#Moreid sadness hours

[fortheloveofwonderland]

The Kids Aren't Alright | Chapter 1

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A/N - welcome to this new world of nonsense I've been working on. Imagine Scooby Doo but slutty and here we are. Only tagged my OG taglist but let me know if you want to be tagged in future parts. Title and lyrics from a song by The Offspring.

Chapter Summary - Welcome to the Break Away Unity Summer Camp and meet the ragtag team of counsellors responsible for keeping the place together, and failing miserably.

Pairing - Spencer Reid x BAU Team / Later Chapters include Moreid, Temily and Ralvez.

Category - mystery | coming of age | fluff | angst | smut

Content Warnings - mentions of sexual activity, mentions of sexual identity, slutty Spencer, sad Luke, smoking.

Word Count - 4.6k

Chapter 1 - The Kids Aren't Alright

When we were young, the future was so bright,

The old neighborhood was so alive,

And every kid on the whole damn street,

Was gonna make it big and not be beat.

“When was the last time you saw Riley Jenkins?”

The question was posed to each of them in turn, one on one so they couldn’t corroborate their stories with one another, so they couldn’t confer and cover any tracks that may have been left behind. It was a tactic used by law enforcement to get the unadulterated version of events following a crime. They had to ensure they got the full truth of what had happened without outside bias. Each of them had been sequestered to their cabins, alone, whilst one by one they were dragged in the office to recount their side of the events that had led to this particular occurance. 

One at a time they were all subjected to the same line of questioning from the stern woman who paid their wages, the power of the situation clearly going to her head. Erin Strauss took to the role of detective like it was made for her, and as though she wasn’t merely the manager of a summer camp that had seen better days. She’d stepped away from her post for no more than twenty four hours, leaving the most senior of her staff in charge, and a child had gone missing. This could be a media nightmare if she couldn’t ascertain exactly what happened in her absence that led to the disappearance of seventeen year old Riley Jenkins. 

The once prestigious Break Away Camps had been the summer destination for the teens of Virginia. Back when Strauss had been just a counsellor the camp had been split into two, one for boys and one for girls. Several years ago now the camps had been brought out and merged into one: The Break Away Unity Camp, affectionately nicknamed the BAU. Strauss had been promoted and in all honesty it had been all downhill from there. 

The money stopped flowing as much and they’d had to cut back on activities, their former staff now replaced by a mismatched group of wayward teens and twenty somethings. They had fewer campers with each passing year and Strauss knew it was only a matter of time before the BAU was sold on again, only this time it would probably be bulldozed in lieu of building luxury lakefront vacation homes. 

If someone was to pose the same question to Erin Strauss as she was to her staff - when was the last time you saw Riley Jenkins? - she wouldn’t have an answer for you. If truth be told Strauss did not know the names and faces of the kids that descended on her camp every year. They came for two weeks, swarmed the camp and left before another group of kids arrived for their stay. This repeated all summer, how was she supposed to keep up? She spent her time in her office, rarely seen out and about and yesterday when the boy had gone missing she wasn’t even on site. She thought she could trust Hotch to keep an eye on the place for one day. She should have known better than to leave a twenty six year old expectant father in charge when he’d had bigger things on his mind. It was Hotch’s final summer working at the BAU Camp, trying to make some last minute cash before his son was born. 

Strauss knew once the cops got involved and she had to explain that she’d left the camp in the hands of Hotch and the rest of the motley crew, she would be liable regardless of what happened to Riley. So she needed to get to the bottom of this before cops needed to intervene. She was not going down with the sinking ship that was the Break Away Unity Camp. 

So she was going to grill her camp counsellors until she found out the truth of what happened to Riley Jenkins and if she was lucky they would find the boy before the cops needed to be involved. If she was unlucky she might have to cover up a crime. But she'd cross that bridge if she came to it. 

One by one she hauled them into her office, stared them down and asked them the simple question: when was the last time you saw Riley Jenkins? And what she unearthed would be more than just a can of worms. 

***

Twenty Four Hours Prior

“What do you know, kid?” 

Spencer Reid pushed his messy hair back from his eyes and looked up from his chemistry textbook to see the ageing face of the Break Away Unity Camp’s resident chef staring down on him inquisitively. The older man slid a cardboard cup in front of him, his usual black coffee with three sugars no doubt, as if by way of bribing him for the inside scoop. The older man was a gossip hound, probably the only way he got through the day at his menial job. Spencer felt bad for him, it must be a boring existence to be surrounded by teens all the time. 

“I can only assume you aren’t referring to my learnings on electrodes and potentiometry?” Spencer closed his book and kicked the chair opposite him so it slid out, welcoming the old man to take a seat. 

There was a beat in which the man glared at him as though he were speaking an entirely foreign language before he shook it off like always when Spencer started talking chemistry. 

“You assume correctly.” He sat down with a slight roll of his eyes. “I mean, what do you know about old Strauss? I heard she’s left for the day and left Hotchner in charge?” 

“I find it ironic that you’re referring to her as old,” Spencer scoffed as he picked up the bribery coffee and took a sip. “But how could you have possibly heard that so fast?”

“I have my sources.” David Rossi wiggled his grey eyebrows at the young boy with a smirk. 

It was barely six am and Strauss had left not a half an hour ago. The only people up at such an hour were Rossi who should be prepping for the breakfast rush, Spencer who ran on as little as a few hours sleep each night and Hotch who was probably trying to wrangle the other counsellors out of bed. 

Spencer spent most of his mornings in the cafeteria with Rossi, usually with the older man trying to prize gossip out of him. Spencer being the quiet bookworm he was often heard things around the camp he shouldn’t have been privy to. They say the walls have ears, so do wall flowers. Although his shy and nerdy facade was mostly for show, not everyone was aware of this fact. 

More often than not the young genius was awake by five, showered and dressed by quarter past and sitting in the canteen pouring over a textbook over a cup of coffee by half past. In the fall he was starting on his second PhD in chemistry and he'd no doubt have finished the course reading by the time his classes started. He’d been granted a scholarship but his summer job at the BAU Camp was a way to make money for school supplies. It was his first year working at the camp but he’d been coming as a camper since he was fifteen years old, right up until last year when he’d hit the cut off age of eighteen. Now at nineteen he was the youngest camp counsellor, but certainly the most reliable of them. 

Spencer sipped coffee and checked his watch before pushing his chair back. 

“Maybe you should spend less time hunting out gossip and more time cooking. You’ve got a half hour until the breakfast rush starts.” 

As he got to his feet, grabbing up his book and coffee he noticed the panic wash over Rossi’s face while he hurried to his feet. 

“Good advice kid!” Rossi was already scurrying across the hall towards the kitchen. “I’ll save you some waffles.” 

“Thanks, Dave.” Spencer smiled to himself as he took a leisurely stroll outside into the blistering summer heat, cradling his book to his chest and sipping the remains of coffee. 

Break Away Unity Camp was Spencer’s happy place, it always had been. It was two weeks of the year he could get away from all the expectations that came from being a child prodigy and an excuse to palm his sick mother off on his aunt for a short period of time. At BAU camp he could just be a normal teenager and Spencer relished that. Last year when he’d turned eighteen he’d had his mother committed to a facility so now he was free to spend the entire summer months working at the one place in the world he’d always felt safe. 

The camp held great memories for Spencer. It was here at the camp, behind the sports building where he’d had his first kiss at sixteen years old with Alicia Martin. The following year he experienced his first blow job from his cabin-mate, Alicia’s brother Daniel. It was a week later in the same cabin that Spencer lost his virginity, not to Daniel, but to another teen named Joseph DiMarco. Last year he had his first sexual encounter with a girl, Alicia’s best friend Margot. 

He’d spent so much time being the youngest of his peers and so he’d never had a chance to explore his sexuality. Camp allowed him to be around kids his own age and had led to an awakening of sorts for the young genius. Spencer came to the realisation that he didn’t care much about who he was having sex with, just as long as he was having sex with someone. His geekiness worked in his favour as no one suspected it from the sweet, innocent little genius. 

That thought made him smile to himself as he headed past the campers cabins, further down the hill towards the counsellors cabins. Thankfully counsellors weren’t required to share housing, although it might have helped Spencer get laid if he had a roommate. But it wouldn’t deter him. The camp had only been open for summer for a few weeks and he had his sights set on a few of his fellow counsellors. 

His own cabin was situated on the end of the boys row, his next door neighbour was the painfully attractive Derek Morgan, who despite his outward attempts at hitting on every woman on the staff, the way he looked at Spencer was not lost on the younger boy. Morgan might like to think himself as straight, but Spencer had a feeling he could be swayed. 

As he padded up the slightly creaky wooden steps towards his cabin, the door to the cabin next door groaned as it was thrown open and heavy boots stepped out onto the porch. 

“Morning, pretty boy.” Derek Morgan called across to his neighbour as he was slotting the key in the old lock. 

“Good morning, Morgan.” Spencer replied, looking up at him through his wild hair. 

He tried to hide the smirk from his lips as he noticed Morgan try to subtly eye him up and down in the way no straight man would. It made his stomach jumble into knots the way Morgan looked at him but he tried to brush it off. 

“Coming to help corral the breakfast madness?” Morgan flexed his strong biceps as he stretched, the tight fabric of his burgundy camp-issued polo shirt hugging the muscles tightly. 

Spencer was sure he did it on purpose. 

“I’ll be right there. Just got to change.” Try not to imagine it, Spencer chuckled internally as Morgan swallowed thickly. 

“Uh…right sure. See you soon.” Morgan quickly averted his gaze and started down the steps away from his cabin. 

Once alone again, Spencer’s lips tugged up into a large smile as he unlocked the cabin door and slipped inside. The tension between him and Morgan was palpable and there was only one thing that would fix that. 

Spencer shuddered at the mere thought as he quickly changed into his uniform and willed himself not to get too excited. The flimsy camp-issued shorts would not hide that kind of secret. 

***

He pursed his lips and exhaled the smoke slowly, tilting his head back and watching as it descended into the air and dissipated. It felt almost poetic, the way in which he sometimes wished to be like that trail of smoke and be able to vanish so easily. He took another long pull on the cigarette, trying to shake himself out of the self-pity spiral he so often found himself in, and leant his head back against the wooden boards of the side of the boat shack. 

His bare legs dangled over the side of the dock, the cool water from the lake lapping around his calves as those stupid shorts continued to ride higher up his thighs. He ignored them and focused his vision out across the water to the other side of the lake and the trees beyond and only briefly thought about hopping in a canoe and disappearing into the lush greenery forever. 

It’s not to say that he was depressed, not clinically anyway. Luke Alvez just found sometimes that he’d quite like to be anyone else in the world other than Luke Alvez. There was no particular reason for the feeling the way he did, no catalyst to the onslaught of intrusive thoughts. Luke figured he was just born this way. He thought he’d grow out of it as he edged out of his teen angst, but now at twenty one he felt more lost and miserable than ever. 

Working at this damn summer camp didn’t help matters either. The rest of the staff were all so pally, they’d mostly all worked together here for several summers and Luke felt a little like the newbie, the outsider. Admittedly they did try to involve him but Luke kept everyone at arm's length. There was only one person he mildly tolerated and that was more because she’d taken it upon herself to befriend him and not the other way around. So he wasn’t at all surprised when he heard footsteps heading up the dock behind him and he knew without looking it would be her. 

“Can I bum one of those?” She spoke as she sat next to him, uninvited, crossing her legs beneath her on the deck. 

Luke took another drag of his own cigarette before holding out the pack for her. He watched her light it before she smiled at him and took a long pull. 

“Shouldn’t you be at breakfast?” He stubbed his cigarette butt out and deposited it with the others next to his boots. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” Emily Prentiss smiled around the cigarette cushioned between her lips. 

“Touché.” The slightest hint of a smile graced Luke’s features, the most anyone ever got of one anyway. 

Luke lit another cigarette and they sat by the dock smoking in companionable silence. It was one of the reasons Luke tolerated Emily more than most, she didn’t force conversation from him, she was just as happy as he was with the quiet. And sometimes even a loner like Luke Alvez liked a little company. 

In another life he and Emily may have made a good couple. In another life where he was straight and she was too. Not that they’d ever talked about their sexualities, they’d never talked about much at all, but he knew Emily liked women the same way she knew he liked men. It was an unspoken thing, especially for Luke who had never said out loud to anyone that he was gay. He could barely say it in his own head. But Emily knew somehow and Luke felt accepted without having to even say it. He appreciated that. He hoped one day if he ever had the courage to come out that other people would accept him too. He just had to learn to accept it about himself first. 

The two of them waited out the breakfast madness together in the quiet reviere of the lakefront. Moments like this offered Luke some semblance of peace. If only it would last. 

***

“Animals. Freaking animals, the lot of them.” Tara Lewis grumbled as she leant back against the wall and surveyed the chaos erupting around her in the canteen. 

Kids aged between thirteen and eighteen scrambled for seats and shovelled food into their mouths like it was their last meal. If Tara had her way, it would be for some of the little shit heads. 

“I swear there is no way my kid is going to grow up acting like this.” Next to her, Matt Simmons groaned in reply whilst folding his large arms over his chest. 

Matt was only twenty four but he and his high school sweetheart Kristy already had a one year old son. Tara never thought it was appropriate to ask if he was planned, but she got the impression he was not. But Matt did have a sort of cool dad vibe about him, Tara felt comfortable around him because of it. 

