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The first time it happened, your feelings were just starting to peek through the surface.
You tried your hardest to shove them back down. Trying to convince yourself that developing the beginnings of a crush was absolutely not happening. But the alcohol opened the door you tried to close.
The whole team went out for drinks on a friday night. After multiple shots with Derek and JJ, plus the drinks you had before that, you were feeling quite a buzz. A buzz that always left you more flirty and courageous than normal.
You were busy dancing amongst the crowd with Penelope and JJ. The music was flowing through you all as it blasted throughout the bar. The movement and crowd caused the temperature to rise exponentially.
You wiped the sweat forming on your forehead and paused your dancing.
“What’s wrong?” JJ asked.
“I’m melting,” you answered, fanning yourself. “I gotta go sit down.”
Penelope blew you a kiss and said, “be back soon!” as you made your way to the table. You of course blew a kiss back to her.
After weaving through the mass of people, you approached the table housing the rest of your coworkers with a heavy sigh.
“You done partying already, pretty girl?” Derek teased.
“No, not yet. I just need a breather. It feels like 1000 degrees right now.” You sat down across from him and next to Spencer.
Derek’s attention was pulled towards someone behind you. A smirk grew on his face, “Oh Reid look, it’s that girl from earlier she’s back.”
Spencer’s face flushed at Derek’s remark.
“What girl?” you asked intrigued. You hated the taste that question left in your mouth.
“It’s nothing,” Spencer tried to brush off before Derek interrupted.
“She was flirting with him when he went up to the bar.”
“She was not!” Spencer squeaked.
Derek chuckled, “oh yes she was,” his eyes turned back to you. “She was definitely into him. And judging by the fact that she keeps looking over here, I think she wants to talk to him again.”
Spencer hid his face in his hands and quietly groaned.
“Why don’t you go over there? Go talk to her,” you encouraged while silently hoping he doesn’t leave the table.
Spencer lifted his face from his hands. His face was scarlet now.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but cut himself off. He saw your eyes staring back at him and felt his palms getting sweaty. He swallowed and stuttered on his words. “Because I wouldn’t know what to say. I can’t flirt.”
Derek leaned back in his chair, dissatisfied with his answer. “That’s bull.”
“It’s not bull.” That was probably the closest you came to hearing Spencer curse. “I’d probably make a fool of myself and say something stupid.”
“Spencer, you say a lot of things,” this earned a chuckle from Derek across the table, “But I don’t think you could ever say something stupid.”
Spencer tried to resist the smile spreading on his face from your compliment.
“Still doesn’t change the fact that once I open my mouth, she’ll lose all interest in me.”
A small pout appeared on your lips. “Well, I don’t see how a girl wouldn’t find you endearing.”
“Really?” He didn’t believe you.
“Yes! I thought you were so cute when I first met you,” your eyes brightened. “The day we met, I remember you were rambling about something and I just sat there amazed.”
He swallowed as his ears turned crimson. “You thought I was cute?” his voice cracked at the end of his question.
“Sweetie, I think you’re more than cute,” your voice lowered as you locked eyes with him.
“Morgan calls you pretty boy for a reason,” you continued with a mischievous glint in your eyes.
Spencer’s heart damn near stopped. He knew your playful demeanor was from the amount of drinks you’d consumed, but still seeing you so openly attracted to him was making him delirious.
Morgan, of course, found the whole interaction to be the most intriguing thing he’d seen all week. The growing amused smile on his face was telling enough.
“Wow I think that girl from the bar has got some competition,” he teased.
You shrugged in response to his comment. “Maybe,” was all you gave as your answer. You stood up from your chair with Spencer's eyes still beaming at you.
“I’m gonna go dance some more,” you turned to the man next to you. “You wanna come with, pretty boy?”
Spencer struggled to get the words out for a few seconds. “I can’t. I don’t know how to dance.”
You tried to hide the disappointment on your face but the gleam in your eyes had dimmed.
“Maybe next time,” you replied before making your way back to the girls.
Spencer watched you walk away and disappear into the crowd. He then received an extensive amount of teasing and questions as to why he didn’t say yes from Morgan for the next 20 minutes while you were gone.
Over the weekend, the hangxiety set in. You layed in bed staring at the ceiling as the memories from Friday night flooded your mind.
The anxiety followed into Monday as you stood in the elevator. The doors opened to the sixth floor and you reluctantly dragged yourself to the bullpen.
Your hands tightened around your bag as you approached your desk. Spencer’s eyes lingered on you as you set your things down
“Morning,” he greeted with a small smile.
“Morning,” you mumbled.
You fidgeted with your hands and stepped closer to his desk.
