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Spencer used to hate going home. He felt like he’d never really know what would be going on the minute he opened the front door and stepped inside, and after his father left, that fear intensified bit by bit.
After his father left, he never knew what it would mean, going home, so he stalled. He’d go to a local park and sit on a bench and read a few books in an hour, maybe two, in order to escape the fear he felt at the idea of going home when he had no idea what would be going on in that house, whether his mother was okay that day or not.
When he went to college and was living in the dorms, he hated going back because it meant more isolation. More loneliness, more of the same, really. Only his books to keep him company and just about nobody else, unless Ethan called, which he usually did two or three times a week. Ethans calls were one of the only things that really helped him when he wasn’t looking after his mother whenever he was on break, typically around the winter and during the summer.
After having his mother institutionalised, he feared going home because it meant that she wasn’t there, and the guilt that came with having her taken into a facility when it wasn’t something she wanted weighed down on him very heavily.
In those last two years pre-FBI, he hated going home because it meant more of the same. More loneliness, more of the same nature documentaries he'd seen a thousand times before if he wasn't putting on the news, and more books that he’d already read several times before haunting him from wherever it was that they sat on his bookshelves, which had been scattered throughout most rooms in his apartment.
But he joined the FBI at twenty-one and managed to meet you somewhere along that year, found out that you’d just started working with the Marshals and had lived only twenty five minutes out from Arlington, which put you about fifteen from Quantico as a whole, and he started hating going home a lot less after you guys had been together for four months.
After four months of dates and getting to know each other, getting home usually meant going on another date or Spencer finally getting the opportunity to call you and stay on the phone for longer than fifteen minutes.
Spencer is very careful about your relationship, though—very secretive, though he doesn’t really mean to be, to avoid teasing from Derek and, four or so years down the line, Emily and JJ, though even Rossi joined in on occasion.
It’s not until he’s on the jet, Alex sitting to his left, JJ across him and Derek diagonally so, that he has to spill the beans.
He gets a text from you and it’s the way that he smiles that gives it away.
Hey, Spence! I cleaned up the house a little bit and went to grab your favourite coffee beans from the bodega we both like. Also: meet Megatron. Her name deceives.
Attached is a photo of a kitten that can’t be more than four or five weeks old, dark brown everywhere except for her paws and chin, which are white.
“Who’s the lucky one, boy genius?” Derek asks.
“Huh?” Spencer looks up, eyes widened slightly. “It’s nobody.”
JJs head tilts. “You wouldn’t smile like that for a nobody,” she says. “Who is it?”
“Is it the one with the dark blue Prius--” Alex starts before she pauses, realizing where she's fumbled. That gets Rossi and Hotch interested, both of whom come to sit in the seats across from the four.
Alex is the only one on the team who knows about you apart from Penelope, which is pure happenstance—his car had broken down once when both she and Spencer had worked a late night, and so you’d offered to pick him up from work so that the two of you could go back to the house you shared and indulge in a shark documentary and some pizza.
“It is,” Spencer nods. “Their name is Y/N.”
“How long have you had a Y/N?” Derek asks.
“Since I was twenty-one,” Spencer admits. “About a decade now.”
“You kept a romantic partner hidden for a decade ?” Derek asks. “How? Does--”
“Penelope knows about them because they’re in the group she goes to on Tuesdays,” Spencer says. “The one for knitting and crocheting—Y/N does the latter, mostly, but they did knit the cardigan I was wearing last week.”
“And how did Penelope figure out about the thing you two have had going on?”
“It’s more than a thing , Derek,” Alex says. “If it’s been going for a decade, it’s more than a thing.”
“We’d gotten done with a case early, and Penelope had left pretty much as soon as we were on the jet so that she could make it to the aforementioned group. I asked them where they were and picked them up with their favourite tea as a surprise. Penelope saw me there, watched us hug, and just about lost her mind. Have I satisfied your thirst for knowledge yet?”
He turns to Alex briefly, nods a bit to answer her earlier remark. “I just proposed last weekend, so you’re right. It’s more than just a thing I would say.”
Derek and JJs eyes widen until their shock is clearly conveyed, and Spencer laughs.
“You have a fiancee, and you just—didn't think to fucking tell anybody?” Derek laughs. “Were you ever going to tell us?”
“I was—we've been busy with work, and it didn’t occur to me.”
“Okay,” JJ nods like she believes it, and that’s good enough for Spencer because he’s telling the truth anyway. “What was the text about?”
