warning: nsfw
"I have a surprise for you," Spencer said between bites of his lunch. He had come to join me at my desk while I finished up paperwork for the case. Hotch had given everyone the rest of the day off, but with as slow as I was at filling out the redundant FBI forms, I was the last person still here actively working on them.
"Ooo what is it?" In contrast with him, I loved surprises. Rather, I loved the big reveal but dreaded the anticipation.
"Well, if I told you, it wouldn't be much of a surprise, would it?" He grinned with the knowledge that I begged to know. "I'll pick you up at 7pm."
"What's the dress code for this surprise?" If he wouldn't tell me what he had planned, he could at least give me a hint about what to wear. With that same devilish grin, he shook his head no. He wouldn't even give that up.
I drove him home, my mind running through every possible thing he could have planned tonight. Once I got home, I made a beeline to my bedroom and flopped on my bed, not even bothering to change or shower off the traveling.
My sleep schedule would take weeks to recover from the nap I took. It was such a deep sleep that I woke up in the same position with indentations of the crumpled comforter on the side of my face.
I was too excited to see Spencer tonight to procrastinate getting ready. I wanted every second I could get so that I'd look my absolute best. Fresh out of the shower, I stood in front of my closet with a towel wrapped around me. Many minutes of thought and deliberation led me to pick out a silky blue crop top and black high waisted pants, along with my black vans. Cute, a little revealing, and nice, but not too nice.
I put on a little bit of brown eyeshadow and a small winged liner. It was just enough so that you could tell I was wearing it, but not as much as I normally put on for a date. Fuck. Was this a date? Two people who very obviously liked each other going out alone at night? We had been out together many times before, but they were always with the team or right after work, so it didn't really count. I smiled at myself in the bathroom mirror as I finished my makeup. This was a date.
A knock at my door snapped me out my daydreams. The nervousness in the pit of my stomach became all too apparent when I walked to answer it. I took a deep breath and twisted the doorknob.
"Hey, y/n. You ready?" Spencer was wearing a slightly relaxed version of his normal work attire – a light purple button down with a gray sweater vest over top.
"Yeah, let me just grab my purse."
He took the keys from my hand and insisted I let him drive my car, "so it's a true surprise," he had said. I didn't put up too much of a fight because I knew I would lose regardless. At least I could control the music, right?
Within 30 minutes, we pulled up outside of this big stone building between the capitol and the monument. "What museum is this?"
"The National Gallery of Art. C'mon, let's go." We got out of the car and he led me down the sidewalk and up the broad front steps to the building.
Why would he bring me here? I know I had artwork covering every free square inch of my walls, but that was mostly just a coping mechanism. My parents and grandparents had collected it over the years and being the only one left in the family still alive, I inherited all of it. It reminded me of them without actually having to see their faces.
"Wait, Spence I think it's closed," I stopped right before the front doors. A sign to the left of the doors clearly said 'FRI 10am-5pm.'
"I know," he pulled open the door and we walked inside anyways.
I was in awe at the grandeur of the entry. There were tall ceilings, stone pillars, and marble floors, with a small but elegant fountain in the middle of the room. He seemed to know exactly where to go, so I just followed aimlessly down hallway after hallway, past what felt like the entire contents of the museum.
Suddenly, I crashed into Spencer's back, almost causing both of us to fall to the ground. I was so distracted trying to catch a glimpse of everything we were rushing past that I didn't notice when he stopped walking.
He chuckled and turned my shoulders to face the painting hanging on the wall. "We're here." He took a brief pause to let me examine what was before me. "Small Worlds I, by Wassily Kandinsky; 1922. Did you know that he's regarded as the first artist to create the first painting that was truly abstract in form?"
"Uh, yes, actually. H-he's one of my favorites." I mumbled softly before turning to look at him. "Spence... this place is empty. How is it okay we're here right now?"
He faced me, looking down at his hands as they laced with mine. "Working at the FBI has its perks."
Also being an FBI agent myself, I had never gotten perks like this. Complete after-hours access to an art museum that held countless priceless works? Absolutely not. At most I would get a free coffee here and there from my favorite coffee shop back in KC, but that was only when I was in a hurry. Plus, people in D.C. wouldn't even take a second glance at me; FBI agents were as common as cops.
"Maybe you can show me where to find these kinds of perks," I watched his face turn red as he continued to look down at our hands. "Why did you bring me here?"
"I-I uh- well last time you brought me somewhere you thought I'd like, so it was my turn to bring you somewhere this time. I've noticed all of the art you have and... the uh- the first time you were at my apartment I noticed you looking at a book I have on Kandinsky. I notice a lot of things about you, actually."
I had the biggest smile on my face I ever thought possible. "Well, if you weren't so cute, I'd be very creeped out right now, Dr. Reid."
