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The bullpen was humming with chatter and the sounds of printers – nothing out of the ordinary. The morning sun has just risen past the windows, casting a golden filter over the room. Spencer loves this lighting. The way the case files glow metallic instead of just brown. The way the sunglow swirls in the pattern on the carpet under his feet. Sometimes, someone would even turn off the harsh fluorescent lights during this time, allowing him to properly bask in the shades of honey.
She and Spencer went to their favorite coffee shop before work, something they do at least three times a week. He’s just finished his last sip when he looks over at her and sees the way the sun refracts off her hair, painting golden streaks throughout it. She’s laughing with Penelope, and he can’t help but think that she looks like an angel.
His cheeks flush at the thought, and he averts his gaze from the side of her head. He shouldn’t think things like that. She’s his best friend. His best friend, who definitely doesn’t see him as anything more than a coworker she grabs coffee with and sometimes joins for movie nights.
Their moments together are the highlight of his week. The moment she leaves his apartment after a movie, a countdown begins in his head for the next Thursday night – hoping and praying she won’t be too busy to accompany him again. So, how could he tell her that he’s in love with her? It could ruin everything; he could completely lose her as a friend.
Spencer just can’t help himself from dreaming, though. She looks so beautiful all of the time, but especially in the golden morning light. Spencer loves this time of day, but he also hates it for how it illuminates his feelings for her. He tilts his head upward to take just one more glance at her, but freezes and jerks his gaze to the other direction when he meets her eyes. Great, now she knows you’re staring at her like a complete weirdo.
“Damn, Pretty Boy…” Derek approaches from behind him, and he jumps at the intrusion.
Turning around to look at him, he replies, “What?”
Derek flicks his eyes up and nods his head in the direction of her, “You’ve got it bad.”
Spencer clears his throat and diverts his attention back to his desk, hoping to hide his increasingly darkening cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Everyone knows what I’m talking about. It’s getting kinda sad to watch.”
“It’s not sad.” He quickly retorts, “It can’t be anything, because there is no thing.”
Derek chuckles and raises his eyebrows, but Spencer wouldn’t know about the latter since he’s still pretending to work on a case he’s already finished. “No thing? So you weren’t just staring at the side of her head for the past hour?”
“That’s an overexaggeration.” He insists.
“Oh, so you weren’t deep in thought, imagining your future tiny geniuses?” Penelope appears in front of Spencer’s desk, and he has no choice but to drop his head onto the wood.
Voice muffled, he declares, “No! I was not!”
“C’mon, Babygirl,” Spencer naively believes Derek is going to defend him, before he adds on, “You know he has to mentally plan their wedding first!” The larger man reaches out to ruffle his hair, but Spencer snaps his head back up just in time to dodge it.
“I am not mentally planning anything, there is no planning, there is no thing!” He can hear his own desperation in his voice, and he’s sure he sounds a little hysterical.
“Okay, if you’re so insistent that it’s completely nothing, I’ll just go tell her that you’ve been crushing on her for months. No harm done if it’s not real, right?” Derek shifts his feet to face her desk and makes a few slow steps toward her.
Spencer’s face falls, his blood running cold, “You wouldn’t.”
Even Penelope tells him, “Alright, let's not do that…” and tries to stop his movement by tugging his arm.
Derek slips out of her hold with ease, “I’m helping him! I’ll be his Cupid.” He then winks at the two of them.
He’s getting closer and closer to her desk, and Spencer’s heart is beating closer and closer to his throat. Spencer looks at Penelope with a wild look in his eyes, and she gives him her best empathetic look while shrugging.
Spencer rises from his chair, warningly saying, “Derek, don’t.”
But Derek keeps going, calling her name as he approaches her desk. Spencer’s feet are frozen to the floor, and the terrified look he sends Penelope tugs at her heartstrings. But there’s nothing they can do; Derek has already started talking to the woman Spencer’s been pining over since he first saw her.
Without thinking or realizing it, Spencer’s fight-or-flight kicks in and chooses flight. He bolts between the desks and jumps directly onto Derek’s back, wrapping his arms around his neck.
“What the – Reid!” Derek exclaims.