Spencer shrugs, paraphrases.
“They wrote me to tell me they’d cleaned up the house and picked up a stray, I think,” Spencer answers. “I mean, the stray part wasn't explicitly stated but—the kitten doesn’t look more than four weeks old, so the assumption was immediate, but they know I can’t say no to cats. They’ve been hoping that they’d find a stray while I was on a case since we first moved into a condo together. We bought our house six months ago now, and they’ve joked, every single time before I’ve left for a case, that it’s the perfect time.”
“What’d they name it?” Rossi asks. “Assuming they didn’t ask for your input. I wouldn’t--I’d have a kitten named Einstein who could never live up to that.”
Spencer can’t help the loving laugh that bubbles up from his throat as his fingers absently locate the chain around his neck, with an engagement ring of his own weighing the chain down just slightly so that the ring sits comfortably at the middle of his collarbone.
“They named her Megatron,” he says nonchalantly. “Smallest cat I’ve ever seen, and still, she’s got big shoes to fill. Massive ones, actually.”
That is enough to get Hotch to crack a smile. For a second, Spencer feels like he’s winning even though a game isn’t even being played.
“Okay, so—how did you do it?” JJ asks. “I mean—ten years and a recent engagement? With only two people on our team discovering through that entire time? How?”
“Penelope figured it out three years in,” Spencer answers. “Alex only figured it out recently, which is kind of surprising because I’ve never exactly hidden their existence. I just haven't talked about them because nobody has ever really asked but—I don’t know, either. We kept it low key because we both work law enforcement and it was just easier that way for the first little while, and then we both decided we liked the quiet so we kept things that way.”
“They work in law enforcement?” Derek asks, his eyes narrowing. “Are they FBI?”
“They’re a Deputy US Marshal, actually,” Spencer corrects. “They work in the Virginia office, which is 45 minutes outside of Quantico, up in Arlington. It’s why I have a twenty five minute commute—we both like our jobs a lot, and twenty-five minutes for me one way is only eighteen minutes for them the other, but I like driving so I don’t mind. They’re in talks for a promotion right now, and they were meant to hear about it today but so far their texts haven’t indicated anything about that.”
It’s the most Spencer has told anyone except his mother about you since you’d gotten together, and while you both normally like to keep things quiet, bragging about you to the people he routinely trusts with his life is a very nice feeling.
“US Marshal?” JJ asks. “They pretty commonly hire ex-military,” she says.
“They’ve never been anywhere near the military,” Spencer laughs. “They did a two year degree at a community college, went to Glynco for training, and were employed by the US Marshals by twenty-one, around the same time I joined the FBI. We met each other at a coffee shop when they were off of work and their local one was closed, so our meeting was kismet.”
Spencers phone buzzes again, and he ignores it that time.
Alex grins at him, while Derek tuts and JJs eyes go to his phone as it buzzes once, then twice more, the fourth buzz coming four and a half seconds after the first, second, and third.
“Check it,” she urges. “The jet is going to land in fifteen minutes, Spencer, so if it’s good news, you might as well.”
SPENCER!!
I have really really REALLY good news
Please tell me your jet is landing soon or the very minute it’s landed call me please because you work twenty five minutes away and that means I can call and order from Antonios and by the time you’re home, you’ll only have to wait five minutes for pizza.
Also, Megatrons full name is Megatron Ichabod Reid. Just so you know. I love you so much you stupid smart handsome tall man.
Spencer doesn’t even try to fight his laugh as he reads.
“Good news?” Derek asks.
“I think they got promoted, but I won’t know for sure til I’m home,” Spencer answers. “Also--Megatrons full name is apparently Megatron Ichabod Reid—their texts read like they’re hyper.”
“I’d be pretty hyper if I got news of a promotion,” Rossi says. “Let us know if they did, though, kid. I’m hosting a dinner to celebrate your engagement regardless, but if they got promoted, it’s another thing to celebrate on the roster, and all the more of an excuse to meet the person you’ve kept hidden from the likes of us for a decade.”
“You guys ordering Antonios?” Alex asks. “You mentioned getting Antonios for dinner the day after I saw you two together. I’m assuming it’s their favourite pizza spot—you don’t really seem like the pizza type. More like a pasta guy.”
“We both love it,” Spencer answers. “There’s no pizza like Antonios—not where we live, anyway. It’s the middle ground between Quantico and Arlington, so there’s not a whole lot to do unless you drive either way.”