“Listen Spence, about Friday night… l’m sorry I was flirty with you.”
His cheeks turned a dusty rose at the memory. “It’s alright.”
This still didn’t ease your worries. “Are you sure? The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable around me. Especially because of something I did.”
His eyes softened when he noticed just how nervous you were.
“I don’t, I promise,” he reassured.
“So we’re okay?”
He nodded with a small smile and the weight started to lift off your shoulders.
The second time it happened was a few weeks later.
It was Derek’s birthday. The whole team went out to dinner followed by a trip to the bar to keep the night going.
Spencer stayed behind at the table, watching you order drinks and chat with Emily at the bar. He also tried to ignore the angry green feeling surfacing as the bartender flirted with you.
“So, are you finally gonna dance with her tonight?” Derek asked the young man as he sat down beside him.
Spencer sighed as he kept his eyes trained on you. “I don’t know.”
His friend patted him on the back, “Come on man. Consider it my birthday present.”
Spencer turned his attention to the man beside him. “I already got you a present.”
“Kid,” Rossi interjected from farther down the table, “in my professional opinion, when a woman asks you to dance, you dance.”
This brought out a smile from Hotch.
“Even if you think you’ll look like a fool,” Rossi continued.
“Like two weeks ago when that woman asked Morgan to dance,” Hotch teased, which brought out an annoyed expression from the man in question.
“Hey! I was not that bad,” Derek defended.
“You looked like a bird doing a mating dance,” Spencer now joined in.
Derek looked appalled from the younger man’s joke.
Soon after you approached the table with Emily. “What’s so funny?” You asked the table.
”Morgan's attempts to woo women,” Rossi joked.
Emily took a sip from her drink and rolled her eyes playfully. “Oh where do I begin?”
Derek stood up from the table shaking his head and smiling. “Well, I’m gonna go dance with people who appreciate my moves.” He then made his way to the open area where Penelope and JJ were.
Back at the table, before you could sit down, the speakers of the bar started to play Maneater by Nelly Furtado. You gasped and a bright smile filled your features.
“I love this song!” You squealed.
You set your half consumed drink down on the table and looked at Spencer, “Do you want to go dance?”
He looked at you surprised. “Me?” He squeaked.
You giggled, finding his reaction cute, “Yes you!”
Spencer started closing in on himself. Before he could come up with the excuse he used last time you said, “I can teach you. It’ll be so much fun!”
You were oblivious to the knowing looks from your other team mates at the table. Your focus was only on Spencer. Staring deep into his golden eyes and finding nothing but comfort.
“Okay,” he agreed with a small smile.
You beamed with excitement, “Yay! Let’s go.” You offered your hand to him. He took it and found you pulling him up from his chair and towards the dance floor.
He followed you through the people in the crowd until you found an open space to settle. You held onto his hands as you swayed to the beat.
Spencer tried to follow you but was still noticeably tense. He was also less focused on his dancing because he was too enamored by your movements. Watching you sway so effortlessly with the rhythm.
“Look at you Spence! You’re getting the hang of it,” you praised.
He appreciated the compliment but cringed, “I feel awkward.”
“That’s not how dancing should feel. You should feel free and loose.” You let go of his hands and spun around.
A real smile spread on his lips, “I’m surprised you’re this coordinated with how many drinks you’ve had.”
“Oh, I guess you missed when I almost stepped on you.”
He chuckled, shaking his head, “I guess I didn’t.”
The song ended and changed to Don’t Stop The Music by Rihanna. Your jaw dropped and your face filled with excitement.
“You like this song?” he asked even though he already knew the answer.
You grabbed his hands once more and grinned, “Yes!” You resumed dancing with his hands in yours. This time you were mouthing the lyrics of the song.
I gotta get my body moving, shake the stress away you heard from the speakers and shook Spencer's hands.
“You gotta shake the stress baby!” you cheered at him.
He bashfully laughed watching you drunkenly shout. And hearing you call him baby, but that’s beside the point.
As the song played your hips and shoulders moved to the rhythm of the music. He wasn’t as successful as you when it came to swaying his hips but he could move his shoulders and copy you.
Who knew that you’d be up in here lookin’ like you do?
You took a step back and gestured to him as the song said. Spencer shook his head and pulled on your hands to bring you back closer to him.
Do you know what you started? I just came here to party
You took him pulling you back as a way to sneak your arms around his neck.
But now we're rockin’ on the dance floor actin’ naughty
Spencer’s cheeks started to turn red at the closeness.
Your hands around my waist, just let the music play
You retracted your hands to grab his and place them on your waist.
