Echos of a Genius | Spencer Reid

About Damn Time

Stephie

Spencer had been jittery since breakfast. I wasn't sure if it was nerves or too much coffee, but by noon, I'd officially dubbed him "Restless Reid." Every five minutes, he was up, pacing around the apartment, then sitting back down, then getting up again. Even when he did sit, his foot bounced like he was keeping time to some song only he could hear.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye as I flipped through the pages of my book. Well, pretended to flip through them. It was hard to focus on a murder mystery when the real mystery was unfolding right in my living room. What was he so worked up about? He hadn't mentioned a tough case or anything, but I could see his mind working overtime, as usual.

Finally, as he passed by the coffee table for what had to be the hundredth time, I closed my book with a soft thud and gave him a long look.

"Spence," I said, my voice slicing through the silence. "Are you okay?"

He froze mid-step, like a robot that had just powered down. His eyes went wide, and for a second, I thought maybe I'd interrupted some sort of genius-level train of thought. But no—he was just staring at me, looking like I'd caught him in the middle of committing a crime.

"Uh..." he started, shifting his weight awkwardly from foot to foot. "I'm fine."

I raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "You've been pacing for an hour. You've reorganized the bookshelf twice. I think you even tried to alphabetize the cereal boxes this morning."

He gave a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just... thinking."

"About what?" I asked, leaning forward.

It was like I'd caught him doing something illegal. His eyes went wide, and for a second, I thought he might bolt out the door. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulled out... a small velvet box, and without a word, he set it on the coffee table between us. He didn't open it. He didn't say anything. He just... stood there.

I blinked, staring at the box, then back at him. He hadn't moved, just stood there, looking like a deer in headlights.

"Spencer," I started slowly, a grin already forming on my face, "is that what I think it is?"

Still, nothing. Just a wide-eyed Spencer. Silence.

"Well, I mean, you put the box there, so... are you gonna open it or...?"

Finally, his hands moved, fumbling with the lid. The box flipped open to reveal the most beautiful ring I'd ever seen. But still, Spencer remained frozen, like his brain had short-circuited.

"Spence?" I prodded, trying not to laugh at how completely out of character this was for him. "I think this is the part where you ask me something."

He blinked again, as if coming out of a trance.
I bit my lip, trying not to laugh at how adorably out of character this was for him. Spencer could quote entire passages of literature or explain the most obscure scientific theories with ease, but here he was, practically malfunctioning over one little question.

"Well, you're killing me here," I teased, giving him a playful nudge. "Are you gonna ask, or are we just gonna stare at the ring for a while?"

His face flushed red, and he cleared his throat. "Right. Sorry. Um..."

He paused, clearly scrambling to find the words he'd apparently forgotten, then finally blurted out, "Will you, uh...will you marry me?"

It came out fast, like he was afraid if he didn't get it out quickly, the words would evaporate. He was still standing, hands awkwardly at his sides, eyes wide like he was bracing for impact.