#reidniss

[tenelope]

Spencer, I couldn’t be more proud of you. Why? Because it’s difficult caring for family, but it takes tremendous strength to ask for help.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @baureid ♡

[a-heart-of-kyber]

Prentiss always just got Reid....

The potential they could've had.

[dontshootmespence]

Stay

Summary: For years, Emily and Spencer have wondered what could be. It takes Emily leaving for London to spur Spencer into action.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Emily Prentiss

Word Count: 1,147

Warning: Spoilers through season 7. Drug mentions. 

A/N: This fulfills my Reid/Emily square for @cmbingo​. 

Doyle was breathing down her neck and she needed to lay low, but after Derek approached her about her recent behavior, she knew she couldn’t keep turning down plans either without raising more suspicion. As she had so many times before, she found herself at Spencer’s apartment. With a heavy heart, she knocked on his door.

“Emily?” Spencer quickly ushered her into the apartment. “What’s wrong?”

Despite the desire to air out some long held feelings, the instant she saw the softness in his eyes and realized how much he cared for her and just what he meant to her, she couldn’t burden him that way. If she told him how she felt, he might want to start something between them and she couldn’t put him in harm’s way like that. Doyle was her battle and hers alone. 

“Nothing,” she replied, injecting levity into her voice like it was second nature. “I was just in the area and I remember you telling me you got that Russian-subtitled Solaris on DVD and I was wondering if we could watch it?”

There was the slightest hint of hesitation in his voice, like he wanted to question her further, but then he broke out into a smile. “Sure! Um, do you want some popcorn?”

Nodding, Emily thanked him and sat down on the couch, feeling a bit peaceful for the first time in nearly a week. Settling in, she took the popcorn Spencer offered with a smile and watched Solaris for nearly two and a half hours, all the while debating with herself. As if he could sense her inner turmoil, Spencer interrupted the movie. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

Emily sleepily sunk into the couch and leaned into him. “Yea, I just have a lot on my mind and don’t really want to talk about it. That okay?”

“Of course.”

She closed her eyes against the sound of his voice. “Thanks,”

----

The night Emily “died” was one of the worst nights of Spencer’s life. Not only did he lose one of his best friends, but the possibility of more - all because he was too cowardly, too afraid of rejection, to bring up how he truly felt. For weeks after her death, he’d gone crying to JJ and eventually told her about his feelings for Emily. Each day felt harder than the last, and in his despair, he nearly returned to dilaudid too many times to count. The only thing that kept him from contacting his old dealer was Emily’s voice in the back of his head.

“Please don’t.”

“This isn’t what you really want.”

“This isn’t what I want for you.”

Every emotion, every tear, every near relapse was thrown into sharp relief when she returned. And though he knew she did what she did for her own safety, he couldn’t make sense of it - and Hotch and JJ’s part in it - for months. “You know what I think it is?” JJ asked, anger and shame running through her body. “You’re made that Hotch and I controlled our micro expressions at the hospital and you weren’t able to detect our deception.”

Spencer swallowed back bile, tears brimming at the corners of his eyes. “You think this is about my profiling skills? Jennifer, listen - the only reason you were able to manage my perceptions is because I trusted you! I came to your house for ten weeks in a row, crying over losing a friend, confiding in you, and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth.

“I couldn’t.”

“You couldn’t or you wouldn’t?” 

“No, I couldn’t!”

Not caring who he hurt, he blurted out. “What if I had started taking dilaudid again? Would you have let me?”

JJ looked taken aback. “You didn’t,” she replied shakily.”

“Yea, but I thought about it.”

That moment nearly broke him. Broke his relationship with JJ and left him more confused than ever about where he stood regarding his feelings for Emily. In the following months, they all made up, with Spencer deciding to forgive and thank any deity that existed that at least Emily was alive.

On Fridays, Spencer and Emily would get together and watch movies, sometimes foreign language ones, sometimes horror, sometimes something completely random, whether they were on a case or not. If home, they would eat popcorn like the used to and dance around the unspoken feelings between them. 

It was only a year after her return, when she decided to move to London to find herself again post-death that Spencer realized he didn’t want to let her go. No matter what hang-ups he’d had before she died, or the ones that arose upon her return, they didn’t erase how he felt. But each time he tried to say something, he would get interrupted until she was on the plane and out of his reach.

Though he’d never told Derek about his feelings for Emily, he placed his hand on Spencer’s shoulder one night, shortly after Emily departure. “There’s almost nothing worse than the unknown, kid.”

They sat in silence in the bullpen for a moment before Spencer replied. “You’re right.”

----

A week and a half after Emily left for London, Spencer found himself across the pond catching a cab in the middle of the pouring rain. With a windbreaker that was slightly too big and did little to keep away the cold, he knocked on Emily’s apartment door. “Spence?” Although taken aback by his presence, she immediately wrapped her arms around him. “Spence, what are you doing here?”

