Chapter Text
The weight of the trial didn’t lift the moment the gavel fell. Not really. The echoes of testimony, the ache in Spencer’s chest, the weeks of dread—it all lingered like smoke that refused to clear.
But tonight, in the warm glow of Rossi’s backyard, it began to fade.
True to his word and perhaps to a promise no one had heard him make. Rossi insisted the celebration be at his place.
“Celebration at my house,” he’d declared, sweeping them all inside with the easy command of a man who’d made his home a refuge for them more times than anyone could count.
The long oak table overflowed with food and wine. Garcia was already building a mountain out of tiramisu, JJ poured glasses of Rossi’s best vintage, and Derek had Aly perched on his knee, making her giggle as he bounced her gently. Ellie sat tucked between Emily and Garcia, wide-eyed at the feast before her.
Jack, Michael, and Henry arrived not long after, and soon the kids were in their own world. Aly and Ellie chasing them across Rossi’s sprawling lawn, tumbling into grass, shrieking with laughter. The adults watched from the patio, their conversation punctuated by the delighted cries of children who, for the first time in weeks, had nothing heavy weighing them down.
Hotch stood near the hearth, glass in hand, quietly observing. When Spencer finally approached, Aly settled in his arms, he gave Hotch a small nod.
“I wouldn’t have made it without you,” he said simply.
Hotch’s expression softened. “You didn’t need me to fight this battle for you, Reid. You just needed reminding you weren’t fighting it alone.”
At the table, Rossi made good on his promise of spoiling Aly. He reappeared with a box of wrapped gifts—books, puzzles, a stuffed lion with a satin ribbon. Aly squealed, clapping her tiny hands, and Rossi chuckled, lifting her into his lap.
“These were waiting for you, principessa. I had to make sure you came home to something special.”
Later, the conversation turned softer. Cora, who had been quiet for much of the evening, finally spoke.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” she murmured, fingers worrying the rim of her glass. “At the hospital. When you needed people the most.”
The table stirred, and Derek shook his head. “Oh, please. You were there in your own way.”
Emily smirked knowingly. “No doctor or nurse on that floor knew his tea, sheets, pillows, or movie preferences but somehow, they showed up exactly right.”
Garcia gasped dramatically. “And don’t think we didn’t see your car once! Poor intern nearly passed out when you swooped in like some terrifying phantom guardian.”
JJ leaned in, smiling. “We figured it out, Cora. Ellie’s bag was too heavy for her, but we saw the way Reid’s things were packed like someone was making sure he had what he needed without ever asking.”
Cora’s throat tightened, but she managed a faint smile. “I did what I could.” She glanced toward the yard, where Aly had toddled back in, curls wild from the wind. “I kept an eye on her, too. At the park.”
Aly climbed into her lap, her tiny arms wrapping clumsily around her mother. She looked up, eyes bright, and announced, “Mama park!”
The table went still for a beat, every heart catching at once. Cora blinked, stunned, before pressing a kiss to her daughter’s hair. Across the table, Spencer smiled quietly—because in that tiny word, Aly had said everything they’d all been fighting for.
Rossi lifted his glass, his voice carrying that familiar gravel and weight.
“To family. The one we’re born with, the one we build, and the one stubborn enough to survive everything life throws at it.”
Glasses clinked, a chorus of cheers rising from around the table. The moment settled deep—warm, binding, unshakable.
And then Garcia, sniffling dramatically but refusing to let sentimentality win, blurted out, “I knew my glitter-bombed scrapbook did the trick!”
Morgan groaned. “Baby Girl, you put enough rhinestones on that thing to blind a judge.”
Garcia tossed her hair and waved her hand like royalty. “Those rhinestones caught the light of destiny. Without my artistry, Allison Smith never would’ve seen what mattered most.”
Emily smirked into her wine glass. Rossi chuckled, shaking his head. “Remind me never to underestimate craft supplies in your hands.”
Laughter spilled around the table, easing the weight of the past weeks in the only way this family knew how.
Together.
The laughter inside Rossi’s dining room had mellowed into the gentle clatter of dessert plates and soft chatter. Aly was dozing against Garcia’s shoulder now, Ellie curled up nearby with Jack and Henry. Cora slipped out to the porch, seeking the cooler night air, and Spencer followed a moment later.
Cora sat on the edge of the porch steps, the night cool against her skin. The laughter and celebration had faded inside, leaving only the hum of crickets and the faint glow spilling from the window.
When Spencer joined her, he didn’t sit too close at first. The space between them was deliberate—full of the ghosts of words they’d thrown and couldn’t take back.
Spencer hesitated before speaking. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen everyone laugh like that.”
Cora gave a quiet hum. “They needed it. We all did.” A pause. “You especially.”
