Work Text:
Reader’s POV.
We kept silent the whole flight from LA to Virginia. I sat in the back of the jet, headphones in my ears, trying to soothe my rage with the songs I liked the most. Spencer was on the opposite side of the plane, reading a book.
Spencer and I didn’t exchange a word since the killer take-down and the whole mess that almost ended with me stabbed by the unsub.
Except outside the warehouse after the arrest was made.
“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Spencer questioned. I knew that I had made a risky decision there, but a little girl’s life was under threat. I needed to do something.
“I was doing my job! That kid needed a chance to live,” I answered, pointing to the front of the street where the child that I helped to save hugged her parents, the three of them fully crying but happy of being together again.
Spencer wanted to argue about that; I knew that, but we both were angry and nervous due to the recent events. It wasn’t a wise decision to keep fighting. And even if I only wanted him to hug me and tell me that everything was okay, I knew he wouldn’t do it.
Things between us have been distant in the past weeks. I’m not so sure why. And the times I asked Spencer what was wrong, he changed the subject quickly.
But this time, I wouldn’t let this pass. That’s why I knew we needed to talk, but that wasn’t the place, not the moment.
-
Spencer and I have been together for two years now. I moved in with him almost a year ago. Both could agree that was the best decision ever.
I love him with every fiber of my being, and I tried to show him that in this time.
But we know that sometimes things could be difficult.
Spencer and I haven’t had an easy life. We both knew that early in our friendship. Because, of course, we started as best friends until we couldn’t deny anymore the intense feelings we had for each other.
We are both stubborn, though. And we love our jobs.
The BAU is our family. And we give our one hundred percent, trying to make a difference although the horrors we face most of the time. That’s why sometimes one of us is put in the line and makes a decision that could end wrong.
-
When the jet touched down in a rainy Virginia, Hotch asked us to debrief before going home. It was past ten pm, but Hotch’s promise that we didn’t have to come back the next day was enough for us not to protest.
The team knew things between Spencer and me weren’t on the highest note, but we didn’t argue or make any attempt to do so during the debriefing.
After that, everyone went home; exhaustion was clear in each team member.
As usual, Spencer and I took the elevator to the parking floor. But this time, none of us said a word. The car ride was pretty the same. The tension between us was heavier than before.
Only the rain hitting the car’s roof could be heard during the stops at the red lights.
From time to time, I could feel his eyes on me. At some point, I wanted to stop the car and put an end to our silence, but I didn’t dare. So I kept driving.
I could feel the words stuck in my chest.
We arrived at our building, and I parked the car. Spencer was quick leaving the vehicle and moving upstairs. I took my go-bag from the trunk, taking more time than I usually take.
I knew that the tension would explode when I put a foot into the apartment.
When I reached our floor, the front door was open. I stopped for a moment, took a deep breath, and then entered the apartment, closing the door behind me.
Leaving my go-bag on the floor, I could see Spencer sitting next to the window, looking at the rain droplets hitting the glass.
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> ‘We’re leaving all the windows open
> We don’t even mind the rain
> Or where we let the floors get wet
> So what if the hardwood stains?
> ’Cause we’re collecting evidence
> Of one remarkable storm.’
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I knew Spencer was holding back. He wanted to yell at me for what I did. Even if I had already told him why I did it, I knew that explanation wasn’t enough for him.
On the other hand, I knew that Spencer didn’t like conflict. That’s why sometimes he would let go of things—the idea of arguing unease him. He prefers the silent treatment or the sassy remarks but avoids the fights. Unfortunately, with me, that doesn’t work.
In all the time we have been together, both keep trying to balance that. I’ve been trying to understand and respect Spencer’s silences and times. On the other hand, Spencer has improved by telling me things that upset him.
But life keeps testing us sometimes.
Tonight is one of these times.
“We have to talk about it,” I pointed, standing at a safe distance from him.
That is one of the things I learned about Spencer: if he feels overwhelmed, it’s not a good idea to invade his personal space. That only will end with any chance to get to him.