She let her eyes trail off of the destruction currently taking place in the canteen, across to the other side of the room where two other counsellors were watching each other instead of the kids. Half of their staff hadn’t shown up for breakfast this morning, they should all probably be doing more than just standing around. But it wasn’t Tara’s job to enforce that. 

“What’s the deal with those two?” Matt was now looking where Tara’s gaze had landed at the two boys who couldn’t take their eyes off of each other and shared the occasional fleeting touch. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Tara chuckled at the boys. 

“Uh, not to me?” Matt turned to her with a frown and Tara shook her head at his oblivious nature. 

“Oh come on Simmons.” She playfully patted his broad shoulder. “If it were a girl and guy you’d have no trouble reading between the lines.” 

Matt’s frown deepened as he turned away from Tara and focused back on the two boys across the room with an intense gaze. Tara could practically see the cogs turning in his head and when he turned back to her, his frown was replaced by a look of shock. 

“Morgan and Reid? No way.” 

“Morgan has been giving him the eye since the day Spencer turned eighteen. And now Spencer works here…” Tara trailed off with a shrug. “I get the impression boy wonder isn’t as innocent as he likes to make out. And Morgan is practically putty in his hands.” 

“But…Morgan’s straight?” 

That statement alone was enough to cause Tara to burst into laughter which only added to Matt’s confusion. Poor, sweet, naive Matt. She rode out her laughter before giving Matt’s shoulder a tight squeeze. 

“So was I until I met the right woman.” She winked at him before turning on her heels and leaving him to stew on her words. 

She didn’t necessarily have a destination in mind, she simply walked off for dramatic effect. Before she had to make a decision of where to go, Aaron Hotchner stormed into the canteen, his signature frown on his face and almost ran Tara down. 

“Whoa Hotch, where’s the fire?” She held her hands out to stop him barging into her. 

He barely even noticed her, looking over her head and glancing around the hall. 

“What the hell is going on here? It’s like walking into a zoo.” 

Tara could not imagine the uptight senior counsellor had ever stepped foot in a zoo, but thought better of saying that. 

“They are a little rowdy this morning.” 

“Why has no one done anything about it? And where’s everyone else? Alvez? Prentiss? Jareau? Garcia?” He looked at Tara now with a glare that could quite possibly kill. Like all of this was her fault. 

“I mean I can have a pretty good guess at where Alvez is, where Alvez always is. But I don’t know about the others.” She offered him a shrug.

“This is unacceptable. Strauss is away for the day and she left me in charge and the kids are running riot! Come on Lewis, you guys need to do better than this.” Hotch spat but didn’t give Tara a chance to respond before he was storming past her. 

She pulled a face, sidling back over to Matt. 

“Apparently Strauss is out and he’s been left in charge and clearly the power has gone to his head already.” She rolled her eyes. 

“Well then, I guess it’s his job to sort these kids out then.” Matt had to raise his voice to be heard over the growing crescendo of teenage yelling. 

He glanced back over at Morgan and Reid who seemed oblivious to Hotch’s entrance and the mayhem ensuing around them. If Matt didn’t know any better he could have sworn Reid was giving Morgan come to bed eyes. It was almost sweet in a way, Morgan was always so confident around women but talking to Spencer he looked almost bashful. Tara was right, Morgan most certainly had a crush on the messy haired teen and if the rumours were to be believed about the quiet genius, he was getting laid more than anyone. 

Suddenly he was startled out of his stare by a loud crashing sound, followed swiftly by…was that drumming? 

“Alright you bunch of hoodlums, that’s enough!” A voice yelled and Matt turned to face it as did everyone else in the room. 

Rossi had barged into the hall, violently smacking a metal pot with a wooden spoon while he yelled at the boisterous room full of young teens. 

“Sit down, finish your breakfasts and be QUIET!” He bellowed, sheepish looks being sent his way from all over the room. 

Morgan and Reid practically sprung apart and Matt noticed the way Morgan chewed his lip in embarrassment even though Rossi’s orders had not been directed at him. 

Rossi stopped hitting the pot and silence descended on the canteen aside from the sound of soft shuffling from kids taking their seats and cutlery scraping on plates. No one messed with David Rossi, it’s probably why they’d kept him around so long. 

Matt was impressed by the way in which he’d commanded the room and how all the kids were now on their best behaviour. He looked over at Tara who was smiling in amusement and then at Hotch who had a bewildered look on his face. 

“You’re welcome.” Rossi smirked, patting Hotch on the shoulder before retreating back into the kitchen. 

Hotch scratched the back of his head before shaking it off and turning his attention to Tara and Matt. 

“Ok, that’s one problem solved. Now where is the rest of my staff?”

***

Penelope Garcia swung her legs back and forth as they dangled over the edge of the bench she sat atop of, toying with a small plush unicorn in her pink painted fingers. She’d been babbling on for several long minutes about her cat Sergio at home who she missed dearly and it didn’t even occur to her that her company wasn’t listening. She was so engrossed with talk of her beloved feline she didn’t notice the other girl hadn’t said so much as a word in the last five minutes. And when she finally did speak, it was obvious she had been entirely elsewhere.

“What do you think they’re talking about down there?” Jennifer Jareau chewed on her lip as she spoke, like she didn’t really want the answer to her own question. 

Penelope frowned a little and followed her friend's gaze down the hill towards the lake's edge where she could see two people sitting side by side by the water. They had their backs to Penelope and JJ but it was clear who she was looking at. One wore an old leather jacket over his camp uniform despite the heat and puffs of smoke billowed around him every few seconds. The other's long dark hair shone in the sunlight. 

Ignoring the mild annoyance she felt at JJ not listening to her, she gave the unicorn’s wool mane a soft pull before shrugging. 

“Newbie barely talks at all, so I’d guess nothing much. Hopefully Em is telling him how utterly stupid he looks in that old jacket in this weather.” 

“I didn’t know they were friends.” JJ huffed a little as she spoke.

“Oh em gee, Jayje!” Penelope suddenly grabbed her arm and started shaking her. “Please don’t tell me you have a crush on that moody new kid!” 

“What? No way!” JJ grimaced, shaking the bubbly blonde off of her arm. 

“Why do you care so much that he and Em are friends then? Huh? Huh?” Penelope teased, poking JJ’s cheek with the snout of her unicorn. 

JJ pushed the plushie away with a frown, looking back down at the lake slightly wistfully. She almost wished it was Alvez she had a crush on. Life would be so much easier that way. But she wasn’t ready to tell Penelope the truth. So she sighed and turned back to her friend. 

“Fine, I guess I do sort of have a crush on him.” She lied. 

Penelope gasped and clapped her hands together, dropping the little unicorn in her lap as she did so. 

“JJ! Oh my gosh that’s so cute!” She squealed a little. “Personally not sure what you see in mister tall, dark and blandsome, but each to their own. See I prefer some chocolate thunder.” 

“Yeah. Right. Each to their own.” JJ mumbled as she turned back to stare at the back of the head with the long raven hair. 

***

“You know we’re being watched, right?” Luke stubbed yet another cigarette out on the dock as he pulled his legs out of the water. 

Emily chuckled lightly as she looked over at him.

“I can only assume by blondie?” 

“Uh…if by blondie you mean JJ, then yes.” Luke shook the water off his feet and legs before pulling his socks on, ignoring the fact his skin was still wet. 

“She does that a lot. Follows me around like a lost puppy.” Emily shrugged, pushing herself to her feet. 

“Not your type?” It was strange of Luke to ask a personal question but Emily made him feel at ease. If he was to get to know anyone, he’d quite like it to be her. 

Emily didn’t reply while Luke laced up his boots and stood up. When they were face to face again she had a twinkle in her eyes. 

“I’m kinda already sort of seeing someone. But it’s a secret so pretend I didn’t say anything.” 

“Who would I even tell?” Luke scoffed. “Are you happy?” 

Emily sucked in a breath before a smile bloomed across her face. 

“I am, yeah.” 

Luke offered her a half-smile as he started towards the bank up to the main camp, Emily following behind him. 

“I hope to find out what that’s like one day.” He replied.

Just then a certain messy haired genius came into view as he barrelled out of the cafeteria at the top of the hill. Emily didn’t miss the smile that tugged at Luke’s lips as he watched the young boy careen down the path in the direction of the counsellors cabins. 

Maybe happiness was closer in reach than Luke thought. 

Taglist -

@andiebeaword @dreatine @measure-in-pain @takeyourleap-of-faith @thebloomingeagle @dirtytissuebox @smurphyse @ssa-uglywhore27 @reidselle @reidsbookclub

[sasarahsunshine]

Broken

Warning: Blood, beating, stabbing, angst. Temporary character death. Spencer Reid whump and hurt Derek Morgan.

Pairing: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid | Moreid

You can also read this on AO3.

He could handle anything He did to him. He had been beaten black and blue before, blown up, shot at, and stabbed. He could handle it. He survived in the past, and he’ll survive this, too. 

So, being thrown to the ground so hard that his head bounced off the concrete, the air being forced from his lungs as a steel-toed boot slammed into his stomach, he convinces himself that he’ll be okay. Because he can handle it. He was Derek fucking Morgan. A respected and hard-working FBI agent, for crying out loud. He could handle it.

However, what he couldn’t handle was being handcuffed to a metal pipe that jutted from the cold wall. What he couldn’t handle was the submissive partner grabbing him by the chin and forcing him to look up as the dominant partner walked into the room with someone else in his arms, their thin figure fighting hard against his firm grip. What he couldn’t handle was the look of fear that flashed behind Spencer Reid’s eyes when he finally noticed the bruises and the blood that had marred his lover’s face. 

“What-?” He choked, coughing as the vile taste of pennies slipped down his throat. He yanked against the handcuffs, the sharp metal digging into his wrists in a numbing sort of burn. How did they get to Spencer? He was supposed to be back at the hotel!

“Derek!” Spencer’s voice was hoarse, his eyes red and cheeks tear-streaked. Damien, the dominant partner, threw Spencer to the floor, the lanky doctor’s knees cracking against the cement. He gasped silently, cursing, before reaching for Derek in an attempt to crawl to him. Damien’s boot came down on Spencer’s wrist, pinning him to the ground with a yelp. He squatted, his elbows on his knees as a hand softly gripped Spencer’s chin, forcing him to make eye contact. “Huh. Guess you are a pretty boy,” he said with a click of his tongue and a twisted grin. “I’m sure I can change that.”

Derek growled, yanking against the handcuffs again. He could feel the bite of the metal as it threatened to break his skin. “Leave him alone! You wanted me, remember? This whole thing was for me, right? So let him go, and take out your anger on me, like you wanted!” He didn’t know where the burst of energy came from, but he wouldn’t let it go now that he had it. He needed to keep Damien’s attention on him.

Damien rolled his eyes, dropping Spencer’s chin with force before gripping his hair, forcing his head back. Spencer swallowed, closing his eyes tightly to try and mask his emotions. Damien tugged at his roots, gazing over the pale expanse of Spencer’s gorgeous neck. His grin was wicked as he noticed a small hickey hiding under the collar of the genius’s sweater. 

“You know,” he started, his other hand going to yank the sweater aside so he could get a better look, “I’ve been watching you for a while, Derek Morgan. The day you murdered my father was the day I knew I would get revenge for him. At first, I thought about just killing you.” He stood up, releasing Spencer’s wrist just long enough to kick him over, then slam his foot right into Spencer’s stomach, making him gasp sharply and curl into himself. Derek shouted, “No! I said leave him alone!” He was fuming. His wrists were starting to bleed. 

“But then I thought, why not take someone you love so dear away from you? Then we’d be even.” Damien’s shoe connected with Spencer’s face, a sickening crack echoing in the concrete room as Spencer screamed out. Derek screamed too, his body protesting to how hard he was pulling against the pipe. 

Damien’s partner, Justin, was standing off to the side, wincing as he watched Damien kick Spencer again and again, aiming for his stomach and chest. 

Derek felt his tears, hot, unrelenting, as they flowed freely down his cheeks to the sounds of Spencer’s agony. His pain. He kept yelling at Damien, begging, pleading, asking him to “Please just stop- you’re going to kill him.” But he didn’t relent. 

Derek could handle a beating. He could handle a knife stabbing through his stomach, a bullet to the shoulder, an explosion at his back. He could handle acid on his skin. He could handle the pain because he was strong and capable—a survivor. 

But he couldn’t handle watching the love of his life being tortured before his very eyes. His heart was hammering against his chest, breaking with every shout that left Spencer’s bloodied lips. His lungs hitched as he choked on his sobs, his shoulders quivering with every ragged breath he took.

Damien eventually paused, crouching down, lifting Spencer’s head by his hair, the young agent wincing with blood and tears and snot dripping down his chin and splattering to the floor. Damien’s eyes scanned the damage done, watching Spencer’s uneven breathing, his gasps for air. He listened to Derek’s incoherent rambling behind him. “Please, please, please, please-”

“Oh, shut up,” Damien finally said as he dropped Spencer’s head, the genius’s forehead connecting with the concrete with a loud smack. He curled into himself, wheezing, his eyes closed tightly. His sobs were more like hiccups; each exhale misting the floor with droplets and bubbles of bright red. 