“Antonios makes a good pizza,” Rossi nods.
“Their pasta is better,” Hotch interjects. Spencer shakes his head, tries to go back to the book that’s sitting on the table in front of him but fails miserably, waits for the fifteen minutes til the jet lands to be done whilst the rest of the team talks amongst themselves.
The second the jet lands, as he’s walking out of it, he dials your number and you pick up on the first ring.
“Spencer Walter Reid, light of my life and giver of astoundingly lovely forehead kisses, please tell me you’ve landed,”
Spencer laughs. “Just did,” he says. “The team knows about us now, by the way—I smiled when you texted and that lead to Derek questioning me, so there’s that. Also, if the good news is what I think it is, Rossi wants to hold a celebration dinner as an excuse to meet you. He fronted it with our engagement first, but I think he’s just shocked we’ve kept each other under wraps that long.”
“You like Megatrons name?” You ask, giggling a bit, seemingly in spite of yourself. “I’m sorry, Spence—I'm hyper as hell, bouncing off the walls type. I’m going to open a bottle of wine, see if it calms me down a little. Get home as fast as you can, though! I miss your handsome face!”
“Just gotta finish a file or two and then I’ll be home,” he says. “If you order the pizza now, I’ll only be like, five minutes late—the pizza won’t be scalding, like it usually is because of their ridiculously well-working warmer bags.”
“I love you, Spence,” you say, tone turning a little serious. “Get home safe, please.”
“I will,” Spencer nods. “You okay?”
“Hyper but yearning,” you laugh. “I just miss you, ‘s all.”
“I miss you too,” he says. “I’ll be home in forty minutes, tops. I promise.”
The phone call ends, and he doesn’t miss the knowing smiles that are on Derek and Rossis faces. JJ is looking at him mildly confused as the tone of the conversation changed near it’s end, but he doesn’t want to explain, and so he chooses not to say anything.
He goes back into the office, completes what remains of the files he has to work on, and after he submits the paperwork in to Hotch, he just about speed walks out of the office, toward the elevators.
Derek is leaving at the same time as he is. “Goin’ home to Megatron and the singular person who’s managed to keep up with you for the past decade?” He asks teasingly as the doors close.
“Yeah,” Spencer laughs. “I know you guys will tease me about it til the end of my time here, but—yeah. I get to go home to a stray cat the love of my life probably found in the parking lot of a Joanns, and the love of my life themself.”
“I’m all done with my teasing, for now,” Derek says. “I’m just a little confused—why'd you keep them from us for this long?”
“I don’t know,” Spencer admits. “When we’d first started dating, they’d just started out with the Marshals and they were scared having a partner in the FBI would get them special treatment, and then, when the stuff with Tobias Hankel happened and I got into Dialudid, I was scared that I’d make an enemy and then they’d find out about Y/N and use them to hurt me, and it just—we’re the quiet type, so we had reasons til we stopped needing them. I was going to tell you guys before we got engaged, but stuff has just kept happening so quickly in these past couple of years, and it’s kept slipping my mind.”
Derek shrugs, but smiles understandingly. “I get it,” he says. “Lookin’ forward to that dinner Rossi is planning, though. I can’t wait to meet the singular person who probably would let you talk their ear off because they find you handsome or like your voice or something else that’s really sweet. You have a good night, Spence.”
The elevator dings and the doors open, and the two leave separately. Spencer drives a little above the speed limit in the interest of getting home, which isn’t something he’d ever thought he’d do but is doing that night because it’s been a week since you’d last seen each other and he misses you like mad.
When he inserts his key into the lock, unlocks the door and steps inside, he’s not filled with dread or fear or anxiety or loneliness or anything like that—instead, it feels like exactly what it’s supposed to.
As he steps out of his shoes, hangs his bag on the coat rack and hears the sound of your laugh, he registers just how much the place he calls home feels like the word used to describe it.
As he greets you with a hug and a few kisses to the forehead, it feels so much like home that it almost causes an ache in his chest. As you tell him about your promotion from Deputy to Chief Deputy and he hears Megatron the cat meow for the first time, happiness swells within him. Home, for the first time in his life, truly feels like a home. A place where he can unwind and be with those he truly loves, a place in which happiness is practically never-ending.
Going home has never felt so good as going home to you, and Spencer is unsure anything will ever beat it.