“Spencer?” His best friend inquires.
“Spencer!” Penelope calls from across the bullpen.
“I said, please! Do not tell her!” Spencer squeaks.
“Kid, get off me!” Derek attempts to pry Spencer’s body off his own, but it’s difficult to do so with the lanky man wrapped around him like a baby koala.
People are starting to stare. Anderson peeks up from his desk at the ruckus, Emily speed-walks out of the break room, and even Hotch is peering through his office blinds.
Derek successfully loosens the grip around his neck, but doing so sends Spencer’s body falling straight to the floor.
He first lands on his back, which knocks the wind out of him, and then his head bounces off the floor like a ping-pong ball. His eyes squeeze closed, he reaches up to his head with both arms, and he shifts onto his side in a fetal position.
Derek squats next to his crumpled body, “Jesus Christ, Reid, are you okay?!”
Spencer attempts to nod, but the sharp pain on the back of his skull prevents him from doing so. He’s dizzy and trying to recall what he knows about concussions. Unbeknownst to him, a large group of his coworkers has circled around him.
Penelope hovers over him, “Spencer! Oh my god!”
Then, an angelic voice swirls in his ears, “Spencer? What happened?”
“I hit my head.” He mumbles, eyes still squished shut.
Delicate fingers meet his cupped hands on the curve of his skull. He focuses on how nice they feel on his skin – warm and soft.
“Can I see?” The angelic voice asks. He thinks he’d do anything that voice asked of him, no matter if it was dangerous or nefarious. So, he eases his grip.
He winces as the delicate fingers brush over the sore spot on his head, whining softly.
“Oh, thank God, he’s not bleeding,” Penelope exclaims.
“He probably needs some ice,” JJ suggests.
“I’ll go and get it for him.” The angelic voice announces.
“Wait…” Spencer slowly opens his eyes and flinches at the brightness. He blinks repeatedly as he tries to make sense of his surroundings. He lays eyes on his best friend kneeling beside him; the sunrays backlight her body, painting a halo around her. She really is an angel, he thinks.
“Hey, honey. How’re you feeling?”
Oh my god, she called me honey.
“You look like an angel.” He murmurs while reaching toward her hair, making her cheeks feel warm. His hand lands firmly against her head, not forcefully, just in a way that showed his current struggle with depth perception.
She looks around at the audience that has surrounded them, debating how to tell them all to leave Spencer alone. Penelope notices her imploring gaze and starts shooing everyone away, “The genius is alive! Let’s give him some space!”
Noticing that his pupils are slightly dilated, she shifts her body to shield the sunrays from shining in his face.
Spencer suddenly realizes that he’s lying on the dirty floor and tries to sit up rapidly.
“Woah, let me help you.” She wraps a hand around his elbow and guides him to a seated position.
The movement sends a searing pain through his skull, but he insists, “I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem fine, Spence…” She gently disagrees. “Please, let me help you get some ice.”
“Okay,” Spencer agrees, so she hooks an arm around his waist and slowly pulls him to his feet. His legs wobble for a moment, like Bambi on ice.
Slowly but surely, they make it to the break room, and she ushers him into a chair. He’s eerily quiet while she gets a makeshift ice pack for him – a plastic baggie full of ice with paper towels wrapped around it. Preparing it makes her feel a little like a school nurse.
Sitting across from him, she gingerly hands him the bag and gestures that he place it on his crown. Spencer follows her instructions, maintaining his silence. He’s pretty certain that he’s not concussed, but he almost wishes he were. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to face this conversation with her.
“So… What was that all about?” She inquires, leaning her elbow onto the table beside them and resting her head in her palm. God, she’s so beautiful.
His eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Didn’t Derek tell you?”
She has a matching crease between hers. “Tell me what?”
“He didn’t tell you that I…” He lowers his gaze to where their knees meet. His heart feels like it could pound right out of his chest.
“That you…? He was asking me about the case I was working on.”
“Oh.” He can feel the tips of his ears burning.
“Oh?”
He shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”
She chuckles, “You tackled Derek in the middle of the bullpen for nothing?”
