Delicate [spencer reid x reader] ✔️

the kiss

"Sure, that sounds fun." Your smile widens, and you get up from your bed. "Text me your address? If you just tell it to me, I'll forget. We don't all have eidetic memories."

"Okay, I'll text it to you," he chuckles. "I'll see you soon. Drive safe."

"See you soon."

You grin as you hang up, throwing your phone on your bed and moving to your closet. You put on a pair of comfortable joggers and a cropped sweater, slipping your Converse on your feet. Grabbing your phone off your bed, your walk into the kitchen, grabbing your keys before heading out the door.

You have a car—you just rarely use it. The metro is more convenient. Tonight, however, you're using your car. You slip inside, starting the car before buckling your seatbelt and putting Spencer's address into the GPS. Putting the car in reverse, you pull out of the space before beginning the drive to Spencer's.

You hum along to the music from the radio as you make the drive, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel. After about fifteen minutes, you pull into an apartment complex, parking your car before getting out. You push your keys into your pocket before walking up the steps to his apartment. 214.

You knock three times, rocking back and forth on your heels as you wait for him to answer. After a few moments, the door opens, revealing Spencer. He's still in his work clothes—a light pink button up, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. A dark blue, polka dot tie rests around his neck. His dark slacks rest on his hips. The only comfy thing he's wearing are his mismatched socks on his feet. He smiles at you, his dimples prominent against his cheeks.

"Hi," he says, his voice soft.

"Hi." You smile at him. "Can I come in?"

"O-Oh, yeah, come in!" He steps aside, and you walk inside his apartment.

The walls are an olive green, bookshelves lining the entire left wall. A small light brown, leather seat is pushed against the left wall next to the door. A small desk with a wooden chair is set to the right of the door. His couch is a dark brown leather, red blankets lying on it. A coffee table rests in front of the couch, and small sconces line the walls, giving off a warm light. Floor to ceiling windows are against the anterior wall, adorned with see-through tan curtains. Sheer. The room to the left is presumably the kitchen, and the hallway to the back leads to his room. At least, that's you're guess.

"It's so cozy in here," you murmur, turning to look at him.

He grins at you. "Thanks."

"You said I have a lot of books, but you," you start, walking over to the bookshelf, running your fingers over the spines of the books, "have a lot of books." You admire the shelves of books. "Have you read them all?"

Spencer shakes his head, walking up next to you. "No, not all of them. I want to, though. Eventually."

His books looks old. Worn. You turn around, and for the first time, you notice the dark circles under his eyes.

"You look tired," you murmur.

He's silent for a moment, averting his gaze to the books in front of him. "I...can't sleep very well lately."

"I'm sorry." Your eyes search his face, and he slowly drags his hazel eyes from the books to your face.

His lips turn up at the corners. "It's not your fault. Come on, the only TV I have is in my bedroom."

"Not in the living room?"

He laughs, taking your hand and pulling you toward his room. "I like to lie down if I watch TV. I don't really watch it a lot, to be honest."