God, Spencer's head hurts.
The elevator arrives on the first floor with a loud ding, and he groans aloud. Have elevators always been this loud? Why are they made to be?
The door opens cheerily and he stumbles inside, squinting his eyes at the almost unbearable fluorescent lighting. He's never noticed just how harsh they are, buzzing loudly and washing the whole car in an icky artificial vibe that makes his head hurt worse, somehow.
He turns around just in time to see a hand dart out and catch the doors before they close. The doors stop like they're surprised, and then open again for its newest rider. Spencer looks up and comes face to face with you, looking just as bad as he feels. As you shuffle inside, he takes in your messy hair, bloodshot eyes, and rumpled tank top and jeans. The only thing that surprises him are the pristine converse on your feet.
The doors close once more, this time unimpeded. The elevator car starts to slowly ascend, and Spencer literally hates life at this moment, as the car chimes with every floor they pass. Of course he had to live on the top floor. Couldn't have picked a lower number, could he?
To distract from the annoying "ping!"s, Spencer considers you. He's known you've been his indirect neighbor - you're two floors down - for a few months now, when you first moved in. However, he knows nothing else about you, since you two have never spoken. It's not easy, with his job. He's in and out at all hours, and there's no strict schedule when it comes to serial killers. He's probably ridden the elevator with you like twice before.
That's not to say that Spencer doesn't want to talk to you. He actually finds you very pretty, with your Y/E/C eyes and bright smile. He's also seen you carrying books he likes, and once glimpsed you wearing a Doctor Who shirt. He'd actually wanted to discuss it with you the time, but the elevator had been busy, and you hadn't been alone, and Spencer isn't very good at speaking with people he doesn't know.
In other words, this would be the perfect opportunity to finally get to know you, like Spencer wants to. Except for the fact that he suspects neither of you want to do anything but sleep for a thousand years at the moment. So that kind of kills the idea.
The elevator slows and stops, opening on your floor. You slowly step out, and just before the doors close, you turn around and give Spencer a tiny salute.
He can't stop thinking about it as he enters his apartment, collapses onto his bed, and falls into a deep and dreamless sleep.
One week later
You turn your key in the building door's lock and hear it click loudly. Pulling it open, you shuffle inside, but stop just inside the door. Waiting for the elevator is Spencer, same as last week. His hair is wild, his clothes are wrinkled, and he looks like he's asleep on his feet.
You breathe deep and quietly move forward, eventually landing next to him. He gives you a quick glance, and you spot surprise wash over his face before he looks away.
Yeah, he isn't the only one.
The elevator arrives, with a ding that hurts your ears, and you and Spencer walk inside together. You stand side-by-side - same position as the week before - and remain silent as the elevator doors close and the car starts to rise.
He looks pretty much the same as last week, which is to say that he looks tired and worn out but still as cute as ever.
Before last week, you've only seen him in the building a few times. First was when you moved in and could do little more than introduce yourself between heaving boxes from the lobby to the elevator to your floor. Second was when your friend was visiting and he was present in a packed elevator. And third was last week.
You've been meaning to talk to him for a while. Not only is he attractive as hell, but you've seen his name and face in the news often enough that you knew he's a) a genius, b) a profiler for the BAU, and c) very good at his job. Plus, he has that defined jawline and hair you'd love to run your fingers through.
You knew that last week was a missed opportunity, and it's pretty much a godsend to get another chance now. But he just looks so done with life right now that you can't get a word out. Besides, you've got a splitting migraine and if talking to him could turn into a longer affair - no pun intended - you want to be sharp and fully present.
So you just watch him out of the corner of your eye, seeing how his eyes droop repeatedly and his hands clutch the strap of his messenger bag ceaselessly. And when the elevator doors open on your floor, you step out without saying anything.
Scratch that, you have to say something.
"Same time next week?" You say softly with a small smirk.
Spencer looks so surprised by the silence being broken that he doesn't have a chance to reply before the doors close.
You look at them and feel so irritated for a moment that you consider walking up two flights and actually asking for his response. But then you breathe and let it go.
If it's meant to be, it'll happen.
One week later
Apparently it's meant to be.
This time, you're waiting for the elevator when Spencer walks through the building's front door. Both of you are surprised to see the other, but the elevator arrives before either of you can say anything. But also this time, one of you eventually does speak.
"Late night?" Spencer asks after the doors have closed, and it's just the two of you, again.
"Oh," you reply, surprise lacing your voice, "yeah. You?"
"Mhm," he hums.
A minute of silence.
"How are they?" He asks.
"Whoever you were seeing last night."
"Um, they were good." Spencer can detect a hint of laughter in your tone, but can't tell why it's there. "Lizzie Bennett says hello."
Spencer furrows his brow. "The Jane Austen heroine?"
"Yup," you reply, clearly masking a giggle. "All of her sisters say hi too."
He finally turns to look at you. "What?"
