Cinnamon, Old Books, Chamomile

Chapter Seven: I'll Crawl Home to Her

(Warning: sex scene ahead between two 18+ consenting adults and it is pure fluff I assure you. Also I'm asexual if that explains anything weird about what is to come)

The kiss lasted for an eternity and it still wasn't enough. Spencer needed to breathe and he knew this; he had just recovered from having a nasty strain of anthrax and the longer he took to get air would only hurt him, but he wanted to milk this moment for everything he could. Because there was always that chance that when it ended, that everything would and he desperately didn't want that.

But nothing could truly last forever and breaking away he panted for breath, closing his eyes for a moment. He half expected her to let go of him, to pull away, to say it was a mistake. And she did let go, only enough to brush wet hair from his face and draw cold fingers across a hot forehead.

"You're so warm, Spencer," she whispered and he had no idea how she could still sound so sweet when he was breathless.

"I like you," he blurted out and he didn't dare look at her, not wanting to have to see all the ways she could break his heart with a look, "I really like you, I really, really-"

"Spencer." Still with that terribly kind voice of hers; it wasn't fair.

"I almost died and I thought of how much it would hurt so many people but it helped me honestly. Because I've honestly liked you for a while and I just never noticed, not until it was possible that I would never get a chance to tell you." How desperately he wanted to tell her everything, every little thing that had happened and could happen. How he had decided that telling her would only be cruel when he was dying, how he dreamed of her, how much he wanted to see her while he'd been recovering. And about himself, about who he was and what he did and how she could have died; the unsub could have hurt her too and that would have been too much for him he thought.

"Spencer..."

"But you're my friend and I don't want to lose your friendship, I want to keep coming by and-"

"Spencer Reid, will you look at me please?" she said sternly and finally, obediently, he did so; he opened his eyes and he saw...her. He saw Tsuki, soaked by the rain, looking up at him, still inches from his face, and there was nothing but slight annoyance and something else there. He knew that something though, he'd seen it in others, he'd seen in Hotch whenever he was certain he wasn't being watched while calling his secret girlfriend.

Tsuki's annoyance seemed to melt away when he looked at her and she leaned up to kiss him again; it was soft and sweet and intoxicating in a way that made him fear for his sanity. But it was short and she pressed her forehead against his. "Spencer, you really need to get out of your head sometimes. You're very warm, we should go inside, especially if you almost died recently."

"I like you, Tsuki."

"You said that."

"Please tell me you like me too." He didn't mean to sound needy but though he could read so much in her face, he could tell if he just tried, he wanted to hear it. He wanted her to say it.

"I don't let just anyone stay on my couch. I don't let just anyone borrow my copy of Paradise Lost. I don't read my favorite poem to just anyone over the phone. And I certainly don't kiss just anyone out in the rain." Tsuki's fingers found their way into his hair and he was tempted to keep going. But her free hand took hold of his again and he had to admit to a shiver of a less pleasant manner coming over him.

"Let's go inside," he acknowledged and she smiled at him in her sweet way before leading him back down into the apartment above the bookstore.

It was warm and quiet inside and he hesitated in every way to let go of her hand but she had to close the window. Her clothes stuck to her skin and he was sure of the same for himself but it was hard for him to think about himself with her in front of him, and her words echoing in his ears. She didn't treat everyone the same way she treated him, she saw him as not just anyone, as someone worth the things she did for him. Someone worthy of kissing like she had. He wanted to grab her hand again, to pull her close and never let go, but she moved first and turned to look at him with a chuckle.