The microwave beeping rings out around your empty kitchen, and you shove your phone in your pocket, crossing to the microwave. You open it and pull out your leftover Thai food before grabbing a fork, heading over to your couch. Sitting crisscross, you turn on Grey's Anatomy, leaning back on your couch as you let the sounds of season 2 Meredith Grey fill your living room.
You take a big bite of your food before chewing slowly, pulling your phone out of your pocket. You haven't heard from Spencer in a couple days, and truth be told, you kinda miss talking to him. You know what he does is dangerous and stressful, and you hope he's okay.
You take a sip of your wine before setting the glass back on the table, twirling your fork around the noodles again before taking some into your mouth. You chew slowly, taking in the show you've already watched three times before when a knock sounds at your door.
You crease your eyebrows, setting your bowl of food down and standing up, crossing to the door and opening it to see a very disheveled Spencer Reid.
He looks awful. His hair is a mess, his face red and splotchy, the bags under his eyes not only puffy, but darker than usual. His tie is loose around his neck, his shirt untucked from his pants. He doesn't even look at you, his eyes glued to the ground, his hands in tight fists around the hem of his shirt.
"Spencer? Are you okay?"
He hesitates a moment, almost like the wheels in his brain are trying to catch up with your words. After a moment, he shakes his head, his face scrunching up like he's going to cry. You gently take his hand, pulling him into your apartment before closing the door. He stands there, his hands still gripping his shirt, and you put your arms on his shoulders, eyes searching his face.
"Do you need a hug? What can I do?"
Slowly, he drags his hazel eyes up from the floor to your face, and you see his lower lip tremble slightly, his grip slowly loosening from his shirt. You gently move your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. He hesitates a moment before wrapping his arms around you, hugging you tightly, his face buried into the crook of your neck. You don't even realize he's crying until you feel his body shaking.
You put one hand on the back of his head, stroking his hair slowly. "It's okay; I'm here."
You don't even know what's wrong with him, but at the moment, prying into his personal life isn't your biggest concern. You hug him for who knows how long, his hands curled into tight fists at your back, clutching the fabric of your shirt like you might disappear if he lets go. He's so tall, you have to stand on your tiptoes, Spencer practically lifting you off the floor as he hugs you.
After several minutes, he releases you, pulling away to wipe his face. "I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here."
You cup his cheek with your hand, wiping away a tear. "Don't apologize for being human. And you can always come here, Spencer. Let's sit, okay?"
He nods, and you two sit on the couch next to each other. Spencer leans back against the couch, his eyes set on the coffee table in front of him. He reaches over, blindly searching for your hand, and you catch it, lacing your fingers together. He relaxes slightly, and you pull your entwined hands in your lap.
"Do you want to talk about it? You don't have to if you don't want to. We could just sit here and watch Grey's."
He hesitates a moment before shaking his head, his hazel eyes dragging from the coffee table to your face. "I'd like to talk about it."
You nod, rubbing your thumb over his slowly. He scoots closer to you, his thigh touching yours. Your eyes search the side of his face, trying to discern any emotion in him.
"Take your time," you say softly, squeezing his hand gently.
He nods slowly. "I...I was framed for something I didn't do. By a woman who wanted to get back at me for putting her in jail." He speaks slowly, almost like he's trying to word his sentences very carefully. "I was forced to go through, um, a lot. I had to do some things that changed who I was; they took little pieces away from me. Chipped away at me until I didn't feel like myself anymore." His voice is thick, almost like he's about to start crying again. "I still don't feel like myself."
You furrow your brow, biting the inside of your cheek. "Spencer, I'm so sorry that happened to you."
"Please don't apologize; it's not your fault." His voice breaks slightly. "I...I'm still getting readjusted to work. It's, um, really hard for me. The cases are hard. This case was hard. And I...I can't sleep. Sleep is when the nightmares come. I can't sleep."
You don't really know what to say—your first instinct is to apologize, but he just said not to. So instead, you run your thumb over his before pulling him to you. You adjust your position on the couch, sitting back against the arm of the couch, letting his back rest against your chest, his body between your legs. You wrap your arms around him, his hands immediately connecting with yours, holding onto them tightly. He leans his head back, resting against the junction of your shoulder and your neck.
"I don't really understand how you feel, bubs," you murmur. "But I do know that what you're feeling right now is temporary."
He exhales slowly, rubbing his thumb along your arm. "I'm just tired of feeling like a stranger in my own mind. Like I don't even know myself."
You reach one hand to his head, gently pushing his hair back, running your fingers through the soft hair. "You're gonna be okay, bubs. I promise."
