Your alarm jolts you awake, pulling you out of the deep sleep you'd been having. Groaning, you turn off the alarm; your face hitting your pillow again as you struggle to wake up. You pick up your phone, checking the time. 7:15 am.
Sitting up, you rub your eyes softly, glancing down at your phone again, seeing a message on the screen. Your heart skips a beat, grinning as you read the words.
From: Spencer
Morning, sleepyhead. Hope you have a good day. Maybe we can talk later?
You smile down at the phone as you type a quick response.
To: Spencer
Sounds good. I get out of class at around 4 today!
Pressing send, you get up, stumbling to the bathroom to brush your teeth and throw your hair in a ponytail. You yawn, throwing on a large gray sweater and a pair of leggings, not really bothering with looking nice. After almost six years in school, you don't give a damn what your other classmates think of you. Grabbing your bag and your Human Behavior book, you walk into the kitchen. You pour yourself a cup of coffee to go before you leave, not bothering to check if Jamie is awake. Jamie doesn't schedule herself for 8 am classes—she likes her beauty sleep.
The cold air hits you abruptly, stinging your face as you step outside. Shivering, you briskly walk to Wyman Hall where your 8 am Human Behavior class is held. The wind is blowing softly, rustling the trees, frost covering the grass besides the hall.
It's so pretty like this, you think, smiling to yourself, pushing open the door to the building.
The climb to the second floor seems to wind you, but you find room 218 quickly. You take a seat in the front row, directly center. You like to have a good view of the board—attempting to be an excellent note taker. Pulling out your blue notebook, you open it, scribbling the date on the top of the paper.
To pass the extra ten minutes, you open up your Human Behavior book, picking up where you'd left off the night before. You're so entranced with your book, you don't notice when 8 o'clock hits—or when a very familiar figure in a blue sweater vest enters the classroom.
"Hello, everyone!"
Your head snaps up, eyes landing on none other than Spencer. Your mouth flies open, his eyes flicking over to you. A coy smile plays on his lips—lips you had kissed not even 24 hours ago.
"I'm Dr. Spencer Reid, and I'm going to be your professor this semester for Human Behavior." He leans against his desk, tucking his hands into the blue dress pants he is wearing. "I usually work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the FBI Headquarters in Quantico, but they've agreed not to use me Monday and Wednesday mornings, so long as we're not out of state on a case, so I can teach this semester. I look forward to learning about every single one of you." He isn't looking at you, but you feel like he is speaking directly to you.
Your cheeks flush as you look down at your notebook paper, internally groaning. Of course, of course Spencer is your professor. Inhaling deeply, you raise your head to glance at Spencer, who now has his arms folded.
"I'm a criminal profiler, which just means I solve murders using what I know about human behavior and psychology," He says, glancing around the room. "Many serial killers tend to use patterns—they repeat themselves." Unfolding his arms, he walks around to the back of the desk. "I use my skills to try to think like the unsub—or unknown subject—to try and guess their next move. Where are they going? Why are they doing the things they're doing? Do they do it for pleasure or for justice?"
Your eyes are on Spencer's face, never leaving. The way he speaks is entrancing, and you are hanging off every word he says.
"So hopefully, by the end of this course, I'll have taught you about different types of human behavior and you will be able to recognize them. Having psychological insight of humans in the basis of psychology." Spencer smiles at the class. "So, who can tell me what human behavior is?" He asks.
Your hand flies up before you can catch herself.
"Yes, Y/n?" He doesn't bother looking down at the roster.
"Human behavior is just a range of behaviors exhibited by humans in response to their environment or everyday life," you say, putting your arm down to rest on your notebook.
"Very good," Spencer praises, a small smile on his lips. "And how many types of human behavior are there?"
"Three, if you're pairing likeness. Six if you're counting them individually," you respond, meeting his eyes.
Spencer can't hide the impressed look in his eyes. "And what might those be?"
"Molecular and moral, covert and overt, and voluntary and involuntary."
A small chuckle slips past Spencer's lips. "I see someone has already started their reading."
You feel your face get hot, cheeks practically on fire as you avert your gaze. "Yes, sir."
Spencer gives you a small nod, obviously pleased, before continuing class, passing out the syllabus and explaining how the semester will work. He assigns the reading for the night, which of course, you've already completed. He dismisses class half an hour early, standing at his desk to pack up his things.
You pack up your bag slowly, letting the other students file out the door before standing up, walking over to Spencer. You approach the front of his desk, biting your bottom lip.
"You didn't mention you were teaching," you simply say, eyes on the floor.
"I didn't think it was worth mentioning," Spencer retorts, pulling his bag to his shoulder.
