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You’d seen this handsomely awkward man at this coffee shop for years- you studied the way he stumbled over his simple order everyday and the way he fidgeted and rocked back and forth while waiting.
One day it was different and the routine was disturbed.
You had a particularly bad insomnia night- anxiety rattling your bones until you couldn’t listen to any rationality.
So the next morning was a living hell.
You just wanted to drink your coffee and see what the stranger would be wearing today. His socks were the most interesting part about him- they stood out compared to his relatively professional attire. They were usually mismatched; varying in color and pattern.
But, your landlord just had to be an asshole and not alert anyone that the elevators were out of order.
Because your apartment was on the 10th floor- you had a lot of stairs to traverse.
By the time you reached the lobby, you were exhausted and just wanted your coffee.
The early autumn morning crisp breeze flickered past you- nipping at the tip of your nose.
When you finally reached the coffee shop, you saw the stranger still inside rocking on his feet waiting for his coffee. Thank god. His coffee arrived just as you did- and as a result he turned around quickly and slammed right into you. His coffee spilt all over your grey sweatshirt, the warmth burning your chest. You had recently gotten top surgery about two months ago- so it burned especially bad. You gripped your chest with your hand in pain.
”Oh- Oh my god, I’m- I’m so sorry- Let me go grab some napkins.” The man jogged over to the coffee bar, grabbing an over abundant amount of napkins. He handed them to you, his hand slightly touching yours. You normally hate touch- detesting everything it stood for, but this felt different. It felt comforting in this moment of extreme pain.
“It’s- It’s okay, it really is.” You dabbed at your shirt as he awkwardly stood there, unsure of what to do. His hands were up in front of his chest, his right hand flapping slightly against his left. After you finished wiping off as much of the coffee as you could, you bundled up the napkins into one. He cleared his throat after a moment of silence.
“Uhm- Here, let me throw those away,” he took the napkins from your hand and walked over to the trash can, setting it down inside. He walked back over to you with an apologetic look, his eyebrows twisted with worry. “Do you wanna,” he motioned for one of the tables, his breath wavering, “sit down and talk? I should have some time before work.” You quickly nodded, pulling your sweatshirt away from your chest. The wetness and burning hurt you- but you were finally getting the chance to talk to this man you’ve seen for years. You normally don’t know how to talk to people, so this was the perfect opportunity.
“Yeah, yeah. That sounds nice.” You guys walked over to a table, sitting down across from each other. His fingers drummed on the table as he looked down at them. You tried to ignore the discomfort of the wet cloth sticking to your skin. He took another deep breath.
”So, uh, my name is Spencer Reid. What about you?” Spencer Reid- it has a nice ring to it. Fits him well, you thought as he looked up at you, his hazel eyes were wide with curiosity.
“Oh, my name is Y/N L/N. Where do you work?” Spencer smiled.
“I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit- the BAU- for the FBI. We basically study the minds behind crimes and the criminals who commit them.” Your eyebrows raised and a slight smile formed on your face- one that felt absurdly obvious but to the regular eye, you were staring at Spencer blankly.
“That sounds really cool. What’s your favorite part of the job?” Spencer seemed taken aback for a moment, as if he wasn’t expecting for you to keep asking questions. He looked back down at his hands, still fidgeting with them nervously.
“I’d say I really like helping people. You don’t realize it, but there are a lot of people out there who have traumatic childhoods,” he looked up and when he realized you were listening, he talked more confidently using his hands, “Last year in the United States alone an estimate of 772,000 children were determined to be victims of abuse or neglect- about 51.3% of those victims were girls and 48.3% were boys. What’s even crazier to think about is that those are just the reported cases- there are probably… thousands of unreported cases. It’s the people who have suffered from this trauma the most that have gone on to commit horrible crimes because they want to reclaim some sense of stability in their lives.” When he finished speaking, he gave you an upside down smile and his eyes kept flickering about.
“You’re passionate about your job- that’s a good thing. Keep doing that, we need more people like you in this world.” You smiled a bit fuller at him, and in response he chuckled.
“That’s not what a lot of people think.” You squinted, confused at the statement.
”What do you mean? Why wouldn’t people like you?” He looked down, a somber expression washed over his face.
”It’s just- I’m not- I love my coworkers but sometimes they don’t listen in the way that you just did. Even though you’re a stranger.” He looked back up at you, giving you a sad smile. His eyes pained you, they looked so heavy and hurt.
“Sometimes it’s the people we love the most that also hurt us the most.” He nodded then cleared his throat.
”So, what do you do for work?”
“Ah, I’m- I’m a photographer. I do a lot of freelance stuff.” Spencer perked up, appearing interested in your career.
”What has been your favorite job to work?” You chuckled at the memory.
“It was recent so it’s fresh on my mind but, an old couple wanted to redo their wedding pictures. It was sweet, but also sad at the same time.”
“What happened?”
“Well, I have a website for my photography and they had called me asking for me to come out to Iowa. They said they’d pay for the gas money, so I went out there,” You looked down and hesitated, unsure if he would be accepting, “Apparently, they had just legalized gay marriage there and they were doing their wedding legally. They’d been unofficially married for twenty years. It hurt to think that they had to wait so long for such a basic right, but it was also so joyful because they were free.” You looked back up at Spencer to see his eyes were filled with silent tears.
