to Spencer's table.
Spencer's head shot up to look at the man that was speaking, alarm present in his movements. The coffee had been hot, but he'd been here for hours already.
The handsome man held his hands out placatingly. "Don't worry, I'm not going to poison you. They're only things you've ordered before." He smirked slightly. "Besides, I think that poison would be a health code violation, or at the very least worthy of a bad Yelp review and I do pride myself on the outstanding reputation of my bakery."
Spencer blinked, processing that sentence. He searched for signs of dishonesty and found none so he allowed himself to relax minutely. "Why have you been putting drinks in front of me?" He finally spoke.
The bakery owner smoothly sat down in the chair across from Spencer. The FBI agent in him swiftly took measure of the man; he was tall and lean with dark hair and blue eyes. He had on slacks and a dress shirt with a half apron in the bakery’s colors wrapped around his waist. As the man answered his question, Spencer glanced around them to see that there was no one else in the bakery.
"Not just drinks." The man informed him. He had a neutral American accent, probably not a New York native. "You did it with the muffins too. But to answer your question, you've been here for hours and I wanted to make sure you wouldn't accidentally skip meals while solving your cold cases."
Spencer narrowed his eyes suspiciously. The man didn’t scream unsub and he seemed perfectly trustworthy but Spencer hadn't said anything about the files and yet the guy had specified cold cases. "What makes you think they’re cold cases?"
The slight accusation in his tone did not deter the bakery owner, who simply grinned at him. "I've seen enough of them to know the difference. Wear and tear on the folders, the fact that you're looking at them while out in a public bakery."
The man put his elbow on the table and dropped his chin on his hand, giving his actions a flirtatious edge. Spencer didn't reciprocate, he was missing something.
"You were an agent?" Spencer asked, digging for the information he wanted.
The man smiled warmly. "Nope. More of a consultant."
That let Spencer connect the dots. Something like a consultant but not enough that he claimed outright to be a consultant and not correcting the assumption that he worked with the FBI rather than another agency or the local law enforcement. "A criminal informant." Spencer could see the flicker of vulnerability at the revelation but didn't comment on it. Instead, he asked, "What department?"
"White collar." The baker answered without hesitation.
Spencer tilted his head in thought. "New York. White collar. Neal Caffrey." The file he had read hadn't contained Neal's photo.
"You've heard of me?" Neal's voice was headed back towards flirtatious at the lack of reaction to his confession of being an ex-felon. Spencer wasn’t sure how he felt about the flirting yet, but he didn’t ask Neal to stop.
"Arrested for bond forgery, suspected of counterfeiting, securities fraud, art theft, and racketeering. Broke out of prison with three months left on a four year sentence. Worked for the FBI on and off for the next five years before bringing down the Pink Panthers to end your prison sentence last year." Spencer glanced around, breaking the eye contact he had made with Neal. "And now, presumably, running a bakery."
"Still helping the FBI part time, as a true consultant." Neal told him.
Spencer nodded. "You and Agent Peter Burke have a very impressive closure rate." It was one of the best in all of the FBI.
Neal hummed. "I appreciate the compliment Agent..." He trailed off intentionally.
Spencer paused a moment before realizing he had never told Neal his name. "Oh, uh, Special Agent Doctor Spencer Reid."
"Smart and handsome." Neal grinned.
Spencer inadvertently blushed. He knew had a better poker face than this but the flirting was affecting him more than he expected. Neal was very attractive and clearly thought he was too. It wasn't as if Spencer had never been attracted to a man before—he had, after all, dated Ethan—but it was a rare occurrence.
"So," Neal's voice snapped Spencer out of his thoughts. "Are you a medical doctor or is it a PhD?"
Spencer swallowed before answering. "They're PhDs. Chemistry, Mathematics, and Engineering."
"That's very impressive. I was allegedly a medical doctor once."
Spencer unexpectedly let out a bright laugh. He had no doubt Neal was telling the truth given that he had read about Dr. Leonard Parker in Neal's file but the nonchalant admittance of it—even with the asterisk of it being alleged—was inexplicably charming to Spencer.
"Dr. Leonard Parker." Spencer said, telling Neal he knew what alias he was referring to.
"Pleased to meet you." Neal leaned forward, his whole body angled towards Spencer.
Spencer blushed again. "I should probably get going." It was a clear exit maneuver and he began to slowly pack up his case files, glancing up to see Neal smiling at him. The sight made him smile in return.
"Don't hesitate to come back." Neal told him as he walked Spencer to the door. Neal opened the door for the agent and said goodbye as Spencer brushed past him. "I hope to see you again soon Dr. Reid."
Spencer suppressed the urge to smile stupidly at the little flutter that went through his chest. "Maybe you will." He teased back before walking away, leaving Neal to flip the sign in the window to Closed.