IM SO EXCITED UR WRITING FOR SPENCER!!! Reverse hurt/comfort with Spencer Reid? Hes so baby boy
hiii tysm for your request!! <3 | 0.7k, established relationship hurt/comfort with our boy
You’re woken up by gentle knocks on your door.
To be fair, you’d been asleep on your couch, and you hadn’t even meant to fall asleep in the first place. You’d been trying to wait to make sure Spencer’s flight landed okay. That he got home safe.
You’d expected that to come in the form of a brief text (he may not be the biggest fan of technology, but he tries for you), not in him standing outside your door at midnight.
Through your peephole, you can see him standing in your hallway. Spencer has drilled it into enough times not to open the door without checking first. He’s still got his go bag with him, like he’d gotten off the jet and came straight to you.
You open the door. “Spence? Hi.”
“Hi,” he says, quiet and almost unsure. “I’m sorry for just showing up like this but I.. didn’t want to be alone.”
“Don’t be sorry,” you take his hand and lead him inside. “I missed you.”
Once your door is shut and locked and Spencer’s in your apartment, he drops his bag at his feet, slips his shoes off, and falls into your arms when you open them.
His head is tucked into the crook of your neck, his back bent a little awkwardly to do it. His arms are around your waist loosely. You rub a hand up and down his back, his cardigan soft beneath it.
You don’t say anything, you just hold him, as long as he needs.
Spencer is rarely quiet like this, so you know something’s bothering him. You also know not to push, that he’ll tell you on his own time.
“I missed you, honey,” he says into your skin.
It’s a few more minutes of standing in your entryway, of Spencer breathing you in and pinching the fabric of your shirt between his fingers.
Eventually, you get him onto your couch, a warm mug of the tea you keep stocked just for him deposited on the coffee table. You sit next to him as he drinks it, draping a blanket over his lap and squeezing his shoulder every so often, just to remind him you’re there.
When he’s ready, he sets the mug down. “We- I lost someone today. I broke a promise.”
“I’m sure it’s not on you, Spencer. I’m sorry it happened.”
“I know better than to make promises,” he says, almost like he hadn’t even heard you. “But I did, and then I broke it. I failed. Hotch said I should take a few days.”
Spencer looks down at his lap the entire time he speaks. You wish you knew how to make this better for him, but nothing you say will bring a person back to life.
“If I would’ve been there a minute sooner-”
“Spence-”
“If I figured it out quicker, I could’ve saved-”
“Spence.”
“I should have been better. Things could have been different if I was-”
“Spencer Reid,” that one works. He pauses, head lifting slowly to look at you. “You are the smartest person I’ve ever met. Which means you should know that the blame doesn’t fall on you, or your team.”
He just shakes his head, but you stop him with a hand to his cheek. You urge him to lay down until his head is in your lap, cheek against your thigh. You run your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp gently.
“These things happen,” you say. “These awful things, but they are not a reflection of you or your merit. What you do, what your team does, is so
important. So brave. That doesn’t change, okay?”
When he doesn’t say anything to that, you add: “You’ll always be a hero to me. Whether you’re saving lives and catching bad guys or going on for five minutes about some chess rule.”
Spencer huffs against your thigh. It’s small, but it’s something, and that’s all you can ask for.
“I love you,” is all he says, head tilted to press a kiss to your leg.
“I love you,” you say back. You stay like that until he falls asleep. After that, even. All night, if you have to.
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