Chapter Text
here was the thing: spencer couldn’t stop thinking about all the bacteria on the door.
and once he started thinking about the bacteria on the door, he was trapped in a cycle of trying to recall how many times he’d touched his face today.
was it… 16 times? did he wash his hands after leaving the lab? did he use the sanitizer–which had bacteria of its own–before leaving the office building? was it 17? had he gotten something in his eye?
doors were hotspots for bacteria, door handles especially and spencer didn’t want to touch either of those things, didn’t want to touch his face again.
that’s why, on a wednesday afternoon, he was standing in front of apartment 4B, not daring to breathe.
who knew what was in the air around here?
it was obviously because he was worried about the germs, about getting sick again, and it was obviously not because he wasn’t sure how loud he was supposed to knock. if ben–a fellow student in his year, with whom he was supposed to be hanging out with–was asleep. if this apartment with the meek yellow door was the right one. if this was even the right time.
if he should even be considering this in the first place.
he checked his watch again, but only a minute had passed.
he just didn’t want to knock on the door, he rationalized. it had nothing to do with the slight increase of his heart rate that he could feel even though he hadn’t checked. nothing to do with anything else.
maybe it was 18 times, he had sneezed once this morning.
really, he wasn’t even sure why he was here, why he had agreed to come. ben was one of his nicer peers, but still, he was six years older than spencer and probably had better things to do. like, hang out with people his own age or consume alcohol. hang out and consume alcohol.
spencer couldn’t do either.
and he had better things to do anyway–he had a report to write, a book he’d just picked up, and a million other things that he could get finished tonight, anyway, so he should just leave.
okay, he nodded. he would leave then, ben wouldn’t be too disappointed.
it probably wasn’t the right time anyway, and he probably hadn’t even been serious when he’d asked if spencer wanted to come over.
that was it, really, spencer was just overthinking this.
but still, his hand was paused in the air, as if trying to get the courage to finally knock on the door. as to not let go of that tiny prick of hope he’d let invade his system.
bacteria was everywhere, nowadays.
it had been at least three minutes now, standing like this. spencer felt ridiculous. he often blamed the age discrepancy on his lack of social involvement, but clearly, it was more about him. he was ridiculous. his mind was ridiculous, and the fact that he was standing here was definitely ridiculous.
he couldn’t even knock on the door, or pretend that it wasn’t the problem.
he scoffed and took a step back. then stepped forward a moment later. he probably looked like an idiot. definitely.
still, he held his hand up again, edged it just centimeters away from the door. he would just knock, he thought, he would knock twice, just loud enough to be heard. if this was the wrong apartment he would just apologize, use his best smile. if this was the wrong time ben would just kindly turn him away and then spencer would go home covered in shame and probably cry himself to sleep.
right. it wouldn’t be too bad.
he took a breath in, stopped pretending to think about bacteria, thought about leaving, and then, with one more breath, he just touched his hand to the door.
but before he could overthink the amount of pressure, the door swung open, as if on his command, and he no longer had to knock at all.
no bacteria to be concerned about, any longer.
but it took him a moment to process what had happened, and in that moment, he hadn’t looked to see you–you with your eyes wide, your mouth curled, your hands full–standing there in front of him.
“hi?” you said, shocked to have almost run into someone right in front of the door. your voice sound strained, but then again, maybe spencer was making things up.
he’d been doing it all day.
it didn’t matter how strained you sounded though, because spencer couldn’t speak at all.
somehow, this was worse. worse than getting the apartment wrong or being laughed at for even showing up in the first place. this was something he couldn’t have expected.
there was no irrational thought that told him someone else might be in there with ben.
there was no ridiculous thought that told him someone like you might have opened the door before he could even begin to knock. there was no ridiculous thought that could have even imagined something like this happening.
or maybe that’s what he would tell himself later, once he thought back on the embarrassing five seconds he’d stared at you, unable to say a single thing.
“were you about to knock?” you asked when he didn’t answer, voice fading as you took a step backward, looking down, trying to give him some space.
spencer’s eyes widened, he clenched his fist, now, struggling with the unexpected.
he appreciated the space.
“um,” he started, tried to nod, swallowing when he saw the polite smile you were trying to aim at him, trying not to look too irritated, probably. “i’m looking for ben?” he winced at the way his voice shook.
immediately, a light switched. your smile faded into something different. “of course,” you murmured, letting the door go and taking another step back. spencer stared as you smiled, eyebrows raised, and gestured for him to follow. hopefully, you hadn’t noticed the dumbstruck look on his face. “ben mentioned he was having someone over, you’re…”
“spencer,” he whispered, loud enough.
“right, spencer!” your voice was quiet as you led him into the apartment. he noticed your bag, the shoes you were dangling from your fingers. the silent steps you were taking as you walked through the apartment.
he felt terrible for stopping you on your way out the door. felt terrible for not knowing that ben had someone else over. felt terrible for being here. felt terrible because he couldn’t even figure out what to say next.
so he was glad when you turned back around, clearly with the intent of introducing yourself.
well, he thought, at least he didn’t have to awkwardly decline a handshake. at least you wouldn’t get the chance to notice his sweaty palms.