“That’s… sweet. That’s really cool.” He sniffled in, his nose scrunching up. You nodded, looking down. The conversation died but you didn’t particularly mind, it was nice just sitting in his presence. At this point, the coffee had dried and left a stain on your shirt. Your chest still burned a little bit, but it wasn’t as bad when Spencer was keeping you company. Suddenly, his phone started buzzing. You looked back up curiously. His eyes flickered between you and his phone.
“Hold on,” He put his phone up to his ear, “What’s up, Hotch?” You faintly heard a low mumble on the other end, “Yeah- I’m sorry I got caught up with something. I’ll be in soon, see you in 20 minutes.” He hung up the phone, standing up. He looked over to you apologetically.
“It’s okay, go help people.” He seemed to think for a moment.
“I still have to get another coffee, would you… uh… want to walk with me to the train station?” You smiled.
“Yeah, that- that sounds fun.” You stood up, walking over to the counter with Spencer.
“Uh, I’ll have a regular black coffee with 5 spoons of sugar.” Spencer looked over to you.
”I’ll have a caramel macchiato, please.” He pulled out his wallet, grabbing out some cash.
“Alright, that’ll be $8.75.” Spencer gave the cash without double checking if he had the correct amount.
”Keep the change.” Spencer gave a small upside down smile and walked over to the other part of the counter, waiting for your drinks. When they finally arrived, Spencer reached for the cups and gave you your drink.
”Thank you.” He nodded, signaling to the door to start walking. You followed after him, eventually walking side by side with him down the sidewalk. After walking for a little bit, taking small sips of your respective drinks, Spencer broke the silence by clearing his throat.
“So… do-do you, uh,” You looked over to him as he hesitated, but he shook his head, “How’s your chest?” You didn’t know how to answer, but you figured if you would say anything about being trans, that it would be now. He seemed accepting enough of gay people for this to also be okay. A sense of fear still lingered in your coffee burnt chest as you told him.
“It’ll be okay, I just hope I didn’t uh,” He looked up at you, his eyes attentively waiting, as you looked away, “I just hope I didn’t burn my chest too badly. I just got surgery there so I don’t want it to mess up any of the progress I’ve had over the last few months.” You looked over at him and for a moment, you saw a glimmer of understanding and recognition in his eyes. Suddenly, he let out a big deep breath; one that you recognized all too well.
“I hope it’ll be okay too.” Spencer smiled, looking forward. Your eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, he understands; and he looks really handsome doing it too.
“When did you get yours?” You asked, looking ahead and taking a sip of your drink. The slight bitterness of the coffee combined with the sweet caramel always put your senses at ease; canceling out any thoughts that troubled you. Spencer took in a deep breath.
“Ah, probably uh… about 8 years.” You looked back over to him, he was now looking at you and his eyes told all. Spencer looked back ahead of you guys as you turned a corner with you following his lead.
“That’s amazing.” The conversation once again fell dead as you both sipped on your respective drinks. As the silence filled the air, your mind was so full and loud. You thought about how this stranger you’ve seen at this coffee shop for years has always been like you, and you were only drawn to him. It’s almost as if even your brain was able to decipher something familiar about him, the way he fidgeted and pulled his shirt away from his chest whenever he appeared extra anxious. You remembered how he looked two years ago- he looked out of it most of the time and was snippy. You wanted to ask about it but didn’t know how he’d react. Obviously he had gotten better, but it was almost like a part of him had been ripped out of him.
”How are you? Nowadays that is.” You looked over at him, he was confused.
”What do you mean?” You thought about how to phrase it without him getting upset.
“It’s just- I’ve seen you at that coffee shop for years. I- I know something was wrong I just... never knew what, and unfortunately I didn’t know how to approach you because you at the time, you were just... an attractive stranger.” You didn't realize how weird that sounded until it was written all over Spencer's face; a flush. His mouth hung open as he attempted to stutter something out.
"Oh, I-" You looked away, blushing and shaking your head.
"I-I'm sorry, I know how weird that sounds."
"No, no, it's okay. I-I know what you meant," You looked back over at Spencer, "Yeah, I was on a really... rough case a few years ago. It took a lot out of me." You were suddenly aware of how touchy the subject really was for him, and immediately felt sorry. But on the other hand, you were right. Spencer wasn't exactly great at hiding his emotions, but he still felt like a fresh new mystery to you.
After a few more moments of silence, you arrived at the train station. Spencer stopped in front of you, looking at you with a wide puppy eyed look.
"We should uh... go out sometime. If you're okay with that." You nodded.
"Yeah, that sounds good." He smiled, his eyes fluttering around nervously.
”I-I’ll see you around, Y/N.”
”See you around, Spencer.” He put his hand up as if to signal he was waving goodbye; you waved your hand back in response.
You watched as Spencer awkwardly jogged inside of the building of the train station. You felt proud of yourself that you finally talked to him after all of these years, even if it took some pain.
You wondered more about him as you walked back home. You were more excited than you’d been in a long time, and that made you all the more curious about Spencer.
You couldn’t wait to hear about him and what he’d been through and where he wanted to go.
You knew that even though it took a painful hot coffee to spill on you, you wanted to commit to Spencer.
Even if you had to commit to the hurt of anything else to come.