He nodded, then after a moment, said softly, “I didn’t realize how much I’d been holding my breath until tonight.”
She looked at him then, and something unspoken passed between them—something that wasn’t entirely relief. “You’re not the only one,” she said.
He exhaled slowly. “It feels like everything’s moving on without us.”
Cora let out a quiet laugh, though it sounded hollow. “Maybe it’s because we’ve both been stuck in the same place.”
Silence stretched, but it wasn’t empty. It was heavy. Necessary.
Finally, Spencer spoke—soft, careful. “I’ve been wanting to say it since the day I saw you again. I’m sorry.”
Her breath caught, just barely.
“I know sorry doesn’t fix anything,” he went on, his voice trembling with restraint. “But I need you to know that I meant it when I said I didn’t mean any of those things. You stayed beside me. You saved me. And still.... I pushed you away. You didn’t deserve that.”
Cora stared ahead, her fingers knotting together in her lap. “You hurt me,” she said simply. Not accusing—just honest. “I know you were grieving, but you made me feel like all the things I survived were my fault all over again. You made me believe that I failed the one person I was fighting to keep safe.”
Spencer’s throat worked, his eyes bright with guilt. “I know.”
“You don’t,” she whispered. “Because if you did, you’d understand why I left and gave you space. I couldn’t breathe around you, Spencer. Not when every word out of your mouth sounded like the people who told me I wasn’t enough to deserve love.”
That cracked something in him. His voice wavered, almost pleading. “Then let me try to be different. I don’t want to be another person who made you doubt your worth.”
Her jaw clenched, tears pricking her eyes. “You already were.”
He nodded—once, slow. He didn’t argue, didn’t defend. He just breathed through it. “And yet you’re still here.”
She turned to look at him then, eyes wet but steady. “Because despite everything, I still care. Because I still believe you’re more than what grief turned you into.”
Spencer’s brow furrowed. “Cora…”
She shook her head, cutting him off before he could make it easier. “I was angry. Hurt. And I said things that weren’t true. You were trying to make things right, and I pushed you away too. ” Her voice cracked. “But the truth is, you scared me. Because you cared so much it hurt to watch you fall apart.”
He took a breath, steadying himself. “You weren’t wrong to be angry. It wasn’t fair for me to blame you for everything. I let my grief take over me.” His throat tightened. “And I almost lost Aly…. Ellie and…. you— my family because of it.”
The night settled around them again after the words had finally run dry. Neither spoke for a while. The anger was gone, but so was the shield that had kept them from touching the truth.
For the first time in months, there was nothing left to hide behind.
Silence stretched between them, long and heavy but this time, it wasn’t suffocating. It was healing.
Aly’s laughter drifted faintly from inside. Garcia must’ve been retelling some over-the-top story and Cora found herself smiling despite the sting in her eyes. Spencer followed her gaze toward the window, where soft light spilled out over the porch.
“That’s what it’s all been about, hasn’t it?” she murmured. “Her. Them. Trying to keep them safe.”
Spencer nodded, voice quiet. “And somehow, I still managed to hurt the people I was trying to protect.”
Cora looked at him then, tired but open. “So what now?”
Spencer adjusted his tie, nerves tugging at him even now. “The judge was right. We need to figure this out.”
Cora’s lips curved into a faint, bittersweet smile. “You mean us?”
He met her eyes, steadier this time. “You. Me. Aly. Ellie. Whatever this is. We can’t keep circling around it.”
Her breath hitched—part nerves, part relief. “No,” she said softly. “We can’t.”
For a while, neither of them spoke. The air between them was quiet but full of everything that hadn’t been said.
Cora was the first to break it. “It’s strange,” she murmured, her voice low. “After everything we said in the hospital and at the courtroom… after everything we’ve done to each other… we’re still here.”
Spencer swallowed, eyes tracing the outline of her face. “We hurt each other,” he said honestly. “I think we both know that.”
She nodded. “I was angry for so long. At you. At myself. I kept pretending I was fine like if I just stayed busy enough, it wouldn’t hurt that you weren’t there anymore.”
Spencer’s voice was quiet but sure. “And I kept thinking if I just fixed things fast enough, maybe you’d come back. Maybe I wouldn’t lose you for good.”
Cora let out a shaky breath. “You didn’t lose me.”
“I know,” he said. “But I was terrified I would.”
Then Cora turned toward him, eyes soft but steady. “Maybe love isn’t about not hurting each other. Maybe it’s about choosing to stay… even after the hurt.”
Spencer’s chest tightened, but his voice steadied. “Then maybe we don’t promise never to break again. Maybe we promise to try—to listen, to forgive, to keep showing up. No running. No hiding.”
Her lips curved, trembling with something close to relief. “That sounds a lot like love.”
He gave a faint, crooked smile. “It is.”