Spencer turned to see me. A hurt expression on his face.
“I know. But I don’t want to,” Spencer confessed.
He looked exhausted. I was exhausted too. But we couldn’t leave things like that.
I didn’t want to end the night sleeping in an empty bed and knowing that Spencer would be tossing and turning on the couch. Not before trying to fix things.
“Spencer, we need to do it. I know you’re tired. I’m too. But we need to say what we need to say.”
He nodded in understanding.
“I know,” he sighed. “Could - could you make some tea first? I think we’ll need it,” Spencer pointed.
“Sure, I’ll be right back.”
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> ‘How wild it was to find it, finally feel the climate
> Instead of only staying dry and warm
> Rain on us, Saint Honesty
> Salvation is coming in the morning, but now what we need
> Is a little rain on our face from you, sweet Saint Honesty.’
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With two mugs in hand, I came back to the living room. Spencer was sitting on the couch, his gaze focused on the carpet floor. I handed him his tea. I sat too, taking a sip of my hot tea before leaving the mug on the coffee table.
“Would you tell me why you are so upset? I know I made a risky move in the field, but I tried to explain to you why I did it,” I said. Spencer’s eyes flicked between mine and his tea mug on his hands.
I needed to start at some point.
I needed to make him talk to me.
He sighed. It felt like I was pointing to the obvious and not the important thing. But I didn’t have a clue about what was happening in my boyfriend’s brain.
“You don’t understand, do you?” He asked. I could see the disappointment in his eyes.
“Apparently, I don’t. Can you tell me what I’m not understanding?”
Spencer shook his head.
“You could have died there, you know? It’s not only a ‘reckless’ decision. He could have killed you!”
His voice increased in a high pitch tone.
Spencer left his mug on the coffee table and ran his hands through his hair. A tell-tale that he was frustrated. But I was too.
“But he didn’t! And the time was against us! Can you at least be happy that I’m alive? That I’m here with you? You know this job is dangerous. Always there are chances of getting hurt. We both know that, Spencer. I don’t know why this is an issue to you now.”
It was what I felt. I was lost. In all these years, we always knew how dangerous our job was. And we both understood that. But to understand didn’t mean to be okay with that. Deep inside of me, I knew it because I feel it too.
“That’s the point. It always has been an issue. Every time we are on the field, my stomach hurts at the thought of you getting hurt. I don’t - I can’t stand the idea of - of -“He trailed off. “I lost the count of the people leaving me. Do you want to be on that list?” He cracked.
I gulped. My brain was trying to decipher what to say. Spencer’s words choice was odd, but I didn’t pay too much attention to that. I focused on how unfairly he accused me of being reckless, knowing he does the same.
“Are you worried now? What happened with all the times that I got sick of my stomach seeing you being reckless in the field?”
Maybe it wasn’t the best approach. But Spencer needed to realize that this not only affected him.
“Are you trying to play even? We’re not talking about me,” he retorted.
“No? Why not? We’re talking about being reckless in the field with potential consequences. You’re accusing me of that. Well, I’m doing the same, and I’m not trying to even; I’m just pointing the facts!” I yelled. How did he not see it?
“I can’t talk to you like this. We have to leave it. I’m going to bed,” Spencer announced, standing from the couch. I looked at him in disbelief. Was he running away? No. I couldn’t let that happen.
“Don’t even dare to leave this room, Spencer Reid. Not when we are arguing. Not like this.” I warned. He turned to look at me with his jaw clenched. I could see his hands squeezing in fists with white knuckles.
“Are you - are you threatening me?” He scoffed.
“No. I’m asking you, for once, not running away from me! Could you try not shutting me out? I know there is something else bothering you. Just - just please, don’t let me out of what’s happening to you.” My voice was softer this time. I could feel the tears gathering in my eyes.
Spencer’s eyes were glassy. But he was still trying to contain his tears.
