Chapter Text
You and your coworker, Spencer Reid, do not get along. You never really have. You think he’s too full of himself, constantly showing off his above average intelligence, and he thinks you’re annoying for being the only one on the team to call him out on it.
It’s a celebratory night out with the whole team. You all decided to meet at a bar in town, but you couldn’t decide what to wear which consequentially made you 10 minutes later than everyone else. When you arrived, you found your team sitting at a large booth towards the back. On one side there was JJ in the corner and next to her was Emily, Morgan, and Rossi. On the other side, Hotch was tucked away in the corner and next to him sat Penelope and Spencer. There was only one place you could possibly sit, right next to him.
‘It’s fine,’ you think to yourself. ‘I’ll just ignore him and try and focus my attention on the others’.
When Spencer spotted you, he had gotten up, allowing you to get in so he could be on the end seat and soon enough, the waiter spotted you, a new person to tend to. He walked over and politely asked if he could get you anything. You smiled warmly and asked for a dirty Shirley, your favorite. As the man walked away, you could feel Spencer’s eyes on you. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was giving you his signature “I’m better than you,” stare. But you did.
“What?” you scoff. “What could you possibly be judging me for this time? I literally just got here.”
He chuckled to himself and it infuriated you. Everything he did infuriated you. He could breathe the wrong way and you’d have to fight the urge not to punch him in the face for it.
“Nothing,” he said in a way that very much meant “something”. “I just think you could have ordered something a little more… classy.”
You couldn’t help but let out an annoyed laugh at that. “You know what? You’re right, I’m sorry, Reid. I should start altering my preferences when I’m in pubic to avoid your scrutiny rather than getting what I actually like and having a good time. Silly me.”
He just shook his head and began engaging in conversation with your coworkers rather than wasting all of his attention on judging you. It wasn’t long until your drink came. You smiled excitedly and thanked the man, waiting until he was gone to remove the straw and take a sip from the glass.
“That’s not very lady-like,” he commented. Who even says that in 2025?
“Well I’m not much of a lady, Reid,” you said, your voice dripping with annoyance. “And judging by the fact that you’re drinking water instead of a whiskey neat, it appears you aren’t much of a man either.”
You smiled to yourself as you took another sip, mentally high fiving yourself for that comeback. It wasn’t true what you said. You didn’t actually believe that not drinking somehow made him less of a man, you were just dishing back out what you were given. Your internal celebration was very short lived.
“Did you know over 10% of Americans over the age of 12 struggle with alcohol use disorder?” he asked. “And that 13.5% of deaths in people aged 20-39 are alcohol related? And that men are 3 times more likely than women to die as consequence of-”
“Shut up,” you cut him off, giving him a stare. There was a beat of silence before he continued anyways, just to be a dick.
“Alcohol abuse.” As he said it, he gave you that smirk. The one that he reserves only for you. The one that makes you want to risk losing your job just to give him one good black eye.
But yet again, you refrain. Instead, you finish your drink and order another.
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You laughed loudly, louder than you meant to as you listened to one of Rossi’s stories about his second wife. The drinks you ordered had loosened you up significantly and you found yourself catching Spencer’s gaze every once in a while as the two of you laughed at Rossi’s perfect comedic timing.
As the waiter came by to clear a few dishes, you caught his attention.
“Excuse me,” you smiled. “Do you think I could have one more? Last one. Pretty please?”
You bit your lip, smiling at the same time, really hoping he wouldn’t cut you off just yet.
He looked you over and smiled, picking up your empty glass. “Last one,” he confirmed.
“Yes!” you cheered, glancing over at Spencer without even meaning to. He smiled softly at you, his demeanor bordering between mocking and simply observing. You were clearly a little tipsy and he could clearly tell.
Soon enough, the man appeared with your third alcoholic Shirley temple. You smiled brightly as you took the drink from his hands. He gave you a look as if to remind you that this is the last one and you nodded vigorously.
“Yes sir,” you spoke, offering a smile of appreciation. “Last one, thank you a lot! You guys do such hard work, we’re going to tip you well, okay? I appreciate you so so so so so-”
The man nodded and smiled, trying to walk away but you weren’t socially aware enough to let him.
“Thank you,” Spencer said, holding up his hand, almost like a wave goodbye.
Instead of being annoyed by that like you normally would have been, you just averted your attention to him and took the first sip of your last drink, actually using the straw this time. As you drank, you let out a dramatic “mmm”, reveling at the taste. There were 2 maraschino cherries in your glass this time instead of one. You gave him a look and pushed your glass towards him, your eyes glancing down to the glass and back up to him. silently asking if he wants your extra cherry.