“i’m y/n. you go to school with ben?” your eyes were focused on him, but he noticed the hand that was playing with something on your belt. he tried not to get distracted by the small movement. tried not to think at all.
“yes, um, we’re both getting our doctorate degrees,” there was a bell in his mind, reminding him that you probably already guessed that, that you already knew, that he was being ridiculous again.
it took all his concentration not to wince.
if you did, you smiled anyway, nodding with him. at least you didn’t look uncomfortable, at least you were smiling.
it could be worse, he supposed. but then again, it could be much better.
spencer could not be here at all.
“you’re smart then.” it sounded like a declaration, and spencer almost wanted to ask, but he decided to stay quiet instead.
and then, moments later when you were still looking at him expectedly, he decided that he was being stupid.
he decided to ask something else instead.
“do you go to school?” his voice shook on the words and he was making an effort to avoid eye contact, making an effort not to stare, not to be shocked by your smile.
he was a bit faint.
you laughed and looked down. “no, i’m just working while-” you paused, looked to your phone in your hand. “oh, shit-” you looked back up at him, eyes wide. “sorry.“ you cleared your throat, flustered now, it seemed. "um, i’m just-” you paused, bending down to pick something up. “-running late.” spencer was vaguely distracted by the color of your eyes.
he shook his head, telling you it was okay without words. trying to smile back, even though he wasn’t quite sure that he remembered how, even.
“i’ve, uh, got to go.” your fingers were spits of nervous energy, tapping against your leg. spencer was really trying not to meet your eyes, but he was also trying not to stare at your hands.
he cleared his throat, he wasn’t sure why.
and when he looked down–idiot–and noticed the shoes about to fall from your hand, the bag slipping off your shoulder, he couldn’t help but bend down.
and take the shoes right from your hands.
“i can hold some of your things while you put your shoes on,” he offered, holding the shoes out to you as if he hadn’t just stolen them right from your hands.
he was seriously, definitely, contemplating running away from there, throwing himself off of anything taller than this building when he noticed your smile, again.
“thank you, spencer.” you slipped your bag off, gestured towards him. he was much too fast in placing the shoes in your outstretched hand. “i don’t mean to seem like i’m running away from you, i’m not.”
you were sitting down again, hastily shoving the shoes onto your feet.
spencer was staring at that in an effort not to freak you out.
but he managed to ask “where do you work?” despite his pounding heart.
your eyes slipped towards him, as if on accident, and spencer thought you might’ve looked shocked, but then you looked away again. “oh, just a coffee shop a few blocks from here.” you nodded, giving him a brief smile while tying your laces, then continued:
“well, it’s not really a coffee shop–it’s a breakfast place, actually–but no one ever comes in for breakfast. just coffee, mostly.”
spencer swallowed. “i like breakfast.”
you looked up to him, eyes alight in amusement, laughing.
spencer tried not to feel shocked at the fact that he’d just made you laugh.
“me too,” you agreed, finally standing up, and reaching to grab the bag from him. “what’s your favorite breakfast food?” you asked, smiling at him appreciatively when he handed it to you.
oh god, spencer hadn’t been expecting that.
that’s probably why he let slip out “donuts,” without even thinking.
and again, for the second time now, it made you laugh.
“me too!” you repeated, smiling wider. “we don’t sell any at the diner, but i’d pay our chefs to make me some if i could.”
this was surreal, spencer thought.
“i like sprinkles on mine,” he offered, having nothing else to say. you were just staring at him and really, what else was he supposed to say?
“you’re a man of taste, spencer-” you paused, brow quirking. “i never asked your last name.”
“oh,” spencer’s eyes went wide, and his hand shook with the effort it was taking him not to run out the door. “it’s reid.”
“spencer reid,” you repeated it twice, laughing at something private, saying it as if it delighted you. you were still smiling, still looking at him. “i like that,” you finished, smirking in something that spencer couldn’t describe.
he didn’t have anything else to say, except, oh god-
but then, a door closed somewhere else. a noise interrupted that thought spencer was trying to have, and you were clearing your throat, messing with the bag on your shoulder.
“it was very nice to meet you, spencer reid, and i’d love to hear you talk about science–it gets a bit boring coming from ben all the time.” you smiled at him, a polite smile spencer realized he was familiar with now. “but, i do have to go.”
spencer thought that he should say something, but it would seem that he had something stuck in his throat. something crawling down his insides, making itself known.
“benjamin!” you called as you began to walk toward the door, eyes darting to spencer as he watched you walk away, smile just the same. “you’ve got a guest!”
and then, you gave spencer one more grin, struggling to carry everything in your hands. struggling to keep your eyes focused, your hands still.
spencer recognized this too.
“don’t let him annoy you too much.“ you said, hand on the doorknob, something that spencer had been thinking about only ten minutes before. "i hope i’ll see you again, some time.”
and then you were out the door.
spencer, just stood there.
it was 19 times by the time the door slammed shut. his cheeks were warm.
wow, he thought, you were pretty.