Spencer took a deep breath and grabbed Emily’s hand. “Emily, if I’m wrong I’m the worst profiler on the planet, but we’ve been dancing around this for a while. I like you as more than a friend. I have for a long time. Before you came back, before Doyle. I never said anything because I was afraid of what you’d say and then after you came back, the whole situation just left me confused about where I stood when it came to my feelings but then you were gone and it made me realize that I had to say something. Whether it goes anywhere or not is up to you from here on out, but I had to say something.”

“Spence, I-”

At first, Spencer thought that maybe he’d been reading into the little moments between them, but then she smiled.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here. You could’ve picked up the phone and told me and I would’ve said I feel the same way.” As she wrapped her arms around his waist, she laughed. “Instead, you’re all wet and you spent who the hell knows how much money.”

“You’re worth it, Emily.”

For one of the first time’s ever, he saw her blush. “Do you want to stay?”

“I was hoping you’d ask me that.”

[jade-sk15]

Emily: Hey, Reid, how many times can you die before it becomes socially unacceptable?

Reid: None... wait WHAT?

Emily: *shrugs casually* Just a little research, should the topic ever come up. But you're saying I shouldn't have died the first time?

Reid:

[illegalcerebral]

Dear Emily

A/N: This is a canon divergent fic where Spencer and Emily were together when Doyle resurfaced. The team knows she’s alive but has to keep up apparances. This fulfils the “Season 6″ Square of @cmbingo

CM Bingo Masterlist // Main Masterlist // One Shot and Shorts Masterlist

Dear Emily,

Did you know that the Persian Queen Atossa around 500BC wrote the first letter?

It’s been one hundred and twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-three minutes since we last spoke in person.

I am eating loads of peas right now for the serotonin. I hope you are too.

I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts physically. Every time I walk past your desk or I see an empty seat on the jet or in the roundtable room I feel this ache, like a piece of me has been removed and the rest of my body is caving in to fill the whole.

Don’t worry; I’m not going to do something stupid. I’ve started going to meetings again and I have a sponsor now and we talk about you a lot. I don’t tell her anything classified; in fact I stick to the cover story. I tell her you’re dead. It feels like you’re dead and this feels like grief so in some ways it isn’t a lie and even if it is in other ways, it’s a lie that’s keeping you safe.

So I sit in the meetings and I talk about my wonderful girlfriend Emily who was killed in the line of duty and everyone is very sympathetic. They say that you wouldn’t want me to start using again, which is true and I’m not going to. When you come back (because you will come back) I’m going to be able to look you in the eye and say I held it together, I was strong for you. I’m not weak.

I wish I could talk to you though. It took me long enough to persuade Hotch to let me send you a letter. He’s going to read this first; I know he is, which is awkward. Way more awkward that when we stood in his office and told him about us. I was pretty sure I was going to die of embarrassment. Thank god you were there. I wouldn’t have been able to do it on my own.

He’d never let me call you. I don’t know your address or your assumed name. I just want to hear your voice so badly. I’ve started having conversations in my head with you when I’m working on a geo-profile. Weirdly I think it makes me a better profiler.

(Not sure I want Hotch to read that)

I hope the weather is nice where you are. I know I should just be grateful that you’re safe and you’re recovering.

(This is the only piece of information Hotch could give me about you. You were discharged from hospital and your injuries are healing but you’re also being ‘obstreperous’ about it – his words, not mine)

I think if you have to fake your death and live somewhere under an assumed name though it should be somewhere with lots of sunshine and restaurants and museums. There should be flowers to smell and kind people to make conversation with. I hope you can make friends.

Penelope has built a little shrine in her office for you. Hotch’s rule is that we can’t discuss you in the office anymore. As far as we’re concerned you’re dead. He’s worried if we talk about you someone might pick up on the truth and that will get back to Doyle and-

Nope, no writing about Doyle.

(We’re going to find him I promise. We’ll find him and save Declan and then you can come home.)

Anyway, Penelope thinks she misses you the most and I’m going to let her think that. Partly because I don’t want to tell people we’re together until you come back and we can tell them as a couple. Partly its because I think in a way its helping her right now. I don’t want to crush her grief with my own. It would be unfair. We have Doctor Who marathons a lot. It turns into a ‘talking about Emily’ marathon pretty quickly. I need to be careful, JJ told me Penelope thinks I have an unrequited crush on you now.

I hope she isn’t mad when she finds out.

I wish I could write about the last few weeks before you ‘died’. I don’t want Hotch to read that, obviously. You were sad about something and I keep thinking I should have pushed harder but you kept…distracting me.

I miss those distractions. God I wish-

I’m going to need to persuade Hotch to let me write some letters he won’t read. I know that you would say “So wha? Write all the sexy stuff just as you imagine it and Hotch just have to get over it.” You would do that and you’d enjoy it. I would die. Literally, the strain of the stress that would cause would send me into cardiac arrest.