Derek was shaking, his hands utterly numb as blood pooled down his arms and dripped off his elbows. He would severe them entirely if it meant getting to Spencer and holding him. His lungs felt heavy as he gasped between sobs, his eyes glued to Spencer’s trembling figure. There was so much blood. “Spence- Spence, please look at me,” he begged silently, his vision blurred at the edges as more tears welled in his eyes. Spencer didn’t look, didn’t even move.

Damien stood up, looking down at his handiwork with a tilt of his head. He hummed, turning and walking to Derek. With a sinister chuckle, he grabbed Derek’s chin and forced him to meet his eyes, “I have a knife. I was wondering if I should just put him out of his misery now, or if I should let you watch him bleed to death?”

Derek narrowed his eyes, yanking his chin from Damien’s grip, “You’re sick! You won’t get away with this! I’m going to-”

“To what? Arrest me? You’re not really in a position to do that, agent,” Damien spat, glowering. He pulled out his knife, flipping it over in his hand once, twice, three times. He grinned again, “Maybe I’ll stab him anyways. Then make you watch him bleed to death. A win-win for me.”

Derek swallowed, all of the fight leaving him as his shoulders sagged. He was so tired. “Please, don’t. I’d rather you kill me. Just leave him alone. Please.” Justin just shifted from one foot to the other before looking at Damien, waiting for his decision. 

Damien glared at Derek, “You don’t get to beg. You didn’t give my father that chance, now did you?”

“Your father was a murderer!” Derek shouted as Damien walked back towards Spencer, the knife poised in his hand. Derek felt his shoulder aching as he pulled against his cuffs again, “He had a gun to the girl’s head! I took that shot to save her!” He didn’t know why he was trying to explain himself; it wouldn’t make a difference. Because the cold indifference in Damien’s eyes told him that he didn’t care. Like father, like son. 

Damien didn’t even hesitate to kick Spencer over onto his back, pushing the man’s arms away before plunging the knife into his stomach and twisting. The mangled scream that rang out in the room could have been Spencer’s-- it could have been Derek’s-- either way, it was an agonizing sound that reverberated through Derek’s body, ripping his heart in two.

Spencer coughed, blood pooling behind his lips and dribbling down the sides of his mouth, dripping off his chin. His eyes closed.

Derek was screaming, “Spencer!” His shoulder popped from its socket as the pipe burst from the wall with the force he yanked against it. Justin fell backward into the wall from alarm, his eyes wide with fear, “Damien!” But Damien only grinned, taking a step back to see what Derek might try to do next. He still had the handcuffs on both wrists behind his back. He wasn’t going anywhere. 

Derek collapsed to his knees beside Spencer, cursing that he couldn’t hold him. He dropped his forehead against his beloved’s, tears sliding down his face, “Spencer-- Spencer, come on. Open your eyes, please. Spencer, look at me-- look at me.” He could smell the metallic scent of death and blood with every breathy wheeze that came from his partner’s opened mouth. He could hear the way Spencer’s lungs were filling with fluid, how he sounded like he was drowning in his own blood.

Derek snarled, looking up to see a retreating Damien and Justin, the two rushing up the stairs, a bloody knife in Damien’s grasp. He shouted after them, “Damien! You’ll pay for this! I’ll kill you myself!”

A soft whimper broke his attention, and he looked down, seeing Spencer’s gorgeous face contort in pain, another cough racking through his whole body. He shushed him, pressing their foreheads together again, “Shh, it’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” his voice cracked. He swallowed thickly, watching as Spencer tried to open his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering with drops of tears dotting them. He pressed a kiss to Spencer’s nose, “Just, just stay with me, okay? I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry.”

“‘Sokay,” Spencer whispered. His voice sounded like he was speaking underwater. It made Derek sob, shaking his head, “No, no, it’s not okay. Spencer, please, just stay with me. Talk to me, okay?”

Spencer was quiet, aside from the gentle wheeze that came in uneven breaths, his chest rising and falling in small tremors. Derek bit his lip. He was about to watch his beloved die. He couldn’t handle that. “Spence? Talk to me, please,” he whispered, pleaded, his lips brushing against Spencer’s forehead, tasting of blood and sweat. He just wanted to hold him. “Please.”

“Der,” Spencer inhaled sharply, his face twisting up as he tried not to cough. Derek pushed his body closer to him, “Yeah? What’s up, baby?”

“I just…” Spencer’s breathing was slowing down. Derek swallowed the lump in his throat, his shoulders shaking as he tried not to cry. When Spencer spoke again, his voice was so quiet, so far away, Derek wasn’t sure that he even heard him. But he did, and it made him break down, his forehead falling to Spencer’s chest as he willed life back into his love, his partner, his soulmate. He sobbed, his face pressing into the blood that was supposed to be inside of Spencer, pumping through his veins, keeping him alive. But now it was spilled from his wound, drenching the floor in a brilliant deep red. And then Spencer was gone.

“I love you.”

~~~~~

Rossi slammed the door open, followed by two SWAT team members and Hotch, a flashlight and his gun in hand. He shone the light around the darkened basement before it landed on the crouched figure of Morgan, his body bloodied and shaking. “Hotch!”

Hotch hurried down the steps, landing on his knees beside Morgan and Reid, his eyes wide and looking over the two of them frantically. “Morgan,” he spoke sternly, forcing his agent to look at him, “Reid?”

The tears streaming down Morgan’s face was all he needed to see before he looked over his shoulder, screaming, “Medic! We need a damn medic!” Rossi dropped behind Morgan, unlatching the handcuffs from his bloody wrists. The moment he was free of his metal prison he threw his arms over Reid, pulling him into his lap and sobbing. 

Rossi had to wrap his arms around Morgan’s middle, holding him still when the medics came down. Morgan had no fight left in him, watching with weary eyes as they loaded Reid onto a stretcher, their voices background noise to the roaring of his thoughts. I failed. I failed Spencer. I lost him. What am I going to do now?

“There’s a pulse!”

“It’s thready, if best.”

“Call ahead and let them know to prep for an emergency surgery.” 

Did he hear right? Morgan’s head shot up as he watched the paramedics carry Reid away, Rossi still holding him and shushing him from behind. He yanked himself away, standing to his shaking legs, “Did they- he’s alive?”

“Barely,” Hotch said as he grabbed Morgan by the arm, leading him up the stairs, “Get in that ambulance, Morgan. And let them check you over too. We’ll meet you at the hospital.” It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order. One that Morgan was not going to argue with.

Once loaded into the ambulance, a more common occurrence than Derek would ever want to admit, he grasped at Spencer’s hand with his good arm, ignoring the blood that stained his skin. He watched the medics work, hooking up wires and tubes to his partner’s body, an oxygen mask going over his face. One of them began working on the knife wound immediately, covering it with gauze to stop the bleeding. They began talking about numbers, BP, heart-rate, things that Derek zoned out. 

He was too busy looking at Spencer’s face, trying to remember what it looked like behind the bruises and the blood. Under the pain was the most beautiful man he had ever met, whose eyes were the brightest shade of brown, glittering in the sunlight like gold. Whose nose would scrunch up adorably when he was being teased. Whose tongue would poke out and run along his bottom lip when he was thinking intently, his eyes scanning over files and files of casework. Beyond the broken man that was before him now was his true love.

He couldn’t lose him. He couldn’t handle that.

Arriving at the hospital was chaos. Derek fought hard to follow Spencer into the emergency room, but eventually collapsed in Hotch’s arms as he watched them wheel his soulmate away. What if Spencer died on the table? What if he never got to see him again? What if he never got to hold him at three in the morning, tangled up in each other’s limbs, planting soft kisses on exposed skin, ever again? 

He couldn’t handle that. 

Six agonizing hours later, with Derek’s wrists stitched and wrapped up nicely, his shoulder popped back into place, his cuts and bruises treated, a doctor finally walked into his room, a clipboard in hand. “Derek Morgan?”

“Yes?” He glanced up at her, his eyes and body heavy. He was exhausted. 

“Dr. Reid is out of surgery,” she smiled, “and he’s been put into a room. He’s going to be okay. He’s a fighter, they told me. And seeing here,” she glanced down at her chart, “since you’re his medical proxy, you can go see him now.”

Derek didn’t have to be told twice, his feet carrying him straight to Spencer’s room. 

The sight of him lying there, his eyes closed, an oxygen mask covering his face with wires and tubes attached to his body, was enough to make the tears start again. Derek sat down tentatively in the chair beside the bed, taking Spencer’s hand in his own. He squeezed it, gasping as his emotions came crashing down. 

Spencer was here, alive, and right in front of him. Broken, but alive. 

A soft whimper brought his attention to Spencer’s face, his hand going to brush some of the wild curls from his love’s forehead. “Mm here,” he murmured, “I’m right here, baby.” Spencer seemed to settle then, the lines and creases by his eyes smoothing out. His body relaxed under Derek’s gentle touch.

“I’m always going to be right here,” he continued, whispering. “I love you too.”

And I’m never going to let anything happen to you ever again. 

[kenni-woodard]

*sighs*

I really am in the mood to watch Spencer and Derek fall in love. Why were we denied this?

[makaylajadewrites]

Maybe

Read on AO3

so I wrote some trash that I wanted to share with everyone else experiencing sad boy hours. its pretty ambiguous but it’s intended to be Reid and Morgan - take it how you will.

tws: implied sex, angst, unrequited love

word count: 737

--

“Have you ever considered us?” He asked one night, sprawled on his back in a bed that was not his own, his alabaster skin contrasting against the black sheets. His partner turned to him, an amused expression on his face, disbelief in his dark eyes. He should have known.

“The only thing I considered was going for another round,” his nameless companion said in response, and maybe he broke a little, but he wasn’t for sure, and he had never been so uncertain of anything in all his life. These nights of senseless sex and intoxication simply could not continue, else he would only lose more of himself along the way.

“Ah,” he had said, mindless in the way his bedmate kissed along his shoulder and up the expanse of his neck. He should be used to this by now, the feeling of only being wanted by another human being when it was convenient for them and then being abandoned as soon as they realized he couldn’t live up to their expectations. How to change this was a mystery, because it had been like that all his life, and strangely enough, he didn’t know if he wanted to change it. At least now, he was wanted occasionally. “I think I can do that.”

And while it often felt normal to spend a night with a familiar stranger, who only wanted the same thing as before, it was eating him up inside, tearing the flesh from bone until he was a walking corpse of his former self. His muscles atrophied from the crippling pressure of being valuable to someone.

He was in love with a man who would never consider him as anything more than a friend, companion, colleague, coworker. They were doomed from the start, and maybe he should have kept his heart in check and avoided feeling those emotions that had devastated his entire life. Love was not for him, familial or otherwise. It would always leave, eventually, because as he watched his mother fade over the years, he knew that her love for him was fading too. She hardly ever recognized him anymore, and to see a look of confusion on his mother’s face when she was confronted with her own son was enough to break him maybe.

“Does it feel good?” His partner asked from somewhere above him, and he responded positively, just to keep the sensations going. It didn't feel good, in fact, because he felt nothing at all, but the numbness was the greatest feeling in the entire world. In this little fantasy he had created, he was happy and content with his life and there was nothing he would change. He was in love, and the love was returned by the very object of his desire.

So instead of a nameless partner, his companion had an identity that was ever so carefully crafted by a calamitous universe. He didn’t believe in fate, but he was certain that his beloved was created with every ounce of perfection ever imagined, and nothing could change his mind on the matter. He was a broken man in love with a perfect one, and the odds of anything ever coming from that were so microscopically small that he went ahead and considered it null. 

“Are you close?” Was asked, and he forced himself to give the response his partner wanted from him, like he was expecting from him. The emptiness inside was swallowing him whole, and he was for certain that by the end of this, there wouldn’t be any of him left. The sense of wetness built in his eyes and he was crying before he realized it. His nameless companion must have assumed it was his doing, and he just muttered something that was neither fulfilling or worthwhile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Pretty Boy,” his beloved said in his departure.

He was left alone eventually, reminded of how good of a partner he was, and he wondered if he would be left feeling like this always. His heart lurched in his chest at the very thought of him loving him in return, and while he wished so badly to be good enough, it was a hopeless lament. 

So he cried, clutching the black sheets around him as a replacement for his beloved’s arms which would never hold his body in a true embrace. And when faced with that realization, he maybe broke to pieces.

[icannotseemyself]

There is no straight explanation

they were insane for this

[schrijverr]

I couldn't utter my love when it counted

Spencer has been taken by an unsub that buries his victims alive and only has a phone that cannot be traced as the clock slowly ticks down with the rest trying to save him. Derek is on the phone with him, emotions running high as they have to see whether Spencer can be saved or if they’re too late, both to find him and for one of them to tell the other how they truly feel.

On AO3.

Ships: Moreid

Warnings: potential death, buried alive, panic, Spencer nearly giving up on wanting to live

~~~~~~~~

Spencer has in the past described the space between waking and sleep, when you’ve forgotten all things terrible that happened to you, as blissful. However, waking up in the dark, confined space without knowing how or why, is anything but.

Soon the memories rush back and Spencer’s mood does not improve.

The team is chasing an unsub that buries his victims alive and leaves them with a phone too old to be tracked, both killing them and psychologically torturing their loved ones as they have to listen to them die. So far, they haven’t been able to locate a single body, even if they have confirmed seven dead.

Not that any of that matters to Spencer right now, because all he can do is panic. He slams his hands against the top of the box he’s in and yells, but no one seems to hear him.

He screams and trashes, bruising his body, and gets no answer.

