Spencer Reid: Oneshots

Enthralled

Summary: Reader's coworker often teases them about their slight crush on the regular customer with the odd socks and nice hair until one closing shift.

How could a person just look like the human embodiment of all things wonderful in this world?

Eyes as bright as the sun, hair that was a light brown like milk chocolate, a soft smile that was sweeter than any honey could ever be.

That was him, the guy who had been coming into the bakery you worked at nearly everyday for months now. You didn't actually know his name or anything, but you couldn't stop watching him. How he so delicately cleaned off each utensil before using them, enjoyed each bite of food before having more, put way too much sugar in his coffee, everything became apparent to you as you studied him throughout those mornings.

To put it lightly, you were completely and utterly enthralled by a man whose name you didn't even know.

"Hellooooo? Earth to Y/N!" Your coworker, Liz, snapped in your face.

"Hm?" You stumbled slightly, regaining your balance as you slammed your arms on the counter, a few heads turning.

"Please don't tell me you're oogling sock man again."

"Sock man? I-I have no idea who—what you're talking about."

"Definitely not the guy who you coincidentally seem to be working at the side of the counter nearest his table at every time he comes in."

You cleared your throat. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Liz rolled her eyes, chucking a towel at you. "Just clean out the machine and make some muffins or something."

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am!"

Except it was incredibly difficult to measure out flour when your eyes kept floating to the man in the corner.

"Y/N!"

"Huh—Oh my god!" The man looked up at your cry, flour covering you and the flour. The slight smile on his face immediately made your cheeks flush.

Liz hit the back of your head lightly with a towel. "Clean this and yourself and quit staring at him!"

"Shhh!"

"Go," Liz grumbled, nudging you towards the doors to the back. "Heh, sorry about her, folks! No sleep, ya know?"

You sighed, stuck in the bakery alone for the closing shift. Normally that went to the newbies, but Liz was punishing you for being a dunce a few days ago. You were seconds away from cleaning up and just waiting out until closing when the door opened. "Hi, welcome—" You froze. It's him,

"Hi," he said, giving you a small wave as he walked in.

"Hi...uh I mean what can I do you for—do for you?!"

He chuckled softly. "Uh do you guys do tea?"

"Various kinds."

"This is gonna sound so weird, but do you have one that calms nerves and stuff? I haven't been—"

"Sleeping well?" You interjected.

"Yeah...how did you know?"

"Your tie is backwards, and your shirt is buttoned unevenly."

The boy turned red, quickly buttoning up his cardigan to cover it. "But uh yeah..."

"I find matcha works for me..."

"Then I'll get that."

You nodded, rushing to the back and panicking internally. "Okay, Y/N...just say words. Easy peasy." You cleared your throat. "Here's your matcha! No, way too perky. Here's your matcha. Stone cold." You flopped your head on the counter, the machine running.

Unbeknownst to you, Spencer was smiling to himself while overhearing you not-so-internal monologue.

"Sorry about the wait, here's your matcha," you said, smiling. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Thank you, I don't think I've ever had any."

"Oh, it's super good."

"I mean matcha can be traced back to the Tang Dynasty back in the 7th to 10th centuries AD, so it's gotta be good enough to be so popular for so long."

"God, aren't you just full of facts."

"Oh, I'm sorry. If they bother you—"

"When did I say that?" You asked, laughing. "Keep going."

"Well, it was actually the following Song Dynasty that popularized the tea making style."

"I always thought it was Japanese." You wiped down the counter.

"The Japanese are often attributed to perfecting it and popularizing it further."

"Well, you learn something new everyday, huh?"

I just learned that I can talk to pretty girls. "I guess so."

"So do you like it, Google?"

"Google?"

"That's your new name because you seem to know all."

Spencer laughed. "I do like it."

"The matcha or the name?" You tilted your head.

"Both."

"And uh I'd recommend you drink this for caffeine over that black coffee or whatever, it'll be way better for your headaches."

"Thanks..."

You took the cup, rinsing it off. "No problemo."

Spencer stood up, getting his jacket. "Thanks again, that was nice."

"I've been known to make pretty good matcha."

"The matcha and talking to you."

I'm gonna self destruct. "You too..." Spencer headed to the door. "Wait! Google!"

He turned around. "Hm?"

"You don't have a girlfriend, do you?"

His cheeks went red. "No..."

"Great, meet here at 7 tomorrow?"

Spencer blinked a few times. She's bold. "I'll see you at 7."

"Bye, Google!"

"Oh uh, my name is Spencer...by the way. Despite all of your staring, I don't think you ever learned it."

You were beet red. "I—"

"Night, Y/N."

"Holy shit."

"Y/N," Liz whispered, elbowing you.

"What?"

"Your favorite customer is here." She motioned to Spencer in the corner.

You hadn't exactly told Liz about the date...or the one that followed it. "Yup..."

"If you can actually go over and say more than 3 words to him, I'll take the closing shifts for the week."

You smirked. "Alright." You adjusted your apron and walked over, placing down the cup of tea. "Hey."

"Hi." Spencer closed his book.

"Don't panic."

"Panic? Why would I—"

You used his shirt to pull him closer to you, connecting your lips. Spencer's wide eyes closed gently as he melted into your touch. "We're still on for dinner, right?"

"Definitely," he breathed.

"Sweet, see you later." You skipped back to the counter, Liz looking at you with her jaw on the floor. "And that, my dear, is how it is done."