Meeting you was fate, becoming your friend was a choice, but falling in love with you I had no control over.
By: Unknown
((Dear Spencer,
It's been 3 months, 6 days, 15 hours, and some odd number of seconds since we found you in the graveyard with Hankel. Even without an eidetic memory like yours I find that I don't think I will ever forget the sheer terror I felt watching you on those computers, bruised, beaten, and as close as death as I've ever seen you, I've known for too long, biting my tongue to the feelings I didn't want to expose to the light of day. You seem too young to have seen and experienced the horrors in this world, and yet you keep fighting, keep pushing with a quiet strength I admire beyond what you could begin to understand. But I find after all this time one of the things I crave most is to simply hold your hand. To stroll with you in the park, to listen to you talk all day. To show you that I fell hopelessly in love with you while I began working with you and I pray that you may feel the same.
I want to do this properly, but seem to have lost my nerve to ask you to your face. Maybe it's my fear that you will do nothing but possibly laugh at me. Maybe it's because you don't believe me. Maybe it's because you were shown a deep dark secret from my past that I wish I could've told you under a hundred different circumstance, like after a nightmare, instead of how it came to light. But all I know is that I would like to take you on a date. Anything. I simply want to be able to see if maybe I'm not alone in believing we could be something amazing together.
Yours,
Derek.))
((Dear Derek,
You're not alone in believing anything. My place, 8pm.
Yours,
Spencer.))
The email had come on a Wednesday afternoon. The team had worked diligently for close to 12 days in a row, 5 spent on a case in Arizona, 4 in Florida, and 3 days after that catching up on all the paperwork they had acquired from both cases. Spencer felt delirious with the amount of sleep he hadn't had in the past 2 weeks and when he received the email from Derek he truly thought he may have fallen asleep at his desk and woken to a dream. Looking up, he saw Derek watching him out of the corner of his eye. When he saw Derek's attention diverted to his response, he got up quickly, making his way towards the restroom.
Derek saw the response written in front of him and felt his heart slam into his chest. He had seen Spencer walk towards the bathroom and slowly got up, following him. Walking through the door, he saw Spencer leaning up against the sinks, as Derek slowly locked the door.
"Hi."
Reid looked up, tucking his growing hair behind his ear.
"Hi."
He had this quiet, small smile etched on his face, as if he knew it would only take a moment for Derek to follow him.
"Listen, Pretty Boy, I just, I couldn't say it to your face. I'm sorry. I was scared. And this can be as slow as you want it to be. I just know that what I want is you."
Spencer walked towards him slowly, not saying a word as he backed Derek against the wall next to the mirror. He hesitantly placed his hands on each of Derek's shoulders and then looked up, as if to address him to his face. What surprised Derek beyond words was the fact that instead of saying anything, Spencer took a breath before pushing forward and kissing Derek instead. The kiss was slow, sweet, and Derek's hands found themselves wrapped around Reid's thin form and holding him closer then he could have thought possible. Pulling away from him, both turned to see themselves in the mirror, body to body, limbs tangled in all the right places.
It was like each of their bodies was breathing a sigh of relief. What else would one's body do when it finally found the other half welcoming it home?
((Dear Spencer,
There are times where I wonder what it may be like to have an eidetic memory. The ability to never have to forget what I've seen, read, heard, experienced. Other times I wonder how you keep going when you never forget what you may have seen, read, heard, experienced. Especially in a job like ours. But Pretty Boy let me tell you. I don't need an eidetic memory to remember what it was like to kiss you for the first time, or how we casually fumbled through dinner that night. Or how a few weeks later I found out what it was like to have you sleep in a bed next to me. It's the best I've slept in a very long time. Even more than that, I feel privileged to be able to call you my partner. I can't wait to keep going with you in this relationship we've begun. 1 month strong already, and hopefully a lifetime to come.
Yours,
Derek))
((Dear Derek,
Being able to remember each moment with you is something I cherish. I never knew what it was to crave someone's touch so much in my life. Now, I can't wait for each time you slide your hand into mine, or when you wrap your arm around my waist to be able to sleep. I sometimes stay awake just to be able to watch you sleep. Just so I can remember.
I'd like to make dinner tonight. Ill meet you at your house at 8?
Yours,
Spencer))
Derek had come home to his house smelling delicious. Not just good, or passable. But mouth watering delicious. He could see that Clooney was outside, with his grill lit and the lid closed. Spencer was working on slicing and dicing different items with a bucket of beer on ice sitting in the sink. He looked up and smiled at Derek as he walked in the door, nodding his head towards the sink and smiling as Beethoven blasted from Derek's sound system.