We’re hand in hand, chest to chest, and now we’re face to face
By the time your arms returned wrapped around his neck, his ears were crimson. With your arms around him your shirt raised slightly. His hands met the gap of your skin that was exposed.
Even though he felt like his insides were going to melt, he kept his hands on you and kept dancing. Spencer followed the steps you took, the way you moved back and forth. He was finally starting to let the music flow through him.
You definitely took notice. It only made you more eager to dance with him.
As the song continued into the next verse you grew more confident.
Don’t you feel the passion ready to explode?
Your hands moved to his shoulders. You moved in closer, and with a playful smirk sang along the words so Spencer could hear.
What goes on between us, no one has to know
Just when Spencer thought the fluttering in his stomach couldn’t get worse, you leaned in close to his ear and whispered the next lyric.
This is a private show
The air between you was magnetic. It felt like you were in your own little world. Like the rest of the bar goers were gone. Suddenly, it was just you two on that dance floor.
Spencer’s face was inches away from yours. You were so close you could count the freckles on his pink cheeks.
“You look so cute, all flustered,” you muttered.
He licked his lips nervously, “I’m not used to dancing like this with someone.”
“Are you having fun at least?”
“Yes,” he answered instantly.
“Well then, we should do this more often,” you offered with a sweet smile.
As the song came to an end you leaned up and left a kiss on Spencer’s cheek. You took a step back to fully look at him. His eyes slightly widened and his lips parted from your peck on his cheek.
“I love dancing with you,” you released your hold on his shoulders. The ghost of your touch was still hot on his skin. “Hopefully we can do this again.”
His eyes shined as he looked at you, “I’d like that.”
The third time it happened, Spencer got a phone call at 12:04 am.
He was resting on his couch, nose deep in a book, when he heard his phone buzz. He breathed a sigh of relief at the caller ID revealing it to be you instead of Hotch with a new case.
When he answered, he heard loud music and faint voices in the back.
“Hello?”
You quickly answered back, “Spencer! I didn’t wake you, did I?” Your voice had a higher pitch than normal.
“No, I was just reading. What’s up?”
“I went out to a bar for girls night but…I had one too many drinks,” you whined.
He sat up straighter, “are you alright?”
There was a pause before you spoke again. “The room is spinning. I’m really dizzy and everything is overwhelming,” you mumbled. Hearing you sound so scared and small made his heart hurt.
“I didn’t want to bother the girls because they’re having so much fun and none of them can drive right now.”
Before you could finish your statement, he was already standing up and walking to find his shoes and jacket.
“Do you want me to pick you up?” He knew the answer.
“Please. Can you?” you begged.
Spencer was grabbing his keys and out the door in a heartbeat. “Of course, I’m on my way.”
Ten minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot. He walked inside and looked around the crowded room. A few meters away, a hand rose from a booth and waved him over.
He followed it and found Emily, JJ and Penelope keeping you company at the booth. You rested your head in your arms, which were folded on the table.
JJ carefully tapped your arm, “hey, your ride is here.”
You slowly lifted your head up and beamed at the sight of him.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” he said softly.
“They found me,” you said pointing to your friends. “They said they would babysit me until you showed up.”
He chuckled and lightly rubbed your shoulder, “You okay? You think you can walk to the car?”
You nodded and slowly stood up.
“Text one of us when you get home safe,” Penelope announced.
You gave a lazy thumbs up in her direction and turned to Spencer, “Can you remind me to do that?”
The corners of his mouth turned up in amusement. “Of course. Come on, let's get you home,” he nodded towards the door.
You waved and said goodbye to the girls before Spencer led you through the crowd with his hand in yours. You grasped his hand like it was an anchor in the over-stimulating environment.
When you stepped outside, the cool breeze caused goosebumps to rise on your skin. The fresh air and dulled sounds were already starting to help you feel better.
Unfortunately, your balance was still screwed and you managed to trip over air. Before you could fall to the ground, Spencer swiftly reached out and caught you. He helped you stand back up and wrapped an arm around your shoulder.
“I got you, you’re okay,” he muttered close to your ears.
Him being so sweet was going to make your stomach twist.
The rest of the walk to the car he kept his arm around you. Your body instinctively leaned into him and used his frame to keep you upright.
When you reached his car, he opened the passenger door and let go of his hold on you. You almost whined at the loss of contact.
“Thanks for coming to get me,” you spoke quietly as he helped guide you into the car.
Before he closed the door and headed to the driver's seat he offered a kind, “You’re welcome.”
The beginning of the car ride was quite aside from the hushed music on the radio. You leaned back, slouching in the car seat.
