For the Love of Donuts
A/N: An anon request for a Spencer x Reader, where she is a journalist and has interviewed Spencer a couple times. He’s got it bad and finally builds up the courage to ask her out. @coveofmemories
After nearly a decade with the Bureau, Spencer had learned enough that he knew what to say and how to say it within the context of his job. When it came to women, almost nothing, but he knew the job inside and out. That’s why Hotch had finally allowed him to do interviews with local journalists when it was necessary for a case.
He remembered what Hotch said to him when he’d first earned the privilege. “My suggestion would be to limit the amount of journalists you work with. You want to make sure that you can trust who you’re giving this information to. The more journalists you work with, the less likely you are to find someone you can trust.” Since then, he’d been interviewed about 10 times, four by a man named Barry Hartford for an up-and-coming crime blog, and six times by Y/N for the DC Times.
He was actually starting to phase out his work with Barry, as nice as he was, because he wanted to give Y/N whatever he had. She was one of the purest journalists he’d ever met. Purely writing for the sake of bettering the lives of others rather than herself and fame. To him, she was what he would be if he worked in journalism. When they first started working together, she had been engaged to another man, but the third time they met up, he noticed she no longer wore a ring, and when he’d asked, she unloaded on him about her ex. Apparently, the guy decided to wait until they were engaged to tell her that he never wanted to have kids. “Didn’t that come up beforehand?” he’d asked her. “How did you not know until you were engaged?”
“I don’t know!” she laughed, confident in her decision to leave him. “He never said he didn’t want them and he knew I always did, so I just figured he also did, I guess.” After she’d unloaded (before they had even gotten to the interview), she’d insisted that he give her the scoop she wanted. Payment for giving him so much of herself.
In these kinds of situations, Spencer really didn’t know if there was an appropriate timeline. She’d been engaged to this man for a few months, and before that, they’d been together for two years. It had only been two months since they’d broken off their engagement. Was it too soon for him to ask her out? Was it inappropriate for him to ask her out? More importantly, would she even want to go out with him? He’d seen a picture of her ex-fiancee once. He was your typically good-looking man. Spencer didn’t see himself that way. And another important question, even if she was interested in him, could he find the courage to ask her out? The last he’d asked a woman out, it had been on a case and Morgan had coached him. Then Maeve had asked to get to know him, but she was gone now. And she’d want for him to be happy, but honestly he wondered whether or not he had the confidence to just outright ask a woman out.
He guessed he would see. As his mind wandered, his feet were taking him in the direction of the cafe they would always meet at when he had some information for her. They were looking for a man who was killing prostitutes, and he wanted recognition for what he was doing, so they needed to paint the killings in as small a light as possible. Still noticeable, but not the front page he wanted. It would make him angry and he would mess up. “Hey, Y/N,” he greeted with a small wave as he sat down at their usual table. “Thanks so much for helping us on this one. I know it’s not the hard-hitting news you’re so used to, but…”
“It’s no problem, Spencer,” she said, her smiled causing him to blush a little. Hopefully he was hiding it well under his hair that had been growing out as of late. “I love to break the big stories, but these women are human beings who deserve to have their names known and their killer found. If I can help you catch him through the paper, then I’ll do it.” This was the first time he’d asked for her help, rather than her asking for a scoop. “What do you need?”
“We need for their to be a story, but a small one.” The waitress came to their table with the coffees they always ordered. “Do you have donuts?” he asked the woman randomly.
“Ooh yes,” Y/N said excitedly as the waitress nodded that they had them, “Chocolate frosted with sprinkles?” She had a childlike look in her eyes of hopefulness and elation.
“That’s you’re favorite too?” he laughed.
Y/N threw her head back and giggled. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.” The waitress confirmed they had donuts with chocolate frosting and sprinkles and went to grab them, leaving the two alone again to discuss the article the BAU needed her to write. “We want to make him angry. If he’s angry he’ll make a mistake and if he makes a mistake, we’ll be able to catch him.”
“But couldn’t making him angry cause someone else to killed?” she asked, hesitating at the thought of helping another poor woman get killed.
Spencer had asked that very same question, but when Hotch gave his rebuttal, Spencer knew it was their only chance to catch this guy. “It’s a possibility, yes,” he said sadly, “But our profile says that he is a narcissist first and foremost, and a house-cleaner second.” Having worked together for a while, Y/N knew what the meant by “house-cleaner.”
“So you think he’ll come straight to you because he needs recognition that badly? That’s what you’re saying?” She seemed reluctant, but she agreed, and finally, the waitress returned with donuts in hand. “Yessssssss,” she hissed happily. “I can’t believe we have the same favorite donut. Everyone I know insists the best is jelly, or Boston creme, or glazed.”
“No way,” he said, biting into his donut like he hadn’t had one in years. (In reality, it had probably been two days). “Chocolate frosted with sprinkles all the way.” As the two finished their oh-so-nutritious breakfast, Spencer wondered if he should ask her out. He really wanted to - had for a while, but he was also desperately afraid of rejection. But he would never know if he didn’t try, and there was a soft voice in the back of his head, that of a woman, that told him to go for it and be happy. It was Maeve. “Y/N, do you mind if I ask you something?” he asked shakily as he wiped the remnants of chocolate frosting off his lips.
“Absolutely.” She took a sip of coffee and then reached across the table to use a napkin on his cheek. Apparently, there was errant sprinkle running around that she flicked away. “Something else about your case?”
“No, actually…this is more of a personal matter.” He could see by the look in her eyes that she probably knew what he was going to say, but instead of asking herself or just saying yes, she allowed him to say it. “Would you want to go out…with me…sometime? We could go to this great donut place outside of town that makes the absolute best chocolate frosted and sprinkled donut I’ve ever had the privilege of eating.” Shyly, he turned away as he finished, realizing he had started rambling about donuts of all things. Just as he was trying to make a move, as Morgan called it. Great.
A smile painted its way across her face as she wiped her lips. “I’d love that. It’s the best donut ever, you say?”
“It really is,” he replied happily. He did it - and she said yes.
As she finished the last of her coffee and threw it into a garbage can nearly ten feet away with ease, she asked him a question. “Can I ask what took you so long? In asking me out I mean.”
What he wanted to say was that she was so beautiful he didn’t think he was worthy (which actually was the truth), that’s not what came out. “I’m a chicken,” he laughed. “I didn’t know how long I was supposed to wait after you broke up with your ex either.”
“Well, I get that second part,” she laughed. “I did spend a lot of time with him, but as for being a chicken…you have no reason to be. I’d love to go eat the best donut in the world with you.”