Full of Surprises
A/N: An anon request for a Spencer x Reader where he braids the reader’s hair. Super fluffy and comforting. Enjoy! @coveofmemories
“I just hate him! I fucking hate him!” you screamed as you walked into the apartment. Your boss was without a doubt the worst human being on the planet. He’d just cut hours at the firm because he didn’t feel like paying health insurance anymore - at 38 hours instead of 40, he could legally do that. “I want him dead,” you said emphatically, pointing your finger in Spencer’s direction.
“What did he do this time?” he asked, putting his glass back down on the kitchen counter.
As you walked over to the couch he followed you, watching as you fell into it. “He cut my hours. Everyone’s hours. I’m gonna lose my health insurance now.” When he sat down next to you, you collapsed into his shoulder. Immediately, you started to ramble again, talking about all the horrible things you wanted to do to your boss. He was a horrible human being and bad things should happen to him.
“If he ever shows up dead, you’re gonna be my first suspect,” he laughed. You wanted to laugh, but you were going to lose your health insurance; you were too worried to do anything else. “Hey,” he said, pulling you into his lap. “It’s going to be okay.”
“How do you know?” you asked as you leaned backwards into his arms. This guy- your boss - was the devil incarnate, and you were about to burst into tears.
Gently, he pulled his hands backward and into your hair, just combing through it with his long, nimble fingers - those fingers that never wanted to stop moving. “Because I’m here. I’m not going to let you go without health insurance. I’ll help you pay for it, or if worse comes to worst, you can always marry me and then you’ll have my insurance,” he smiled at your surprise. “It’ll be okay.”
“You’d marry me just to make sure I had health insurance?” you asked sweetly, hoping he’d massage your scalp. You loved it when he played with your hair. His nimble fingers always sent a shiver through you.
“No, I’d marry you, and I plan to marry you, because I love you. You having health insurance is just a perk,” he laughed. You allowed Spencer to comb through your hair. From your bag, he grabbed a hairbrush and pulled it through the hair you’d torn at on the way home from meeting with your asshole boss. You steadied your breathing as he brushed through the plethora of knots. Now you were staring to get a headache.
“Scalp massage?” you asked, your does eyes pleading with him to pamper you. Your head had nearly exploded earlier and after allowing the adrenaline to subside you’d started developing a migraine. Slowly, Spencer kneaded at your scalp and you pushed back, feeling his fingers snake underneath your mountain of hair. God, you loved his hands. He was so, so good with his hands.
After about 15 minutes, the migraine began to subside, but with how much he had massaged your scalp, he’d also mussed up your hair, so he picked up the brush again and untangled the knots. At that point, you thought he was going to pull you back into him, but he took you by surprise and separated your hair into three distinct pieces. “You can braid hair?” you asked. “You’re full of surprises. That’s actually good to know. After we get married, maybe we’ll have some babies and if we have a girl, you can braid her hair.”
“I’ve never actually braided hair before, but I figured how hard could it actually be,” he said, pulling each piece over the middle one to replace it until he got to the end. “And I’d definitely like to have a family. How about two girls and a boy?”
“We don’t get a choice,” you laughed, picking the brain up from behind you and placing it over your shoulder. “But just in case we have a bunch of girls, you should probably practice that braid again.” Turning around, you pressed your lips to his before pulling the loose braid out and allowing him to do it again. When he finished for a second time, he grazed his fingers down your spine, sending a shiver back all the way up. God, he was great with his hands.
You could’ve just melted into him, but instead you turned around and kneeled in front of him, pulling your braid out and rustling your hair in front of his face. “You look like a mess,” he laughed. “A beautiful mess. But a mess nonetheless. Turn around.” Again he placed you in his lap, and for hours he played with your hair, perfecting his technique.
“Whenever we do have a family, you’re going to be a great dad,” you said, tugging at the final braid he’d made.
“I hope so,” he muttered against your lips. “Judging by the braid, I’d say I’m ready.”
“Your expertise with women’s hair is only the first in a list of reasons you’d make an amazing father,” you said, standing up from the couch and pulling him toward your bedroom. “Maybe we should get a start on that family now?”
As you pulled the braid out again, he stood up from the couch and chased you into the bedroom. “Yes, please.”