Spencer Reid | Oneshots

Kitten Love ☁️ (PG)

Summary: Spencer's vet begrudgingly agrees to an emergency house call. 

Rating: PG

Content Warning: None!

A/N: I just realized I never uploaded a few stories, so I'll try to do that soon!

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I'd met a lot of pet owners during my admittedly young career, but I'd never met one as overbearing as Dr. Spencer Reid. It'd only been a matter of months since he'd first gotten a pet. I knew that because he had been sure to tell me every detail about their life together.

Because of that, I'd quickly learned that he wasn't joking when he'd said that he had an eidetic memory. He also hadn't been exaggerating when he'd warned me that he tended to overthink things. Within a month, I had received at least 30 phone calls... outside of office hours. I'd like to pretend like he was just trying to find an excuse to talk to me, but those conversations never went further than the cat.

If it had been anyone else, I would've blocked his number. But the incessant calls were alright, because I'd also never met a pet owner so infuriatingly beautiful as Dr. Spencer Reid.

That was how it happened — with puppy dog eyes and a frustratingly adorable pout. That was how I found myself laying on my stomach on the ground of a strange man's apartment, staring at a very angry cat.

The room was filled to the brim with tension of varying degree and kind. Because right beside me, close enough that I could almost hear his anxious heart pounding against the hardwood, was Spencer. His arm was pressed against mine like there hadn't been an expanse of space he could have occupied instead.

I'd wanted to pretend like he wanted to be near me, but the truth was that he was so caught up in his frustrated friend that he barely even noticed when I turned to him. Eventually, though, he dropped his head between crossed arms in front of him and he sighed. Then, he turned to me with so much desperation that I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from laughing.

"What?" he asked when he saw the words forming on my tongue.

"Well, I think you might be right, Dr. Reid," I announced with a deathly seriousness, "That cat is thoroughly upset with you."

"I knew it," he muttered like a curse. "I feel terrible, and I don't know how to fix it."

"What did you do to the poor thing? Step on her tail?"

I'd only been joking, but I watched as a horror fell over his face. Just a flash of dread before he cleared his throat and answered, "Uh... Yeah. Yeah, that's what I did. I uh... stepped on her tail."

A lie. Probably the first he'd ever told me. It didn't actually matter all that much — cats were resilient creatures — but his secrecy and shame piqued my interest. And it just wasn't fair to ask me not to tease him when he'd done so much to make me miserable.

"I can't help you if you aren't honest with me," I scolded.

Just enough of a reprimand to guilt him. But it seemed I'd misjudged just how embarrassing the truth was, because Spencer only answered me with a whine.

"You're going to laugh at me," he mumbled.

"Yes, I definitely am. Tell me anyway."

I was torn between my own crushing guilt for having made him sad and the undying urge to make it worse. It was too tempting, too delicious to imagine him with his bottom lip stuck out, parting only to release a soft sigh of defeat.