"Of course you didn't, doctor," you tease, the glint in Spencer's eye returning as you address him.
"I don't think this class will be very hard for you," he says, walking over to the front of the desk. "You're...very smart."
"I read in advance," you admit, the blush returning to your cheeks.
Spencer's small smile makes you feel warm. "You have no idea how attractive that sentence is to me."
You laugh, fiddling with the strap of your bag. "Do you...maybe want to go do something after I get out of classes today?"
"Won't you have homework?" He asks you, seeming genuinely concerned.
"No, you dork," you giggle. "It's syllabus day. I think you're the only person who's going to assign any sort of reading."
"Good thing you've already read it," Spencer says, grinning as he brings his hand up to the side of your face, catching a piece of hair that had fallen out of your ponytail. He tucks it behind your ear gently and your pulse picks up.
"So, I'll see you after class then?" You ask.
"Sure," he confirms. "Where?"
"I live in one of those big student apartments—with the kitchens and stuff. Room 17 in Cherry Hall," you say. "Four-fifteen sharp." You turn to walk away, stopping in the door frame to look back at him. ""And don't be late...professor."
You notice the dangerous glint in Spencer's eye as you turn back around, heading to your 9:30 class.
Your classes pass quickly, your mind distracted by the opportunity to see Spencer again—albeit he is your professor. Shaking that thought away, you're happy when your Abnormal Psychology professor lets the class go early, speed walking back to your dorm. Opening the door, you're met by Jamie, who's lounging on the couch.
"Well you are certainly out of breath," Jamie muses as you stop in the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water.
"Handsome stranger is coming by," you simply say, trying not to look too offended when Jamie's eyes widen.
"No fucking way!" she exclaims, jumping up off the couch. "What are you two going to do?"
Your mind goes blank, realizing you don't really have a plan for you and Spencer tonight. "Uh...I actually have no idea."
Jamie laughs, shaking her head. "You should do something romantic."
"Romantic?" You ask, knowing full well you had little to no experience in the romance department.
"Yeah, cook him something. Or watch his favorite movie and try not to act surprised when your fingers touch in the popcorn bowl." Jamie sighs happily as she gets swept up in her little romantic daydream.
"You're a hopeless romantic, Jamie," you muse, pushing open your bedroom door to throw your backpack inside. "Oh, not to mention he's my human behavior professor."
"What?!" Jamie shouts, her face lighting up. "That's so scandalous! What's his name again?"
"Dr. Spencer Reid," you answer, smiling at the thought of him.
"Doctor?" Jamie questions, giggling.
"It's a long story, Jamie, but I'll tell you all about it later," you say, biting your lip. "For now, I love you, but leave."
Jamie giggles, the sound high pitched and taunting. "Fine, fine. I'll be back later."
You exchange goodbyes and get dressed, putting on a pair of black high-waist jeans and a t-shirt, pulling your hair down out of the ponytail, attempting to smooth it down.
"Shit," you mutter, walking into the kitchen. "What am I gonna do with you, Spencer?"
Shifting through the food in your fridge, you find nothing to cook with, so instead you settle on Jamie's second proposed option: movie and popcorn. A sharp knock at the door makes you gasp, startling you, eyes flicking to the clock. 4:15 exactly.
Opening the door, Spencer Reid's figure appears in front of you, donned in that same sweater vest combo he was wearing earlier in class.
"You're very punctual, professor," you tease, opening the door wider so he can walk through it.
"No need for the pleasantries, just call me Spencer," he jokes back, eyes glancing around the apartment. "I'd prefer doctor over professor though."
Your laugh rings out around the empty apartment, drawing Spencer's eye to you.
"So," he says, leaning against the counter, "what did you have in mind for tonight?"
"Well, I was going to cook but I have nothing to cook with so, maybe we could watch a movie? Whatever your favorite is?" You suggest, a blush creeping over your cheeks the longer Spencer looks at you.
"You were going to cook for me?" Spencer asks, his tone light. "Are you trying to seduce me?"
Your face grows hotter, rolling your eyes, popping a bag of popcorn into the microwave. "You're my professor, what would people think?" You jest, turning around to sweep your eyes over Spencer's figure.
He chuckles. "My favorite movie is the Third Wave."
You raise your eyebrows. "Hardcore."
"When I was younger my favorite was Babar," he admits, a sheepish grin on his face.
"That's fucking adorable," you say, returning his grin. "The Third Wave it is."
Pouring the popcorn into a bowl, you and Spencer settle on the couch, not necessarily close, but not far away either. The bowl sits between the two of you, warmth radiating to both you and Spencer's thighs. You start the movie, sitting back to enjoy something you've never seen—but you'd never admit that to Spencer.