He turns his head slightly, looking up at you. He doesn't say anything, hazel eyes searching yours for a moment before you lean your head forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He kisses you back, the kiss gentle and sweet. How different this man is from the one you talked to on the phone a couple days ago, the dominating one. The man you're holding in your arms now is broken, trying to put himself back together again. After a few moments, you pull away, running your fingers through your hair.
"Now, I'm going to sit here and hold you and stroke your hair, because that's what my sister does for me when I'm feeling upset. So now I'm gonna do it for you."
Spencer gives you a small smile before nodding, turning his head back, resting the back of it against you again. You smile softly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, his hand wrapped loosely around your wrist. You turn your head, watching Grey's Anatomy while you hold him. Your free hand runs through his hair slowly, gently, and you feel Spencer relax against you.
"Pretty girl?"
"Hm?" You hum, glancing down at him.
"Thank you," he murmurs. "For being you."
"I don't really know how to be anyone else, bubs," you whisper, a small chuckle coming from him.
He's quiet after that, and you turn your attention back to the TV, watching Cristina Yang faint in Burke's OR. You always liked that part—mostly because of the scenes afterward when Cristina is recovering. Grey's is one of your comfort shows, and you re-watch it because it's comfortable. You know what happens.
You're so caught up in the show, you don't even realize the soft snoring coming from Spencer, his breathing even. He's asleep.
You smile to yourself, your hand moving from his hair back to rest around his torso, pulling him closer to you. He grumbles in his sleep, snuggling closer to you, his grip tightening reflexively around your wrist. Your smile grows wider, and you rest your chin on the top of his head, watching the TV, trying not to move.
You realize you don't know that much about Spencer. Yes, you know he's thirty-five. He's an FBI agent working with the BAU. He's a genius with an IQ of 187 and went to Caltech. 3 BA's and 3 PhD's. But as far as anything personal, you don't really know anything about him, except for that he went through something traumatizing that scarred him. And part of you is okay with him not sharing—it's his life. When he's ready to share with you, he will. But the other part of you really wants to know him. You want to know all of him.
You watch approximately four episodes of Grey's Anatomy before Spencer wakes up. He mumbles softly, his hand disconnecting from your wrist, reaching up to rub his eyes. You smile, laughing softly.
"Morning, Sleeping Beauty."
He chuckles softly. "I didn't mean to fall asleep. You should've woken me up."
"No, I had to let you sleep, especially after you told me you haven't been sleeping," you murmur.
Spencer rubs your arm slowly. "Thank you." He's silent for a moment. "I think...I think you make me feel safe."
"Really?"
He turns his head to look up at you, nodding. "Yes."
You smile, leaning in to give him a kiss. He kisses you back, lips moving against yours slowly. He reaches around, cupping your face gently before pulling away, a soft smile on his lips.
"Do you wanna stay the night, bubs?" You murmur, running your fingers through his hair again.
He nods slowly. "If that's okay."
"Maybe you'll finally get a good night's sleep."
He adjusts his position, turning his body over, sitting on his knees between your legs, littering your neck and jaw with small kisses. You giggle, letting him kiss you for a moment before pushing him off you, Spencer laughing as he grips your wrists so he doesn't fall off the couch.
"Come on. Let's go to sleep."
He stands up first, you following. You turn the TV off before grabbing your now-cold Thai leftovers and your nearly empty wine glass. You put both of them in the sink before you and Spencer head to your room.
"I don't have a lot of boy clothes," you mumble, rifling through your dresser, "but I do have an old t-shirt and some sweatpants? Is that's okay?"
Spencer nods. "It's perfect."
You hand him the clothes and he walks into your bathroom. You change into your own pajamas before climbing into bed. After a few moments, Spencer walks out of the bathroom, climbing under the covers. You lie on your back, holding out your arms, and Spencer grins, lying on his stomach, setting his head on your chest. He lays his left arm on your torso, and you run your hands through his hair.
"Promise me you'll sleep," you mumble, grinning to yourself.
"You know I can't promise that, pretty girl," he murmurs into your neck.
"Too bad, doctor. I don't have a PhD yet, but I'm prescribing a good night's sleep."
His laugh vibrates your neck. "You're not even getting a medical PhD."
"I don't care," you shoot back.
"Fine," he mumbles.
You feel him plant a small kiss on your neck before he snuggles into you, and you smile, kissing the top of his head. It's not long before you feel his breathing even out, his soft snores filling your room. You close your own eyes, Spencer's little snores the perfect little lullaby to put you to sleep.
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Author's Note
Hi hi hi hi!
This chapter is short bc I've had the longest day and I'm exhausted akdkakf
But I fuckin' love writing this fic. Not only do you get severely soft Spencer, but you also get uhhh dominating seggsy Spencer.
I hope y'all are enjoying this so far :) <3