Spencer can make all the noise he wants, but no one will hear him. He can die there, all alone, without anyone ever knowing he was there. Without having anyone there.

Tears stream out of his eyes and he tries to stifle the gasps, remembering equations about air use even if it’s only making it worse.

God, he’s so alone.

He remembers he should have a phone and mages to calm himself a bit as he goes groping around his body to find it, trying not to think of the fact that he’s wearing a fancy suit, so the unsub must have redressed him while he was knocked out.

When he locates the phone, he types in a number he knows by heart with shaky hands, hoping the man on the other side will pick up, despite the stress he must be under with Spencer missing.

“This better be important,” is snapped at him after a tense second.

“M-Morgan?” He knows it’s Derek, but in that moment his relief of just hearing Derek’s voice is so big that he can only whimper the name.

“Yeah, pretty boy, it’s me,” Derek’s voice immediately turns gentle and Spencer feels his eyes prick with tears he refuses to let out again. He isn’t going to spend his last hours on this earth, crying into the phone. He’s going to help solve the case, save someone’s life, if he can.

Still, that resolve isn’t enough to prevent him from being terrified and with a wobbly voice, he chokes: “It’s so, so dark.”

He hasn’t taken the time yet to process it all and with Derek there on the line, the difference between where he wants to be and where he is, is so big that it all just catches up to him.

His heart is beating loudly in his ears and he can’t see a thing. The fact that the box is too small for anyone to sneak up on him would be more comforting, were it not for the fact that he’s nearly suffocating in the tight space.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, you’re alright, just calm down, okay? Just breathe,” Derek’s voice cuts through the panic and he hears the man breathe over the phone. Unsteadily he follows, relieved he has Derek with him, even if it’s over a crappy speaker. “Yeah, like that, you’re doing great, pretty boy. Just keep breathing.”

“I- I’m okay,” he finally manages after a moment.

“That’s good,” Derek tells him. “Can you tell me where you are?”

“In a box underground, Morgan,” he snaps, before apologizing. “Sorry, just- fuck- I mean, yeah, you know.”

“I know,” Derek sounds almost sad and Spencer hates it and doesn’t want the other to hear him like this, even if he never wants him to leave either.

Instead of replying he focuses on feeling around, while in the background Hotch gives the order to call Garcia again and see what she got on camera’s. The box isn’t rough, but soft, like a bed. It takes him a second before he realizes why.

“It’s a coffin,” he says, almost at his breaking point. The unsub truly buried him. “I’m in a coffin,” he repeats still slightly disbelieving, even if he really should be used to this in his line of work. Still having the odd happen to him is different.

“A coffin?” he can’t blame Derek’s reaction. “Where is he even getting coffins?”

“I don’t know, maybe he works at a funeral home,” Spencer says, trying to help to built the profile and distract himself from the fact that he’s in a coffin. “But he has money. I’m in a really fancy suit by the feel of it.”

“Good work,” Derek tells him and Spencer isn’t sure why the other is complimenting him so much, but he isn’t going to point it out, because right now it’s the only thing he’s able to cling to. “Do you smell anything or hear something? Anything could help, you’re already doing so much. Just keep it up and focus your senses, okay?”

“Y- yeah, yeah, okay,” Spencer swears he’s usually more eloquent, but with no unsub to talk down all he can focus on is himself and Derek’s comfort, which is foreign enough to throw him off balance and make him feel too open and vulnerable to think of words when he has no place to hide away in.

So, he tries to ignore it all and holds his breath as he listens. He has once read about room noise people record to put into artificial silences in recordings, because no noise sounds wrong, since the brain calibrates for the natural noise in the room.

The coffin sounds like that.

It sounds like nothing, an empty space too far away for any noise to penetrate, save the sounds coming from the phone, which right now is only Derek’s breathing. It sounds wrong, like there should be no life there… and that’s probably exactly the point.

Spencer exhales and focuses on the scents, before he can panic again. Not that it helps much, because the air is starting to get stale, a stark reminder that the clock is ticking down and he doesn’t have much time left.

He reports: “There is nothing odd about the sounds or smell, it’s just getting stale, which is to be expected. The average coffin has a volume of 886 liters and the average human 66 liters, which leaves me 820 liter, 164 of which are air. Without the panicking and with steady breaths, I have 5 and a half hours total. How long have I been missing?”

“We noticed you were gone half an hour after you went to get some air,” Derek tells him. “That was less than an hour ago.”

“Oh, okay.” Was his voice always that high? He swallows and cautiously asks “What- What time is it?”

“It’s 2:45,” Derek answers.

“Okay, so I have until seven at the worst, that’s- that’s still enough time, right?” It isn’t, they both know that. They haven’t found anyone yet, why would this time be different? Spencer feels a pit start to form in his stomach. He had already realized that he would die here, but it’s suddenly more real and the tears he has managed to hold at bay until now, start to flow out of his eyes.

He manages to silence the sniffles, but Derek must sense something, because he soothingly tells him: “We’ll find you, okay, pretty boy? Just hang in there.”

Spencer nods without realizing Derek can’t see him, while in the background Hotch’s muffled voice gives Derek an order.

“Hey, Reid, listen up,” Derek says, going for a lighter tone. “We need to know all you know, so I’m going to coach you through a interview, alright?”

“Ye- yeah, sure, okay, yeah, that’s- that’s good,” Spencer decides that anything is better than just lying there, even if he doesn’t really feel like remembering how he ended up there. He wants to help solve the case, even if they might be too late for him.

“Good,” Derek praises and Spencer feels slightly better. “Do you know what happened? Just close your eyes and try to remember. You went outside, where did you go?”

“I- I wanted to get some air,” Spencer recalls. “I couldn’t take it anymore, I wasn’t focusing, so I went outside. To the parking lot.”

“Alright, so you went to the parking lot. Was anyone there with you or were you alone?” Derek asks.

Spencer closes his eyes, no matter how redundant it might seem and tries to remember. He pictures the parking lot clearly as it was then. “No, it was calm. Lunch had finished half an hour before, so everyone was inside again.”

Derek hums, but before he can say anything Spencer sees someone in his minds eyes. “Wait. Wait,” he says. “I remember someone. Uhm, it was a- a guy. I- I think I spoke with him.”

“Very good,” he can almost picture Derek nodding with compassion and it makes something constrict in his chest. “Can you remember what he said? Or even your reply?

“It was only briefly, I don’t know,” Spencer’s voice sounds anguished even to his own ears. He hates not knowing and he’s even more scared of not remembering, of not being able to help.

“Anything helps, pretty boy, no matter how small a detail,” Derek reminds him. “Come on, you’ve been doing great.”

And Spencer tries. Tries to go back to that moment, suddenly recalling he got startled by a voice and turned around. The face is still unclear, but he hears what is being said.

“He asked if I had a light,” he says, chuckling slightly bitter. “And I did.” He knows how that sounds with the other habit he kicked once, so quickly explains: “I smoked briefly in college, quit before my third PhD, but found that having a light is a good way to start a conversation, so I still carry one out of habit.”

“So, you walk over to him to offer him the light,” Derek says. “What does he look like? Just try and focus on his face. Tell me how he looks.”

Spencer can picture the man. He was slightly taller and definitely buffer than him and the clothes he wore were expensive and preppy. He can see that much, but the face still eludes him and it is frustrating as fuck. He groans and slams down his fist, already hitting it on the lid, painfully reminding him where he is.

“Spencer? Pretty boy?” Derek asks him carefully and Spencer is pretty sure that’s the first time the other called him by his first name. Spencer would have more emotions about it, if he wasn’t about to die.

“I- I can’t see it,” his teeth are clenched, but he gets it out. “He’s right there and I can see him, but his face is blank. Fucking dammit.” He rarely swears, but it feels deserved. He is trying so hard to be useful, but he can’t even describe the unsub.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. You’re okay, darling,” Derek says soothingly. He hasn’t heard the petnames in relation to him and it stumps him for a moment, resetting his system.

He doesn’t know if Derek did it on purpose (and he doesn’t want to think about the possibility), but the emotions he’s been suppressing in regards to Derek come bubbling to the surface and the last thing he wants to do is to think about them. So, he throws himself into his work, ignoring all else and trying to think logically.

“The unsub didn’t have a cigarette,” he blurts out in lieu of a reply, suddenly remember that part. “I remember walking up to light his cigarette, but I was too close when I noticed it was a piece of cloth. He attacked me when I saw. It was chloroform.”

“Good job,” something has changed in Derek’s voice, but he can’t focus on that right now. “We can track that.” A bit further away, he says: “Tell Garcia to track who bought chloroform.” Then he returns his attention to Spencer, asking: “Did you make eye contact with the unsub when he attacked you?”

Spencer furrows his brow, trying to remember that horrid moment wherein he realized he was fucked. It’s a blur of motion and then- There! He got it. With one piece, his brain quickly puzzles the rest together.

“He had blue eyes and blonde hair,” he says. “It was long, he made a joke about us having the same hair.” He quickly gives a description of the man that Derek pens down.

The unsub was handsome, but not like Derek was handsome. He had money rolling off him and a slickness that felt off. Spencer might have slept with him in another time, when he was younger and more naive.

Not that it matters now, he tries to focus on his description, which he finishes off. Almost as an afterthought he adds: “He was wearing a white shirt, which I found odd.”

“Why was that odd?” Derek asks.

“Well, if he has to dig a grave then I would assume he wouldn't wear clothes that got dirty easily,” he shrugs, then he remember something he read when he was six and he had just buried his grandmother. “He didn’t even have time to dig a grave. It takes two workers three to six hours to dig a grave. The unsub dressed me up in nice clothes, I even think I have make up on my face and my nails are done. He takes the coffin thing seriously, I don’t think he would skip the 6 feet under.”

“So, he dug the grave before that,” Derek summarized, voice changing as hope creeped in. “Where would he have the privacy for that?”

“In the wild? But he barely gets that here, even outside the city with the grass everywhere and it’s too far of a drive. So somewhere in the city,” Spencer pulls up a map mentally.

“He has money,” Derek says. “He could own a property. I’ll ask Garcia to pull up satellite footage, a patch of recently dug graves will be spotted.”

“Yeah, the satellite scans for 6 ft holes, it has to be-” Spencer cuts himself off when he realizes and immediately feels like crying.

“Spencer? Pretty boy?” Derek asks when he falls silent for too long.

“I’m in a cemetery.” His voice is flat, because if it isn’t flat, he’ll be crying. He’s already buried in a full suit in a graveyard, even if he is never found, he’ll rest. He’ll rest and no one he loves will ever be able to visit him. He doesn’t believe in anything after death, except for a warm light, but he also knows nothing can be disproven and he doesn’t want to be alone forever.

“A cemetery?” Derek repeats. “That narrows it down, good job.”

“No,” there is a hollow space inside him and he feels it in his body and soul. “There are 48 cemeteries in Houston and approximately 43 burials each day. You’re not going to find me.”

Up until now there was hope, but that is gone. He’s in a grave in the ground and they’ll never find him in time. He’s going to die with only Derek on the phone for company, probably the team too, but they’ve been letting Derek do all the talking.

The truth he’s known since he woke up, finally catches up with him and with a finality, he repeats: “You’re not going to find me. I- I called because I wanted to help, but also to say goodbye. I don’t wanna die by myself.” He starts to cry unable to stop it anymore. “You-You need to record a message to give to my- my mom. I don’t want- wanna scare her by calling her now. Please- I-”

“You’re not going to die, Spence,” that’s JJ, finally speaking.

“Yeah, you can’t start thinking like that,” Derek adds.

“Please, just-” Spencer words fail him. He’s crying and all he wants is a hug, the affection he never dared to ask for and will now die without receiving. He doesn’t have anything except a coffin that feels empty despite its cramped-ness. Fuck, what he wouldn't give hear his mom’s voice right now, but he can’t worry her.

Emily, his savior Emily, jumps in: “Of course, Reid, just give me a moment, okay? It won’t be the best quality, but she’ll hear your voice.” There are some hushed noises, before Emily speaks again: “You can talk now.”

“H- Hey, mom,” he starts, trying not to think of what his voice sounds like. “It’s me, Spencer. I, uhm, I’m calling- It’s- I just want you to know that I love you, okay, mom? And- And I’m so proud each day to- to be your son.”

How he is talking through the tears, he does not know, but he is. He’s also reminded of the anthrax attack of a while ago. It’s always him, isn’t it? But back then, he didn’t get to say more. He can tell her more this time.

“I’m- I’m not doing so well right now, but don’t worry, by the time you hear this I’ll- I’ll be resting and even- even if I- I won’t ever see you again, I know that-” he clears his throat “-that no matter what, I’ll always carry you with me, just like you will have me in- in your heart. And I- I hope that you have a- an amazing life, okay? Don’t give up because of me. I’ve written you so many letters and I’m ex- expecting to hear of all the good days you still- you still have to have. Even if they’re with- without- without me.”

He starts to sob and he can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed. He’s just so scared and no matter how many people are on the other side of the line, he’s all alone.

It takes him a moment to get his breathing under control again.

“I’m sorry,” he says, attempting a watery smile, because his mom always told him you can hear a smile. “I just miss you already. And- And I wish I could say goodbye properly, but you know how I am,” a sad chuckle, “didn’t want to- to worry you.”

He wipes his eyes, quite an achievement in the tight space, and sniffs, trying not to think of the fact that crying wastes oxygen.

