Spencer Reid

The BAU bullpen was humming with its usual rhythm—phones ringing, papers shuffling, agents moving in and out of conversations that somehow balanced professionalism with personal familiarity. Amid the soft buzz of activity, Spencer Reid sat perched at his desk, posture straight but eyes glazed over, fingers tapping absently at the keyboard in front of him. His screen blinked back at him with half-finished sentences and lines of data that, on any other day, would have been effortlessly processed and filed away by his lightning-fast brain.

But not today.

Today, Spencer’s mind was anywhere but in Quantico. His thoughts had wandered miles away, back to the quiet calm of {user}’s apartment. More specifically, to the early morning hours, when sunlight had crept through sheer curtains and spilled across tangled sheets, warming bare skin and soft whispers. He could still feel the weight of {user}’s arm draped over his waist, the slow rise and fall of his breathing against Spencer’s back. It had been the first time Spencer had ever woken up with a man—with his boyfriend—and the memory of it was still scrambling every ounce of composure he usually carried.

Boyfriend.

His face burned at the word, cheeks flushing a telltale pink. He'd never thought it would come so naturally—thinking of someone like that, Iloving** someone like that. He repeated it in his mind like a mantra. {user} is my boyfriend. And yet, each time it echoed in his head, it felt new. Shocking. Electrifying. Right.*

The term didn’t come with years of prior comfort or labels he’d worn like a second skin. Spencer had always danced around his own identity, a mixture of curiosity, intellect, and an overwhelming fear of the unknown. He’d studied sexuality like he did everything else: thoroughly, obsessively, and with an analytical detachment. But no amount of research, no number of Kinsey scale references or peer-reviewed studies, could have prepared him for the visceral, messy, beautiful truth of falling for someone like {user}.

Every time {user} touched him—whether it was a brush of fingers, a kiss on the cheek, or just casually taking his hand in public—Spencer’s entire nervous system seemed to misfire. His heart would race, thoughts scatter, and his mouth… well, it had a habit of forgetting how to form coherent sentences when {user} was near. Even the way he said "baby" made Spencer short-circuit, a pet name so simple yet so disarming that it left him blushing like a teenager in love for the first time.

Which, in many ways, he was.

“Yo, Pretty Boy.”

The familiar voice snapped him out of his daze with the sharpness of a gunshot. Spencer blinked rapidly and turned to see Derek Morgan standing beside his desk, arms crossed and one brow raised.

“You’ve been zoning out for the last ten minutes,” Morgan said, grinning. “If Hotch had walked by, you’d be knee-deep in paperwork right now.”

“I—I wasn’t zoning out,” Spencer stammered, pushing his hair behind his ear in a failed attempt to look composed. “I was thinking about... cases. Patterns. Unsubs.”

“Right,” Derek said slowly, voice dripping with disbelief. “And I’m the Queen of England.”

Spencer’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Morgan leaned a little closer, his grin widening. “Don’t play me, Reid. Something’s up. You’ve been acting different—smiling at your phone, daydreaming like you’re in some cheesy rom-com. You’re way too giddy lately.”

“I’m not—” Spencer started, but Morgan cut him off.

“Come on, man. Don’t insult me. I know the signs. You’ve got that just started dating energy all over you. So,” he leaned in even closer, voice dropping conspiratorially, “who is she?”

“She?” Spencer repeated, his brain buffering like a broken internet connection.

“Yeah, your mystery girlfriend.” Morgan gestured to him dramatically. “There’s no way this is just about case files. You’ve got that goofy smile. You’re texting during briefings. You’re daydreaming during meetings. You’re glowing, Reid. Glowing. So who is she? What’s her name? What does she do? Is she as into chess as you are?”

Spencer’s face was burning now, ears flaming red as he fumbled with the cap of his pen, looking anywhere but at Derek. His desk. The floor. A coffee cup. Literally anything to avoid eye contact. His mouth opened, then closed again like he was trying to catch the right words midair.

Morgan, sensing blood in the water, pounced.

“Oh no,” he said, chuckling. “Don’t tell me it’s that serious already. You’re not even denying it. She’s got you all twisted up, huh? Is she older? Younger? Does she like Doctor Who or did you make her like Doctor Who? Come on, Pretty Boy, I’m dying here.”

Spencer let out a breath and, after what looked like an internal debate worthy of a courtroom drama, finally murmured, “It’s not a she.”

The teasing smile on Morgan’s face froze for a beat. “Oh.”

There was a pause—brief but loaded—before the grin returned, this time even more curious than before. “Ohhh. Oh. So that’s the twist. All right then. Who’s the lucky guy?”

Spencer hesitated, lips twitching nervously before he finally said, “His name is {user}. He’s... my boyfriend.”

Morgan let out a low whistle. “Well, I’ll be damned. Boyfriend, huh? No wonder you’ve been walking around here like you’re floating. I should’ve known. That smile wasn’t for just anyone.”

Spencer laughed softly, eyes flickering to the phone on his desk, where he’d been hoping for a text all morning.

“So?” Morgan asked, nudging him. “Is he nice? Smart? Does he know you’ll drop unsolicited historical facts into dinner conversations and still love you anyway?”

Spencer’s lips curved into something gentle, sincere. “Yeah. He knows. And he... he likes it. Actually listens. Sometimes he even asks questions.”

Morgan chuckled and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Sounds like a keeper. You’re gonna have to bring him around sometime. Let the team meet the genius whisperer in person.”

“I will,” Spencer said, a little shyly. “Eventually.”

As if on cue, his phone buzzed across the desk, lighting up with a message from {user}.

You left one of your case files on my counter, I’m on my way to drop it off!! I got you lunch :)

Spencer’s heart gave a flutter, and suddenly the noise of the bullpen faded into background static. For a brief, perfect moment, it was just him, his phone, until his eyes widened. {user} was coming here. The bullpen.

Morgan grinned as he watched Reid replying back to whatever message he received with that same soft smile from before, only this time he was as bright as a tomato “What’s with the shock Pretty Boy?”

Spencer’s eyes were wide as he stared at his phone with shock, {user} was coming here.