“I - I’m afraid if I do what you’re asking me, we - our relationship wouldn’t survive after this night,” he confessed, lips quivering.
I let out a shaky sigh. I think I never felt so scared of what could happen. Why was Spencer telling me this? What have I done wrong for him to believe that our relationship was in danger?
I know we couldn’t pretend that everything was okay when it wasn’t. So I thought we needed to talk about it, whatever it was.
“I guess we need to take our chance then,” I replied. My throat was dry, tears rolling down my cheeks.
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> ‘So we won’t sleep tonight
> While we brace against the wind
> Oh, these hearts, they’re weather-makers
> We’ll go where they take us
> Until we find ourselves shelter again
> We won’t settle for the silence
> We won’t drown in the tears
> We’ll say every single word even if we think they’ll hurt.
> Let the rain wash away these tears.’
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Spencer’s POV.
I sat again, but this time in the chair. I needed some physical distance from her. I could see her tears running down.
I hate to see her cry. I hate making her cry.
But she crashed my heart first.
I’ve been silently crying since I knew.
In the past weeks, I have been convincing myself that maybe I got everything wrong.
But her words replayed in my brain over and over again.
I took a deep breath before speaking. Maybe this was the end.
“I heard what you told Emily the other day.”
That only sentence left my mouth. She narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out what I was talking about. Only five seconds and she realized. Her face changed immediately, closing her eyes and shaking her head.
“No. It’s not like that. I don’t know how much you heard, but no, it’s not like that. Please, let me explain.” She said.
But how could it not be like that? She didn’t deny it. And I know what I heard.
“It isn’t? Didn’t you say to Emily that you don’t want to go further in this relationship? Didn’t you say that you were scared of me knowing that you didn’t love me the way I do?!” I yelled.
“I did say that, but that wasn’t what I meant. Spencer, I love you more than anything in this world. I would never feel different about that. You have to believe me.” She sobbed.
“So why did you say that? Because honestly, I’ve been wondering what I did wrong for you not to love me anymore.” I chocked.
We were fully crying now. It hurt like hell feeling that this could be the end of the best years of my life. But who do I want to fool? Happiness wasn’t a thing that remained in my life.
“Spencer, please, listen to me. I know this might not sound understandable at first, but I swear that I’m being honest with you.”
She made a pause, taking a deep breath. It was clear she was struggling to find the right words.
I leaned back in the chair, arms crossed over my chest, preparing to whatever would leave her mouth.
“I said that I didn’t want to go further in this relationship because I’m scared about what do you want for our future, and I’m not sure if I could live up to your expectations. It’s - I don’t know, you’re so good to me, and I don’t know if I can - if I could….”
She almost choked in the last sentence. I felt bad. Why was she saying that she couldn’t live up to my expectations? She is everything to me! There weren’t expectations to live up.
I stood from my chair and rushed to her side.
“Hey! Please, breathe,” I asked. Her hands were shaking, tears rolling down uncontrollably. I took her hands in mine, and I started to breathe in and out, hoping she could do the same.
She did it.
With her breathing more controlled. I offered her a glass of water. She declined.
“I’m okay. Thank you,” she told me. Her voice was husky due to the crying.
“Okay. But I need you to explain why you think you have to live up to some kind of expectation. We never did discuss anything like that before, didn’t we?” I asked softly.
She looked at me with her teary eyes.
“We didn’t. But I know they are there. I don’t need you to tell me to realize that are things you want, and I don’t know if I can give you.”
Her eyes cast to the floor, avoiding my gaze and leaving the grip of my hands.
“What in the earth are you thinking…?” I tried to revisit my memory to pin when I said something remotely close to making her feel that way.
She let out a frustrated sigh at my obliviousness.
“I’m talking about family, Spencer! Kids. Having a baby. I - I don’t know if I can do that,” she confessed, almost afraid of saying something that she shouldn’t.
My eyes went wide. In the two years of the relationship, we never discussed it openly. Maybe I joked about that here and there, but in my recall, I never thought to put some kind of pressure on that—neither the explicit idea of doing it.
