Work Text:
You’d ended the call with Spencer nine hours ago. He’d called to let you know they were about to get on the jet and fly back to Virginia. You knew the flight was supposed to take only five hours, and you were getting more anxious with each passing hour. He was never late without letting you know, especially when he was four hours late. You’d tried to relax but nothing you did was working. The nervous energy was strong and you couldn’t focus on anything else. Unable to quiet your mind enough to focus on a book or show, you tried to get your energy out with something that would make you feel at least somewhat productive.
You opened the pantry and pulled out the flower and sugar. You slowly grabbed all the ingredients for cookies and tied an apron on. You busied yourself making batch after batch of cookies. Just as you were putting the last tray into the oven, the sound of a key sliding into the lock reached your ears. You quickly set the timer and washed your hands.
“It’s me,” Spencer calls out.
You rush out the kitchen to see Spencer walking through the living room. While he drops his bag to the floor, you move to hug him. As you wrap your arms around him, you feel Spencer sag slightly in your hold. The two of you just hold each other.
“It smells good in here,” Spencer sounds tired.
“I might have started stress baking. Again,” you admit.
“I’m sorry to hear that. What started it?”
“I was worried when you took longer to get back. I thought something happened and I couldn’t reach you.”
Spencer hugs you tighter, “There was a storm just as we were about to take off. Hotch had hoped having wheels up at six this morning would put us ahead of the storm. It didn’t work, so we were stuck on the runway for three hours. When the storm finally let up we had to wait another thirty minutes before we could take off. I tried to let you know, but I had no service.”
“I’m just glad you’re okay.”
As you finish your sentiment, the timer in the kitchen goes off. You reluctantly remove yourself from Spencer’s hug and trudge to the kitchen. Spencer’s arrival home had sapped all the nervous energy out of you, leaving you crashing. You carefully pulled the tray out of the oven just as Spencer quietly walked in. You turned to put the cookies on the cooling rack while Spencer turned off the oven.
“I might have gotten carried away,” you admit while gesturing to the tupperwares filled with cookies on the counter. “But we can give them to the rest of the team, too.”
Spencer chuckles at the amount of containers you stacked up, “I’m sure they’d love to accept baked goods from you. You know they never turn down your treats.”
“I just don’t want them to feel pressured to accept them every time I stress bake,” you worry.
“If it helps, Garcia does the same thing. Except she stress bakes bread while you bake cookies. While the team doesn’t like the circumstances these baked goods are made from, they like receiving the baked goods.”
You set the final cookie on the rack and put the cookie sheet on top of the stove. You double check that the stove is off before walking back to where Spencer is standing across the room. You stand on your tiptoes and kiss his cheek. You feel his cheeks move as he smiles.
“You look tired,” you gently stroke under his eye. “How much sleep did you get this case?”
“About twelve hours? Across all five days,” Spencer sighs. “I know it’s kind of early to go to sleep, but I also just want to cuddle up with you and sleep.”
“Six isn’t a horrible time to go to sleep. You’ve had a long week. You need to rest,” you try to convince him to lay down.
Spencer nods, and gently turns you around. He pulls the bow of your apron until the tie releases. You pull the apron over your head and drape it across the back of a barstool. Spencer lightly holds your hand as his socked feet pad the two of you toward the bedroom. You tug his hand as he’s about to lay on the bed.
“You should change, really quick. You’ll be comfier,” you say while pulling out two pairs of his sleep pants.
Handing one pair over to him you step in the closet to grab a shirt and sweatshirt from Spencer’s side of the shelves. You hold both up and Spencer chooses the shirt. As he pulls back the covers you change out of your clothes and into Spencer’s. You crawl into the bed beside him, tucking beneath his outstretched arm.
“You smell like cookies,” Spencer mumbles.
“Yeah?” You ask with a fond smile.
Spencer groggily nods. You quietly laugh at his tired state, knowing he’s not fully aware of what he’s doing. Spencer keeps mumbling something, but you can’t understand him through the tired slur of his words. You kiss his temple as his words slow into nothing more than quiet snores. You cuddle closer to him and sigh in peace knowing Spencer is home safe.