For a long moment, neither moved. The world around them and the laughter inside, the glow of the lights, the faint hum of the night just blurred into stillness.
Cora blinked through the tears threatening to fall and said quietly, “So what now?”
Spencer’s smile grew, soft and certain. “The judge was right. We need to figure this out.”
She turned to him, brow raised, a small smirk forming. “You heard me on the stand”
“I did,” he said carefully. “You said you loved me.”
Cora gave a small, wry smile. “Did I? I don’t recall.”
“Legally speaking, you did,” he murmured, almost smiling.
Her laugh was quiet, edged with a little embarrassment. “I did. It’s on paper. Poor stenographer probably thought she was writing a romance novel.”
Silence hung for a moment, heavier than either of them expected. Finally, she whispered, “I didn’t mean for it to happen that way. Not in front of everyone.”
Spencer’s voice steadied, gentler now. “For what it’s worth…” He stepped closer, meeting her eyes without hesitation. “…I love you too.”
Cora exhaled, the tension leaving her shoulders, replaced by something unspoken but alive. And for the first time, neither of them felt the need to look away.
The laughter inside dimmed to a muffled hum through the glass doors. Out on Rossi’s porch, it was just them, the night, and the faint twinkle of garden lights strung along the railing.
Spencer’s words still hung between them—I love you too.
For once, Cora didn’t deflect. She didn’t joke, didn’t retreat behind her walls. She just held his gaze, searching, as though to be sure he meant it.
“Say it again,” she whispered, almost afraid.
He swallowed, but his voice didn’t waver. “I love you.”
Her breath hitched. She reached up before she could overthink it, brushing her fingers lightly against his cheek. He startled at the touch, but didn’t move away.
The distance between them seemed impossibly small now. Neither could remember who leaned in first—only that his hands found her waist at the same time her lips found his.
It wasn’t perfect, not cinematic. It was tentative, nervous, a little shaky with all the weight behind it. But it was real.
When they finally broke apart, both of them were smiling, almost shy, almost giddy.
“Finally,” Cora murmured, forehead resting against his.
Spencer let out a breathy laugh, eyes brighter than they had been in weeks. “For the record…” he whispered, “…worth the wait.”
Their lips lingered just a little longer before they broke apart, breathless, smiling like teenagers sneaking their first kiss.
The porch was quiet until the faint patter of small footsteps came up behind them.
Both turned just in time to see Ellie, curls bouncing, standing in the doorway. Her eyes went wide, then her little face broke into the brightest grin.
“Mommy and Daddy are kissing!” she squealed, before spinning on her heel and tearing back into the house.
From inside came an immediate uproar—Garcia’s delighted gasp, JJ’s laughter, and Rossi’s unmistakable, booming chuckle: “About damn time!”
Cora groaned, covering her face with both hands. Spencer, red to his ears, could only laugh.
“Guess the secret’s out,” he murmured.
She peeked at him through her fingers, eyes still sparkling. “You know what? For once, I don’t mind.”
The door creaked again, and this time it was Rossi leaning halfway out, cigar in hand, smirk wide and knowing.
“If you two are finished with the grand reveal, dessert’s waiting. Don’t make me send the kids back out as messengers.”
Spencer and Cora exchanged one more quiet smile before following him in, hand in hand.
Inside, the BAU was gathered like a family around Rossi’s table. Aly was curled up against her father’s chest, Ellie proudly telling Henry and Jack what she’d just seen, Garcia already plotting color schemes for a future wedding that no one had agreed to yet.
JJ caught Spencer’s eye across the table and gave him a soft and genuine smile. “Told you. You had this in you all along.”
Emily raised her glass in a mock toast, smirking. “To Reid. Who finally proved us all wrong by having a better love life than the rest of us.”
Derek leaned back in his chair with a laugh, pointing a fork at him. “That’s two miracles in one week, pretty boy. Don’t let it go to your head.”
Hotch, quieter than the others, simply reached across and set a steady hand on Spencer’s arm. “You’ve built something lasting, Reid. Don’t ever doubt that again.”
Spencer swallowed hard, overcome, but Cora’s hand found his beneath the table, grounding him.
He looked down at Aly, who stirred in his arms, blinking sleepily before murmuring, clear as day:
“Daddy… home.”
Spencer froze, breath catching. Then Aly’s tiny hand curled in his shirt, and something inside him finally settled—quiet, certain, whole.
The table went still. Then JJ pressed her hand to her heart, Emily exhaled softly, Derek grinned like it was the proudest thing he’d ever heard, and Hotch’s lips curved into the smallest, rarest smile.
And as the night stretched on, full of laughter and warmth, Spencer Reid realized that this was what Allison Smith had seen in that scrapbook, what the judge had recognized from the bench, and what he had almost forgotten himself:
Not perfection.
Not convention.
Just home.