You watched Spencer’s hands on the wheel instead of the rapidly changing view of the windshield. Your fuzzy mind was trying to focus on anything that wasn't the dizzy spinning feeling that couldn't go away.
Of course your thoughts were jumbled with images of the man next to you.
“You’re so nice,” you said with a fond look.
He looked at you with brief confusion over your random declaration. “Thanks,” he returned his eyes to the road.
You shuffled in your seat to face him.
“No you’re really nice,” you huffed, frustrated he somehow didn’t understand the full scope of what your drunk brain meant. “You’re so kind and sweet to everyone. I love it.”
An amused smile grew on his face. “I try to be,” he returned.
“You are.”
He quickly glanced over to see your figure leaning against the seat. Or more like the seat holding you up. Your eyes occasionally felt heavy, leading to your eyelids fluttering every so often.
“You look half asleep,” he teased.
“I feel half asleep.”
“Then why are you so chatty all of a sudden?”
You shrugged, “I don’t know, just feel like talking.”
You forced your eyes open to get a better look at him. “I like talking with you.”
Spencer tried not to think about how your voice was much more soft and melodious than normal.
“I like talking with you too,” he affirmed.
He suddenly went down a mental rabbit hole of your previous conversations with him. How often you conversed over coffee early in the morning. All those plane rides home where you both had to stifle your laughter so as to not bother the others. Or the dozens of times he rambled to you about endless topics.
“I’m surprised I haven't bored you yet with how much I talk.”
“Oh sweetie, I could never get bored of you.”
His ears started to turn red at the flirtatious tone in your voice.
“I could listen to you talk for hours. Even about things I don’t understand. I’ll always listen to you,” you continued.
“Really?” He muttered with a slight voice crack. His heart rate was steadily growing.
“Uh huh,” you confirmed sweetly.
His eyes darted to yours for a fleeting moment. You looked completely and utterly enraptured by him.
“Your voice sounds like honey.”
Spencer's grip on the steering wheel tightened. He kept his gaze trained on the road ahead.
“We’re almost at your apartment,” he deflected.
Your smile fell slightly.
The air in the car was growing stale by the seconds. Neither of you spoke until he pulled up to your building.
As you reached for the door handle, he whispered for you to “wait one second.” You complied. He got out of the car and walked to your side. He opened the passenger door and held out a hand for you.
“What a gentleman,” you said with a smug grin.
He chuckled and made sure you didn’t stumble as you stepped out of the car.
“I try,” he replied.
“You succeed.”
As you walked together to your apartment, neither of you let go of the other's hand. At your door, you fumbled with your keys. Spencer tried to offer to open the door himself but you shooed away his hand and mumbled, “I got it, I got it.”
After fighting with the lock, you stepped inside and practically threw your bag on the couch. You were seconds away from falling on the couch yourself before Spencer calmly grabbed your shoulders.
“Come on, let's get you to bed.”
You whined but didn’t object. He guided you down the hall to your room. In the dark, he reached for your lamp and turned it on. You plopped down on your bed and yawned.
“Where are your makeup wipes?” He asked, looking around the room.
You pointed towards the dresser, “In the top left drawer.” He followed your directions and returned to your bed, handing the pack to you.
“See I told you. You’re so nice,” you complimented while lazily cleaning your hours old makeup off.
“Why because I got you your makeup wipes?” He joked with a playful tone.
You giggled in response. The sound made Spencer feel like he was the intoxicated one. He would never get used to the way you laughed.
“No silly, not just that. The fact that you’re still here.”
You tried and failed at getting your lipstick and eyeliner off. Instead you smeared the deep colors around your face.
Spencer’s lips formed a thin line, trying not to smile at you smearing your makeup. He grabbed a fresh wipe and kneeled down in front of you. “Here let me help,” he mumbled. With careful hands, he pressed the damp wipe to your face to finish the job.
“Of course I was going to stay with you,” he acknowledged your previous comment. “I’m not going to just drop you off. I wanted to make sure you were safe and feeling okay.”
You tried not to smile because his hand was so close to your mouth. Your brain was going to short circuit at the closeness. His face mere inches away. His hand and the skin of your face are only separated by a tiny piece of cloth.
You watched intently as he used his thumb to wipe off the last bit of lipstick. His movements were desperately slow as he handled you with care. Like you were a fragile statue he couldn’t let break.
The action made your chest tighten and your heart race. If you had consumed another drink or two back at the bar, you would’ve jumped at the chance to kiss him.
But instead, you stared deeply into his eyes as he checked your face for any more makeup residue. His pupils were wide. You assumed it was from the dim lighting of the room.