Spencer was surprised at your generosity, but then again, Spencer had never seen you drunk before. He gave you a small smile as he took the cherry and popped it into his mouth, placing the stem on a white napkin between the two of you. You took the other cherry and ate it but saved the stem in your hand. After taking a small sip of the drink, you held the stem up to him.
“Can you do it?” you asked. “With your mouth?”
He rolled his eyes a little finding the challenge of tying a cherry stem with his tongue to be childish, but he nodded anyways. You took your own stem into your mouth and ushered him to do the same. With nothing better to do, he obliged.
He managed to look so normal and discrete while doing it while you on the other hand had to purse your lips and maneuver your jaw in awkward ways to get the task done.
After about 30 seconds, your eyes lit up as you felt the knot slip into place and you pulled it tight with one end between your fingers and the other between your teeth.
Spencer couldn’t help the little laughs that escaped him as he watched your animated features try and tie the stem. It was endearing to him in some strange way.
“Good job,” he praised between chuckles. He pulled his own stem out of his mouth, having tied the knot perfectly. He had finished long before you but decided to let you think you got it first.
“Yours is better,” you groaned jokingly, giggling as you both placed the tied stems onto the napkin.
“Yours wasn’t bad,” he reassured. Bringing the straw in his water to his lips, you heard him mumble “for a beginner”.
It took you a moment to realize what he said in your tipsy state, but when you did, you let your mouth hang open in an amused but shocked expression.
“I am not!” You laughed, bumping his knee with your own.
“No?” he asked, grinning at you. For once, his smile didn’t elicit rage inside of you. You caught yourself thinking he actually had a pretty nice smile but quickly pushed that thought away and just shook your head no, returning the smile. “How many times have you done it then?
“Like, at least 20!” you responded excitedly.
Spencer laughed, knowing you were overestimating. “Only 20?”
“Oh my god,” you groaned jokingly. “Okay what about you then, make-out champion?”
He laughed at your comment, remembering that teenagers tend to conclude that tying a cherry stem with your mouth equates to being a good kisser. “At least 50,” he teased. In reality he’d done it probably less than 10 times in his life, but he thought you’d be able to tell he was joking.
“What literally ever” you giggled, going back to sipping your drink and just falling into conversation with everyone else around you. The atmosphere was so warm and nostalgic. You didn’t realize it, but your resting face became a small smile as you basked in the time shared with your found family. After a while, the adoration you were feeling became too much to hold in so you spoke up, your voice loud and overpowering everyone else.
“Guys I just love you all so much,” your hands gently slammed the table at the word “so” and “much” to get your point across. “Like you don’t even get it, you guys are like the best friends I’ve ever had,” you started to tear up at your own little speech before Emily spoke up.
“Aw, we love you too, y/n”. Her voice was so warm and comfortable.
You were oblivious to the looks everyone was exchanging, silently acknowledging your intoxication. Rossi was the next person to speak up.
“Why don’t we get you home, y/n?” He always spoke softly and slowly. He was somewhat of a father figure to you.
“What? Why?” You asked, slightly panicked, not wanting to go.
Spencer couldn’t help but laugh at your reaction. Your gaze averted from Rossi and landed back on Reid. It was like you’d forgotten he was there at all. Your panic turned to contentment as you realized you made him laugh. You weren’t sure what was funny, but you were just happy to have made him feel that way.
“Because you’re drunk, honey,” JJ added, a maternal look in her eyes.
You sighed loudly and chugged the last of your drink before turning to Spencer and tapping his arm telling him to get up to let you out. When you stood next to him you shook your head. “This is what I get for expressing my love.”
He laughed at your dramatics and shook his head. “Yeah, what were you thinking?” he joked.
You were a little wobbly from the combination of the alcohol, the heels you were wearing, and not having stood for nearly 2 hours. Spencer placed a hand on each of your arms to steady you and you placed a hand on top of his to thank him, your touch lingering a little longer than necessary. He tried not to read into it. You’re just drunk, that’s all.
“I know right, they’re so ungrateful,” you laughed, rolling your eyes.
“So ungrateful to want to get a drunken friend home safe, they’re the worst.”
You laughed, probably a little too hard at his words. “Are you taking me? I’m not drunk.” You didn’t yet notice Rossi already having stood up, keys in hand behind you.
Spencer hesitated, unsure of what to say. He could tell you felt safe with him right now, but he knew he probably shouldn’t be the one to take you home.
“Actually, I think Rossi…” he trailed off, looking down into your doe eyes staring back at him, a patient, hopeful resting smile plastered on your face, waiting for him to finish his sentence. You looked so innocent like this. So peaceful. He felt his resolve completely crumbing under your hope. “Yeah, you know what, yeah, I’ll bring you home.”
