Losing Control [ spencer reid x reader ] ✔

9. Indian Food and Pianos

You don't dress up much—you don't have very many fancy clothes. Between growing up somewhat poor and also not going to many fancy events under your family's roof, you never really felt the need for them.

Tonight, you want to look nice. However, your brain betrays you and tells you that you never look nice, just a symptom of the lack of serotonin and dopamine in your brain.

Which is why you're sitting on your couch at 6:55 feeling like an absolute idiot. You had decided on a navy blue dress, the neckline sweetheart, ending just above your knees. You wear a pair of nude flats—you don't want to stumble through your first official date with Spencer. For the first time in a while, you put on your old music note necklace, a gift from your grandmother. You have no idea what Spencer has planned, which is why part of you feels so stupid. What if you are overdressed? Or way underdressed? You bite the inside of your cheek, your body jolting as a sharp knock sounds. Your pulse picks up as you walk over to the door, running a hand through your hair before opening the door.

Spencer's wearing a light blue button up, a navy blazer buttoned up over it. A pair of navy dress pants matched the blazer, the look topped off by a pair of white Converse. You chuckle as you take in his appearance.

"I like the kicks," you say, motioning to his shoes.

He lifts up his pants, showing you his mismatching socks. His left sock was bright pink with dinosaurs; his right a lime green with pineapples. "My socks are the real killer though."

"Oh my god, those are amazing," you reply, a large grin spreading over your face.

"You look beautiful," he says, a small blush spreading over his cheeks.

You close the door to your apartment, standing in the hall with Spencer. "So, where are you taking me?"

"I'm taking you to one of my favorite Indian restaurants near the arts center," he says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You loop your arm through his and begin walking, pulling him with you. A small laugh leaves him and he falls in step with you. He walks you to his car, opening the door for you.

"And they say chivalry is dead," you quip, climbing inside.

He rolls his eyes and shuts your door, walking around to his side. He climbs in and starts the car, flipping the radio to some station that plays old hits. You grin as you hear the guitar chords for the beginning of Rhiannon.

"Do you know this song?" Spencer asks, eyes flicking to you quickly.

"You don't?" You ask, genuinely surprised.

"I don't listen to music much," he replies.

You begin singing along with Stevie, quietly. You don't sing much in front of people—it feels too embarrassing. A smile stretches across Spencer's face, shaking his head slightly.