“I- I wanted to thank you, for always being- being there for me. You’re the best m- mom I could have had,” Spencer finishes. “I- I love you and- and goodbye.”

It’s quiet for a moment, then Emily reports: “I got it. Don’t worry, I’ll keep it with me just in case we need it, but I hope I’ll get to throw this away soon.”

“Thank you,” he starts crying again, but this time it’s a silent weeping. “It was the best- the best thing in my life to work with you.”

“Spence-” JJ starts, but Spencer ignores her.

“You were all always so kind to me,” he says. He has to tell them. “That was good. No one else was ever nice. Except my mom, but she doesn’t count, she’s required to be nice to me.” A sudden thought occurs and he snorts. “Not that that stopped my dad.”

“Reid,” Hotch is stepping in and something in his tone requires Spencer to listen. “Do you have an estimate of the time you were buried. I need you to focus and tell us okay? Everything can help, you might be the key to catching this guy, before he takes anyone else. So focus, there are lives at stake.”

That actually helps. He may have already given up on himself, but he isn’t putting anyone else through this if he can help it.

He sniffles again, before running the timeline through his head and saying: “I- I’ve probably been buried at 2:15 at the earliest.”

“Good,” Hotch nods. “We’re going to canvas all the cemeteries for activity around that time as well as check all the traffic camera’s around the cemeteries, okay. Morgan will stay here with you, if you remember anything, tell him.”

“O- Okay,” for some reason Spencer feels small and tired now that he has nothing to do but wait until they find something.

“You did good work, Reid,” Hotch tells him. “Now hang in there.” And then he’s gone.

Spencer listens to everyone bustling out of the room and Hotch yelling. He knows that normally Hotch would never treat local law enforcement with anything but respect, but this isn’t really normally.

When the noise dies down, there is nothing to focus on except himself and his surroundings, so he asks: “What time is it?”

“It’s only three o’clock,” Derek assures him, or at least Spencer thinks that’s what the other is trying to do.

Only twenty minutes have passed since he called, but it feels like forever. He mentally runs the numbers again. If he did have 5 and half hours, he’ll die at a 7:45, but he’ll pass out 35 minutes before that due to oxygen deprivation. However with all the crying, he subtracts 45 minutes to be on the safe side.

“Hey, I calculated it again,” he says and Derek hums to signal he’s listening. “I’ll die around seven, but I’ll pass out at 6:25.”

“We’re not going to let that happen,” Derek says, voice tight.

“I- I know,” Spencer lies. “I just thought you would want to know that when I stop reacting, I’m probably still alive.”

“Oh, yeah,” Derek sounds taken aback. “That’s- That’s good.”

It’s suddenly awkward between them, which is so ironic that Spencer either wants to cry or laugh loudly. They’ve never been awkward before, Derek was one of the few people that Spencer has never had to feel awkward or uncomfortable around, but now that he’s on death’s door, there’s suddenly a barrier between them.

He remembers that Derek called him baby and darling, which he never does. He had tried to put it away, but his brain isn’t listening and now he’s wondering if Derek meant something with it. If Derek likes him back.

Spencer knows it’s an absurd thought. Even if Derek’s bi (which Spencer knows he is, he’s just more a lady’s man, so there goes that), he wouldn't like Spencer. Spencer is awkward and a nerd, who doesn’t know when to shut up.

And Derek’s well, he’s Derek. Sexy, smart, funny, charming as hell. In short everything Spencer is not and very far out of the doctor’s league. Not to mention that Spencer is probably completely friend zoned by the man.

Besides, it’s not like it’s going to matter now. Spencer is in a coffin somewhere and steadily running out of air. Telling Derek he’s always loved him, will not do anything good. He’ll only leave the other guilty or sad or angry.

He wants Derek to remember him as he’s always been, not desperate last words that will lead to nothing, except embarrassment, should the small chance come to pass that he survives this.

Still, the silence stretching out between them isn’t helping and the ever present darkness feels like it’s compressing him.

Only Derek’s soft breathing is preventing him from breaking down and he knows that if he doesn’t ask for help soon, he’ll waste more precious air by panicking. He hates asking for help, however, but he’s going to die anyway, so he won’t have to live with it for long.

“D- Derek?” he doesn’t know if he’s ever called Derek anything but Morgan (he does and he hasn’t), but in this moment it feels wrong to call the other Morgan. Seems to cold and distant, when he’s the last person Spencer’s going to hear.

“Yeah, pretty boy?” Derek asks with nothing but compassion in his voice, even if he’s forced to sit there, when Spencer knows Derek would much rather do something, anything.

“Can you talk to me?” his voice is small, but he can’t really bring himself to care anymore, he’s that close to tears. “It’s- It’s so, so dark and I’m scared.”

“Oh, Spence, baby,” Derek doesn’t seem aware he’s calling him that again, he just talks in that gentle, soothing voice. “Of course, I’ll talk. You did very well today, just holding it together, I don’t think I would have fared the same.”

On another day, Spencer might have protested, but all the emotions have made him exhausted and the praise just warms him slightly as he hums in content, glad that Derek is speaking.

Derek begins a story of his police days, when he got spooked by a cat on a routine round. Then he moves on to his first case with Gideon and Hotch and how intimidated he’d been, something Spencer finds hard to believe, but Derek swears it’s true.

A small lull falls, then Derek says: “Did you know that when I was nine I wrote a comic book?”

“What?” Spencer replies. He’s been trying to save air, but he reacts here and there.

“Yeah, it was ugly as all hell and the plot was all over the place,” Derek shrugs “But I wrote it and drew it. It was about a cat, who was also a robot and fought crime. Her name was Claw-raptor and I made three installments.”

Spencer giggles and Derek continues: “I thought it was the best thing too, forced my mom and dad to read it, as well as my sisters. Now, my mom and dad were nice about it, but my sisters were also kids with no filter, so they were brutally honest. They made me cry.”

That sounds like a lie and Spencer makes a noise that hopefully communicates that.

“It’s true,” message received then. “I ran to my mom and sulked all day. She was really nice about it, even if I was being a complete baby. She stroked my hair and told me to keep working to my dream and don’t let other people get to me. Eventually I lost interest in drawing, but I didn’t immediately stop because of that.”

“Your mom sounds lovely,” Spencer says, deciding this is worth commenting on. “I met her, did you know?”

Derek laughs, but he isn’t laughing at Spencer, trust him, he knows what that sounds like. It’s just a noise of pure enjoyment, which Spencer clings to in these depressing times. “Yeah,” Derek finally answers. “She mentioned it. Told me to feed you more often and make sure you’d talk to people too.”

“Did she think I was rude?” Spencer is not able to say why the opinion of Derek’s mom matters to him in that moment, when he will never see her again.

“She loved you,” Derek assures him anyway, probably confused about why Spencer is asking, but going along with it because of the circumstances. “She said you were like she expected you to be, but warmer. Welcoming, I think she said.”

Spencer wants to react, but doesn’t know what to say, so he stays quiet.

“I talk to her about you. The whole team,” Derek adds, almost too quick, not that Spencer is thinking about that. “I like to call her when I can and just chat. I’m not home often, so I miss a lot and she keeps me up to date on all the gossip.”

There is a smile in Derek’s voice as he goes on: “Don’t tell baby girl, but out of my siblings, I’m the gossip, even if my family thinks it’s my sisters. Me and my mom know better. I think it’s the profiler in me, gossip is interesting when you look at it from a behavioral way. Both in what is told and by whom and how.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you back then,” Derek says, switching topics after a small pause. “I thought it embarrassing and not something we’re doing anyway, but you’re invited for dinner at my mom’s house. She makes the best comfort food, so when we get you out there, we’re taking her up on it, yeah. Sound good?”

Spencer can imagine all sorts of scenarios in which that happened under very different circumstances, but that doesn’t matter right now. Derek is just talking to him, merely trying to get him to keep hope and stay alive.

It’s ironic, actually. In this coffin, six feet underground, it’s quite difficult to die from anything but asphyxiation. Spencer couldn’t die early, even if he wanted to.

He supposes he could hang up, but only 45 minutes have passed since he last asked the time and he isn’t looking forwards to two hours and forty minutes all alone in that dark, utterly silent box where his only company is his breathing until he passes out.

“I’d love to,” he replies, because at this point nothing sounds better than trying to behave somewhat normally in front of Derek’s mother in a totally platonic way with Derek. Anything is better than being in this box, even if this box is going his final resting place.

“Good,” and now he can truly hear the smile, picture it perfectly too. At times like these, he blesses his memory, for being able to show him the good things behind his eyelids. “I’ll make sure, she makes something you’ll like. And don’t think you’re getting out of this promise just because of your circumstances, alright, pretty boy. I’m keeping you to your word.”

“Heh, sure,” Spencer replies, too tired to come up with anything else to say. He wants to sleep, but he knows that when he does, he might not wake up again.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t fall asleep okay,” Derek’s voice is immediately worried and Spencer feels bad for making him sound like that. He didn’t mean to, honest.

He tries to make a joke, to make Derek feel better, because he doesn’t think he would have been able to stay this calm without him. “Sorry, just comfortable, who knew sleeping like the dead was also sleeping like royalty.”

“Spencer…” the joke isn’t well received and he flinches, hitting his knees against the lid of his coffin.

The action makes him think again and he frowns, kicking the bottom of the coffin as well, before stretching out to test how much he has above his head.

“What’s happening, pretty boy?” Derek asks, sounding tense.

“I am comfortable,” Spencer says in lieu of an answer, not yet connecting the dots, but knowing there’s something to connect.

“…Good?” Derek tells him, uncertain. “Does that mean anything?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just that I’m 6ft1 and most coffins range from 5ft to 6ft8, which, yeah, I would fit in,” he says, thinking it through out loud. “But most standard coffins they have on display at funeral homes wouldn't be my size. If the unsub quickly grabbed one to bury his victims in, why did he have one in my size there? It just doesn’t make sense.”

“Unless the unsub doesn’t work at a funeral home or cemetery, but makes coffins,” Derek connects the dots Spencer’s brain wasn’t able to. “I’m contacting Hotch and Garcia, wait one moment.”

Spencer does, feeling a bit like Watson, a feeling he remembers from when he was three and his mother read him Sherlock Holmes for the first time. He’d loved Watson from the start and decided to become a doctor, even if he dad said Sherlock was the smart one.

Soon Derek’s voice comes over the speaker again: “Well done, pretty boy. We got a name. Theodore Webb, heir of a coffin making company that’s located here. They’re trying to pin him down, because he owns multiple properties. Just hang in there, we’re getting you out, okay?”

Spencer nods, then realizes what he did and says: “Yeah,” not sure if he’s willing to let himself have hope. So, instead he focuses on how weird it is that some of his teammates, might have walked over the ground he’s buried under, without even knowing. Either of them.

Derek must have heard something in his voice, because he launches into more stories, recounting things they did together, or something Garcia told him. It feels as if he is filling the space now that it is hopeful, because he’s afraid something else will fill it otherwise.

Still, the undercurrent doesn’t go away for the entire hour it takes the others to locate Webb. He was sure Derek would leave once they started the raids, but the other stays with him throughout the entire hour, reporting with venom: “They’re marching him in.”

“What’s his story?” Spencer asks, a morbid curiosity at who would want to bury him.

“Apparently his sister disappeared when he was young,” Derek says. “They buried an empty coffin, since they never found her. According to an angry post he made back then, he blames his parents for not caring enough to find her, even if they truly did their best.”

Normally there would be some form of empathy in Derek’s voice. They all understood most unsubs, even if what they did was fucked up. But right now his voice is cold and Spencer doesn’t know if it scares him or if he’s touched that Derek cares so much.

He decides to be touched as Derek takes him over to the watching room after a moment and updates him on everything that is happening. JJ and Emily are there too and greet Spencer with a bit more happiness than last time he heard them.

“Hey, Spence,” says JJ, concern, however, still lacing her voice. “How are you doing?”

“Oh, you know, buried,” he sighs, not energized enough to lie. “Could be worse. Derek’s been keeping me company, giving me blackmail material that I might never be able to use against him.”

“Spence...” JJ sounds strained and Spencer feels bad for his reaction, they’re also not having a good time right now.

“I’m kidding,” he attempts his best positive voice and is mildly successful. “I’m actually doing okay, I think this might get me over my fear of the dark. I don’t even mind it that much anymore. Not sure if I’ll ever be able to live in silence again, though.”

“Well, then, I’ll make sure to annoy you and send Garcia your way everyday,” Emily jokes, even if Spencer can hear a genuine promise in there.

He returns it in kind: “I’m keeping you to that.” It’s jokey, but a thanks is obvious in his voice, though no one comments on it.

Out of the blue Derek scoffs: “Is he really saying we don’t care enough about Spencer to find him?”

“Yeah, it’s been half an hour since he’s been brought in and it’s the only thing he’s said ever since he got processed,” Emily replies.

“I’m going to punch him.” He can barely recognize Derek’s voice through the rage.

“Morgan. No!” that’s JJ, Spencer didn’t even know he should have taken that seriously and is incredibly touched, even if punching the guy wouldn’t help in any way.

“JJ, back off,” Derek growls. “I’m punching him. Here hold the phone.”

