entirely right (professorreidxreader)

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧

i'm sorry for being so inconsistent with my posting but i feel like my writing isn't very good and I haven't  had tons of motivation so i've been putting off writing (:

—

You watch as Spencer tries to make you a sandwich. Emphasis on tries. Turns out when he's not following strict instructions from Rossi he isn't the most talented of chefs. "Spencer, you press the mayonnaise on the bread, you don't-" you watch helplessly as he tries to put a large scoop of mayonnaise on the lettuce, crushing it between the tomatoes. It oozes out the sides and you can't help but laugh as a flustered Spencer groans at his failed attempt.

"I'm sorry Y/N- you'd think I'd be able to make a sandwich-" you smile, standing up and walking over to him, craning your neck to rest your chin on his shoulder.

"Spence, it looks great." You take the plate from him and sit down on the couch, pulling your knees to your chest as you take a bite. It's not awful. Just, to put it nicely, interesting. "It's definitely a sandwich," You say as you take another bite. You hear him chuckle softly and watch as he comes over to sit next to you. There's a moment of silence before you turn to him, wiping crumbs off your cheek with your sleeve. "I know what you're going to ask, Spence." He shifts nervously, picking at a loose strand on the couch "I know this isn't the best but can we, at least for now, pretend nothing happened. I don't want to think about it and I don't want special treatment, I just want things to be normal here because god knows they won't be normal at work." You place a hand on Spencer's cheek, smiling softly, "please?"

He sighs and reaches for you sandwich, observing it in his hand with a skeptical look on his face "you're really going to eat this?" He says placing it back on the plate "it's unsanitary and made by me so it must be disgusting." You laugh and set the plate on the coffee table. Spencer wraps an arm around you shoulder and pulls you into him, you sprawl out, your head in his lap and he strokes your hair. The TV plays reruns of The Office and you sit in silence for a little while, and it's the best you've ever felt despite the circumstances. Spencer has a way of leaving all the pressures and fears in the world at the door, he has a way of making you feel safe, making your house feel like home.

—

You feel like throwing up all over your blouse as you pull on your black pencil skirt. You had managed to postpone going back to work for two days by playing the sick card but Dr.Collins explained that she couldn't give you much longer than that unless you were dying. Figures. You wondered if dying internally counted. You turn on your coffee maker and make an unnecessarily large cup to take with you. Spencer had arranged to wait for you in the parking lot as to not force you to walk alone through campus and he stayed true to his words. As you pulled into your usual space you saw him leaning against the wall by the exit, his eyes scanning the lot as if scouting out danger. He gives you a small wave as you near him, holding the door open for you to exit out into the chilly courtyard, the middle of November bringing you a light dusting of snow.

"If we see him, don't make a scene, okay?" You whisper to Spencer as you walk through the barren trees outside the Science building. Spencer takes his hand and entangles his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand.

"I saw that son of a bitch just yesterday and I managed to keep my eyes down, although, if I were still with the FBI, I might have shot him." You smile weakly knowing there wasn't a single bone in Spencer's body that would bring him to actually shoot someone. You push open the doors and both of you try to hastily make your way to the classroom but just as Spencer reaches out for the handle you hear familiar heavy footsteps behind you. You feel Spencer grab your waist and push himself in front of you slightly, as if trying to block you from view. 

"Relax Dr.Reid, I'm not one of your 'unsubs'," you watch Spencer grow rigid at the mention of his profession "I was just checking to make sure Y/N was alright, Margret told me she's been ill." There's a silence as the gears in Spencer's head turn, you can tell he's trying to formulate a response that doesn't involve a coded threat. You're able to tell at this point that George Manning is fucking crazy, he's not evil, he's crazy. He thinks he's doing the right thing. Spencer explained to you that he saw that a lot in his work at the FBI, killers who believed what the were doing was right, that they were saving people or putting them out of misery. To you it made no sense but to a sick, twisted mind it just might.

"Don't speak to Y/N, Mr.Manning, ever again," Spencer presses a tight lipped, forced half smile at him "or I'll have you in the back of a cop car faster than you can say your own name." You can't tell if the look of disgust on George's face makes you want to laugh or cry but Spencer sweeps you into the classroom before you can find out. "Are you alright?" Spencer says softly, he examines your face riddled with nameless emotion. You nod and force a smile onto your face, you're not completely lying, with Spencer you feel close enough to okay that you can confidently say you're fine without feeling like you're hiding something. "You sure?"

"I'm sure Spencer, it's really okay." He smiles softly and you can tell he believes you, or at least he desperately wants to. You set up for class, setting your things down on Spencer's desk and gathering today's notes to hand out, as students begin to file in to the room, smiling at you, a few greeting you with cheery grins and for a moment you feel, strangely confidently, that if things will go back to normal.

"Sorry I'm late-" You glance up at the doorway, a mildly disheveled and visibly sleep deprived Ethan stumbled into the classroom, flashing you a shy grin.

"That's alright, Mr.Samberg, take a seat please." Spencer says, his tone of voice, although only you can tell, is slightly aggressive as if he feels threatened. You chuckle to yourself as you walk over, but then the thought dawns on you, Spencer feels threatened... you feel your cheeks flush as you realize, Spencer Reid is more than a friend.

I mean, you'd crossed the line past friendship, but it hadn't really sunk in that you were anything more until now. You stand next to him as he lectures, you observe the way his nose scrunches up when he gets excited, how his eyes light up when people ask questions, even the way he brushes his hand against your back as he walks around you. You notice  how much he loves what he does, he's in his own world when he teaches, when he shares his knowledge , and especially when people listen, which you realize he doesn't get much. In that moment you decide you have irrevocably fallen for the man next to you, and for a moment things feel entirely right.