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Pipsqueak

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It was way too early for the coffee pot to be taking as long as it was. Truthfully, I shouldn’t have even been there that early, but I'd managed to wake up before my alarm and decided to try out that thing I always heard about getting a jumpstart on your day. But as I practically lay on the counter, I decided that it was, definitively, bullshit.

I’d only been standing for about 3 minutes and my feet were already killing me. It was my own fault for wearing these shoes, although I’d blame it on someone else. After a quick glance around the office, I made a decision. With the utmost grace and maturity, I hoisted myself up onto the counter of the BAU kitchenette.

I regretted very little about my decision; the blood returned to my feet almost immediately and I let out a casual sigh as I dropped my head back against the cabinets. Maybe the day could be salvaged, I thought.

But I was wrong.

“Why are you sitting up there?” Spencer’s voice sounded as smug as his smile looked. And, of course, both were also ridiculously beautiful.

“I like to be tall,” I answered without making a move to jump down. He’d already caught me; there was no point in trying to hide it now.

He came to join me by the coffee pot, a genuine smile hiding beneath his smirk. “You’re basically the same height as when you’re standing,” he replied, “which is a low bar.

While trying to maintain the most apathy as I could in the face of a terrible joke made at my expense, I mumbled, “I hate you.”

The smirk on Spencer’s face grew, his body closing in until we were practically touching. We weren’t, though— his flirty teasing never went that far. Not usually, anyway. But that day, something was... different.

“That was a very clever comeback, pipsqueak.”

Spencer Reid was calling for war.

“What did you just call me?” I snapped with an equally incredulous look.

“Hm? What? I didn’t say anything?” He halfway shrugged, casually stepping to the side to try and get to the cabinet behind me. He didn’t address the way I seethed until I raised a hand to slam the cabinet shut. It was then that he laughed, “Can you not hear me from down there?”

I paused to carefully plan my next few moves. I would have to be quick, but I knew I could pull it off. Spencer might be tall, but he was uncoordinated as shit.

“That’s it,” I mumbled, scrambling to bring my knees to the counter. The man beside me had to jump back to avoid getting kicked, and in the rush, he almost missed what was happening.  

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” I immediately answered. It was clear from the sarcasm dripping from the two syllables that I was up to something, and his stupid brilliant brain figured it out a couple seconds later.

“No!” He shouted just as I grabbed his favorite mug from top shelf, “Leave her out of this! Mildred was a gift!”

“Mildred is a hostage!” I yelled back. For a very brief second I felt guilty for bringing her into the fray, but it was Spencer who had escalated the situation. Because without any concern for her safety, he wrapped his arms around me lifted me off the counter.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, he held me sideways. As if I would have been able to reach the ground, anyway.  

“Release the hostage and surrender,” he ordered through poorly stifled laughter.

“Put me down!”

I wasn’t trying to negotiate. I was out for blood, whether it be his or that of the ceramic octopus; it was up to him. After a minute of struggling and giggling from the way his unfortunately placed hands tickled, I saw hope in the form of Unit Chief Emily Prentiss.

… Who took one look at us before promptly leaving.

“Good morning, you two,” she had the decency to say before she disappeared for good. Traitor.

While I continued to sulk in my horizontal position, Spencer seemed happier than ever. At least, I guessed as much. I couldn’t really see him, but I could hear his arrogant little grin. I wanted to wipe it off right off his gorgeous, annoying face.

“I know where you sleep, Spencer,” I warned. I fear it didn’t come off as scary as I'd intended, because he mostly just laughed.

“Do you?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why do you know that?” His voice had dropped into his lower register, and his volume changed, too. Like he didn’t want anyone to hear what he was going to say next. “Were you planning on joining me?”

“Yep,” I answered before the heat in my face became too obvious, “I was planning on suffocating you with your own pillow.”

But, in an uncharacteristically quick and witty response, Spencer continued to surprise.

“Good to know,” he nonchalantly replied, like he hadn’t practically invited me to sleep with him in the more scandalous meaning of the phrase. “I’ll put out a step ladder so you can make it onto the bed.”

I wanted to answer. I wanted to come up with something equally clever that would make him as flustered as I felt. But when he finally did set me down on the table, I was too dizzy from his words to think.

“I hate you,” was all I could manage.

And with a reassuring pat on the head, Spencer smiled.

“I know you do, pip.”

-----

I didn’t end up joining Spencer in bed. That being said, I did start seeing more of him after that day. I wasn’t sure why exactly, but our relationship had changed after I held Mildred hostage.

After a couple more weeks of flirty quips and not-so-unintentional tickling, Spencer and I ended up joining each other for a date.

Sorry, I misspoke. Spencer and I were tricked into going on a date. The team had sworn they would be joining us, but I always had a suspicion they were full of it. Still, a concert sounded like a fun idea, and Spencer wasn’t the worst person to spend a Saturday with.

