Infiltration - Spencer Reid x Reader

Chapter Twenty-Four

The next two days were pretty uneventful. You met up with Samantha again to taste test wedding cake after very little persuasion on her part. Afterwards, you went shopping together and bought some things at a few cute boutiques and some secondhand shops. After saying goodbye, you stopped by a bookstore on your way back and picked up a collection of Matthew Arnold's poetry, much to your glee. He was one of your favorite poets, and you couldn't wait to slip into some sweats and a t-shirt, make a cup of hot cocoa and read through it.

The night melted away as you got lost in Arnold's poetry. You ended up flopped stomach down on the couch with a pen in hand, making notes in the margins and feeling completely enwrapped. You were in one of Spencer's t-shirts (hopefully he wouldn't mind) and a pair of comfy black cotton boy shorts. You must have fallen asleep at some point because the next thing you remembered was the apartment door being clanged on loudly.

You woke up with a start. It was pitch black outside, and you went from instinctually scared to composed in a few seconds. You checked your phone—no messages or calls from Spencer. The clanging continued you as you slunk to the bedroom and retrieved the 9 millimeter Beretta from your duffel bag. You slid a magazine in, and steeled yourself. The clanging stopped abruptly as you crouched beside the couch, the door in perfect sight.

After a minute or two of silence, the door knob began rattling, and then you heard a key being forced in. You took a depth breath, observing, waiting. After another few minutes the door swung open. You always kept your finger off of the trigger until positive you wanted to fire your gun; it stayed there until you recognized the figure in the doorway: Spencer was standing there, leaning in the frame.

You spoke up in surprise: "Spencer?!"

"(Y/N)....Woah! Why the gun?"

"Um...You were banging on the door..." You slid the safety back on, unloading the magazine and popping the bullet out of the chamber, catching it in the air. You had some time to perfect it while you were undercover, and Spencer watched mesmerized.

"Shit. You're good at that."

You were taken aback by Spencer cursing—you had never heard him use anything but large and factual or concise and clean words.

You placed the gun on the coffee table, reloading the single bullet into the magazine and laying it next to the Beretta. As you were walking over to Spencer, the smell of alcohol hit you strong.

"Spencer...Have you been drinking? What the hell is going on?"

Spencer held is hands up in response to being accused. "The...the case is over. It wasn't too great. You ever have those cases? They make you want to—to forget?"

You nodded your head softly, reaching up and placing a hand on his face as you stood in front of him. You caressed it gently, your heart burdened by seeing Spencer like this. Even though you were still getting to know him, it didn't take a profiler to understand that he had been drunk very few times in his life.

"How about we sit down, Spencer? You don't look well."

Spencer's eyes were glassy from the alcohol and a gathering of tears, and he looked pale. You wrapped your arm around his waist after locking the door and proceeded to guide him into the bedroom. He stumbled along with you until making it to the bed, where he sat down heavily.

"Spencer, what's wrong? Please talk to me." You urged him tenderly.

He directed his eyes to you, trembling. "I didn't have a choice, (Y/N). I saw him. He was going to hurt her. He was only a kid...I...I..." His voiced cracked and tears trickled down his face.

Your heart was skipping beats in its pain for him. You hugged him tightly and he buried his head between your shoulder and neck. You stroked his hair softly, repeating to him that it was going to be okay, that you were here for him.

After a while, Spencer sat up straight and looked down at his feet, unable to make eye contact. He stood up, and almost fell over immediately. You caught his hand to steady him.

"Hey, Spencer, sit back down. What do you need?"

"I want...want to change and g-get in bed....with you..."

You brushed off the last part. "Okay, sit down and I'll grab you some clothes. Alright?"

He nodded his head in acceptance and you went to his drawers, pulling out a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Spencer swayed on the bed, incredibly inebriated. You were a bit angry.

Who the hell let him get this drunk? Bartenders are supposed to cut people off. Stupid...

Spencer went to stand up again but you put your hand on his shoulder to keep him sitting. He fumbled with his cardigan and the buttons on his shirt. He looked up at you pleadingly.

"Can...can you help me?"

You kneeled by him and unbuttoned his shirt, slipping it off with the cardigan.

He hummed lightly, looking at you with an odd mix of sadness and lust in his eyes. He managed to get changed (a bit to your chagrin) and you turned down the bed, moving to sit at the top and lean against the headboard. Spencer laid down beside you, putting his head in your lap. You felt taken aback for a few moments, unsure of what to do.

Spencer remained silent as you began to stroke his hair again. After a while, you spoke up.

"Spencer? How about we get some sleep? I bet you could use a good night's rest."

Spencer sat up to look you in the eyes. There was such deep pain in them. You knew that he had shot someone; That he had taken a life. You knew because you had done it before, and the way it felt was inexplicable.

"What if I can't sleep?"

"I'm here for you, love." You used the endearing term out of true feelings for him and as a way to hopefully calm him down.

Spencer leaned in and kissed you. It was a passionate and hard kiss, conveying all the things he couldn't say. When you two pulled apart, you trembled.

"Spencer...You're drunk....I don't want you to regret this."

"Regret it? (Y/N), I need you. I want you to stay with me. Please, don't leave. You understand me, and I know that we can take care of each other. I care for you deeply...You are everything I need. I want. And I just can't help but feel this kiss is on borrowed time." Spencer was slurring a bit, but was surprisingly coherent. Though, you really shouldn't have suspected much less from him.

"Borrowed time?" You responded, brows furrowed.

"You haven't realized that I'm too fucked up to love yet."

You gaped at him for a few seconds. Then, you kissed him. You moved your mouth with his and enjoyed the way your tongues danced for minutes. When you moved away, you kissed him on the cheek and cupped his face. "Sleep now. We have plenty of time for this tomorrow." You gave him a coy smile before getting up to return your gun to the duffel bag, double check that everything was locked and then turn the lights off.

You fell into bed with Spencer, who was waiting for you with puppy dog eyes. He held you close, and you could feel his heart beat go from racing to steady as he drifted off to sleep. You laid awake beside him for a bit, taking stock of the relationship that was blossoming between yourself and the gorgeous man in bed with you. 

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You are all so amazing! 16,500 reads and almost 600 votes. I hope that you guys are still enjoying the storyline and that it isn't boring or anticlimactic. 

Do you guys have any suggestions/ideas on what should happen between Spencer and ~you~ next? I would love to hear your thoughts! 

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