Infiltration - Spencer Reid x Reader

Chapter Twenty-One

You opened the bedroom door to find Spencer sifting through a pile of books with a neatly folded blanket on the floor beside him.

You spoke up softly. "What are you looking for?"

Spencer looked over his shoulder at you, momentarily distracted from his mission. "I'm not sure. Something to read for a little while before going to sleep."

You walked over to where Spencer was crouched, and he handed you the blanket before going back to scanning the novels. You graciously took it and wrapped it around your shoulders like a cape, cold after the change in temperature from the hot shower. You traipsed to the other end of the room, peering into Spencer's bookshelves to see if you could spot a familiar spine.

"Hmmmm...." You began thinking out loud, not completely aware that you were. "Arthur Conan Doyle...Steinbeck... Dickens... Chaucer!" You slid your hand into the tightly packed shelves, freeing the leather bound book from its neighbors. You giggled as you opened the book, flipping through the worn pages. "She always makes me laugh..." you trailed off. You began reciting the opening lines....

"Experience, though no authority

Were in this world, were good enough for me,

To speak of woe that is in all marriage;

For, masters, since I was twelve years of age,

Thanks be to God who is forever alive,

Of husbands at church door have I had five;

For men so many times have married me;

And all were worthy men in their degree."

"I haven't read The Wife of Bath's Prologue in years..." Spencer began. "My mom loves the Canterbury Tales. She used to teach 15th century literature..." Spencer seemed to be lost in thought as he stared at the book in your hands.

"Really? Then I bet we would get along great; I fell in love with the Canterbury Tales when I was a freshman in college." You spoke gently, aware that something had struck a cord with Spencer.

"Is...is your mom...?"

"She's alive. She lives in Las Vegas at the Bennington Sanitarium." Spencer answered briskly, seeming to try and brush off the subject without any further conversation or thought.

"Oh. I bet she is brilliant."

"She is..." You saw more emotion cross Spencer's features and decided to let the topic rest.

"Do you have any Romantics?" You gingerly changed the subject, careful to not upset Spencer. You could talk about this another time; you both needed rest tonight.

"Mmm... I may have a few. Who were you thinking of?"

"Keats...Wordsworth...Coleridge..." You conjured up fragments of their poetry in your head, thinking of your favorite lines.

"The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith" You spoke aloud, thinking of the lines in the context of the grief that had seemed to overcome Spencer when he talked about his mom. You loved Wordsworth. You loved the loneliness, the way he endured the knowledge that he was different.

"That's from... Tintern Abbey, right?" Spencer asked.

You didn't answer immediately, reveling in the emotions that could be brought up by just a few lines of poetry.

"(Y/N)?" Spencer prodded.

"Yes... It's one of my favorites by Wordsworth. I love the Lucy poems too." Spencer nodded his head, gazing at you with something deep held in his eyes.