His face lit up at those last two words with a brightness that rivaled the sun. "Y/n, I have to tell you something."
"Mhm?" My eyes burned as I stared directly into the sun, but I couldn't rip them away.
"I love you. I am in love with you." The confidence in his voice told me he'd been planning this exact moment for a long time.
The museum faded to black as we were the only two people left to exist, floating through space. In that moment, I was but a planet, orbiting the star at the center of my own universe – life and death and everything in between controlled by him.
"Spencer, I l-" I started, unable to finish. You love him too. Just say you love him too.
No words escaped my mouth. Was I really still so broken that I couldn't reciprocate the feelings this beautiful man standing before me just confessed? He knew the darkest parts of me, and he still loved me. Shouldn't that be enough? Why wasn't that enough?
A split second after I stopped talking, unable to share my true feelings, I pressed my lips gently to his. I held either side of his face as my actions tried to speak louder than the words I couldn't say. He kissed me back in the same tender, caring manner he had as of late, and I realized: that's what love felt like.
He pulled away and rested his forehead against mine. "I know," he breathed.
----
(Spencer)
I have never understood why people used the term "making love." Sex was nothing but a physical exchange and the release of hormones, in particular oxytocin, from the hypothalamus. Love was just a term we made up to describe the rush of chemicals.
At least that was what I used to think. Tonight was different. I had never expected to fall so deeply and irreversibly in love with someone, or even be able to get close enough to have the opportunity.
Part of me was disappointed that y/n didn't say it back, but I knew – or I hoped that she felt it too. Technically, we were still just friends with benefits, so logically, I couldn't be mad at her lack of response.
Our arrangement started 8 months, 6 days, 17 hours, and 23 minutes ago, but I think I had made up my mind about my feelings for her the instant we kissed for the first time.
I kicked the door shut behind us, slamming it harder than I intended to. "Sorry," I muttered between kisses as she guided our bodies down the hall to her bedroom.
I could already feel the bulge growing in my pants as she unbuckled my belt and slid them off. Suddenly noticing my overwhelming lack of clothes and her abundance of them, I moved as fast as I could to even the score.
I left a trail of kisses down her jaw before settling on her neck. Meanwhile, my hands slid up from her waist and met her silky blue shirt. I played with the hem in between my fingers for a moment before lifting the shirt above her head.
My heart warmed at such a small action. When we first started sleeping together, she always kept her shirt on, but here she was, letting me take it off for her. She trusted me enough to share this part of her life with me, and I vowed to never break that trust.
I pushed her back onto the bed, to which she immediately scooted up towards the headboard. She placed her feet flat on the bed and spread her bent knees, exposing herself to me. The giggle that accompanied her movements was the sweetest noise I had ever heard and convinced myself I would ever hear.
I felt a tight smile pull at my lips as I got onto the bed and crawled over to her. Her actions told me that she didn't want to warm up – she wanted me as soon as possible. I positioned myself directly in between her thighs and watched the contortions of her face as I thrust into her.
"Fuck," I groaned. I increased my pace as I kept my eyes trained on her. Watching her eyes scrunch closed, brows furrow, mouth open slightly as silent moans escaped between her lips was something I would never grow tired of.
Despite us having sex only a few days ago, I was already embarrassingly close to finishing. It was in this moment that I began to understand the term I had so naively misjudged before. Because right now, we weren't just two people taking part in a shared physical experience, we were more than that. We were making more than chemicals and hormones; we were making love.
Y/n's eyes opened and caught mine looking at her. "Tell me what you said earlier," she demanded.
Confused, I sighed "what?" in between thrusts.
"You know," she pleaded.
I racked my brain for everything I said to her today, before settling on the obvious choice. "...I love you?"
She nodded, indicating that's what she wanted to hear. "Say it again, Spence, please."
"I love you. I love you so much, y/n." With every push into her and my shouting of those three words, her cries became louder until she threw her head back into the pillows and finally came. Her walls clenched around my dick as my thrusts became uneven and I finished.
I fell on top of her and rested my face where her shoulder met her neck, lightly placing small kisses on her soft skin.
We laid there in that position for what felt like hours, neither of us daring to break the moment to move.
I finally did, pulling out of her and laying on my side so that I could see her. She faced me and brushed a stray clump of hair out of my eyes. "What are you thinking about?"
"Spencer, I... n-no, nothing," she shook her head and whispered in response.
I could tell she wanted to say it back, but something was stopping her. As much as I desperately wanted to hear it, I didn't force it. She would say it when she was ready. "It's okay, y/n. You don't have to say it back. I didn't say it so that you would reciprocate, I said it because that's how I feel."
She gave me a small smile and placed a chaste kiss on my lips before snuggling up against my chest. We fell asleep like that, my arms wrapped around her, just the two of us existing together in our own universe.