in which spencer comes home late and you dance in the living room like a couple from the 40's... because, y'know. it's cute.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
it was getting very late, but it's not like you aren't used to it. ever since he started with the BAU, late nights not only plagued him on cases but also you at home. sometimes you find it unusually fitting, how well the two of you mirror the other- even when it comes to getting sleep.
the clock was stretching its hand farther and farther, reaching for midnight like it was winning a race. you sat on the couch in an old pair of plaid pajama pants and one of spencer's old sweaters; it was a forest-like green with little yellow patterns, and it was just a bit big on you. you tended not to fit in all his clothes because he's quite the skinny one, and you happen to be more full- but things like sweaters and coats always cloak you nicely, and that's good because you like to feel small in his things.
in fact, during the times you doubt your appearance you just slip that sweater on and take a deep breath. it's one of the things he likes most about you, actually. if you asked, he'd tell you that not only are you prettier than anyone that's ever lived and ever will live- simply because he's biased from his love towards you- but he's glad you're not stick thin, because there's more of you to hug. he's too sweet, you think.
the grey plush blanket buried you into the broken-in couch, and you hummed along softly to the music you kept on during the night hours of his absence. whenever he's gone and you feel lonely, you plug in your phone and shuffle the playlist of old songs; he doesn't listen to music much, but when he does, it's always tunes from before his time. frank sinatra, ella fitzgerald, natalie cole- all the classics and then some. he's an old man at heart. ironically, he kind of dresses like one, too.
you let yourself get swallowed up to the soothing sound of 'somethin' stupid' by frank and nancy sinatra, and you closed your eyes, hoping he would walk in the door any minute. he called a few hours ago saying he would be back late, and you didn't mind, but you were getting sleepy now and didn't want him to walk in on you and have to wake you up. he always feels awful when he has to do that.
you took a sip of the water on the side table next to you that had turned warm long ago and listened to the lulled mixture of sad little love songs and the creaky silence of your shared apartment, and buried your face in the wooly knit of his sweater and waited.
it seems your wishes have been granted, though, because only two more songs later did the lock click and swing open to reveal him. he was quite disheveled and exhausted, but it was him, and you felt like you could finally breathe again.
"spence!"
he dropped his bag on the floor and opened his arms wide as you scurried over, reaching up to twist your own around his neck; you were on your tip toes, but you didn't bother to care. he was there after too many days of being away, and you would stand on your toes forever if it meant he'd hold you like this.
"i missed you so much, baby."
"i missed you, too, spencie!"
he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead and hugged you one more time, then let you go. you retreated to the kitchen to get him a glass of water while he shed his coat, scarf, and shoes; when you came back, he smiled so warmly it felt like summer again.
"why do you have music playing?"
"i- well... i missed you a lot."
"so you played the music i like?"
you blushed in patches, and he smiled even wider.
"you know, you may just be the cutest thing i've ever seen," he padded over in his purple polka-dotted socks and wrapped his hands around the curve of your waist, squeezing softly, "and, it's kinda funny, because i was listening to the beatles every spare minute i had while i was on the case."
see? there's that odd mirroring again. he never listened to music much until he met you, and now when he's away, he listens to your favorite band. you could've sworn you were melting into the floorboards as he admitted it.
he pressed his forehead against yours and gathered his arms farther around your back, holding you against himself tightly and breathing softly. you nuzzled his nose, drawing a laugh, and then you laid your head against his chest in a moment of calmness.
it didn't last, though.
"oh, i love this song!"
'you're nobody 'til somebody loves you' by dean martin began to spill from the small speaker on the kitchen table, and you chuckled softly before muttering, "i do, too."
he led you over to the soft carpet of the living room, where the music echoed more, and he spun you around gently.
"wanna dance?"
"you're such a gentlemen, spence."
"only for you, my love."
the clock was tired of reaching it arms, so it let them fall down and down, past the midnight mark and into the night. the sky was black as space, and the only light in the apartment was flooding from the yellow-tinted lamp on the couch-side table and a pumpkin scented candle sitting on the mantle- and you two were dancing to the shushed music, swaying as he hummed the words softly.
"th- uh, the case was really tough. a girl was kidnapped from her boyfriend, and we got her in time, but she was in pretty bad shape. when the guy got to her they were crying, and he was telling her how much he loved her and i- um, i couldn't look. i just got back into the van, a-and waited for everything to wrap up."
you looked up into his dark eyes, noticing little glimmers of sadness in the chocolatey irises. you leaned back, holding onto him with your palms pressed against his neck. you hated to see him worry.
"i'm right here, spencer. i always will be."
"i just get nervous. i always think the worst when i leave you here for long cases. i- i just... i want to keep you safe."
"and you do! you keep me safe every day."
he spun you around one more time, a soft grin pulling at the corners of his lips. "you look so pretty. i don't know how i leave for work when i know that you're at home looking like this. especially in my sweater."
you know he meant it, too, because your hair was falling out of a slept-on french braid and you were barefaced, spots of acne and all.
"you are quite the flirter, spencie."
"maybe it's the dean martin."
"maybe it is."
the song petered out and a new one began to play: 'she's always a woman' by billy joel. spencer always said he liked this song because it made him think of you, and as it sang its way through the living room, he still believes it does.
"aren't you tired?" you asked, seeing his droopy eyes start to fall closed.
"just one more song."
you reached your hand up the back of his neck and tousled his shaggy, tawny hair, and he leaned into it happily. he was like a little puppy, you thought.
"i really did miss you. i'm glad you're home, and that you're safe."
his bedroom eyes opened and took you in, shining with something you couldn't put your finger on; he craned his neck down and met you in the middle, pressing soft little kisses to the corners of your mouth and all over your face. you had a few failed attempts to swat him away, but you didn't fight too hard. you just laughed.
"i am, too."
one more kiss, this time from you. his lips were soft and warm, still tasting a bit like stale coffee- something he probably drank to stay awake on the flight home. he cupped your cheeks and held you in place with his bigger hands, and you just stayed like that for a moment, remembering what it felt like so you could dream about it when he goes to work again.
"we should dance more often. it makes us more old married couple-y." spencer mumbled.
"i don't mind it."
"neither do i."
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
i love spencer das my baby 😭😭😭 i hope this was cute for those of u who simp for the doctor 😼
brb gonna go write more fake scenarios to entertain my hopeless imagination!
feel free to request!! <3
- President of the Dr. Spencer Reid Simp Organization,
somethingheavenknows