Spencer Reid One Shots

Poker Face

You parked your car as close to Rossi’s front door as you could and exited, getting ready to collect your boyfriend of ten months from his boys night in. He’d text you thirty minutes ago, a text that you’d struggled to decipher but had decided it meant you needed to collect him.

“Hey Y/N, come on in. We’re all in the kitchen,” Derek Morgan answered the front door, a wide grin on his face. You followed behind him into the brightly lit kitchen. Spencer was sat at the table, an empty tumbler in front of him. His eyes lit up when he saw you, a huge goofy grin spreading over his face. He bounded over to you, nearly kicking his chair over in the process and threw his arms around you.

“Y/N! Look everybody, it’s Y/N,” he proceeded to sloppily kiss your cheek, his hands running up and down your sides.  Gently you stopped his roaming hands and pulled away.

“Alrighty, someone’s a little drunk.”

“A little…..” Alvez scoffed in the corner, taking a sip of his beer.

“I’m not drunk!” Spencer tried to kiss you again, hiccupping into your face and giving you a beautiful second hand whiff of whiskey.

“Derek,” you turned to his best friend. “Why is he wasted and you guys aren’t?”

Morgan shrugged his shoulders, not prepared to take any responsibility for this at all. It was Rossi who turned from his spot at his coffee maker.

“I believe the theory was that if he was drunk, he couldn’t keep kicking their butts at poker,” he took a long sip of his coffee.

“You guys played poker against Spencer?”

Derek nodded as you put your hand on Spencer’s chest, trying to push him back slightly. He was currently trying to nibble on your neck, seemingly forgetting he had an audience.

“Luke didn’t believe that he was as good a player as he claimed to be.”

Luke had a rather sheepish look on his face.

“Aaaand,” you probed, looking pointedly at Alvez.

“Alright so I was wrong. Even after six whiskies he kicked my ass.”

“Dude, I told you there was a reason he’s band from pretty much every casino in Vegas,” Morgan laughed.

You turned to your boyfriend who was still grinning from ear to ear.

“Wanna see my winnings?” he asked you, not waiting for your answer. He thrust his hands into his pockets and came out with a huge bundle of cash, a Rolex watch which you recognised to be Rossi’s, an extremely expensive sports watch that you presumed was Luke’s and a folded piece of paper.

“That’s an IOU for two weeks at my beach house down in Florida,” the teams newest recruit Walker spoke up.

You took the wad of cash and flicked through it. There was close to a thousand dollars there you estimated.

“Well, guess I’ll be buying myself a new outfit tomorrow then,” you grinned before taking the two watches and handing them back to their owners, ignoring the protests from Spencer. You halved the cash as well and set it back on the table.

“The IOU, we’re keeping if that’s cool. You have a beach house?”

“Keep it Y/N, the Kid deserves it. I swear he’d have had the shirt of my back if he could have,” Stephen replied.

“But…. but, that’s my winnings!”

“Sssshhh baby. You know it’s not fair to play against these guys.”

“Yeah but…. ” Spencer pouted, his bottom lip sticking so far out you wanted to laugh.

“No, yeah buts. Now let’s go home," you pushed him gently in the direction of the door.

"Next time boys, tequila is the way to go. Whisky has very little affect on his poker skills for some reason. After three tequila shots though, even I’ve beat him.”

You neglected to tell them that you’d been playing strip poker at the time and he’d been distracted by other things…

The whole ride home was spent pushing Spencer’s hand off your thigh. He’d start of sweetly stroking your leg and then would inch higher and higher up. Normally you wouldn’t mind but you hated driving so late at night and Rossi lived a little way out of town so you needed to concentrate.

“Wait until we’re home!” you lightly smacked his hand away, trying to stifle a giggle.

“But…. I don’t wanna… You’re so pretty and your skin is so lovely and I just wanna…. Let’s pull over! Let’s do that thing we both like in the car.”

There were lots of things you both liked, none of which were happening in the this car.

“I don’t really fancy being arrested for indecent exposure, so nah. Have patience,” you told him, knowing exactly what would happen as soon as you got home.

“But I’m an FBI Agent. I know alllll the cops. They won’t arrest me.”

Not true, they would. And then Emily would have to pull some strings whilst teasing you both incessantly.

“Spencer chill out. We’ll be home in ten minutes and the you can do whatever you want to me.”

“Okay… Okay good. Cos I wanna do sooo many things to you,” he started to list the numerous sexual things he was promising to do to you and you just nodded along. If he was sober you’d find it sexy, but he was wasted so it just ended up being amusingly cute. When you finally reached your apartment you parked up and waited for him to stagger out of the car. He wobbled only slightly, tripping up a few times on the way up the three flights of stairs to your home.

His hands made their way around your waist again as you unlocked the door, his lips attacking your neck. Which again would have been sexy except the alcohol was making him drool slightly and his lips were a lot wetter than normal.

“Come on baby, let’s get you to bed,” you kicked the door shut behind you and led him to your bedroom. You pushed him down onto your bed, laughing as he pulled you on the top of him, his hands searching for the hem of your vest.

“Can we do those things now?” he asked excitedly.

“Sure baby, let me just slip into the bathroom first okay. Why don’t you take your clothes off and get ready and I’ll be right back.”

You clambered off him and made your way to your bathroom, wincing as you heard the thud of his converse hitting your floor as he tugged them off. You brushed your teeth and changed into your fluffy warm pajamas then stopped by the kitchen, grabbing two bottles of water and a can of coke.

When you re entered your bedroom Spencer was passed out on his back, loud snores leaving his throat. He’d managed to strip down to his boxers and climb under the covers himself. Chuckling to yourself you placed one of the waters and the coke on the bedside cabinet next to him and climbed in the other side, searching your drawer for your ear plugs.

That boy could not handle his drink.

But no doubt he’d make up for it in the morning.