“Woooh!” you cheered. “You and me, dream team, up top!” You raised your hand to high five him, but completely missed and stumbled into him a little, causing you to erupt into a fit of giggles.
Spencer just smiled, staring at you in awe. You were a totally different person right now. So carefree, so unlike your usual sassy, argumentative self. It drew him in and he found himself wishing you were always like this. He wanted to see you like this more often. He’d never admit that to you, but he was already thinking about ways he could see this sweet side of you again.
“You ready?” he asked, pressing the button to unlock his car as you finished up saying your goodbyes.
You didn’t answer verbally, you just beamed a smile and started walking towards the door. You let Spener lead the way to his car and open the passenger door for you.
“What a gentleman,” you teased as he got in the driver’s seat.
“I’ve been known to have good manners,” he said, putting the car into reverse. He placed a hand on the back of your seat and turned a little, looking behind the two of you to back up. When he returned to normal, he looked over at you to make sure you were buckled and put the car into drive after seeing that you were.
“I must not have been looking,” you joked. If you had said that sober, he’d have thought you were being snarky, but in this state, he could tell you meant it genuinely.
“Yeah, I think maybe there’s a lot you haven’t been looking at,” he said softly, almost to himself. He didn’t even know what he meant by that, and he tried not to think about it, but he noticed your smile. It was one of those smiles so big that the corners of your eyes crinkled a little.
You leaned forward and turned the radio up the tiniest bit, just for background noise. There was a beat of comfortable silence before you spoke again.
“Why don’t you drink?”
Your question was blunt and seemingly random, catching him off guard. “I already told you, remember? How roughly one in ten people who consume-”
“No no no,” you cut him off, turning in your seat towards him more. “Try again. Why don’t you drink?”
He smiled softly, not having expected you to call his bluff in your drunken state.
“Okay, okay,” he started, pausing for a moment to build the courage to tell the truth. “I’ve had issues with addiction in the past. Not with alcohol, with something else, but I’ve made the decision not to drink in case it brings back old habits.”
He felt your eyes on him but resisted the urge to glance over at you in return. You nodded, satisfied with his answer.
“Why do you avoid driving as much as possible?” you asked. These are questions you’ve always wanted answers tom but never had the opportunity to ask.
He raised his eyebrows at the question and chuckled nervously. He hadn’t expected you to inquire about another observation you had.
“It’s uh… It’s just an anxiety thing really.” Spencer surprised himself with how open he was being with you. Sure it was easier than usual considering you were intoxicated, but even still, he usually tried to avoid talking about these things.
“But every time we go out as a group you make sure to drive just in case one of us ends up too drunk,” you said. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. And a soft closed mouthed smile played at your lips as you said it.
Spencer didn’t respond to that. How could he? What was he even supposed to say? Nobody on the team had ever noticed that. Or if they did they never said anything about it.
“Sorry,” you chuckled nervously. “I wasn’t profiling, it’s just some things you notice without even trying, ya know?”
Spencer nodded and chuckled alongside you. “Yeah, no I definitely get it,” he reassured, trying to ignore the way his heart was beating faster at the fact that you’d noticed more things about him than he’d thought.
“Like, did you know Penelope always cries out of her right eye first?” you asked, giggling.
He looked over at you briefly, amused at your fun fact. “Really? How’d you ever notice that?”
“Well, she cries a lot,” you said in a hushed tone as if she was nearby and you didn’t want her to hear. “And I do too, and I also always cry out of my right eye first, so I noticed it,” you giggled as if you hadn’t just shared something extremely vulnerable to a coworker you didn’t even really like.
Spencer stayed silent, hoping that would coax you to share more. If you were sober and didn’t have a degree in psychology, it probably would have worked. You told him something vulnerable like that so casually as if that was normal between the two of you. In that moment he realized that you’d shared more of yourself with him that night than you ever had. And he wanted more. He wanted you to keep sharing. He wanted to know your secrets and a small part of him wanted you to know his too. Why was he thinking like this?
“I’m sleepy,” you said, letting your head fall back to rest on the shoulder of your seat.
“We’re almost there,” he said, looking over to you and smiling to himself at your closed eyes.
You nodded a little, half asleep and not really even hearing what he just said. You stayed like that for the rest of the drive; laid back, eyes closed in a sleep-like state. Soon enough you had arrived at your apartment complex and were woken up softly by a hand on your shoulder and a soft voice telling you “We’re here”.