The two women protest, but Derek isn’t hearing it. Spencer thinks him an idiot, but hearing that he might leave him makes his heart drop. He knows he’ll be with JJ and Emily, but it’s not the same and, no matter how childish, he wants to stay with Derek. God, if he lives through this, he going to have separation anxiety.

“NO!” it’s torn out of his throat before he realizes.

“Are you okay, pretty boy?” Derek immediately forgets all about fighting Webb in order to fuss over Spencer, who is more relieved about that than he probably should be.

However, it now looks like he might make it, so he can’t very well tell the other agent that he panicked because he thought Derek would leave him and he’s afraid of going without him, because he’s always loved him and if there’s a possibility he might still die, he doesn’t want to die without hearing Derek’s voice last. So, he panics and says: “Let me talk to Webb.”

“What?” now it’s their turn to exclaim something in disbelief.

It isn’t something he meant when he said it, but now that he thinks about it, it is a good option. He says: “Yeah, I can convince Webb you do care and to give you the information.”

On the other side of the line it’s quiet while they probably converse in a series of expressions, before Emily says: “I’ll ask Hotch.”

He heard a door opening and closing, before Derek asks: “Are you sure about this?”

“Do you have a better plan?” he shoots back. Now that there’s a prospect of getting out of the coffin, he’s suddenly anxious, the walls feeling less and less friendly as it looks like he might escape what is supposed to be his final resting place.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Derek sighs as the door sounds again.

“Reid?” it’s Hotch.

“Yes, sir?”

“Are you certain you can do this?” he asks. “If Webb isn’t convinced, we’ll loose our only chance, do you understand?”

Spencer thinks about Derek, who’s been sitting with him for the past two and a half hours. He thinks of the team doing everything to find him. He thinks of how he has never met people he loves more than these.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Hotch says curtly. “Morgan, come on.”

There’s some noises as he leaves the room and enters another one. When he enters the other one, he hears a familiar voice asking: “Oeh, what’s this, more agents to try and intimidate me?”

“No,” Hotch tells him. “This is SSA Derek Morgan, on the phone is SSA Dr. Spencer Reid, the man you kidnapped and buried. He wants to speak with you.”

“Dr. Reid?” Webb sounds surprised. “He wants to talk to me?”

“Yes,” Spencer decides to say. “Hi, Theodore. I heard about what happened to you with your sister. I’m really sorry about that, I can’t imagine.”

“What do you know about that?” Webb sounds defensive.

“I know you blame your parents,” Spencer answers. “I know you think they didn’t care enough to find her and that you had to bury an empty coffin, because she was never found. And I think burying me, is you doing me a favor, because you think that no one cares enough about me and that I would be happier off dead. This is you showing me mercy.”

“So?” Webb isn’t denying it, but he’s also not really going along either.

“Well, I want to thank you for your kindness,” Spencer says, hoping Hotch’s poker face is enough to calm Derek down.

“You do?” Webb asks, sounding almost happy about it.

“Yeah, I do,” Spencer confirms. “Without you, I wouldn't have known how much my team cares about me, but now I do. The people around me have been working nonstop to find you and with that me, but even in such a stressful situation, they haven’t left me alone to face my biggest fear, the dark. SSA Morgan- Can you see him?”

Webb confirms that he can and Spencer says: “So, SSA Morgan is a real alpha guy, always needs to do something, can’t stand sitting by. Do you know the type?”

“Oh yeah,” with the way Webb says it, it’s probably his father.

“Despite all that, he has sat with me the entire time,” Spencer tells Webb. “He sat with me for, what I think, is three hours and just talked. He told me embarrassing stories and reminded me of all the good memories I have with this team. Do you know the worth of people like that in your life, Theodore?”

“I- I do,” Webb is wavering, they all know it.

“And thanks to you know how much I have,” Spencer says. “I won’t get to enjoy it, but it’s nice to die knowing I was loved. I only ever had my mom growing up, but now I know I’ll spend last moments of my life surrounded by true family, even if it’s just over the phone.”

It’s quiet and Spencer hates he’s unable to see Webb’s face right now, that he’s not able to read whether it is working and can only stare in the darkness and hope.

“But- But they didn’t find you,” Webb protests.

“No, they found you,” Spencer tells him gently. “They found the key to finding me. That’s the point right? Caring enough to find me?”

“No,” Webb says petulantly, “they have to find you on their own.”

“Do you want to hear a fact, Theodore?” Spencer decides to try something different.

“Y- Yeah?” Webb replies, confused.

“Did you know that there are 17,000 current missing person’s cases and 13,000 unidentified bodies in the USA?” he asks. “I see it every day. Thousands of people go missing without ever being found. What happened to your sister was terrible, but your parents did everything right. It’s people that take others, who rip families apart and take people from their loved ones, who cause the grief, who didn’t care enough. And it is tragically common. But you can help solve one case today. You can make a difference.”

It is silent.

Spencer holds his breath and prays he was convincing enough.

“I buried him at Jackson Cemetery,” Webb tells them and Spencer feels as if his strings are cut and misses the rest of what Webb says.

All this time, he was a six minute drive from the police station.

He doesn’t even notice the chaos that ensues on the other side of the line until Derek apologizes: “Sorry for not updating you. We’re on our way to the cemetery. Hotch yelled really hard at a bunch of politicians and we’re allowed to bring a mechanical excavator onto the terrain to get you out as fast as we can.”

Spencer doesn’t react. He feels hollow now that the end’s nearby. They should be in the nick of time, but it can still go wrong and he hasn’t yet figured out what to feel about his death that he had accepted and then didn’t have to and now still might, so his brain has decided on feeling absolutely nothing.

“Pretty boy?” Derek sounds panicked.

Distantly he says: “I’m here.”

“Are you okay? What’s going on there, talk to me?” Derek demands, even if it’s caring.

“I- I don’t know what to feel,” he confesses.

“Feel relief, okay,” Derek presses him. “We’re getting you out of there. We have shovels. If need be, I’m digging you out of there myself.”

That gets a soft laugh out of him and he smiles: “I’m looking forwards to it. How long will I have to wait?”

“We’re getting there at 5:40,” Derek says. “The mechanical excavator is getting there at 6, he’ll have you out at 6:20. You won’t even have to pass out, pretty boy.”

“Good, that’s good,” Spencer says. He’s starting to feel sleepy, but he can still hold out. He wants to hug Derek and he needs to be awake for that. “I’m waiting on you, guys.” The guys is an afterthought, for now only Derek exists. It’s too exhausting to focus on more than one person, which is something he’ll worry about later.

“And I’ll be there the entire time,” Derek promises.

Then Spencer hears them getting out of a car and Derek telling him that he’s putting him down so that he can dig. Something Spencer protests until Derek assures him, he’ll be on speaker and Derek will be still right there.

At first it’s okay. He can’t hear anything yet, maybe a bit of stamping when he tries, but the only noises are over the phone, which is fine. He just focuses on his friends, coming to get him. He tries to picture Derek with a shovel and is mildly sad he doesn’t get to see it, even if he always feels guilty about ogling Derek after the fact.

But then he notices he’s blinking more and when his phone slides off his chest, it takes him a lot of energy to put it back. His pulse attempts to race, but isn’t able to.

“Derek?” he says softly, but gets no reacting. “Derek. Derek! Morgan!”

“Pretty boy?” Derek is there and Spencer can’t help the sigh of relief.

“I’m feeling weak. My- My body is heavy,” he says, unable to keep the wobble out of his voice as he informs Derek of what’s happening.

“Just hang in there okay,” Derek tells him. “They’ll be here in ten minutes, you just gotta stay awake until then. Once they’re here, you’re going to be out in twenty, but you gotta make it.” He hears Derek yell at, presumably, the others: “Start digging faster!”

He wants to tell the other it’s a disrespectful of authority and the FBI doesn’t take kindly to that, but it’s too much effort, so he just says: “Don’t worry, Der…”

“Bit late for that, Spence,” Derek replies, going for light and failing. “You’re going to make my hair fall out with the stress.”

Spencer frowns, he should have a reaction to this. This means more than just that, Derek is trying to be light and funny. Is it a joke?

“You don’t have hair,” he states, still confused.

“No, no I don’t,” Derek agrees and there’s a voice crack in there that Spencer isn’t familiar with.

There’s more that he’s not familiar with regarding Derek. Things he’ll probably never find out, because Derek doesn’t like him like that and he’s about to die. Though somehow that last part isn’t really landing yet.

Maybe I can obverse him better at some point, he muses, or ask Garcia, to find out new stuff about Derek.

No, Garcia will tell Derek, or anyone really. He needs to keep his crush on Derek a secret.

“Stay with me, pretty boy. Eight more minutes, okay?” Derek says. Yelling again: “Where the fuck are they?” Then: “We can’t very well use an ambulance without the stupid digger, now can we. No, I am calm!”

“It’s going to be okay,” Spencer says and Derek is there again immediately: “Yeah, it is, it is, just hang in there.”

“My life was okay.”

“Don’t say that, Spencer. You- You don’t get to say that, alright?” Derek sounds off. “You’re gonna make it, you just- just hang in there.”

“You made my life okay.”

“And I will keep making it okay. More than okay. Amazing even! Yeah, I’m going to make your life amazing from here on out, I swear,” Derek promises.

That sounds like a good plan to Spencer, even if Derek already makes his life amazing by being there.

He should tell him that.

But talking is a lot of work.

“Spencer. Pretty boy? Reid,” he would say Derek is pleading, but Derek never pleaded. “Come on, man. Six minutes.”

“De-rek,” making noise is hard, but Spencer tries. “What will your mom make?” He doesn’t believe, he can ever go, but it’s a nice image to end his life on and it means he’ll get to hear Derek’s voice so more.

There is a confused pause, before Derek begins: “Her specialty is Mac ‘N Cheese. She used to make it all the time when I was a kid. She uses like, three types of cheese and it’s the best ever. So, I- I’d ask her to make that. It’s- It’s really good, Spence, you have to try it.”

“Yeah?” Spencer manages and is pretty damn proud of it.

“Yeah,” Derek agrees. “But first you’d have to sit through the snacks. We always have a bunch of snacks before dinner when guests are over. My mom has the sort of philosophy that if her guests don’t leave with a- with a stomach ache from the amount of food they’ve eaten, then it’s gone wrong or- or something.”

Derek pauses, obviously waiting for a reaction, but Spencer isn’t really able to give one.

“And- And we’ll have desserts,” Derek says when he realizes that as well. “I’ll convince her to make Eton Mess. You ever had that?”

Still no reaction. Even if he really wants to, he’s unable to bring himself and that terrifies him to the core. Tears start to leak out of his eyes silently.

“Well, it’s- it’s this thing and, uhm-” Derek swallows deeply and takes a gulping breath that makes Spencer jealous “-and you crush meringues and cut up strawberries and you- you mix it up with whipped cream. It’s- It’s really nice. You’d- Fuck! You’re- you’re going to love it.”

Spencer manages a hum and he hears Derek gasp with relief.

He almost thinks it’s his hum, but then Derek says: “The mechanical excavator is nearby. Just wait a little while longer.”

“Okay,” Spencer says weakly.

Derek lets out a sob and Spencer frowns.

Why is Derek crying? Derek shouldn’t be crying.

He’s too pretty to cry, he should smile. Derek is pretty when he smiles.

Then the crying stops and he hears Derek yell in a hoarse voice: “What the fuck is he doing! Spencer is dyingdown there! I don’t fucking care about the graves, those assholes are dead already anyway. He needs to save Spencer.”

A struggle, then a thud.

Derek’s voice is further away when he yells: “I’m going to kill him!” With multiple shouts attempting to stop him and another scuffle.

“Derek?” Spencer calls out. It takes so much effort, but he needs to know Derek is there, he can’t be alone, not right now.

Not again.

Not like this.

When he hears someone pick up the phone, he wants to scream in relief, but instead he can only softly ask: “Derek?”

“Not Derek, I’m afraid.” It’s JJ.

“Where’s he?” Spencer asks.

“Rossi, Emily and Hotch are currently stopping him from murdering the mechanical excavator,” JJ informs him. “The poor guy has orders to hit as few graves as possible. I want to murder him too, but it’s not his fault. Politicians, you know. It’s gonna take a moment before he’s here.”

Spencer lets out a pitiful noise.

Now that it’s so close, he wants to live.

He doesn’t want to die. He wants to wake up again, he wants to have dinner with Derek’s mom, he wants to see his own mom again, he wants to see Henry grow up, he wants to stay awake and hug everyone

He doesn’t want to die.

He hasn’t even realized he started sobbing until JJ makes a soothing noise and says: “You’re going to be okay, Spence. We’re going to get you out.”

She tries, but she’s not Derek.

For a moment he hates himself for thinking it. He wants to say goodbye to all of them, but Derek was going to be there and he left. He left him.

“I know, Spence,” JJ says. “I love you, I hope you know that. You’re the little brother I never had and I will claw you out with my bare hands if I need to.”

Spencer wants to reply, he wants to tell her he loves her too, that she has to tell Henry he loves him too and that he’s so proud of the little boy, even if all he does is exist.

Most of all he just wants to hug her.

He wants to hug all of them desperately, even Rossi and Hotch. He wants to know if Hotch will let him and if Rossi hugs well. He wants to know if Derek’s arms are as steadying and comforting as they look and if JJ’s will be as he remembers them. He wants to sink into Garcia’s loving hold that always manages to steady him, even if he has t figured out why. He wants to know if Emily will be awkward like he is, or if this is crazy enough for her to relax into a hug.

