Nature rarer uses yellow

Then another hue:

Saves she all of that for sunsets, -

Prodigal of blue,

Spending scarlet like a woman,

Yellow she affords

Only scantly and selectly,

Like a lover's words.

~ "Nature Rarer Uses Yellow," Emily Dickinson

Spencer Reid had a type, and he wasn't about to deny it. Why should he? Everyone had a type, whether or not they realized it. Some people were attracted to a certain hair color, some people preferred skinny women or buff men, still others preferred a partner with a certain personality type or intellectual capacity. Some people were attracted to the opposite sex, and others preferred to be in a homosexual relationship. So, when it came down to it, Spencer Reid was no different than the rest of humanity for once in his life.

Unlike the rest of humanity, though, Spencer knew exactly why he preferred blondes, and the fact of the matter was that it was entirely his mother's fault.

Although he really was less likely to admit it then Morgan was, Spencer Reid was a hopeless momma's boy. The problem with that, however, was that throughout the better part of his childhood, his mother had been mentally unstable to but it tactfully. Although he knew full well that it was hardly a medical term, when asked up front about her, Spencer often found himself using the word "crazy."

But that didn't mean that he loved her any less – quite to the contrary. When it came down to it, if the need ever arose, he was quite certain that he would be willing to take a bullet for her.

This love that he had for her had not been reciprocated through the normal avenues when he was a child, and so he had deduced that now, as a grown man, he sought out affection from blondes as a sort of replacement for the usual brand of love that his mother hadn't shown to him as a child. It wasn't that she hadn't loved him – it wasn't that at all, because she had loved him very much, and he knew it – but that she hadn't shown affection in the traditional sense. Her version of an "I love you" for as long as he could remember were the many, many times that they would curl up together with a piece of fifteenth-century literature and she would read to him.

He hadn't minded those times at all – they were some of his fondest memories – but, regardless of how untraditional his upbringing or perhaps even because of it, he had been left craving the traditional forms of affection. Smiles, winks, praise, hugs, even kisses. When he had first come to the BAU, he hadn't had any idea of how to handle them, despite the fact that he wanted them. A word of praise from Gideon had made him speechless for five minutes, and a smile from Hotch would've likely sent him into shock back then. But now, all these years later in 2011, he would like to think that he had improved in that area, especially here recently, with special thanks to Rossi's new recruit to the team Special Agent Ashley Seaver.

Even a few months ago, Spencer still wouldn't have known what to do if a woman had kissed him – he probably still would've gone into shock over that one – but Ashley was drawing him out of his shell, out of that social awkwardness. And he wasn't afraid to admit that he was enjoying every second that he spent with this especially special blonde.

This is something for you guys while I write the next chapter of "The Polygamy Project" ( which is a Bones/NCIS/Criminal Minds crossover) and was originally supposed to be just an introspective piece on Reid, but then the idea of incorporating Reid/Seaver started niggling in the back of my brain, and it came through in the story. I hope you guys enjoyed it!:)