Spencer Reid | Oneshots

Comme des Garçons ☁️ (PG)

Summary: Reader chooses an interesting way to finally confess to dating Spencer.

Rating: PG

Content Warning: Implied weight (wearing Spencer's cardigan), awkwardness

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Spencer isn't ashamed to be dating me. I know that. I know that he's right, that it would just open us up to scrutiny and humiliation if everyone on the team found out about us dating. It was still too early to see if it would work out since we worked together, and it just made practical sense to keep it between us for the time being.

Realistically, I knew all of that. But it didn't make it any easier when he'd insisted that we leave and arrive separately. Logic didn't make the pit in my stomach feel any less awful, and it certainly didn't make me feel any more inclined to follow the terms of our agreement.

Maybe I was being petty and unfair. Maybe I was self-sabotaging things because the truth was that we were getting along great, and it really seemed like things were going to work out. Maybe I was scared.

Nah, I thought to myself. I was definitely just being petty.

There was simply no other explanation for why I'd made sure to grab Spencer's favorite cardigan before I slipped out his door. I can't even begin to stress enough how little thought I'd put into the vindictive act. Despite the 30 minute drive down to Quantico, I never once stopped to consider that my shortsighted plan might not be the best idea.

In fact, I stood tall when I entered the FBI headquarters. I held my head high and walked through the familiar halls with a lightness in my step.

If I'd thought about it at all, I would realize that the root of my happiness hadn't been the disobedience. It was the fact that I didn't feel like a secret anymore. I felt free. I was happy.

That was, until I got on the elevator with David Rossi.

He didn't say anything at first. He didn't have to. I could see him eyeing me from his peripherals with narrowed eyes that shifted back to neutral when he raised his eyebrows in amusement.

When the doors finally shut me into the hell that was my reality, he spoke.

"Are you sure this is how you want to announce it?" he asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I muttered.

It was not a good enough show to convince anyone; especially not a fellow profiler who was much, much better at his job than I was. That experience also explained why he didn't bother pushing me to admit what we both already knew to be true.

Instead, he stayed facing forward and told me through a smile, "You know, the only way I got the kid to accept the gift was by failing to mention that it costs nearly $400."

My hand tightened almost imperceptibly around my bag. But it wasn't entirely stealthy, considering Rossi saw it. He turned to me and he let out a half-sigh, half-chuckle.

"Imagine my surprise when he gives it away so easily to the first pretty girl that asks."

The pang of guilt in my chest was enough to spur me into action. I snapped my head around to look at him with a nervous laugh that broke halfway through.

"Yeah, about that..." I squeaked like a mouse caught in a trap.

Rossi shook his head with a deep breath before he sought to confirm his theory all along.

"You didn't ask, did you?"

I shook my head no. It told him all he'd needed to know.

"He specifically asked you not to, didn't he?"