You may not have been drunk enough to kiss him, but you were drunk enough to joke about it.
“What if I just kissed you right now?”
His eyes widened and his lips parted in shock. “What has gotten into you?” he questioned in a lighthearted tone.
“What? it’s not just me! You’re also staring at my lips!” you put your hands up in defense with a mischievous grin. “Just say you wanna kiss me.”
He chuckled at your antics. “Because I’m taking off your makeup. And what about you staring at my eyes?”
A grin spread on your face. “I can’t help it. They’re beautiful. Nice to look at.”
“They’re not that nice.”
“I beg to differ gorgeous,” you returned with a wink. “I could look at them all day.”
Spencer smiled as his cheeks turned pink. He looked between your eyes and your lips before his expression faltered for a moment. Like he was mentally stuck on something.
However, because of your dizzy mind and vision, you didn’t pick up on it.
He stood back up and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You think you’ll be okay?”
You nodded, “Yeah. Thanks again for … everything.”
“You’re welcome.” He started walking towards your bedroom door but before he left the room, he paused. “Don’t forget to let the girls know you got home safe.”
Your jaw went slack and a hand flew to your forehead, “oh my god you’re right.”
He fought back a grin from your reaction. “Goodnight,” he offered before he left.
You waved and said goodnight as his frame left your bedroom. The sound of the front door shutting soon followed.
Before you passed out for the night you texted penelope you got home safe. But you didn’t see her reply until the morning.
Penelope: yay!
Penelope: hope you feel better my sweets <3
Thanks :) I have a raging migraine so I better feel better soon
Penelope: :(
Penelope: oh btw, how’d it go with boy genius???
Ugh
I flirted with him AGAIN
Penelope: you’re kidding!
Penelope: What did you say?
I can’t remember all of it but at some point I said his voice sounds like honey
Penelope: OMG
Oh no it gets worse
He helped me take off my makeup and I said I wanted to kiss him. And THEN I pointed out how he stared at my lips and I said “just say you wanna kiss me”
Penelope: oh girlie
Penelope: I think you have to throw in the towel
Penelope: you love him
You stared at the words on the screen before your hands could even type a reply. Mentally fighting with yourself about the subject.
No way
I can’t be in love with him
He’s my friend I can’t do that
Penelope: I don’t think you have much of a choice
You sighed and turned off your phone. As you reached for the aspirin bottle, you prayed you wouldn’t do something stupid like this ever again
You were wrong.
By the fourth time it happened, almost a month had passed since you asked him to pick you up.
To celebrate the success of a case, his coworkers and friends wanted to go out for some down time. He thanked them for the invitation but kindly rejected it saying he had previous plans to attend some film festival. In reality, he had been on the fence about attending the film festival and ended up spending the evening at home.
As much as he wanted an excuse to spend time with you, he couldn’t go through another evening of you flirting with him.
Normally, it’d be his dream to have you flirt with him and call him sweet names. To hear how much you liked his voice, his eyes, and the way his brilliant mind worked. But the more it occurred, the more confused he felt.
At first, he assumed you were just a flirtatious drunk and there was no meaning behind your advances. But as time went on, he saw your actions and affectionate words had so much desire, so much longing that he started to suspect they were based on real feelings.
Yet, it was only reserved for the version of you that had multiple drinks running through your system.
He’d almost given up on asking you how you felt. Almost.
Something that gave him a glimmer of hope was a voicemail he received.
In an effort to actually get some sleep, he took a late night shower. When he returned to his bedroom, he found his cell phone had received a voicemail. He checked and saw he missed a call from the very person he was anxiously avoiding.
With new clean pajamas on, he grabbed his phone and sat down on his bed ready for the possible plea for him to pick you up. He clicked the message and lifted the phone to his ear.
“Hi Spence! I wanted to talk but it looks like you’re busy,” your voice sounded sweet and bubbly. He deduced you might have already gone home at this point given the fact that this time there was no loud background music or voices.
“I missed you tonight. I wish you came with us. I know that isn’t always your favorite place to be, but I still kinda had hope. I love spending time with you. I don’t care if it’s at work or off the clock, it makes me so happy to see you.”
His heart felt warm from the way you talked about him. Your voice sounded giddy and occasionally you would slur your words.
“It’s kinda silly but when we don’t have work or plans, I will literally count down the days until I get to see you again. Isn’t that silly? I spend like five or six days of my week with you and when I don’t see you, I’m thinking about when I’ll see you again.”
Spencer found familiarity in what you were saying. For the last few weeks he found his thoughts were constantly revolving back to you. Whether intentionally or not.