The only catch was that it was an outdoor music festival, which essentially meant that the only visual I got were the backs and butts of fellow normies. Spencer was willing to offer his theoretical shoulder for me to sulk on. I say theoretical because my face really just hit the middle of his arm.

“How’s it look up there?” I whined.

He barely looked down at me, but he did shake his head. “Is that why I’m here? To be your eyes?”

“You’re here because you wanted to come,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he muttered with a goofy grin. I wasn’t entirely sure why he had that somewhat smitten look in his eyes until he sneakily whispered, “It could be both, though.”

“What?”

That time he answered my question with a much more obvious sentiment. Removing me from his arm, Spencer got down on one knee with his back to me.

“Get on.”

After I sat with the words for a minute, I still couldn’t believe them.

“Are you serious?” I asked, nervously glancing around at the people in the crowd who clearly couldn’t care less about what was happening. But I did. I hadn’t had that much prolonged physical contact with Spencer since I’d stolen his mug — and that last time it happened, it had advanced our friendship quite a few steps. I just wasn’t sure if he knew what he was asking. At the same time, he'd made it pretty clear he didn’t care about the implications.

“No, I just love being on my knees in the dirt,” he called sarcastically from his position. It was the thing that finally convinced me to move.

“Okay...” I mumbled while I wrapped my arms around his neck. “You do look pretty good on your knees for me, though,” I thought it would be flirtatious enough to stun him for a few seconds, but I had no such luck.

“And I’m still taller than you.”

I never stood a chance. If I hadn’t been hugging him at the time, I might have been more annoyed. But the truth was that in that moment the only thing I cared about was staying this way for as long as possible. Though, with my arms wrapped around his neck, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t considering the possibility of choking him out.

“You’re such an asshole,” I said instead, resting my chin on the top of his head. I could feel his laughter reverberate through my thighs as he stood up. And despite my stubbornness, I laughed, too. “You’re nothing but a tall, warm, stupid asshole.”

“That’s a lot of adjectives.”

Despite the loud music, I felt calm. It was like my body had fallen into bed after a long day. Like the wind had caught my proverbial sails and I was racing towards something new. I felt a lot of things, but nothing more than the fact that I wanted to stay there, wrapped around him like a content koala on a eucalyptus tree, forever.

Reality, however, was not as poetic as me. It had other plans, and those plans included two drunk guys knocking into an uncoordinated genius with a coworker on his back.

Thankfully, it barely hurt when my head hit the grass, although it was probably because I blacked out. It couldn’t have been for long, though, because when I opened my eyes, Spencer hadn’t even made his way over me yet. Once he did, I had to laugh at the rush of emotions.

“Are you alright?” he asked with significantly less enthusiasm. “Follow my finger.”

I gave a poor attempt to follow his instruction, but it wasn’t my fault. How was I supposed to focus on his finger when that look of concern was so damn cute?

“Add cute and clumsy to that list,” I slurred.

“How do you feel?” Spencer returned, completing avoiding my brilliant joke. In my delirium, I decided the only way to solve that issue would be to escalate.

“I feel... like a genius,” I said, not giving him a chance to speak before I started to explain my racing thoughts. “I just realized that— that if we’re both laying down, we’re the same height.”

“What?”

He didn’t get it.

The noise that left my lips was an odd mixture of frustrated and overjoyed. Spencer was still looking at me like my head had actually popped off and rolled away. With a deep sigh, I clapped my hands over his face.

“That means I don’t have to stand on my tippy toes to kiss you!” I yelled, as if it were the most obvious thing ever.

“To what?”

Spencer still didn’t get it. I realized then that there would only be one way to ensure he understood what I was saying. So, with my hands still on his face, I pulled him down.

Our lips met with a bit of shock and even more giggles. If he was actually trying to stop me, he was making a very poor show of it. If anything, he actually leaned into the kiss. At least, until I mumbled something into his lips.

“I’m dizzy.”

Pulling back, Spencer looked me over again. He bit down on his bottom lip that I’d just gotten to kiss and shook his head again. “Okay, time to go to the medical tent. I’m pretty sure you have a concussion.”

That time when Spencer picked me up, my arms fell lazily over his shoulders and my head rested against him. Our chests pressed together so that I could feel his heartbeat, and I wondered how he could be so calm even as he carried me.

“Hey Spencer?” I whined, planning on asking him so many things if the words could only come out.

“Yeah, pipsqueak?”

When I heard the nickname again, I realized I didn’t hate it. I realized that it didn’t matter why it felt so natural for him to hold me or why he was smiling despite the two of us being covered in dirt. But I still couldn’t come up with the words at the time, so I settled for the most obvious truth instead.

“Being tall sucks.”