"I was at the library last night," you say, openly laughing now. "Reading Pride & Prejudice."
"Oh, I just assumed--"
"That I was doing the walk of shame because it's Saturday morning and I'm looking disheveled?" You raise an eyebrow as Spencer swallows hard. "I could say the same thing about you."
His mood turns from chagrined to shocked so fast it makes your head spin. "Me? Out with someone?" He barks out a laugh. "No."
"Well then? What was it?"
"I was at the observatory. Star gazing." He clears his throat. "I've had a recent...fixation with astronomy."
"So we're both wrong."
And then you turn away from each other. You get off on your floor without looking back. Spencer doesn't watch you as you do.
One week later
You trudge into the building, disappointment coursing through every bone in your body. Of course he wasn't there, why would he? Probably knew you'd be a weirdo and try to find him. You scrunch your face up in self-embarrassment, and press the button for the elevator.
'Course he isn't here, either.
It arrives and you walk inside, pressing your floor's button. And just as the doors are closing, you spot Spencer walking up to the front door and turning his key in the lock. Reflexively, you stretch out your arm, preventing the doors from closing. They open again, and you come face-to-face with Spencer, who's panting slightly. He steps in, and the doors close.
You ride in silence for a minute, feeling awkward. Then, you ask, "Observatory again?"
Spencer clears his throat, and then replies, "No, actually. I was at the library."
You turn and stare at him. "You were at the library?" He turns to you and nods. "I was at the observatory!"
His mouth opens slightly in astonishment. "I went to find you."
"I was trying to find you!"
Then the two of you just look at each other, both frustrated and blushing.
"Well," he says lightly, "I wanted to apologize for last week. I don't really know anything else about you, but based on a pattern, I assumed you'd be at the library."
You cut in. "I wanted to do the same. And I'd assumed you'd be at the observatory."
"I'm sorry," he says, and you reply, "Me too."
The two of you smile softly at each other.
"I'm Y/N Y/L/N." You reach out a hand. Spencer takes it and shakes it, his hand warm and calloused, much larger than yours.
"Dr. Spencer Reid." He holds your hand for longer than necessary, liking the feel of it in his hand. "So why have you been at the library, Y/N?"
You love hearing your name fall from his mouth, and have to work to reply. "I work until pretty late. I've found that going to the library and then sleeping until my shift starts again is a good sleeping schedule for me, even if it seems weird."
He smiles. "Where do you work?"
"I'm a baker. I own the pastry shop down the street."
"Wait, you own Glazed and Confused?"
You nod. "That's me."
"I love that place! I always get coffee and a chocolate donut there before work."
Both of your smiles grow, and then the doors open on your floor. You take a step out, but stop halfway. "Do you want to come inside? Keep talking?" You ask quickly, blushing a little. Spencer nods wildly, so you move forward and let him follow you. You open your apartment and usher him inside, trying not to squeal at your good luck.
One month later
"Admit it, you liked it," Spencer teases and you roll your eyes.
"Okay, fine. But I stay firm on the fact that it can get a little boring when nothing's happening."
"Is that why you kept trying to distract me?"
You shrug, avoiding his gaze playfully. "Now you have to admit, sometimes it's more fun to make out than look at the stars constantly."
"Mm," he hums. "I guess. But only with you."
You look up at him with a smile, and he leans down to kiss you as the elevator chimes and the doors open. You both walk inside and then look at the display of buttons. "Your place or mine?" You ask.
"Yours," Spencer says, pressing your floor's button. "I'm all out of your donuts."
You shake your head as the elevator rises. "Honestly. How can you eat more baked goods after eating practically half my dough last night?"
Spencer just smiles. "I am never full when it comes to your dough." You laugh as he blushes. "You know what I mean."
"Well, if I get a call saying that we ran out of inventory way before closing, I'm not sure I can let you come with when I work anymore."
He gives you a wounded expression. "You wouldn't."
"I might," you threaten happily. But then you turn to him and rest your head on his shoulder. "But probably not."
"Good." And he kisses you on your forehead.
The elevator opens and you step outside into the hallway. "Next week," Spencer continues, "we can go to the library instead. Maybe that will deter your urge to publicly make out."
You turn your key in the lock but don't open the door. Instead, you turn around and look at him with a raised eyebrow. "You sure about that?"
He cocks his head. "I--"
"I mean," you go on, "we could end up in the erotica section for all we know. Which is tucked in the very back corner. Without any cameras or usual visitors." You grab him by his tie and pull him towards you, bringing his face inches from yours. "Anything could happen."
His eyes immediately glance down to your lips and then back up again, and he involuntarily licks his own. You catch them in a light kiss that promises more, then open the door, pulling away from him. He stays in the doorway, looking frozen as you walk inside backwards. You turn around, looking at him over your shoulder. "Well, come on."
He suddenly moves and rushes inside, pursuing you into the apartment. You laugh at the chase as Spencer closes the door behind him.