Spencer wakes up slowly to a series of realizations. First, he is not in his perfectly medium hard bed. Secondly, it is definitely later than he sleeps on any given day because balmy light is teasing at his eyes. The third is the most jarring to his waking process; there is definitely a warm body across his lap. He opens his eyes and looks down, only to inhale deeply at what he sees. Rowena's head is cradled in her own arms, resting on a throw pillow in his lap. Further, one of his hands is tangled in her hair.
"Oh, dear God." He blurts in a fairly decent chipmunk pitch, managing by some miracle to not jump out of his skin and oh so slowly freeing his hand from her hair. Rowena is snoring, her breath whistling in and out in soft, almost whimpers. It takes him a minute but he manages to relax his vertebrae back into their proper order, his eyes fixated on her face. No, nothing happened the night before. If he recalls correctly, they watched at least three episodes of Babylon 5 before he fell asleep. That means Rowena at least partially chose to sleep where she did. "Oh God." Spencer squeaks, suppressing his body's desire to begin hyperventilating at that thought. This time the ridiculously high sound of his voice forces Rowena from her own sleep. He'd swear her eyes are so brown they're black when they flicker open. There's a brief pause and he's expecting them to widen in horror but Rowena smiles widely, looking sleepy still.
"Morning." She groans, stretching, and in the process accidentally pushing herself harder against him, causing Spencer's right hand to ball into a fist as he bites the inside of his cheek.
"Um, good morning. I'm pretty sure I've severely overstayed my welcome." He mumbles, knowing his cheeks are probably an interesting shade of scarlet. Spencer watches her realize everything that he already has and turn her own shade of pink, then shrug her shoulders against him, causing him to twitch.
"Spencer, you cannot overstay your welcome, for God's sake. I freely admit this a bit awkward, however." Rowena says with early morning borderline incoherence, sitting up straight and hauling herself off the couch in short order. Spencer makes a snap judgment he doesn't need to be a profiler to get; she is not a morning person. The coffee pot turns on, and he hears a deep groan from the kitchen and then the bathroom door slam. He's a bit at a loss, since she appears to be taking this all in stride. Spencer stands and follows her to the kitchen after she emerges from the restroom with a dewy face and minty breath, watches as she pulls out tomatoes, eggs, sausage, bread and butter.
"So, I should probably be getting home, huh?" He gets out haltingly, playing with his smartphone but not quite dialing yet.
"It's Saturday. Saturday morning, I make a big breakfast. Habit I formed in Detroit, it helped me after long nights of not sleeping. Easy to make enough for two, but if you want to go home, I understand." Rowena's voice is still sleepy and her hands are a blur obviously laid in by routine. That nagging feeling of being where he belongs creeps back in as he watches her make breakfast.
"You don't sleep?" Rowena blinks and looks at him, still a bit bleary.
"Not usually. I'm an insomniac." She puts her hands to work again. "I haven't slept that well in years, actually." She adds softly.
"May if I use your restroom?" Rowena gives him an exasperated glance.
"No." He stands still, fidgeting, until she grants him a playful smile. "That was a joke." Spencer makes use of the restroom, using the toothbrush he keeps in his side bag. Being constantly on call does help in some respects. He comes from the bathroom feeling like a human being again and sits at the counter, watching Rowena prepare breakfast with something approaching peace pervading him.
"Rowena, are we dating?" He asks shyly. Black hair is flipped artfully out of her face and she looks him straight in the eyes, a lazy half-smile decorating her bare face. His heart skips a beat at his own audacity but all he wants is to somehow be able to say that the fascinating, beautiful, strange woman who slept in his lap last night is somehow his.
"Spencer, do you want to date me?" She asks patiently.
"Yes, of course, but I don't mean going out on individual dates, I want to know if we're…engaged in the verb form of the word. If we aren't just more than colleagues who went out once and that's all." Spencer knows this is more daring than anything he's tried before but he wants to know, has to know. She pulls out a mixing bowl and whisk along with myriad seasonings, setting them beside the stove (where sausage is already filling the room with its earthy smell) before coming around the corner of the counter, her own mind made up. "I'm sorry. This isn't coming out right. I'm being too forward again, aren't I?" He asks, rubbing his forehead with a shaky hand as he thinks about just how terrible he is at this, but she takes that hand from him and slides her fingers between his. This is all together too much playing around, and Rowena is not known for her patience.
