A Very Strange Night

You had Spencer had been dating for a couple weeks when he called and invited you over for dinner. You knew that he didn't often invite people into his space, let alone try to romance them with a home cooked meal, so you were excited to say the least. It felt like things were starting to move forward from just talking to actually dating.

When you pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building, you started to get nervous. You really liked him, even though you'd only known him a short time. But what if he was messy? What if he cooked you something disgusting and you had to sit there and eat it? Or, worst possible case scenario, what if he was a murderer trying to lure you into his apartment? You wouldn't normally go into the home of someone you didn't know all that well, but the fact that he was an FBI agent made you feel safe. I mean, what are odds that an FBI agent was a murderer? That thought comforted you until you realized that you had never actually seen the badge and he could just be making the whole thing up. It didn't matter anymore though, as you were already knocking on his door; your fate had been sealed. He opened the door and gave you a shy smile that said he was just as nervous as you were.

"Hey!" You said, trying to seem calm, cool, and collected.

"Hi." He responded as the two of you sat in the awkward silence that followed.

"Are you going to invite me in? Or are we just going to stand in the doorway for the rest of night?" You chuckled, trying to make the situation a little less uncomfortable.

"Oh! R-right sorry," He sputtered as he fumbled to open the door a little wider, "Please come in."

You entered the apartment and he closed the door behind you before leaning in to give you a quick kiss. The two of you had shared much more passionate kisses in your short time together; it was obvious that you were both nervous to scare the other away. As soon as he pulled away, you heard something sizzling from the kitchen.

"I should probably go check on that," He said as he made a bee line for what you assumed was his kitchen, "Make yourself at home."

You stood still for a minute before wandering into his living room. His apartment was small, but cozy, the kind of place that made you feel warm and fuzzy and like you were at home. You thought that you could see yourself coming over here more often. You looked around at the bookshelves full of titles you'd never heard of, some of them in languages you didn't speak. You looked at little tchotchkes you presumed he picked up on his travels for work, and you saw photos of him with people you assumed were his friends, and a couple with a woman who you assumed was his mother. Your snooping was interrupted by the feeling of a hand on the small of your back.

"Dinner's ready, if you want to go eat?" Spencer asked you shyly.

"Yeah, I'd love to." You responded.

Spencer had set the table and already dished out the food, some sort of pasta dish that smelled amazing. He had even ordained the table with a bouquet of flowers, clearly trying to garner up some romance.

As the two of you ate, you both started to feel less awkward and nervous. You told him about the latest office drama and he told you about his latest case, sparing you the gory details of course. As the two of you began to feel more comfortable in each other's presence, things started to go a little deeper. You talked about your childhoods and what college was like, you even told him about that time that you got so drunk on Halloween that you threw up all over yourself in front of your crush.

After dinner was over, Spencer asked if you wanted to stay a while longer and watch a movie. So, the two of you sat on the couch, not totally watching the movie and things started to heat up pretty quickly. He got up from the couch, telling you he had to run to the bathroom for a second. As he closed the bathroom door, you heard someone knock on the door to his apartment. You waited a minute, thinking that it was probably the apartment next door, but sure enough, another knock rang out and it was definitely someone looking for Spencer. You stood up from the couch and crept halfway down the hallway towards the bathroom.

"Spence," You shouted, not wanting to interrupt whatever he was doing in there to psych himself up, "I think someone's at your door."

"It's probably just Mrs. Booker from downstairs, you can open it." He shouted back.

You had heard stories of Mrs. Booker, the little old lady who lived underneath Spencer. She routinely brought him baked goods because she thought he was too skinny. You whipped open the door to Spencer's apartment, excited at the prospect of a delicious treat, but instead you were met by a very tall, stern looking man with dark hair.

"Spenc-" He started, "Oh-oh I'm sorry. I must have the wrong apartment," The man said as he glanced at the number on the door, "Is this Spencer Reid's apartment?"

"Uh yeah." You sputtered, unsure of what to say. You turned to face the bathroom and yelled, "Hey Spence! Someone's here for you and it's not Mrs. Booker!"

Spencer scrambled down the hallway, shirtless and confused by who could possibly be at his door.

"H-Hotch! I'm sorry, can you just give me one minute please." He panicked as he slammed the door. He raced down the hallway to his bedroom and began to fumble through his dresser drawers looking for a shirt.

"Who is that? Why are you freaking out?" You questioned.

"My boss. I'm freaking out because my boss just saw me half naked." He spoke even toned, but even that couldn't hide the panic exuding from him.

He raced back down the hallway, leaving you standing alone in his bedroom. You skulked halfway back down towards the door, not wanting to eavesdrop, but not wanting to stay in his bedroom, such a personal space.

Spencer started, "Hotch, I'm sorry, I had no idea you were coming, and-" He was cut off.

"Reid, really, it's okay. I don't usually make a habit of showing up at my co-workers' houses unannounced, but I got called in at the last minute to consult on a case and I can't find anyone to watch Jack. I was hoping you might be able to keep an eye on him for a few hours."

"Uh," Spencer started to speak as he peered back at you, "Um, I guess I could do that? But I do have company, I don't know how you feel about Jack being around strangers like that."

"Well, you could introduce me to her." Hotch smirked.

You headed towards the door and waited for Spencer to introduce you. "Uh Hotch, this is Y/N, my, uh my- this Y/N." He stuttered, not yet knowing what you are to him or how to introduce you.

"I'm Aaron," The man said, reaching out to shake your hand, "And this is my son, Jack." The small blonde boy sheepishly waved at you as Spencer welcomed him into the apartment. Hotch thanked the both of you and apologized for ruining your evening before heading out. Once Spencer got Jack squared away in front of the TV, you moved to put your shoes on.

"Well, I guess I should head out then, huh?" You chuckled, but it wasn't enough to mask your disappointment.

Spencer met you at your place by the door, peered over his shoulder, and when he noticed that Jack was too preoccupied by TV to pay any attention to the two of you, he put his hands on your waist, pulling you close.

"I mean, you don't have to go," He stated, "Hotch will only be gone a couple hours and we can pick up right where we left off?" He said it more like a question.

"Are you sure? I really don't want to make anything weird."

"Oh I'm positive. I'm never going to hear the end of this at work so I might as well get to enjoy the rest of my night." The more he spoke, the closer he got to your face, his lips just millimeters from yours. Finally, he closed the gap, giving you more than enough reason to stay.

As you made your way back into the living room, you and Spencer laughed a little, as if the night couldn't have been more awkward. But hey, at least you know for sure that he's not a serial killer, right?