The Beauty in the Library

A/N: A request from @1-insert-name-here-1 for a fic where Spencer asks out the reader by using a specific line, and then cute fluff happens. I haven’t done both reader and Spencer being super awkward in a while, so that’s what needed to happen. lol. @coveofmemories @sexualemobitch @jamiemelyn


You were…awkward - to say the least. Honestly, it was a wonder you managed to do your job as a librarian with your awkward mannerisms. The upside of your position was that you mostly worked with children; it was much easier to be yourself around them than adults. On the off chance you got an adult reader in the library, you’d hand off checking them out to the nice old lady you worked with or you’d avoid eye contact and give them a mousy, quiet goodbye as they headed out the door. 

For the most part, you didn’t have consistent patrons - with the exception of a couple of local teachers, some elderly people, and one man. Through overhearing phone calls, you surmised he worked for the government, but on the rare occasions he’d sit in the library, you noticed the speed with which he read. It was fascinating; he could literally devour two or three lengthy books in a couple of hours. As a reader yourself, it made you like him more.

Once, he’d come in with a man as tall as him, rippling the muscles and shining a brilliant smile. That man, Morgan you believed, had called him Reid, which could’ve been a first or last name, but either way it suited him. Since you were super awkward, you hadn’t had many romantic relationships, or even casual sexual encounters - you were just so awkward it was rare that people paid attention to you. And honestly you were content to sit on the sidelines of romance until someone really struck your fancy.

He had.

At least physically even if you didn’t know him otherwise.

Reid was tall and carried some slight muscle. His jaw was soft yet angular and his smile sent butterflies through your stomach. Whenever you did manage to catch his gaze, his eyes shone, even under the dimmed lights of the library, and much to your joy, his voice was soft - at least he had what you called library voice. You had to confess you’d imagined him reading to you with that voice on more than one occasion.

Today was a day like any other day. Signing for packages, taking phone calls about how many cents someone owed on a late fee, and checking out the occasional DVD were the norm for you, so it took you by surprise when the lanky, geeky man known as Reid came in one Saturday morning. 

As he always did, he walked into the classics section, picking up books he’d read countless times before and sat at the table he frequented. There was no one else here for a few hours, so if he needed to check something out you would need to take care of him. 

Nearly two hours later, he stood up from his table and tucked a strand of long, light brown hair behind his ear before heading over toward you. “Hi,” he said softly, placing a book on the counter. It was a copy of War and Peace that someone had donated years back. It was in Russian, but you’d found the cover so interesting you’d put it on the shelves despite it not being in English.

“You can read Russian?” you asked impressively, trying so hard to hide the blush forming on your face.

He gently nodded his head. You opened the book and checked it out, sliding it back to him. You noticed the name on the card inside. It was Spencer Reid. So that was his first name. “I hope you enjoy your War and Peace in Russian, Spencer Reid.”

“I will,” he smiled, turning away before stopping in his tracks. “I have no idea how to go about things like this, but do you happen to be in a romantic or sexual relationship at the moment?”

Taken aback, your mouth dropped open. “No, I’m not. Would you like to know my name first?” He was as awkward as you. Thank god. You extended your hand and introduced yourself. “I’m not going to lie, I’ve been hoping you’d ask me out for a while now. Maybe we could go grab a bite to eat in a couple hours when I get out?”

The fiercest rosiness spread across his cheeks as his lips scrunched up into an embarrassed smile. “I’d like that,” he said. “I’ll see you in a couple hours then?”

You nodded and watched as he walked out the door with his book in hand. Once you were sure he’d stepped out you did a little dance in front of the computer. The next two hours needed to go by quickly. It was barely a half hour later that Spencer returned with a paper bag in hand. “When I left I realized I didn’t want to wait, and I know you don’t have many people in on a Saturday.” He placed the bag on the counter and opened it, passing you a bowl of creamy soup from the diner down the street, as well as a bottle of Snapple ice tea - the kind you liked. After noticing the look on your face, he explained himself. “I’m in here a lot and I know you like the diner, so I figured I’d grab some food and we could get to know each other now.”

“That sounds great to me,” you said, forming your hands around the styrofoam bowl and taking in its warmth. “Can I ask how fast you can read? I can’t help but notice how many books you devour when you’re in here?”

“I can read 20,000 words per minute,” he said. That little fact nearly caused your eyes to pop out of your head. He went on to tell you about his eidetic memory, his IQ, his job with the FBI (so you had been right about a government job) and all of the killers he’d helped to track down.

During your entire back and forth about his job, you only needed to check out a DVD for an older man before returning your attention to Spencer. “Well I have to confess my job isn’t anywhere near as interesting, but I love books, so I’m comfortable here.”

“You remind me of my favorite Disney princess,” he smiled. “The beauty in the library.”

“Belle?” You blushed.

Spencer nodded, a nervous laugh choking out of him before you broke the silence again. “I get that a lot, not the beauty part, but the Belle part, and she’s definitely in my top three. They tend to change depending on the day. So I’ll take that. I love reading, being read to - it’s just soothing. I’m rambling. Sorry.” 

“What’s your favorite book?” he asked. “Do you have it here?” 

“That’s like asking a parent to pick a favorite child!” you exclaimed, clapping your hands over your mouth when you realized how loud you were. Spencer laughed and said to name a few. “Again, it changes depending on the day, but I love Lord of the Rings, One Thousand and One Nights, A Bend in the River, anything by Arthur Conan Doyle, Tess of the D’Urbervilles…” You rambled on and on, watching his smile grow wider and wider. 

You continued to recount the myriad of books you loved as Spencer ran up the stairs and returned with a book - Tess of the D’Urbervilles. There was a special place in your heart for that one considering you’d done your undergraduate thesis on it. “You said you like being read to?” he questioned.

When you nodded, he smiled and opened the book to the first page, the soft, library voice emanating from his perfect pink lips. You got lost in the feathery lightness as he started to speak. 

On an evening in the latter part of May a middle-aged man was walking homeward from Shaston to the village of Marlott, in the adjoining Vale of Blakemore or Blackmoor. The pair of legs that carried him were rickety, and there was a bias in his gait which inclined him somewhat to the left of a straight line.