Spencer Reid | Oneshots

Different Dialects ☁️ (PG)

Summary: Autistic!Reader. Spencer is trying to tell Reader he likes her, but it feels like they speak entirely different languages.

Rating: PG (13+)

Content Warnings: Kissing, sharing a bed, cuddling, mild meltdown/anxiety attack

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The first time (y/n) told me she felt like a color, she told me she felt yellow.

There was no need for explanation— it made perfect sense to me. She looked like sunshine and smelled like peaches and fresh laundry. Her laughter sounded like wind chimes and strings and her voice moved like honey; slow and sweet and sticking with me. I wondered what that would mean if I kissed her. Would my lips cling to hers, holding us together for a few moments longer?

I tried not to lose myself in fantasies that would never come true and decided, instead, to enjoy the way the world looked and sounded when (y/n) was happy.

"Spencer!"

She ran up to my desk too quickly, unable to stop in time and colliding directly into my chair. She didn't even notice the way her knees were definitely going to bruise, because her face inches away from mine and the chair was slowly drifting away from my desk.

"Hello!" I responded, overwhelmed by the adorable, but completely erratic girl now trying to spin me around in my chair.

"Did you see Emily brought donuts?"

She was out of breath, her chest heaving and her body seemingly moving off pure inertia.

"Did she?" I asked, looking over to the elevator to see Emily was sure enough carrying her trademark pink box.

Raising her eyebrows in a playful challenge, she halfway stuck her tongue out each time she paused for a breath.

"Bet I can beat you to the chocolate frosted with sprinkles."

"Oh, you're on."

My arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her and spinning the chair around before dropping her back down on the other side of my desk. I then quickly spun back around and jumped out of my chair. I didn't make it very far before she launched herself onto my back, her arms around my shoulders as we nearly toppled over in the middle of the bullpen.

"Saboteur!" she shouted in my ear. Normally the sound would seem deafening, but paired with that overjoyed giggle, I happily accepted the volume.

"Hey! No roughhousing!" Emily reprimanded, waving a finger toward the two of us as I lowered (y/n) back to her feet.

"Sorry," we said in unison, with neither of us sounding entirely convincing.

"You guys know I always get two. I'm trying to make people happy, not incite a riot."

She held the box up to us, flipping it open to reveal the confectioneries inside. (Y/n), true to her word, beat me to the punch. I didn't tell her that I'd let her. I didn't tell her that I'd desperately wanted to see the way her face lit up when she grabbed the donut and bit into it with absolutely no pause whatsoever.

"Thanks Emily!" she said, the words muffled through the pastry in her mouth.

Emily just nodded, and I joined her in watching (y/n) skip back over to her desk. I couldn't take my eyes off her, even as she sat at her desk and spun her chair back and forth. Her entire body bounced as a few sprinkles toppled onto her lap.

"So... You gonna tell her?"

Emily was looking at me with a sly grin, as she was acutely aware of the smitten look on my face. But I wasn't fully ready to admit the feelings to myself, much less to her.