You reached up to touch his hand before letting it fall to unbuckle your seat belt. “Oh my god its so far,” you groaned, picking up your head and letting it fall right back, earning a chuckle from Spencer.
“Oh hush it’s literally 10 steps to the door.”
Your eyes shot open, mentally preparing yourself for the walk to your room after having gotten so comfortable in his car. “Yeah it’s 10 steps to the door and then like 50 million steps to the elevator and then like a thousand more steps to my actual door and then like 20 steps to my bedroom.”
Spencer laughed at your exaggerated whiney explanation. “Well then we better get going if we want to make it there before next year.”
You didn’t understand his joke in this state, but you sighed and lazily reached for the door handle, swiping at it unsuccessfully.
“Just stop,” he said, laughing at your pathetic attempt, causing you to smile. He leaned over you and opened the door for you before getting out of the car and walking over to help you out.
“You smell really good,” you said, beginning to limp and stumble to your apartment, Spencer following close behind. You’d gotten a whiff of his cologne when he leaned across you. You’d never noticed how good he smelled before now, but looking back, he always did.
He thanked you, shaking his head at the slur of your words as he opened the door for you. When you were both in the elevator, you went to press the button of the floor your apartment resided on, but you accidentally pressed 4 instead of 5, so he discreetly hit 5 for you, noticing your mistake, but not wanting to point it out.
“You’re coming to hang out with me?” you asked, trying not to sound too excited, but failing.
His chest tightened at seeing how badly you wanted his company and knowing he’d have to reject you. It wasn’t right to spend time with you one on one when you were like this, he knew that. “I’m just helping you get up there but then I have to go home, y/n”
Despite the rejection, you smiled up at him. Y/N. Not Y/L/N/. He had never used your first name before. “Okay,” you beamed.
When the elevator got to the fourth floor, you began to walk out, but Spencer gently pulled you back, causing you to stumble into him. “Wrong floor, silly,” he said, cautiously placing his hands on your waist. You laughed against his chest as your own hands came up to try and steady yourself. He had never been this close to you before.
“Sorry,” you say, still laughing at yourself as the elevator doors opened on the fifth floor. The two of you got off and he let you lead the way to your front door. He wasn’t sure which one was yours until he spotted the decorations adorning the front door of apartment 56 while all the other ones were bleak, sporting no more than a “welcome” floor mat.
“This is me!” You say proudly, excited to finally get to bed. “Good ol’ 56,” you knocked against your own door as you introduced him to your home. You lazily placed your keys in his hands and stepped aside, wordlessly asking him to unlock your door. He did and smiled widely as he saw your living room. It was just so unbelievably you.
Before going inside, you turned to face him and hugged him unexpectedly. He stopped breathing for a second but regained his composure and just held you as he kept admiring your home, wanting to remember every detail. It felt like you’d physically melted in his arms. After a long few moments, he gently pulled you away, saying “I got to get going, y/n”
You nodded sleepily, beginning to take off your shoes before you were even inside. “Thank you,” you said. For the first time tonight your eyes weren’t locked on his as you spoke, but rather the floor between you.
“Lock the door behind me okay? And sleep on your side tonight,” he said, hands awkwardly resting in his pockets.
You nodded, adorning a lazy smile. “Tell me I’m welcome.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied, not being able to resist retuning your smile.
“Goodnight Spencer,” you said, walking further into your home and sighing at the immediate wave of comfort that washed over you. “Oh wait! One more thing.”
You returned to your door, but turned your back to Spencer and brushed all your hair over one shoulder, giving him access to the zipper of your dress. “Help me.”
His breath hitched a little and he hesitated. It felt wrong to undress you like this. He knew he wouldn’t see anything and it was completely innocent, but he still felt like he was taking advantage of you as he slowly slid the silver zipper down. He averted his gaze as he did so, looking anywhere but the sight in front of him out of respect. He didn’t want to be able to see what color your bra was. He didn’t want to see the fabric loosen against your body. He didn’t want to have this memory of the two of you that he’d never be able to erase. He told himself he didn’t want it… because he really really wanted it.
“Thanks,” you said, turning back to him, holding the front of your dress up to cover your chest just in case. “Bye Spencer.” You never called him Spencer. Only ever Reid, but tonight you’ve done it more than once.
He gave a small wave goodbye and he found himself wanting to hear his name fall from your lips again when you were sober. But he quickly pushed those thoughts away and stepped back to let you close the door.
When Reid got back to his car he let out a loud sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. He tried to ignore it all. He tried to ignore the way your embrace made him feel. He tried to ignore the way his first name sounded on your tongue. And he tried to ignore that he did in fact get a glance of the back part of your lavender colored bra despite his efforts.