Summary: In a post-injury, heavily medicated haze, you let slip the one thing Spencer has been dreaming he’d hear you say for years. There’s only one problem: you couldn’t possibly mean it. …Could you?
Pairings: Spencer Reid x gn!Reader
A/N: Back again with another medically induced confession of love... going back to my roots! (I wrote For Real almost 4 years ago exactly 😱) Also Reader is written with no descriptors, but there is one scene where they are wearing a dress!
Spencer let out an exaggerated gasp. “You have a broken elbow!”
“Yes, true, but we’ve both seen worse.” You shrugged, or at least attempted to. “Besides, my best friend is a doctor. I think I’m in very good hands.”
He rolled his eyes fondly, trying to ignore the way the words ‘best friend’ somehow felt like a punch to the gut. Friends. That’s exactly what you were. And, unfortunately for him, that was all you would ever be. “I’m not a medical doctor.”
“Eh, whatever,” you said. “Po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe.” He let out a low grumble in response, and you just laughed. “I’m the one in the hospital bed, I have the trump card here.”
“Whatever you say, your majesty.” Spencer gave a little bow from the uncomfortable plastic chair he was nestled in beside you.
“Now that’s more like it.”
He huffed out a laugh, taking your hand in his and giving it a squeeze. “In all seriousness, though, I’m really glad you’re okay.” He would never be able to live with himself if you weren’t. “I–” The words he had been holding back for literal years were stuck in the back of his throat, desperate to escape, yet unable to come out. He just–he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t be brave. Not when he knew you didn’t feel the same way. “I’m just really, really glad,” he finally settled on.