"No. Not nearly forward enough." She stands on her toes and kisses him briefly, looking for reaction to the unexpected move. It's time the handsome doctor learns a little faster.
Spencer is far too shocked to react for at least two seconds but finds himself leaning down to kiss her back. Surprised, Rowena lets him have his way, smiling against his lips when she feels a hand on her waist and another sink itself in her hair to get her closer. Her arms wrap around his neck to help her stand on her toes (she's two or three inches shorter than he) but Rowena can't hold it for as long as she wants and falls back to the heels of her feet, breaking the kiss when it was just starting to get interesting. She tilts her head at him, looking for reaction but his whiskey brown eyes are clouded and half open, chest heaving, and he's holding her close to his gangly frame as she assumes he gathers his thoughts. She chuckles and tucks her face against his chest, smiling happily. He even tastes sweet.
"Spencer?" Rowena asks, tone merry. It's finally hit him that the question may not be whether or not she'd want to be his, but whether or not he wants her to be. Morgan's right, he can be an idiot.
"We're dating." He states firmly when he gets his breath back and Rowena returns the smile, leaning in for a repeat when Spencer's phone goes off on the counter, vibrating and ringing in a piercing tone. She sighs and gestures for him to get it, and he does, swearing under his breath. "What?" He barks into the phone and Rowena chuckles to herself at it, going back to cooking.
"Where? How many victims?" She keeps her shoulders from slumping. Of course, a case. "Fine, I'll be there. Umm, no, I'd rather you don't pick me up, I'll take a cab. Yes, I know I live on your way to the airport, Morgan. Because, because I said so. I'm not home, okay?" The eggs are cracked and go into the pan, and she grins at the half of the conversation she can hear. "Yes, alright, I'm at Rowena's, shut up!" Spencer hisses, enormously embarrassed at Morgan's whistle, which is definitely audible to the entire kitchen. "Fine, I'll see you in half an hour. No, no, don't you dare tell the others. Derek? Derek!" He closes his phone.
Two plates of food are set across from each other with coffee and orange juice and Rowena picks hers, digging in. Following unspoken cues, Spencer takes the other, not wanting to broach the silence.
"I take it your entire team thinks we slept together?" He chokes on a mouthful of tomato and egg while Rowena fails to hide a smirk.
"Probably, yes."
"We're dating, dear, not sleeping together." He tucks that piece of information away.
"We are. We are dating." Spencer murmurs happily before taking a heaping bite and Rowena does her best not to blush.
"Well, aren't you happy about that?" She tries to sound like she doesn't care and fails. If this is indeed going to progress, her own life, insecurities and quirks are going to come out, some slow and some fast. Spencer's past is complicated, but everyone has things that will come out as they dare to approach someone else.
"Of course I am. I like you. I like how comfortable you are with yourself, with or without makeup. I like that you're fond of earth toned colors, and how it shows in your personality, how caring you are…" He shuts up, not wanting to profile, and she smiles.
"You make me sound far more interesting than I am."
"But you are interesting!" There's a firm knock at the door after almost precisely half an hour and Rowena slides on her glasses to answer the door.
"Rowena, it's Morgan, I got it." Spencer calls as he hastens after her but her reply is also firm.
"My house, I answer the door." She opens the door and is greeted by a smug Derek Morgan. "Hello, Mr. Morgan. How are you?"
"Just fine, miss, and you?" His sharp eyes have already taken in the fact that her clothes are obviously slept in, just like Spencer's. He can easily tell that it isn't what it looks like but also that there's protective instincts in Spencer's wary posture and careful watching. Yes, yes, indeed; Mr. Dr. Spencer Reid has found himself a woman he likes quite a bit.
"The same."
"Mind if I borrow the squirmy whiz kid behind you? I promise I'll return him in one piece." She chuckles and gently pushes him forward and out the door.
"You may indeed."
"Rowena, wait!" Spencer manages to blurt as he's halfway down the stairs and Morgan, waiting at the car, turns to observe as inconspicuously as possible. She lifts an eyebrow at him. "Do, do you mind if I, uh, call you, while I'm gone?"
"Spencer Reid, I will absolutely mind if you don't." The door shuts after a wink and a beam, and Morgan whistles again, ignoring the glare he receives.