“I pretty much think about you all the time. It’s becoming a bit of a problem. I don’t mean you’re a problem! The problem is how much I like you. I’ve never liked someone as much as I like you.”
There was a brief pause in your message. He almost thought the voicemail was over until your voice returned softer than before.
“I’m probably falling in love with you.”
“And that’s really scary to think about because I don’t think I’ve ever been in love before. You’re different Spence, when I’m around you I feel-“
You were cut off by the time limit of the voicemail. Spencer stared at his phone screen with wide eyes. His heart was beating so fast it could’ve jumped out of his chest.
He finally got an answer to the question that plagued his mind. You loved him back.
You loved him.
His whole body was filled with adrenaline. He almost grabbed his keys and drove over to you at that moment. But he knew he had to wait. He couldn’t have this conversation with you while you were still intoxicated and would probably fall asleep by the time he got there.
Spencer on the other hand, could barely sleep. He was too busy on cloud 9 to come back down and let sleep overtake him.
The next morning he was practically buzzing with excitement. He got up earlier than normal for work so he could stop by your apartment.
He nervously knocked on your door. He kept fidgeting by fixing his tie and cardigan while he waited for you.
When you did open the door he saw you were still in the process of getting ready. You had on dress pants and an old college t-shirt.
You looked surprised to see him of course since he didn’t announce he was going to come over. “Spencer? What are you doing here?”
Suspicion started to creep its way into his mind. For now he ignored it and pushed on.
“I thought we could commute to work together. I figured you would be hungover and not in the best mood to drive.”
Your eyebrows raised and lips turned up. “That is so sweet of you,” you beamed. You opened the door wider, suggesting he was welcome. He followed and walked inside your apartment
“You’re absolutely right by the way. I feel like shit,” you groaned. “My head is killing me, I’m exhausted and I have this massive bruise on my leg.” You waved your hand over your right thigh indicating where the injury was.
“I have no clue how I got it. I probably fell but I'm not sure. Most of last night is fuzzy, I barely even remember how I got home,” you joked with a chuckle.
The suspicion Spencer felt turned into a pit in his stomach. With furrowed brows he asked the million dollar question. “Do you remember calling me last night?”
You stared at the ground as you tried to shuffle through the vague images of the night before. “No I don’t. What did we talk about?” you asked innocently.
His grip on the strap of his satchel tightened. “We didn’t. Talk. I couldn’t pick up the phone and didn’t realize you had called me until this morning. That’s why I wanted to stop by. To make sure you were okay.” He topped off his lie with a flat smile.
”Thanks for checking up on me,” you sweetly replied, not yet aware of the internal mess he was experiencing.
“It’s no problem,” his voice almost cracked.
“I need to finish getting dressed and brush my teeth but I’ll be ready to leave in like five minutes.” You speed walked back to your bedroom.
It wasn’t until he heard the door close that he finally let the storm of emotions rip through him. His chest was getting tighter by the second. It felt like he was suffocating.
You don’t remember.
You told him you loved him and you don’t remember it at all. The best news he’d heard in months was a blip in your memory. Was late night drunk babbling.
He felt so foolish. So stupid for thinking you might really reciprocate his feelings.
One part of himself that was still holding onto hope tried to remember that “drunk words are sober thoughts.” But that’s not always true.
He knew studies have shown intoxication can lead to someone misinterpreting their own thoughts or feelings. Leading to them impulsively expressing things that they don’t really believe.
Unfortunately, the factual and heartbroken part of his brain was overwhelming compared to the sliver of hope he had left.
“Alright, I’m good to go,” you snuck back into the living room. Your voice brought him back to the present.
You grabbed your purse off the couch and walked towards the front door. As you put on your jacket you noticed the sudden change in Spencer’s demeanor.
“Spence, you okay?”
”Yeah, I’m fine,” he nodded and answered with a light voice. But you could see right through it. His eyes gave it away. They looked so full of hurt.
”Spencer-“
”I promise, I’m fine,” he interrupted. He offered you a fake smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He walked to your door and tightly held his bag. “We should go before we hit traffic.”
You observed him for a few seconds longer than he liked. The profiler side of you wanted to pry but you knew it was a bad idea to push your friend.
The drive to work was agonizingly quiet. It was odd for you two to barely speak when in close quarters. Instead, you both let the tension hang in the air, ignored and untouched.
Spencer sat with his feelings for most of the drive. He didn’t want to be hopeful anymore. He didn’t want to be confused if it was real anymore. At this point, he just wanted to give up.
Now, he’d have to keep a tight lid on his feelings for you. Leave it to fester and wear away at his heart.
Like that would do any good though. He couldn’t stop loving you no matter how hard he tried.