There is so much he still wants to know.

His entire life he’s been a genius, who knows it all and to whom other’s turn for answers, but now that he’s about to go, he realizes how much he still has to discover.

“Garcia wanted me to tell you that she loves you very much as well,” JJ says. “She also wanted me to say that she isn’t going to say goodbye, because you’re going to make it and she’s going to hug the shit out of you soon.”

He’s pretty sure JJ is crying as much as he is.

Then he hears Emily, who first is only talking to JJ: “We got Morgan from murdering the guy to yelling at him. I think the guy is humoring him, seeing, well, everything. Hotch is still keeping an eye on him. How’s Reid doing?”

“He’s tired,” JJ luckily answers for him. “He’s trying to stay awake, but it’s a struggle, I keep trying to talk to him to keep him awake, but I don’t want to say goodbye to him, because it feels like giving up.”

“Then we’re not saying goodbye,” Emily tells her firmly, before addressing Spencer: “Hey, Reid, remember that time we were held hostage by Benjamin Cyrus and his cult?”

That isn’t what he expected, but he manages to whisper: “Yeah?”

“I’m really glad I was in there with you,” she tells him. “I know you felt guilty about letting me take the beating, but you have no clue how much I appreciated having you in there with me. I know I can always rely on you to keep an eye out and think whenever anything goes to shit, so having you there made me able to focus and relax. Thank you.”

If she wanted to make him cry more, she has succeeded, because he sobs. Loudly.

“It’s okay, Reid,” Emily tells him. “Just let it out. This fucking sucks, but I promise you, the mechanical excavator is really close. Okay. Can we do anything for you?”

They’re already doing so much for him.

He can hear the wheels above him. The mechanical excavator must be huge with how he hears it coming.

The ground shakes as it approaches.

His coffin shakes.

For a moment he has a vision of the weight crushing his coffin as it streams full of dirt, suffocating him.

“Get Derek?” he asks, not even caring how pathetic he sounds. He just wants comfort from his best friend, because even if Derek is never going to love him romantically, he will always be Spencer’s best friend and the greatest comfort he has ever known.

“Of course, sweetheart,” JJ assures him, before walking off. In the distance he can hear her yell harshly.

Emily whistles: “I am glad I’m not Derek, right now.”

Spencer smiles, even if Emily never knows, he smiles again because of her.

It’s only moments later that Derek’s voice comes over the speaker again: “I’m so so sorry for leaving you, pretty boy. I- I just had to do something and that asshole was going too slow and I wanted to-” JJ clears her throat. “But I’m here now,” he finishes.

“Derek.” He’s there, the other is actually there and Spencer is weeping still unable to form his whole name.

“Yeah, Spencer, it’s me and I’m not leaving you again,” Derek promises. “Can you hum for me, pretty boy? Just make some noise.”

Humming isn’t as much effort as talking, so he starts to hum, trying to remember a melody Derek likes.

It’s only when he hears Derek’s panicked voice that he noticed he dropped off.

God, he’s so tired.

He just wants to sleep.

Why isn’t he allowed to nap again?

“Spencer! You talk to me right now!” Derek yells into the phone.

Talking is too much work, so he hums again. And again. And again.

The pattern keeps repeating himself as Spencer tries to keep himself awake and fails. It’s really hard and while he wants to, he doesn’t even notice most of the time and one of these times he isn’t going to notice and it’s going to be the last time he nods off.

He manages to whimper some words after the sixth time: “I’m scared, Derek. I don’t- I don’t wanna die.”

“You’re not going to,” Derek says forcefully as if that will make it true. “You’re going to live. I’m going to hug you down there, okay. I swear. You are going to get out of there awake. I’m not taking that back, okay? Never.”

God, Derek is so nice to him.

Spencer loves him.

He loves him so so much.

And he’s going to die without ever letting Derek know how important he was to him.

His fear is going to come true.

He’s going to die in a dark box under the ground without air and by himself with only an echo of the voice of the one he loves coming out of a speaker.

Derek is making him promises and comforting without ever knowing the different joy Spencer finds in hearing his voice.

It feels almost like he’s using him with how much he left unsaid.

Spencer remembers when Gideon left. How much there was to tell him still, how much he’d wanted to let the other know all he’d done for him.

He doesn’t want to die regretting the same thing twice.

Why must he die when Derek is right there? Why does he now want to see if the life he’s always wanted to live, could have been if he had been a little braver? Why couldn’t he die in peace, but must his brain remind him or all the things he did wrong and all the other things he has let slip through his fingers?

He isn’t going to die like that.

He isn’t.

“I’ve always…” he starts, but is unable to finish the sentence with ‘loved you.’

Spencer passes out when the mechanical excavator has barely started to dig. With all his talking and panic, he has quickened the process more than expected and passes out at exactly 6:18, never reaching 6:25 like he predicted.

He never sees that his team is waiting above him.

~~

A/N:

Y’all better appreciate that I did Math to figure out when exactly Spencer would die and pass out and stuff. I’m gay and stupid, okay XP

Ngl, nearly made myself cry while writing this lmao

The mechanical excavator is really the archaeologist in me, lol, I don’t think they’re called that, but idk what else they would be called, so going with what we know XP

((I’m making another part written from Derek’s POV where you’ll find out if Spencer made it >:3 ))

The accompanying piece with Derek's POV is called 'Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now'

[spencers-renaissance]

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy

Summary: Spencer's gay. He joins the BAU and befriends the team, but it is 2003. It's a secret he has to keep. He just didn't expect it to be this hard.

Tags: gay!spencer, coming out, hurt/comfort, insecure!spencer, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending, dad hotch, protective!hotch, protective!derek, childhood trauma TW: one instance of explicit homophobia, but it is referenced a lot, as is Spencer's internalised homophobia at the start of this fic. A shit ton of heteronormativity but tbh that's just canon lol

Pairing: Spencer Reid/OMC, Spencer Reid & Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid & Aaron Hotchner, The BAU Team & Spencer Reid

Word Count: 6k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Consider this my contribution to pride month 😌 I've waited so long to post it and I'm so glad I'm finally doing it because it's definitely one of my all time favourites <3 Gideon is here somewhere but just like with all my early season fics he's not really part of the plot I combined my moreid and gen taglists bc it was hard to know the audience for this, but just ignore it if you're not interested!

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy, unless he keeps his mouth shut, which is what you didn’t do, because you are weak and hollow and it doesn’t matter anymore. — richard siken, a primer for the small weird loves

Spencer has only told one person in his whole life.

His mother guessed. For as long as he can remember, she’s used gender neutral pronouns when talking about his future partner, read him all the gay literature she could find, promised him that he’s perfect just the way he is.

The trouble is that Spencer only believes her until the first grade, when Ryan Sampson shoves him over in the playground and calls him gay. His mom had only ever used that term in a sweet, loving way, taking care to associate such words with positivity, as long as his dad wasn’t around to hear. When that word comes out of Ryan Sampson’s mouth, it is not said with sweetness and love; it is said with venom, and Spencer learns quickly that his mom is wrong. He is not perfect just the way he is.

And so, he keeps it a secret. When his mom notices him getting uncomfortable at the mention of future partners, she stops bringing it up, though she refuses to give up the diverse education she provides for him outside of school. His dad tells him that one day he’ll be a strapping young man and marry a nice girl in a church, and Spencer nods along. He ignores the way his stomach turns with anxiety at the thought. Ignores the screaming match his parents have that night. Ignores the fact that it started because Diana chipped in with ‘or boy’.

He’s in high school by the time he’s twelve, and the only part he’s grateful for is the absence of pressure to get a girlfriend. His dad’s out of the picture now, and Spencer tries not to let himself think that maybe if he wasn’t like this he might have stayed. Diana’s so out of it most days that she doesn’t remember what she noticed about him when he was a child, only recalling the last few years of shoving himself so far back in the closet he can hardly see the door anymore.

It feels like he’s lost his last ally.

(He hates that a small part of him feels relieved she doesn’t remember; that he almost feels assured by the fact that the last person to know who he really is has forgotten. There is only this version of Spencer Reid now. No other exists.)

He makes the mistake during his second undergraduate degree. He’s just turned eighteen but he is already a doctor and, fortunately, this alienates him from most of his peers, but someone manages to slide past his defences. Ethan Miller is twenty, in the second year of his (first) undergraduate degree in Chemical Engineering, and he’s nice. Spencer doesn’t have a lot of experience with friendship, but they get on well and Ethan makes him laugh. For the first time, he feels comfortable in the presence of anyone other than his mother.

They slip into an easy friendship: waiting for each other after class — Spencer back in the undergraduate buildings now he has his first PhD under his belt — and going out for ice cream and pizza and Thai food. Ethan goes to parties while Spencer studies, and then they reconvene to watch Doctor Who and play cards.

For almost a year, Spencer keeps his secret carefully locked up, hidden behind the mask he’s perfected after so many years. Even though he’s eighteen, nearly nineteen now, he doesn’t try and explore that side of himself. No, that’s far too risky. He doesn’t try and pretend any other way either, he just stays silent and lets people’s assumptions lie for him, but he can’t help the longing that claws up his throat when he locks eyes with a passing guy on campus. One time, he’d seen two men kiss on a bench in the city, and he’d run back to his dorm and had a panic attack. Why couldn’t he have that?

The feelings don’t stop, and he doesn’t know how to make them. He hates that he isn’t normal, but still longs for the touch of a man, the feeling of being wrapped up in strong arms, of being kissed by dry, chapped lips, and falling asleep to a heartbeat approximately 11% slower than that of a woman’s.

It’s a constant battle inside him, emotions raging, and he struggles to control it, suppress it, tame it.

He pays a sorry price.

Ethan makes him feel comfortable, and that turns out to be a detriment. He relaxes around the other boy: he tells him about growing up as a pre-teen in a high school, about how a child feels living 260 miles away from home, even about his mother’s illness.

And one day, it slips out. They’re on the beach, lying on towels as they look up at the blue sky, talking about what their futures will look like: Ethan will be a successful chemical engineer in Berlin, and Spencer will work for the FBI, profiling serial killers.

“You’ll have to marry a German girl,” he tells Ethan. “It’ll be tough to convince an American girl to move all the way to Germany as soon as you graduate.”

“Yeah, and what about you? You’ll be off fighting crime around the country, not much of a life for a family.”

“Oh, I imagine my husband will be the type to—”

“Husband?”

Spencer freezes. It shocks him as much as it shocks Ethan. He doesn’t even pay much attention to Ethan’s disgusted face and his outraged tirade. He hears slurs and insults, hears him say that he can’t believe Spencer tricked him like this, that he was probably waiting to make a move on him, that he was never to look in Ethan’s direction again, but Spencer is frozen in time.

He’s never allowed him to think much about what his personal life might look like in the future, but he’d said ‘husband’ on instinct, without thinking, and it’s clearly something he actually wants. Ethan’s words sting, but the moment brings about a realisation Spencer is thankful for; it instigates a journey of self-discovery and self-expression, of the joy of living as your true self.

He loses his first and only friend, but he gains something much more valuable. He visits gay bars — nervously sipping a non-alcoholic drink in the corner at first, before soon becoming confident enough to respond to the men who sidle up to him and ask for his name. He lets go and dances the night away, sometimes going home with one of the many dance partners he acquires during the night, sometimes heading back to his own dorm happily alone.

Makeup and dresses and skirts and heels make their way into his wardrobe, and he befriends girls and drag queens and other gay men who encourage him to be exactly the way he is. And the best part is, he never has to come out to any of them. All of them know, and that’s good enough for everyone.

The fun comes to a sad sort of slow, however, when he joins the BAU. Everyone knows law enforcement’s relationship with the LGBT community is less than adequate — Spencer’s seen it with his own eyes: butch lesbians and men in dresses getting roughed up by angry police officers for ‘lewd behaviour’ or ‘drunkenness’ when they’re just being themselves. It’s not safe for him to tell anyone, so he doesn’t.

He still goes out with his friends when he’s in town and wears makeup and dresses and crop tops when he’s at home, but presents as rigidly straight Dr Spencer Reid to his team at the BAU.

The hardest part about it is that he loves his team. He’s known Gideon for years — and he wouldn’t be surprised if he suspects something after coming over to his house unannounced one night, only to have a man other than Spencer open the door — but he settles into a comforting dynamic with Hotch. He can’t help but see him as something of a father figure, and he knows Hotch has a soft spot for him, always looking out for him and taking him under his wing without a moment’s hesitation.

Elle, JJ, and Penelope all take a shine to him, too, teasing him without a hint of malice in their tones, only the kind of playful kindness that reminds him of his mother. He forms a special bond with Penelope and they spend hours watching Doctor Who together and geeking out on all the areas their interests overlap, and the comfort he feels with her matches the comfort he’s found with his new group of queer friends.

(She doesn’t hold a candle to Ethan, he decides one night, after he’d cried at a movie she’d made him watch and she felt so bad she made him hot chocolate and jam toast and cuddled him until he felt better.)

Derek becomes a brother to him. He puts him in a headlock at least once a day — which Spencer has been reliably informed by multiple sources is a very brotherly thing to do — and teases him relentlessly, while simultaneously being fiercely protective of him. Enough so, that Spencer sometimes wonders if he even has Hotch beat in that department.

He loves his team and his team loves him. It should be simple. It is still 2003.

