Fine Line [ spencer reid x reader ] ✔️

TWELVE

"Wow," she murmurs.

Spencer walks over to the coffee table, placing his food down. "Yeah, I read a lot."

She giggles again, the sound high-pitched. "Sometimes I forget you're a genius."

Spencer walks over to her, watching as she drags her fingers down the spine of Great Expectations. She looks up at him, a smile on her face.

"How many of these have you read?" She asks, her voice coming out as a whisper.

"A lot of them," he replies. "Not all. Do you want to sit down?"

"No."

She continues to walk along his bookshelf, glancing over at all the books. Eventually, she turns to Spencer, that same far-away smile plastered to her face.

"I feel good," she sighs.

"Now," he tells her. "You feel good now. You're gonna feel bad later."

She scrunches her brows, her lips dipping down into a frown. "Don't ruin it." She exhales slowly. "I don't want to think about later. I just wanna think about now."

Spencer doesn't respond, instead just staring at the girl in front of him. She's wearing a short-sleeve University of Pennsylvania t-shirt and a pair of comfy shorts, not even bothering to hide her fresh track marks. Spencer's never seen her like this—carefree and happy. But that's what drugs do to you. They make you forget.

She takes a couple slow steps toward him. "You're judging me."

He frantically shakes his head. "No, I'm not. I promise."

The smile stays plastered to her face as she glances around his apartment again. "You don't have a TV."

"I have one in my room," he replies, watching her bloodshot eyes flick to the doorway to his room. He crosses back to the couch, sitting down and grabbing his pad Thai bowl. "Do you want some?"

She shakes her head, and Spencer sets the bowl back down, watching as her eyes land on all of his records, lined up neat under his coffee table. She sinks to the ground, hands reaching toward the records. Spencer stands, walking into the kitchen to set his pad Thai bowl in the sink and fill up a cup of water for Y/n. She might not even drink it, but he knows she needs it.

Walking back into his living room, he sets the cup down in front of her before sitting back on the couch. She glances up at him, grinning.

"You have Sam Cooke," she murmurs. "I love him."

"What's your favorite song?" Spencer asks, giving her a small smile.

She looks up at him, holding up the record. "You Send Me." She thinks for a minute. "Well, it's actually a tie between You Send Me and Bring it On Home to Me."

"I love that song," Spencer whispers. He gets up, plucking the record from Y/n's hands. He turns on his old turntable, placing the record on the platter. He lifts the needle up before letting it softly fall on the edge of the record. After a couple moments, the sounds of You Send Me begin playing.

He turns back around, the grin on Y/n's face growing. She sits on the floor at the edge of his coffee table, and she closes her eyes for a moment, listening to the music. Spencer watches her, a weird warmth blooming in his chest as he watches the woman in front of him seem to calm even further at the sounds.

The jazzy chords fill the air around them. Y/n's eyes light up and she jumps up, moving to sit on the couch next to Spencer.

"Why is this song your favorite?" He asks her, noticing the way her knee touches his.

She stares at the wall for a moment before giving a simple, "It makes me believe in true love."

"What do you mean?"

"I've never been loved like that," she whispers, meeting Spencer's eyes. "Unconditionally."

Spencer's brows knit. "Were you—"

"No. Nothing like that. I've just never been loved."

It's quiet for a moment, and Y/n looks at him, a lazy grin on her face. He returns her grin, his eyes still laced with a bit of worry. He wants to reach out and hug her, but now's not the time. Not while she's high.

"You're pretty cute," she says to him. "Do you know that?"

Spencer raises his eyebrows. "O-oh, u-uh, thanks."

She knits her brows. "You don't think so?"

Spencer shakes his head. "Not really."

She slowly moves her hand to his wrist, flipping his palm face up. Spencer scrunches his brows together as he watches her trace the lines of his palm slowly. It almost feels foreign to Spencer, someone touching him like that. Almost innocently. Even so, he can't help but feel the familiar blush creep into his cheeks.

"Well you are," she replies after a few moments. "You shouldn't think so low of yourself."

"I could say the same thing about you."

Her finger pauses over his palm for a moment before she resumes tracing. She doesn't reply, keeping her focus down on his hand. After a few moments of silence, she looks up at him.

"You're cute when you're so serious," she giggles, pushing her shoulder against his.

She looks up at him, and Spencer searches her face. He doesn't know how long ago she shot up, but he knows she has to be coming down at soon. And when she does, she's gonna hate herself. She's gonna regret shooting up in the first place. She's—

His thoughts are interrupted when he feels her finger abandon his palm, her hand settling on the side of his cheek. She pulls him down to her, pressing her lips against his. Spencer's so shocked, his brain doesn't register what's happening until it's happening. For a split second, Spencer melts into the kiss, kissing her back until his brain finally catches up with the present. He pushes her away softly, eyes searching hers.

"W-We can't," he whispers. "Not when you're high. Not like this."

A flash of hurt runs through her eyes before her face hardens. "O-Okay, I'm...I guess I'll leave."

She stands up, turning on her heels and walking around the couch. Spencer stands, grabbing her wrist softly to turn her back around.

"N-No, Y/n, please stay."

She looks at him a moment longer before gently pulling away from him. The hurt from rejection is plainly written on her face, and he can see her lower lip trembling slightly. She holds his gaze a moment longer before turning around and opening his front door.

"Y/n—"

But she's already gone.

Spencer stares at the back of his now closed door, a thousand emotions running through him. He bites the inside of his cheek before turning around, eyes landing on Y/n's untouched glass of water. He crossed over to it before going to his kitchen and pouring it out.

He grips the edge of the counter, his lips still fucking burning. It's not that he didn't want to kiss her—he just didn't want to kiss her while she was high. He wants their first kiss to mean something, not something she does just because she's on drugs.

He considers going up and trying to talk to her—but she's bound to have come down by now. Talking while she's like that will only make things worse, and he's not trying to make things worse He's trying to help her.

Sighing, Spencer walks into his bedroom, going to bed even more confused than when he woke up, Y/n's kiss still lingering on his lips.

——————————————
Author's Note
IM SORRY THE PAST TWO CHAPTERS HAVE BEEN SO SHORT.
I promise I'll make it up to y'all with the next one. Just a warning though: the next chapter is pretty dark. I'll put a disclaimer beforehand but it's a pretty dark chapter.
I'm gonna start on it now, and maybe I'll get it done tonight :)
I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter! <3