The following days felt like a dream to you. But not in a good way.
It felt like one of those dreams where you know something is off, but can’t tell what it is.
Spencer had been closed off ever since he picked you up for work. You couldn't wrap your head around why. He seemed so happy and eager when he arrived at your apartment that morning.
That was the last time you saw him act normal around you. Now there was an underlying bitterness in the words he spoke. Everytime you tried to ask him if he was okay, whatever excuse he gave you left a sour taste in his mouth.
You weren’t the only one to notice either. Everyone could sense the air go stale when you entered a room he was in. How his eyes no longer lingered on you. Or how it almost pained him to even look at you.
His sudden change in behavior was starting to drive you insane. You were overthinking and overanalyzing every single interaction you had with him, leading up to that day in your apartment. Every move you made around him was calculated. You were terrified one wrong word or move would make him hate you.
“He hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” Penelope swung around in her chair to face you. “I think it’s impossible for him to hate you.”
You shook your head, “but still he won’t talk to me Pen. He’s always been so open with me and the last few days he’s been shutting me out. He hasn’t been weird around you guys at all.”
She twirled a sparkly purple pen in her hands as she watched you sulk. “You said it started on Thursday last week?”
“Yeah, the day after our last case.”
Penelope sat back in her chair thinking. “Do you think the case bothered him? Could that be why he went home instead of going out with us?”
“No, I don't think so. The next morning when he showed up at my apartment he was in a good mood. A great mood even,” you folded your arms in frustration. “But when I left the room and came back he looked like a sad puppy.”
Penelope tapped her pen against her chin. “Why was he at your apartment before work?”
“Apparently, I called him the night before but he didn’t pick up so he stopped by to check up on me and assumed I’d be hungover.”
“Awe, that’s sweet,” she cooed before her confusion crossed her features. “Wait, you apparently called him? You’re not sure?”
You cringed as you explained, “I don’t remember calling him. I was really drunk.”
She tried to hide the amusement on her face but failed. “Why did you call him?”
You stared at the floor trying to piece together what happened after you got home that night. “I remember missing him. I wanted to talk to him, but I’m not sure what about.”
“It’d pay good money to hear whatever voicemail you must’ve left him,” she chuckled with a cheeky grin.
“Right!” You started to chuckle with her until vague memories of talking on the phone came to light. Your face fell as your drunk declarations were pulled out of your long term memory.
“Oh god,” you said barely above a whisper.
Penelope filled with concern, “sweetie what’s wrong?”
“I did leave him a voicemail. He must have listened to it while I was changing,” your eyes widened and anxiety started flowing through your veins.
Before she could ask what you said in the message, you interrupted. “I have to go,” you alerted as you remembered Spencer already left the office. “I’ll text you later!”
You practically ran back to the bullpen to grab your things and tell Hotch you were leaving for the night.
The car ride to his apartment was agonizing. You gripped the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turned white.
This was all your fault. He couldn’t stand to be around you and talk to you anymore because you drunkenly told him you loved him.
You ruined your friendship.
The least you could do was go to his apartment to try to make things right. Try to fix whatever you have broken.
You couldn’t lose him. Not Spencer. Not the first man you ever actually truly wholeheartedly loved. Even if he didn’t love you back the same way. You’d rather live with the soul crushing pain of unrequited feelings, than lose one of the most important people in your life.
The walk to his apartment was even worse than the drive to his building. With every step you took, your heart grew heavier. By the time you weakly knocked on his door, your eyes had started to water.
When Spencer opened the door, his face fell with concern.
“I remember,” you whispered before he could ask what was wrong.
A look of realization dawned on him. He stepped to the side and opened the door wider, “come in.”
You followed and stood awkwardly in his living room. You’d been here hundreds of times before. But now it feels different. Even though you were welcomed inside it still felt like he was miles away.
“Spencer, I am so sorry.”
“For what?” He already knows what you’re talking about, you can see it in his eyes.
“The voicemail.”
He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You’re sorry for sending it?”
“Yes, no!” you stuttered fidgeting with your rings. “I meant what I said. Every bit of it. I just uh- I wish I had told you all of that when I was sober. Maybe I could’ve phrased it better. Not come off so strong.”
“Why didn’t you?” he inquired, a hint of desperation in his voice.
He took a single step closer to you. “You could’ve told me.”
Your eyebrows furrowed at him, “wait, you’re not mad about what I said?”
He mirrored your confusion, “what do you mean?”
“All week you’ve been acting weird. I thought you were mad or uncomfortable with me because I said I love you.”
