Spencer Reid | Oneshots

Sunscreen & Statistics 🔥 (E)

Summary: Reader asks for Spencer's help putting on sunscreen (and washing it off after).

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Content Warning: Spencer POV, so much sexual tension, mutual pining, heavy petting, fingering, rough sex, unprotected penetrative sex, coworker relationship, so many statistics (showers, skin cancer, sunscreen, sex), schizophrenia mention, Reader wears a bikini

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It was a beautiful day—the kind that artists had attempted to capture through many mediums. The summer sun was relentless, stretching its rays across every inch of the region. Even the shade hardly seemed spared, with bits of bright light slipping between green rustling leaves.

This seemingly idyllic set of circumstances offered the BAU a wonderful excuse to stay behind on the sunnier coast. Everyone was quick to buy new bathing suits and Rossi had already begrudgingly extended an invitation for everyone to stay at his favorite luxury hotel (on his dime, of course, or none of us would've made it).

The celebrations were already in full swing, and everyone was blissfully happy. It was, after all, the perfect day to hang out by the pool. So, they did. Each and every one...

Except for me. I stayed inside.

I wasn't trying to ruin the fun. I had my reasons. Some were more reasonable than others.

Others were scary and slightly embarrassing. They wore a smile so bright it would rival the sun and managed to make me turn red even quicker than the star could. The kind of reason that turned me to nothing but a blubbering mess of a man.

I should've known better than to try to avoid her, though. Because that reason, that very important and tempting enchantress of a reason, always seemed to find me at the most inopportune time.

"Are you still hiding in here?"

I nearly jumped through my skin at the sound.

"No!"

I turned to find her staring back with an entertained, albeit disbelieving stare.

"Sort of. Maybe," I felt compelled to continue.

When she still didn't believe me—for obvious reasons—I finally conceded, "Yes."

To my joy and eternal shame, she laughed like it had been an intentional joke.

"Well, I got banished back inside because I forgot sunscreen, so I'm trying to figure out where JJ left her bag," she sighed.

Thankfully, that had been something I could help with. Despite everyone's enthusiasm when they'd tossed the bags into the center of the suite lobby, I had managed to determine who owned which brightly colored pattern.

From my seat in the center, I reached over to pull JJ's bag from the fray.

As soon as (y/n) spotted the motion, she was quick to exclaim, "My hero!"

Immediately, I felt the blood rush to my face.

I suppose there were worse places it could have gone.

"How did you forget sunscreen?" I asked.

"I hate the way it feels, so I almost never wear it unless forced," she shrugged. Then, she turned to me, pointing the bottle like a weapon as she explained, "Plus, it always feels like they're trying to trick me with all the numbers. I don't know what SPF is. They could just be lying to me."

"Well, the good news is that even a weak sunscreen is helpful," I tried to reassure her. "Regular daily use of at least 15 SPF can reduce your risk of squamous cell carcinoma and melanoma by up to 50%."