I miss everything about you. I miss getting coffee and doughnuts before work. I miss listening to you complain about whatever book you were reading. I miss you drumming your fingers when you’re concentrating on paperwork. I miss the way you doodle while you’re on the phone.

I miss you.

I love you.

I was saving that for when you came back but if this whole thing has taught me anything it’s that you shouldn’t wait to tell the people that are important to you how you feel.

I love you Emily Prentiss and I want you home.

Spencer.

[drewsb12]

‘Will you keep me close? Will you love me most?’

[dontshootmespence]

I wanna work on my Reid x Emily square. I want something angsty and romantic and maybe a lil smutty but I’m not sure about that last bit. Anyone have anything they’d like to see that’s like a canon offshoot?

[illegalcerebral]

Dear Spencer

A/N: A follow up to “Dear Emily”. This is a canon divergent fic where Spencer and Emily were together when Doyle resurfaced. The team knows she’s alive but has to keep up apparances. This fulfils the “Reidniss″ Square of @cmbingo​. Big thank you to @dontshootmespence for help when I was stuck with these bingo squares <3

CM Bingo Masterlist // Main Masterlist // One Shot and Shorts Masterlist

Dear Spencer,

Yes, it’s sunny here, for the most part. Nowhere is sunny all the time but at this time of year the weather’s pleasant. That is as descriptive as I can get. As for the other stuff – my new name for instance – I will leave that up to your imagination. I’m sure that big, beautiful brain of yours can think of something exciting.

Being dead is boring. So boring. I wouldn’t recommend it. I know you said you aren’t going to do anything stupid but as an added incentive please know that I would peel all my skin off for something to do right now. You would get bored much more quickly than I did.

At least when I was in the hospital I had something to work towards. I could ignore all the physical and emotional pain and work on being able to sit up in bed, and then I could ignore the loneliness and work on standing up unassisted. After that it was dressing myself and then walking across the room and then walking out of the hospital room. I didn’t have the time or the space to dwell on what I’d lost, who I’d hurt or the fact that I might never see the people I love again.

Afterwards, it hit me all at once. I should confess that I put off sending this to you for a long time because I was in a dark place. Your letters were so beautiful and reassuring and hopeful that it hurt for me to read them. I didn’t feel worthy of that kind of love.

I know you’ll be rolling your eyes as you read that but I also know that you would recognise that feeling better than anyone.

It’s how I got through those dark times, I just kept telling myself “Spencer would get it. Spencer would understand. Spencer would know what to do.”

So I read a lot at first. Worked my way through every Vonnegut novel and then started on the classics. It made me miss you more because I want to hear your thoughts on everything, your facts about writers and their stories and their inspiration. I started playing chess with the agents that have been assigned to my protective detail.

Oh yeah I should have mentioned them. They’re Harry and Sally, not their real names of course but they won’t tell me their real names and I’m convinced there’s something going on between them. They’re actually the ones reading your letters not Hotch. Hotch thought it would be an invasion of our privacy and he’d be overstepping his role as Unit Chief so the agents do it. (Harry thinks you’re adorable).

Anyway, Sally plays chess so I’ve been challenging her to games to pass the time. She’s good, not as good as you but she keeps me on my toes. She’s going to teach me how to play Go as well so I figured we could play that when we see each other again.

I am holding on to your hope Spencer because mine is so fragile. You seem so certain that the BAU will catch Doyle and everything will go back to normal. Even though I know it could never be that easy I’m repeating your words over and over in my head like a mantra. I hear them in your voice. It’s almost like having you hear. God, I wish you were here.

I’ve started dreaming about you. (Not sexy dreams. Well, not just sexy dreams.) I keep finding myself in the office but no one else is there. It’s not creepy or anything, it’s peaceful. It feels like everyone has gone home for the night and then I look up from my desk and I can see you through the window of the roundtable room and I go to but you don’t look up from the book you’re reading. You’re smiling to yourself and I want to say something to you but I don’t because I never want that smile to leave your face.

Dying has made me sentimental. My therapist says I need to grieve but I also have to stop talking about myself like I’m a ghost. I said I’d rather be a zombie or a vampire but she didn’t think that was funny. The woman has no sense of humour, which I think is a mistake if she wants to dedicate her life to working with trauma victims.

I wish you could visit. You’d like it here a lot. There are so many places I could take you. If I was more selfish I could have begged you to come with me. I know you would have. Sometimes I regret that but I know your place is with the team right now, no matter how much I would give to have a moment with you, to touch you, to hear your voice, to kiss you.

You should put the sexy parts in your letters, you’re totally right. First off, it would be hilarious to see the look on Harry’s face as he read through it and second, I love when you talk to me like that, when you make me feel desirable and beautiful. I want to feel that way again. I want to make you feel that way.

I miss you too.

I love you too.

God we have such a weird relationship. It’s a beautiful relationship, definitely, but oh so weird. I wish I’d told you I loved you before I left. I want to see the look in your eyes when I say it to your face.

I hope I can see that soon,

Emily.