Spencer Reid: Oneshots

Gordon Ramsay's Worst Nightmare

Summary: Reader and Spencer attempt to make dinner for his team, which goes south quickly.

"Spence, please!"

"Y/N, I told you that we can just get some takeout or something."

"This is important!" You protested. "Meeting your team is a big deal, and I don't want them to just eat some boring old takeout. I wanna cook for them."

Your boyfriend sighed. "You don't have to do anything special for them to like you, Y/N. They know I adore you as is."

"It's a nice gesture!"

"And you can't cook."

"I can!"

He raised a brow. "You're sure? Because I still fondly recall the steak incident from when we started dating."

"That's because your memory is perfect, asshole," you spat.

"I think the neighbors remember it too, the smell of smoke was rather pungent."

"Oh fuck off."

"All I'm saying is that I would prefer that my apartment is standing by the time my team arrives." Spencer raised his arms defensively.

"Not only will it be standing, but it will be running and walking and—Never mind, that sounded better in my head."

Spencer snickered, planting a kiss on your forehead. "I'll be working right over here, please ask for help before you do anything stupid."

You scoffed. "You underestimate me, Dr. Reid."

His finger brushed your cheek. "I know."

"Go do work! No distractions."

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am."

"Shoo." You waved him off, skipping into the kitchen. "How does one make...pizza dough?" You flipped through the recipe. "It can't be that hard, it's just dough." You nodded. "Yeah, this'll be easy."

"Well..." You looked at the hard lump of dough, which was tiny as well.

"Are you making...clay?"

"I don't appreciate your jokes right now," you murmured, crossing your arms.

"Yeah, jokes." Spencer frowned. "So uh what went wrong?"

"I don't know! If I did, it wouldn't look like this!"

"Fair enough..."

You groaned, sitting down on a stool. "Your team is gonna be here soon, and all I've made is a ball of grey mush."

Spencer sat down across from you, his hand lifting your chin so your eyes would meet. "Not if I help you."

"You can't cook either."

"Two negatives make a positive."

"I said that the other day about skiing, and you brushed me off and said it wasn't possible," you retorted.

"Well, it applies now. Where do we start?"

"Well uhm...I think we have to mix the water and yeast."

Spencer picked it up. "Okay, how much?"

"1 and 1/3 cup of water and...2 1/4 teaspoons of yeast. And sugar."

"Sugar, how weird," he murmured.

"It's what it says."

"Right, what now?"

"Mix..?"

"Like aggressive or gentle?"

"That's what she said," you said quickly, your boyfriend face-palming. "I don't know, it doesn't say."