Annoyance (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Breakfast

Spencer was up and walking a few days later, and the doctors had decided he was okay enough to leave. Not long after, he was given a psychological evaluation from Hotch, and passed as everyone had expected. You worried, though. All of you knew how to get past red tape like that, unless he was extremely unraveled there was no reason why he wouldn't be able to pass.

You were almost afraid to approach him when he appeared in the office the following Monday. You hadn't even spared him a text or call, opting to keep to yourself. You were worried that he blamed you, worried that being around you would make him susceptible to getting hurt again. The cuts and bruises on his body started to fade, but you would probably never forget how he looked at you with such fear, how frail he looked in the hospital bed.

His interrogators were asking about personal information about the team. This gave everyone a better idea of who you were up against, or at least what they wanted. Their objective was revenge, obviously, but for what? The team was trying to go over old cases, but there wasn't much progress being made with newer cases piling up. There was no evidence left on the dead girl's body, so that was a dead end, too. Eventually, you all had to put it on the backburner, hoping that something new would come to light.

You were home alone one night, watching mindless television and scrolling on your phone when there was a knock on the door. You frowned. 10 o'clock on a Friday night? Something was wrong. There was another knock, more insistent this time. You crept to the door, looking through the peephole to see who it was.

Spencer?

You unlocked the door, opening it and looking up at him quizzically.

"Hey," you said concernedly.

"Hi," he replied, rocking back and forth on his feet. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, of course."

You moved out of the way so he could enter, closing and locking the door behind him. You didn't trust to leave any doors unlocked anymore. Spencer stood around awkwardly, looking around your apartment as if he had never seen it before. He seemed to be invested at looking at anything except for you.

"You can sit down if you want," you offered, walking past him to take your former place on the couch. He took a seat in your armchair, setting his satchel on the floor next to it discreetly and crossing one leg over the other. He finally looked at you, and the intensity of his gaze made you want to look away.

"You've been avoiding me," he stated. Was there a tinge of sadness in his voice?

"Have I?"

"You haven't spoken to me in over a week."

"Oh."

Had it really been that long? You did the math in your head. You had last spoken to him in the hospital last Wednesday when you left. So yeah, it had been over a week.

"Uh, I'm sorry," you said. "I didn't mean to make it weird or anything."

"Why would it be weird?"

"Spencer, the last conversation we had, you were convinced I was some hallucination. What am I supposed to say to that?"

"I was thinking more of a ghost. Or like an angel."

"You-" you paused for a moment, trying to take that in. "You thought that I died and came back as a ghost to haunt you?"

He shrugged, looking a little embarrassed.

"I mean I saw worse stuff during that time."

"So... you believe in ghosts? Or angels? Is that why you were so scared when you saw me the first time, when we came to get you?"