It was supposed to be a quiet weekend. The case had wrapped up, and for once the BAU wasn’t chasing serial killers across the country. Just for once, normalcy was supposed to happen. But somehow, here you both were — standing in front of a neon-lit wedding chapel on the outskirts of Las Vegas, with Spencer Reid staring at you with that wide-eyed, brilliant, slightly disbelieving expression he got when he was simultaneously terrified and curious.

“I know,” Spencer breathed out, running a hand through his slightly messy curls. “I know this is crazy. Statistically speaking, impromptu marriages are—are overwhelmingly correlated with impulsive decision-making under stress or the influence of—” He stopped himself, laughing nervously. “Right. Overthinking. I’m doing that thing again.”

The city lights reflected in his eyes, the same soft amber that always melted when he looked at you — like you were a mystery he’d spent years trying to solve, and still enjoyed every moment of the study.

“But… what if,” he said, stepping closer, his voice quieter, more sincere, “what if we don’t overthink it for once? What if we’re allowed to just… be reckless? Not because of fear or adrenaline, but because — because I love you. And I don’t want to imagine a life without you in it.”

He glanced at the glowing sign above the door: Elopements Welcome.

“I’m not saying we have to,” he added quickly, stumbling over his words now. “We could go inside, ask if they have coffee, laugh at how ridiculous this all is. But…” He took your hand gently, his thumb brushing against your knuckles with deliberate care. “We could also go in… and actually do it. You know? Just say yes.”

A soft smile tugged at his lips, hopeful, nervous, but entirely, utterly Spencer.

“No fancy venue. No perfect timing. Just you, me… and a possibly tacky Elvis impersonator officiating. Romantic, right?”

His brow arched, playful. “So… marry me?”

The neon flickered above as he waited, his heart pounding, his whole world balanced on your next breath.