“Why do you think in that way? We have never been discussed it. Did I say something? Did I do something that made you feel pressured?” I questioned, worried about what I had done.
She shook her head again, still not wanting to look at me.
“I just read the signals,” she pointed, sniffling.
“Could you explain to me? Please. Because I think we are reading this wrong.” I asked cautiously.
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> ‘Oh, we won’t let go; we’ll be soaked to the bone
> Baptized by truth, we will reap what we sow
> Build our own higher ground when the rain’s coming down
> This is worth it to me, Saint Honesty.’
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“I know it’s something you want. To have kids. Maybe you didn’t say anything about it, but I can see how you act with your godsons, and I get it. Of course, I know you will be a great dad, Spencer. But I don’t know if that is something I want,” she sobbed. With trembling hands, she produced a tissue and tried to dry her tears and blow her nose.
It was so uncommon the image in front of me. She has always been so composed, whole, and sure of herself. And she now looked so vulnerable.
I hated myself for being the source of her suffering.
“Hey, please, look at me,” I pleaded.
She timidly lifted her head, and our gazes met.
“I know what everyone says. I heard it too. That I could be an amazing father and how good I’m with kids. And maybe they are right. But no one - literally - no one, never asked me if I wanted a child on my own. Could you believe that? Did you ask me? I don’t remember a single time in what we discussed it. And forgive me if I should have told you something before. It’s just I thought it wasn’t the time for that.” I tried to explain to her.
Her eyes looked puzzled as if I was saying nonsense.
“But you want that, right?” She asked. I chuckled.
“Truthfully? I don’t know. I mean, yeah, if I think about us, it’s tempting to imagine having a mini-you or a mini-me running around, but I don’t know if this is the time or if someday could be the time. What I do know is that I love you. And if at the end we discuss it and we decide that having a child is not part of our plan, I’m not going to be less happy, or I would feel in disgrace for that,” I answered, daring to take her hand in mine again. She didn’t pull away, and her sobbing subsided.
“You’re telling me this just not to make me feel bad,” she complained.
“No, my love. It’s the truth. You were the one who wanted us to speak honestly to each other? Well, this is it. Never think that I will love you less if things don’t happen the way they are supposed to or how people think they should. This relationship is ours and no one else’s. And if you don’t want to discuss it now, that’s fine. And if you already know where you stand on that, that’s fine too,” I said, bringing her hands to my lips to kiss them.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure yet. That’s why I told Emily that I was scared, that maybe I was thinking of our love differently from what you were expecting,” she confessed.
I took that as a sign. One of my hands left hers and went immediately to one of her cheeks to gently caress it.
“It’s okay; we don’t have to figure it out now. But, please, never doubt that you are the most important person to me. You’re everything to me. That’s why it scares me to the bone to think that I could lose you. I know that maybe I didn’t react the way I needed to today, but the thought of my life without you was too much.” I tried to explain. The thought alone made me shed some tears.
“I know, I’m sorry. I pushed too hard,” she apologized, leaning into my touch.
It was the first time we had that kind of physical contact in weeks, and neither of us rejected it.
“It’s okay,” I mumbled.
“I love you, Spencer. You’re the best thing that happened to me in life. Please, never doubt about it,” she said, holding the hand I had in her cheek and bringing to her lips to kiss it. “And I’m sorry for not telling you about my concern before. I was scared. I don’t want to lose you either.”
“You won’t. I promise,” I stated, opening my arms to embrace her. She snuggled by my side, resting her head in my chest as I held her tightly. I kissed her forehead, lingering my lips there and breathing her scent.
“Will we be okay?” I heard her mumbling, her words muffled in my chest.
“We’ll be okay,” I replied. “If we both want this, we’ll be okay.”
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> ‘Rain
> Salvation is coming in the morning
> Wait patiently, aiming straight for it
> But now what we need
> Is a little rain on our face from you, sweet Saint Honesty.’
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