Spencer raised his hand to his face as he realized. “I would never be mad at you for that.” His voice raised slightly in frustration, almost a wine, as he continued, “I was upset because by the time you sobered up, you forgot about it.”
“Oh,” you whispered —if you could even call it that— under your breath.
He lied. He listened to the message before he showed up, was going to ask about it, and you forgot like an idiot.
“You only flirt with me or show interest in me when you're drunk. I couldn’t tell what was real or not,” his expression showed more pain as he spoke.
“Spencer, I promise I really do have feelings for you.”
His lips formed a flat line as he stared back at you. “Then why did you only show it when you were drunk?”
“Because I was scared!” your voice raised. You spoke with your hands as you got louder. “How do you tell your best friend you fell in love with them? You can’t! It just doesn't work. I thought I was going to lose you.”
“I’m in love with you.”
You deadpanned at him, “Spencer, I’m being serious.”
“So am I,” he said louder than you.
The weight of his confession finally settled. Time stood still. The world stopped turning. The hands on the clock stopped ticking.
His voice was quieter this time when he said it. He spoke in the gentlest tone you’d ever heard from him. Like the words dripped right from his arteries, carrying them away from his heart and to you.
“I love you.”
“You do?”
You don’t know why you asked that. It seemed to be the only thing that could leave your mouth. How could you not believe him when he said those three words like that. Like it was his purpose. That he was put on this earth to love you and only you.
The realization of what his confession meant started to dawn on you.
“That’s why you were at my apartment. So you could tell me. And I-“
You stared at the floor with wide guilty eyes and sat (more like fell) on his couch. The guilt started to creep into your blood. It started to crush your bones.
“Oh I screwed up everything,” you buried your face in your hands.
He sat down next to you, “no you didn’t.”
“Yes I did. You have every right to be mad at me.”
”I'm not,” his hand landed on your back, his thumb slowly caressing you.
You looked up at him, “really?”
“Yes.”
You stared back at him, looking unconvinced.
He surrendered and shrugged, “okay I was kind of crushed about it. But I know now that you really did mean it.”
“I still hurt you,” you returned meekly. The tears started to return back to your eyes and you blinked them away.
“I’m so sorry. What can I do to make it up to you?”
His thumb stopped its movements on your back. With the same hand, he pushed back the hair that had fallen in your face. He looked into your eyes like he wanted to see all of you. See every little crack and crevice of your soul you tried to hide from him in fear of judgment, in fear of him running away.
He could never run away from you.
“Tell me everything you wished you could say when you were sober.”
You sat up straighter and turned to fully face him. After taking a slow deep breath, you said what you’d wanted to say to him for months.
No liquid courage. Just the pure, raw, unadulterated you.
“Spencer, I’m in love with you. I couldn’t tell you when I was sober because I was afraid. I was in denial for so long. I tried to convince myself I wasn’t falling for you. And it’s not because I don’t want to have feelings for you. It’s the opposite. I love you so much it scares me.”
You started to play with your rings again. “I’ve never been in love before. I’ve never said it and been sure that I really meant it.”
“I mean it when I say it to you. I know I mean it because I want to spend as much time as I can with you. Doesn’t matter if it’s sitting quietly next to each other on the jet or dancing in a crowded bar. I know I mean it because I’d do anything for you. I’d listen to anything you want to ramble about. I’d drive you anywhere you wanted to go because I know you’re not the biggest fan of driving.”
You swallowed down the lump you didn’t realize formed in your throat.
“I always find myself crawling back to you when you’re not near.”
It was only now you really noticed Spencer's expression. His eyes were soft and dilated so much there was barely any brown left in them. His waterline threatened to spill with tears.
Before you could even dare to say anything else, he reached to the back of your neck and pulled you closer. His lips mixed with yours in a long awaited dance.
The kiss wasn’t overwhelmed with passion. But also not too slow and careful. The only way you could describe it was perfect.
It was perfect.
He was perfect.
Every aching moment of yearning and longing leading up to this.
After kissing for what felt like forever —although you’re pretty sure you could kiss him for forever— you laid down on the couch with your head on his chest. Your arms wrapped tightly around him as if he could disappear at any moment. His one arm wrapped around your waist while the other was playing with your hair.
“You can stay the night if you want,” he nonchalantly tried to offer without explicitly asking if you would stay over.
“Do you think we’ll have time in the morning to stop by my apartment to get me fresh clothes?”
“If not, you could borrow one of my sweaters.”
You chuckled, “Imagine their faces when we show up to work together and with me very clearly wearing your clothes.”
He smiled at the thought of you wearing his clothes to work. The image of you proudly showing off that he was yours. “Yeah I can imagine it.”