nothing to say just whipped spencer❤️wish he was my boyfriend
Spencer got home from a case one morning to find a woman blocking his way up the stairs. She's clearly moving in, awkwardly carrying a box in her hands and trying to find her way without tripping. Of course he waits patiently, sipping on the coffee in his hand and checking his phone one last time- she clearly notices his presence.
"I'm so sorry! I'll be out of your way in a minute, my box is just heavy and I can't see where I'm going." It's DC, her over politeness probably means she's not from the city, he thinks. Or maybe she's just nice. Either way he shrugs.
"It's, um, okay." she cranes her head as she reaches a turn in the stares and offers a small smile to the stranger. He awkwardly smiles back. "Do you need some help?"
He finds himself asking out of obligation, but finds he has no objection to actually helping, anyway. He had the rest of the day off now, and would only find himself staring at his four walls and trying to forget the case.
"I'm okay, thanks, I'm only on this floor anyway." She replies with, sweetly. She happens to wander down to the third door on the same floor as Spencer's apartment. He hasn't noticed his old neighbour Ryleigh leave, though he supposed he hadn't been home much lately.
When she gets to the door and notices Spence bringing a key up to his own door, she gives a cheesy grin and points. "We must be neighbours."
"Yeah." He says to her statement, offering his familiar toothless smile and short wave. "I'm Spencer."
"Y/N. Just moved to the city for work." She doesn't elaborate further, but Spencer's pleased with his correct assumption about her moving to the city. Her name is pretty too, he thinks in passing. "Well if you're not busy, Spencer, I'd appreciate some help carrying my last few boxes? You'd half the time it'll take."
He imagines she's around his age, and that's why she's friendly enough to ask- he also thinks about how Derek and JJ have told him to find more friends outside of work. He nods then, excusing himself to put his bag and jacket in his apartment.
He wanders a few steps closer to her front door, knocking lightly despite it being wide open. Out of habit he flicks his eyes across the room, noticing some furnishings that must've been there before her, and boxes scattered around.
"Sorry." She smiles, appearing again. She seems to apologise a lot. "Just putting that box down."
He follows her back outside, listening to her as she talks about her drive from Connecticut and her plans to refurbish her apartment as quickly and quietly as possible- he tells her he's not home often enough to notice the noise, and their older neighbour is mostly deaf anyway.
"What do you do then?" She asks him, clearly passing him the lighter box of the two in the van. He hopes it's out of politeness rather than a comment about his clear lack of muscular physique.
"I'm an FBI agent." He says with an awkwardness, having still not found the right way to announce his job title. He momentarily wonders what kind of an impressive way Morgan says it in when he's trying to pick up girls.
"Really?" She calls back and almost immediately bites her tongue, trying not to sound so disbelieving. It doesn't shock him, so he shrugs.
"Behavioural Analysis Unit, I profile serial killers. It's, um, not always very exciting." He lies, and for some reason she lets out a short laugh. "I'll show you my badge sometime." Invitation to talk again, he feels like he's ticking off some kind of checklist. Trying to be friendly was never really his strong suit.
"When someone says FBI agent I guess I picture some big guy with muscles. D'ya think I'll run into a lot of FBI folk out here? I'm only moving so far out of the city 'cause it's cheaper."