The movie passes in silence and you find yourself being drawn in to the world of mobsters and crime. You absent-mindedly grab at the popcorn, not really taking your eyes off of the screen. If you did, you would notice Spencer glancing at you every so often, a small smile on his face.
Reaching into the bowl once more, you gasp as your warm hand bumps Spencer's cold one, startled at the sudden touch.
"Did I scare you?" He asks, his voice amused.
You let out a shaky laugh. "No, I just wasn't expecting it."
Spencer lifts your hand out of the bowl, his fingers fiddling with your own. "You have intense concentration."
"It's an interesting movie," you respond, the small blush creeping back into your cheeks.
"I'm glad you like it," Spencer replies, using his other hand to grab the popcorn bowl, setting it on the table in front of the two of you.
His hand stays in yours, lacing his fingers through yours slowly. Your gaze goes from his hands to his face, his soft hazel eyes already looking at you. He moves closer to you, his other hand moving to brush against your cheek, emitting another sharp inhale from you. Spencer leans in, his lips brushing against your neck softly.
"I-I don't know how the movie ends," you whisper, eyes fluttering shut as his soft lips move up your neck.
"Happy ending." Spencer's breath is hot against your ear as his lips move across your jaw, eyes flicking up to meet yours.
You say nothing as his lips hover over yours, not touching. You close the space between the two of you, bringing your lips to his. The kiss is gentle, not fiery like the one the night before had been. Spencer's hands move to the sides of your face, cupping it as he kisses you.
Your hands run up his chest, gripping his shirt tightly as the two of you kiss. Deepening the kiss, Spencer's hands go to your hair, gripping it before pulling it slightly, a moan slipping past your lips as he exposes your neck.
"You like that," he muses, his lips trailing down your neck, sucking softly at the flesh.
"D-don't profile me, doctor," you stutter, another soft moan leaving you as he litters your neck with hickeys.
"Don't make it so easy for me, then."
Releasing the hold on your hair, you bring your lips back to his, your fingers twisting in his hair now, the kiss becoming more urgent. The mood, of course, is shattered when a shrill ring of a phone comes from Spencer's pocket.
"Shit," he says, breaking the kiss, panting slightly as he reaches into his pocket, bringing the phone to his ear. "Yeah, Hotch?"
You fiddle with Spencer's fingers, bringing his pointer finger to your mouth, letting your tongue swirl around it. Spencer's eyes are fixated on your mouth; stifling groans as he listens to the male voice speak on the other end of the line. Taking his whole finger in your mouth, you suck on it lightly, noticing the bulge forming in his pants.
"Y-yeah, Hotch, I'll be there soon." Hanging up, Spencer lets out a loud groan as he pulls his finger from your mouth. "You're evil."
"Not evil, just a tease," you counter. "Sometimes."
Spencer takes a deep breath. "Well, I hate to cut the evening short, but I have to go to work. There's a case." He stands up and your eyes flick to the bulge in his pants.
"Serial killers never rest, I guess," you respond, standing up and grabbing the popcorn bowl. Setting it down on the kitchen counter, you feel slightly disappointed that Spencer is leaving.
"I'm sorry," he says, walking over to you.
"It's alright," you respond, truthfully. You still weren't sure if you even want to have sex with Spencer yet—as convincing as he can be.
He leans down, giving you a soft kiss. "I'll see you Wednesday for class."
Deciding to leave him with a tease, you bite his bottom lip slowly, a small groan coming from him. "I look forward to it, professor."
The glint in Spencer's eye returns and he chuckles. "You're going to get me in trouble one of these days."
You say nothing, just laugh as you watch Spencer's figure disappear through the doorway. You lean against the counter, replaying the events of the evening in your head. Spencer is sweet—unlike a lot of guys you'd met before. He's smart, into the same stuff you're into, and obviously dominant in bed—something you know s true despite the fact that you haven't had sex with him. Of course, he has to complicate things by being your professor, but that detail doesn't bother you as much.
You bite your lip, sighing as you retreat back into your room. Throwing on a pair of loose shorts and a tank top, you lay down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. After a moment, your phone chimes.
From: Spencer
I had fun tonight. Too bad the evening had to get cut short.
You smile. Knowing he had a good time makes you feel good.
To: Spencer
I had fun, too. Be careful on your case, I expect to see you bright and early on Wednesday morning, professor.
It only takes a second before his response comes through.
From: Spencer
Don't worry, darling. I can handle myself.
You laugh and put your phone to the side. There is just something about Spencer Reid that makes you feel at ease, and you can't quite put your finger on it.
Drifting off, your last thoughts are of him as sleep pulls you under.