“I wouldn’t really describe it as a tackle…”
She lightly giggles, and it sounds like music to his ears. How is he supposed to tell her how he feels when doing so risks his opportunity to make her laugh like that again? This is the worst day ever.
“I did hear you say something about not telling me something.”
Shit.
“Um…”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” She shrugs and stands to replace the paper towel on his ice pack. He mourns the loss of her warmth against her knee. “That was just… interesting to witness.”
With her no longer looking at him, he searches for the confidence to attempt to tell her what just happened. Running through a few different speeches in his head, he debates how to even begin conveying the truth to her.
She’s returned to her seat across from him before he can settle on anything, leading him to just blurt out, “I’m in love with you.”
She flinches at his sudden admission, taken aback by his bluntness. Her hand freezes with his ice mid-air, halfway to his head.
“What?” She breathes out.
He closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to watch her reject him. “Derek said he was going to tell you that – That I’m in love with you and have been for a while… He said he was going to play Cupid.” His voice gets smaller and shakier as he continues speaking.
“Ohhh,” she realizes. “So that’s why you jumped him?”
“I didn’t– Well, I guess I kind of– …Yes?”
Spencer peeks one eye open to look at her. Why is she smiling?
“Please don’t laugh at me.” He whines, covering his face with his hands. He wants to disappear. He wants to start this whole day over.
“Hey,” She coos, setting the ice on the table and grabbing his wrists, swiping her thumbs over the bones. “I’m not laughing. I’m sorry.”
Her touches simultaneously bring him comfort and make his skin tingle. He’s frozen, scared that any sudden movements will cause her to let him go. He can barely breathe.
He reluctantly drops his hands from his face in favor of looking at her, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it like that. I probably shouldn’t have said it at all. I embarrassed you, and I’m sorry. I just—Derek was going to—he was going to tell you, and I couldn’t let him and I panicked and I hit my head and now you’re here and I’ve ruined—” He’s panting and his throat hurts and his eyes are burning with unshed tears and he’s digging his nails into his palm.
“Spence…” She reaches forward to stop his attack on his skin.
He wants to twist his hand over to hold hers properly and never let go, but he refrains, figuring he’s made her feel uncomfortable enough today.
“It’s okay. I knew it was unlikely that you felt the same way.” His voice cracks, and he breaks eye contact with her midway through speaking. The grieving process for their friendship has already begun in his mind. No more coffee trips, no more movie nights, no more saving seats for each other on the jet, no more laughter or inside jokes. His entire body is in physical pain, and it has nothing to do with his fall.
“Can you look at me? Please?” She reaches with her other hand to hold both of his, and for the first time, he wishes that she wouldn’t. Or maybe he does, since this is probably the last time she’ll do it.
Her eyes are full of sincerity. “I’m not upset with you. And I’m not rejecting you. I just didn’t know, is all.”
His eyes widen with hope, and he blurts, “You’re not?!”
“I’m definitely not.”
“You’re definitely not?!” Spencer feels dizzy.
“Spencer,” she laughs, and he could cry at the beautiful, intoxicating sound.
“Right, I should stop repeating everything you’re saying… But what are you saying?”
“I like you too.” She squeezes his hands. His breath catches in his throat. “I have for a while.” Is this a dream? “I thought you wouldn’t ever feel the same way.”
“That would’ve been the most illogical mistake of my entire life.”
She laughs again, and he really wants to kiss her. He seriously considers it until he remembers they’re still sitting in an FBI breakroom.
“Can I take you on a date? Please?” His eyes are so round and so earnest.
“I would love that, Spencer.” She smiles.
This is the best day of his life.
“I wish I could kiss you right now. Is that too forward? That’s so brazen of me to say– I did hit my head–”
Her heart skips a beat in her chest, “Believe me, so do I… But, um, it’s probably best if we don’t. I’m pretty sure Derek and Penelope are eavesdropping through the door.”
A small gasp and a high-pitched “Derek!” softly travel into the break room. Giving Spencer a knowing look, she then rolls her eyes.
She whispers to him, “I’m afraid we do have to give Derek credit for his Cupid skills now, though.”
Spencer groans, “I’d really rather not,” and she giggles.