Knowing that he wouldn't be able to hear him over the music, Derek simply walked up behind Spencer and kissed the back of his head, feeling Spencer almost vibrate as a content sound must have escaped his lips. Derek could smell the steak from his patio, and saw the homemade loaded potatoes Spencer was sliding into the oven. He was skillfully slicing French bread as he seasoned the roasted asparagus that he placed in the broiler next. Finally setting the knife down out of his hand, he smiled as he finally went and kissed Derek. Sighing contently after he pulled away, he turned down the music low enough to be able to hold a conversation.
Setting the table for them, Derek was amazed at the aromas coming from his kitchen. He didn't know that Spencer could actually cook, let alone be able to do it well. He might even rival his Mama surprisingly.
Laying the food out, and passing through dinner with a talk of anything but work, Derek laid a hand to his stomach after they finished with dinner.
"Damn Pretty Boy. If that was dinner, you're going to try and kill me with dessert aren't you?"
Spencer had been clearing the table, most of the dishes already done before their meal had begun and the rest now cleared into Derek's dishwasher. He smiled softly as he walked back over to Derek at the table.
"Maybe."
"Care to tell me what you made for dessert then?"
He shook his head, grabbing Derek's hand and leading him towards Derek's bedroom.
"Did you eat enough to tell me you're ready to go to sleep already?"
Again, he shook his head as he pushed open Derek's bedroom door. The lights had been dimmed, no sound escaping the room except for the flickering sound of 30 candles placed throughout the room, each slowly dripping wax onto their silver plates below. A plate of strawberries, grapes and sliced apples on a plate with heated chocolate sat on a chest that sat at the base of Derek's bed, and he could see more candles placed in his bathroom as well.
"I know we haven't gotten this far yet. And that it's taken a lot of patience on your part to wait until I knew I was ok to be physically intimate. And the more I've waited the more stupid I've felt because my heart already calls for you. And I've felt my body do the same. With a job like ours, I don't want to keep waiting. So I figured, I would be your dessert."
A smile broke out across Derek's face as he swept Reid into his arms. Spencer knew he had done right when he couldn't wipe the smile off of his face either.
((Dear Spencer,
You gave me the gift of your body. I can't wait for the opportunity to worship it again. I want to learn every scar, every tickle, every sinew and freckle of your body. I know that the sigh that escaped your lips the first time I entered your body is a sound that made my heart stutter. You are beautiful Spence. Every aspect of you is.
Yours,
Derek))
((Dear Derek,
You are a lover I could only dream of. I base my life in fact every day. I rely on facts, on statistics. Everything that says "my heart" is a subconscious foretelling of what a part of my mind doesn't wish to say. Like that being in a relationship with you is something that terrifies me, but that you make me happier than I've ever been in my life. And to feel you become part of my body, despite the fact that I've experienced that before with others, but to feel you, this person I've come to feel so deeply for, was a mind blowing experience. You are amazing.
Yours,
Spencer))
Faith was a word that Spencer Reid didn't understand very well. He didn't considered himself an atheist. He had his own beliefs. But he was not one to be found in church. He wasn't someone who necessarily understood what it was to fall to his knees and pray to a higher power. But he knew what it was to need faith. To have something to fall back on. To have a reason to fall to one's knees and need the power of prayer to pull you through. Which was why he understood when Derek disappeared after that particular case. Why it was for the first time in close to 20 years he needed to find himself at a Church. The last time Spencer had been in a church was when he found Nathan Harris in one. He didn't want to think of the subsequent events after as he still recalled what it was like to look down and see that blood on his hands.
But now, as he saw Derek enter the hospital as Penelope fought for her life on the operating table, he knew Derek needed his faith more than ever. If he were to find the positions reversed, where Derek as his best friend was lying there instead, Spencer knew he would fall to his knees as well. God and faith find you at the darkest of times. And Spencer would be next to Derek as they waited to see if God pulled through for their tech analyst, and his lovers best friend.
((Dear Spencer,
Thank you.
Love,
Derek))
((Dear Derek,
You never need to ask. I'll always be there.
Love,
Spencer))
The hours I spend with you I look upon as sort of a perfumed garden, a dim twilight, and a fountain singing to it. You and you alone make me feel that I am alive. Other men it is said have seen angels, but I have seen thee and thou art enough. ~George Moore