Unsteady - Spencer Reid
welcome, lovies! i am back and i apologize for not writing this week. I have had a hectic week in school, but i am back! this is inspired by Unsteady by X Ambassadors. gif is not mine :)
word count: 1,516
Spencer Reid sat in his favorite coffee shop in the far corner away from any other patrons, almost entirely out of sight of anyone. He sat on the comfortable plush chair with one leg crossed over the other and a book in his hand. He was scanning over it quickly, absorbing the information and sipping his coffee every so often.
He sighed heavily, and shifted one foot from his knee to the other, and closed his book. Spencer was unable to focus today. He was not quite sure why, but he was feeling lonely. Lately, the feeling of wanting a warm body against his was overwhelming, and he could not shake the feeling. He wanted someone to connect with, that shares the same interests, and could satisfy him both physically and mentally. He knew he was asking for a long, but he could not help it. He knew he would not be happy if he settled for less.
He stared off at a painting on the wall, not really understanding what it was supposed to be, and judging it all the same when you rounded the corner that protected Spencer from view, surprised to see someone. “Oh!” You gasped. “I am sorry, I did not realize other people were aware there was seating back here. I am sorry.” You apologized quickly and turned back around, about to head back out to the main part of the coffee shop.
Spencer’s heart leaped into his throat. You were so beautiful! His words caught caught in his throat for a split second before he called out to you. “Wait, you can sit if you’d like.” He offered and motioned to the couch and recliner in the small space.
A blush formed on your cheeks, but you nodded after a moment’s hesitation, and sat down in the large recliner and curled your legs up under you. You set your backpack on the ground in front of you and your coffee on the side table between the recliner and couch. Spencer opened his book once more, causing you to gasp suddenly. He looked up in both alarm and confusing as you began to dig through your backpack. Spencer watched you curiously, until you pulled out the same book he was reading, except in much nicer condition.
A wide smile formed on his lips quickly and he closed the book and crossed one leg over the other. “You read Leo Tolstoy?” Spencer asked excitedly.
You smiled lightly and nodded. “You can say that. I am obsessed with his work.” You admitted and turned your copy of A Confession over in your hands again and again. “The Death of Ivan Ilyich is my favorite work of his.” You told Spencer as you tried to calm your shaking hands. Your anxiety was beginning to consume you once more, and you were so timid because of it.
“No way!” Spencer said. “That is my favorite as well. I am Spencer Reid.” He greeted with a small nod.
You blushed harder. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N).” You told him and nodded in return.
Spencer tilted his head to the side and examined your face. You were so excited only a moment ago, but now you were acting like sitting with him was a burden. “Did I say something?” Spencer asked slowly. “If you want me to leave, I do not mind.” He told you performed a pathetic attempt to hide his discouraged look.
“No,” you said quickly. “No, I do enjoy your company very much.” You admitted and shifted slightly, refusing to look at his handsome face. “I apologize for offending you so. Please, don’t leave.” You pleaded.
Spencer swallowed. You seemed so unsteady, and he could practically feel the uneasiness wafted from you. “Why are you uncomfortable?” He asked you bluntly.
Alarmed, you almost choked on your sip of coffee. “Pardon?” You asked and wiped your mouth with the sleeve of your black sweater.
“You are uncomfortable. And incredibly unsteady. You keep shifting, and talking formally when under pressure, but much more relaxed when when you, yourself, are relaxed. You keep shifting and biting the inside of your cheek, like you are doing now, which are both signs of a nervous tick.” Spencer explained quickly and folded his hands together in his lap.
The blush on your face was unimaginable. You looked at him, in awe, and smiled faintly. “I have an anxiety disorder, and I am a writer. I do not typically talk to people very often.” You admitted and the smile began to get wider. “You are a profiler.”’ You observed and tilted your head to the side. “What do you do for a living?” You asked him curiously and took your coffee the side table and held it in your hands, enjoying the warmth is provided.
Spencer smiled lightly. Of course, with the intelligence you were unable to hide, you were able to decode him as quickly as he did to you. You were so fascinating to listen to, and your voice made his chest well in a way he was unfamiliar with. “I am a behavior analyst. I observe the human behavior and profile serial killers for the Behavioral Analysis Unit for the FBI.” He told you with a small, content smirk, and looked at his hands in slight embarrassment. He was not sure why he was embarrassed, but he just felt too obviously.
You smiled. “That is amazing, actually. I am sure it takes a lot from you, both physically and mentally.” You murmured and examined his face as you tried to use the coffee cup to steady your hands.
“It does, at times.” Spencer agreed and his smile faded.
“I’m sorry.” You said quickly and frowned tightly. “I suppose there is a reason why I do not talk to people very much. I tend to be unaware as to what I say. Again, I apologize.” You apologized profusely and your hands shook worse than ever. You were so insensitive, and it embarrassed you greatly.
Spencer’s smile returned just as quick as it faded. “You apologize very often.” He told you and watched as you bit your lip lightly. There was no limit as to what he would give to see that everyday. The thought made him blush. “I do enjoy talking to you, very much.” He told you and uncrossed his legs. He opened his mouth to say more, but the ringing of his phone interrupted him. He frowned, and dug the phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. “I suppose it is my turn, now. I am very sorry, I have to take this.” Spencer said as you watched him curiously. You dug in your bag for something Spencer could not see as he answered the phone. “Hello.” He greeted stiffly. He watched as you penned something into the first page of your book and tossed the pen back into your bag. He listed to Agent Jennifer Jareau on the other line, telling him of the new case they had. “I will be there in ten minutes.” Spencer said and hung the phone up quickly.
“I suppose you have to go.” You observed and smiled lightly as you took your laptop from your bag and placed it on your lap. You held your copy of A Collection out to him with a faint smile. “Here, you take this with you. Your copy has seen better days.” You told him shyly.
Spencer knitted his eyebrows together as he stood, looking at you. “Thank you, but I cannot take it.” He told you with a small smile. “Thank you.” He said with a blush. “ I would enjoy seeing you again, though.” He added and glanced away from your face and the book you still held out.
You hummed. “If you take this book, you can.” You offered with a crooked smile.
Spencer paused for a moment and thought about what to do. Slowly, he reached forward and took the book, admiring it for another moment. “Thank you.” He said softly and smiled. He handed his copy to you in return. “It may be in bad condition, but it was enjoyed and I will enjoy this one just as much.” He explained sheepishly as you took the book.
A smile spread across your lips rapidly. “More wear and tear means more love.” You said quickly and glanced away. “Call me sometime.” You told Spencer and opened your laptop.
“I do not have your phone number.” Spencer said.
You smirked and did not look up at him. “Open the cover.” You murmured.
Spencer did as he was told and opened the cover of the book, and written in the most beautiful font was your phone number, and in seconds, the number was engraved in his memory. He nodded, and turned, and walked away with the widest smile he could manage.