He comes in one morning late for a briefing, his shirt buttoned wrong and his hair is a mess, and he’s fairly sure that his attempt to cover the hickey at the base of his neck with concealer has been ultimately unsuccessful. It’s obvious why he’s late. Gideon is too engrossed in the case file to notice, but Hotch raises an eyebrow, an amused look on his face as everyone else immediately takes to teasing him.

“Who’s the lucky lady, pretty boy?”

Elle raises an eyebrow to match Derek’s shit-eating grin, “Someone definitely got some strange last night.”

“When do we get to meet her, Spence?” JJ asks, smirking as he takes a seat.

He’s bright red — as if he needed to look any more debauched — and Spencer tries to ignore the hurt that seizes his chest at the reminder of his need to stay quiet. This team respects him, and he can’t throw that away just because Spencer gets too comfortable.

God, he wishes Penelope was here.

“None of your business,” he mutters, trying to keep his tone light. He fails.

Naturally, Hotch notices and swiftly moves the briefing on, and Spencer keeps his gaze locked on the case file, not missing the absence of a reprimand from his superior. He’s constantly thankful for the older man, but in this moment, he wishes he could hug him.

(A voice that sounds dangerously close to Ethan’s rises up and taunts him in his ear: he wouldn’t want a dirty homo like you anywhere near him—)

Derek doesn’t let up on the case, continuing to bug him about the special lady in his life. He does concede that it could’ve been a one night stand, which is one front he’s right on, but a couple more concessions are necessary before Derek comes close to the truth of last night.

Eventually, Derek stops, and Spencer notes that the cessation of comments comes suspiciously close to the last time Derek and Hotch were alone together. He doesn’t have it in him to feel angry at Hotch for stepping in when he had it handled; doesn’t have the energy to act as though his pride is wounded, because really, neither of those things are true, and he doesn’t need to add another item to ‘Spencer Reid’s List of Things He Pretends to Be.’

The situation is forgotten, and time moves on.

Things change when he finds his first proper boyfriend. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the giddying rush of emotions it turns out to be, and Spencer spends his days smiling as he daydreams his time away.

His name is Oscar Wilkins, a History professor at Georgetown University, and Spencer falls quickly in love with him. Ever since their mutual friend had introduced them at a gay bar one evening, they’d spent all their free time together. He’s kind and gentle and understanding of Spencer’s hectic and unpredictable job, and he finally has the chance to experience everything he quietly and shamefully longed for as a teenager.

The only downside is the silent breaking of Spencer’s heart that the most important people in his life can’t meet his boyfriend. He longs to show Oscar off, to hold hands in front of his team, lean up to press a tender kiss to Oscar’s lips. He wants to put a framed picture of the two of them at the Washington Monument on his desk to remind him of why he needs to get through the hard days; he doesn’t want to have to sneak out of the hotel room he shares with Derek to whisper hushed, loving goodnights over the phone.

But he’s too scared. Too cowardly.

It’s different being who he is with his gay group of friends littered with wlws and drag queens and other gay and bisexual guys. They understand.

But Derek and Hotch are two extremely masculine, alpha men: Derek’s a ladies’ man and Hotch is married to a woman he met in college with a baby on the way and both have a strong and dominant energy that still sometimes manages to intimidate Spencer even after all these years. And Elle and JJ are lovely — some of his closest friends, really — but sometimes they remind him a little too much of the mean girls he went to high school with.

The hardest person to keep his secret from, though, is Penelope. She’s his best friend and he desperately wants to give her all of him, but he’s so scared. He’s lost a best friend to this secret before, and even though he’s certain she’d be fine with it, what if she accidentally let it slip to Derek? What if Hotch found out and didn’t see him in the same light anymore? What if the girls started teasing him? What if Gideon didn’t want to mentor him anymore?

The fear paralyses him. And it’s a cycle he doesn’t know how to break.

Fear, though, doesn't stop everyone from noticing his daydreaming, his dopey smile when he checks his messages, his urgency to get home where he would’ve stayed until the small hours of the morning before. As excellent as he is at hiding his sexuality, he’s fucking terrible at hiding the fact that he’s in love: it was easy enough to pretend he was straight, but hiding something this all-consuming is an impossible ask.

Derek comes over to perch on the edge of his desk one afternoon, sighing as he sits down. “Pretty boy, this is getting ridiculous,” he says, snatching Spencer’s attention away from his phone. “You’ve been grinning like an idiot for the last twenty minutes as you’ve texted Future Mrs Reid. When are we going to meet her?”

(He hates the new nickname the team has given his mystery significant other, although Oscar had found it hilarious. “It’s funny because when we get married, we’ll hardly be able to tell,” he’d argued through his laughter. “Neither of us will change our name because of our academic profiles, and we’ll both still be ‘Dr’. Our wedding rings will be the only indicator.”

Spencer hadn’t argued back, because he’d been too tongue-tied and flushed pink at Oscar’s use of ‘when’ in regards to their hypothetical nuptials. It was only made bearable by Oscar kissing him gently and tucking him under his arm, not embarrassing him any further as Spencer had sort of anticipated, warmth settling over his chest at the thought of their future together.)

“You won’t,” he replies, perhaps a little too curtly.

Derek starts at that, clearly not expecting it. He definitely should’ve tried to play it off as a joke. “What— should I be offended, pretty boy?”

You wouldn’t call me that if you knew who I really am.

“That’s up to you, Derek,” he says calmly, although he still can’t meet his eyes, “but you won’t meet the ‘Future Mrs Reid, so I think it would probably be best if you left it alone.”

“Damn,” Derek mutters under his breath, clearly pissed off and probably more hurt than Spencer ever intended. “Suit yourself.”

And with that, he gets up and leaves his desk. Spencer’s only solace is the text message he sees on his phone when he picks it back up: I love you so much. You know that, right?

The light-hearted ridicule comes to an abrupt halt after the incident with Derek, and it’s clear that he had been the biggest contributor to the teasing. He’s thankful that the jokes have stopped, but he wishes desperately that it didn’t come with the growing distance between him and his team. Loneliness takes the place of his previous irritated anxiety, and he isn’t sure what’s worse.

It all comes to a head at the end of a case in Michigan. They’re stuck in the lounge of the small inn they’d stayed in the last few days, a snowstorm having blocked them in and grounded the jet, although Gideon had long since retreated to his room. The fire’s going and they’re the only guests around, so it’s cosy enough, but Spencer can’t help but feel sick at the idea of another night away from home.

It’s only been two weeks since he’d snapped at Derek, but the chasm between him and the team is only widening with each passing day. He knows it’s not a case of ‘pick a side’, but the team’s morale relies on light-hearted banter and teasing, and him not being a part of that anymore has only brewed awkwardness. Everyone’s trying to give him space when space is the last thing he wants.

Oscar’s keeping him company over the phone at least, but it’s not quite enough to quell the loneliness swimming around his stomach, and the 'discrete' sideways looks he gets from the team only make him feel worse.

“At least it’s nice and toasty in here,” JJ sighs as she takes a sip of the hot chocolate the kindly inn owner had made for them all.

Elle hums in agreement. “There are worse places to be grounded.”

“I dunno, man, I just wanna get home,” Derek says, not taking his eyes off the fire. Spencer can’t help but agree.

“Oh, come on,” Hotch muses, considerably more jovial now the case is over, “we’re here, and that’s not going to change any time soon. We should make the most of it.”

“It’s at least nice to be somewhere sort-of Christmassy now it’s December,” Elle points out. “We could be stuck in a dingy police station like we probably will be next week.”

“Ooh, I noticed that Jemimah and Kiran started planning the Christmas party last week,” JJ says, smiling at them. “I offered my help, but they seem to have it covered.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow“That’s probably a good thing. You don’t need more work on your plate.”

“Not gonna argue with that,” she murmurs, smiling as she brings her mug to her lips again.

Spencer doesn’t miss that Derek is still stewing on the opposite side of the room.

“Are you looking forward to the Christmas party, Spencer? Will you come?” Hotch asks, clearly trying to rope him into the conversation, which he appreciates. He’s been making a lot of effort with him the past few weeks, and it’s just about the only thing that’s getting him through each day.

Before he can reply, though, Derek erupts from the other side of the room; an already pissed-off man being pushed over the edge. “He won’t even let us meet his fucking girlfriend, Hotch, he’s not gonna want to come to the Christmas party!” he yells, throwing his hands in the air as he glares at Spencer with a stormy expression raging across his face.

Suddenly, Spencer can’t stay silent anymore, and his retort shocks himself just as much as it does everyone else. “I don’t have a girlfriend!”

It might be the loudest he’s ever shouted in his whole life. He’s always been quiet and restrained, the type to state his feelings as calmly as possible no matter how he’s feeling on the inside. Even in the biggest fight he’s had with Oscar, his voice was barely loud enough to qualify as a shout.

There’s a brief stunned silence, but Derek quickly slices his way through it, voice raising to meet Spencer’s fiery emotion, fierce and loud. “Oh, don’t even go there, Reid, you’re really gonna try and argue that? You’re gonna lie about her as well as not let us meet her? What a boyfriend you are.”

“I don’t! I don’t have a girlfriend!” he repeats, voice catching this time as tears rise unbidden to the backs of his eyes and all the emotions of the journey he’s taken with his sexuality over the years flood him in a wave of intensity he’s not prepared for.

“You’re fucking lying—!”

“I have a boyfriend!” he yells. “Alright? I have a boyfriend. I’m gay.”

The anger and emotion quickly dissipates, and he’s left standing alone in front of the team he’s put so much effort into hiding this from, watching shock spell out across everyone’s expressions. He’s never felt smaller than he does in that moment, and he quickly grabs his phone before running upstairs to his room, locking the door behind him.

“Oh God, Oscar, I fucked up so bad,” he cries over the phone as soon as his boyfriend picks up.

“Hey, hey, breathe, baby,” Oscar says gently, but Spencer can hear the anxious concern in his voice, “it’s gonna be okay, I promise. I’m here. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“I just— Oh God, I just told the team.” A new wave of horror rolls over him as he realises what he’s done. Times might be changing, but it’s still only 2006, and he doesn’t know each and every nuance of his team members’ political positions and, fuck, he hates that his existence is a fucking political position.

Oscar’s been so understanding of his reluctance to not tell the team, even though Spencer’s met pretty much everyone in his life. He isn’t sure what he’s done to earn such a gracious and understanding boyfriend, but he’s not about to question it.

“Baby, I know it’s scary, and I know you’re really worked up right now,” he counsels, voice soft and reassuring, using the nickname he knows Spencer loves the most to make him feel as safe as he can from 700 miles away, “but it’s probably not as bad as you think. From what you’ve told me about the team, they love you so much, and even in the case that in the past they've had some issue with gay people, I can't imagine they’d ever actually think of you any differently when it comes down to it, Spencer.”

He’s crying too hard to reply, and Oscar understands immediately, gently transitioning into a story about his day that slowly starts to calm him down, and by the time he’s wrapping it up, his tears are starting to subside.

“Thank you, Ozzy,” he whispers into the phone, lifting himself up off the floor and making his way to sit on the bed instead.

“You know I’d do anything for you, sweetheart,” he murmurs warmly. “Do you want me to stay on the phone for a bit?”

“Yes please,” he whispers again, holding it as close to himself as possible, drawing all the comfort he can from his boyfriend’s voice.

He lies there listening to Oscar’s voice and trying not to think about the disaster downstairs for a good ten minutes before there’s a tap at the door.

“Oz, there’s someone here,” he says, voice panicked.

“I think you should probably speak to them, baby,” he urges. “I’ll stay on the phone with you while you do, if you like?”

“Please.” He gets up from the bed gingerly, keeping his phone tightly gripped in his right hand as he slowly unlocks the door with his left, revealing Hotch on the other side.

“Hey, Spencer. Do you mind if I come in?”

He’s riddled with nerves, but Hotch is smiling warmly, and he’s never said a harsh word to Spencer, so he steps aside and lets him into his room.

Hotch quickly notices the phone in his hand, visibly still on a call. “Is that your boyfriend?”

Spencer nods.

“Do you mind if I talk to him?”

His brows knit in confusion and his lips part slightly in surprise, but it’s all he can do to hand the phone over, watching Hotch carefully.

“Hi, Spencer tells me this is his boyfriend?” Hotch inquires politely into the phone, his tone still warm. “I’m Hotch, Spencer’s boss.”

He can vaguely hear Oscar speaking on the other end of the line, and he worries slightly that Oscar will somehow give away the familial feelings he holds for Hotch, but the conversation doesn’t last long enough for the anxiety to really take over.

“Everything’s fine here, I just want to have a conversation with Spencer, so is it alright if we hang up and I talk to him alone for a minute? He can call you straight back afterwards.” After a brief pause in which Oscar says something, Hotch looks back up at him. “Are you okay with that, Spencer?”

He nods hesitantly, and Hotch says a quick goodbye to Oscar before surging forwards and wrapping Spencer in a hug. It catches him off guard, but he doesn’t waste any time in burying his face into Hotch’s neck and soaking in the comfort and warmth that always radiates from his father figure.

“Come on,” Hotch says softly as they pull away a good minute or so later, “let’s sit down, shall we?”

“You’re not mad?” Spencer can’t help but ask, the question burning his tongue as anxiety — however quietened from Hotch’s hug — still swims around in his stomach.

“There are many things that could make me mad, Spencer,” he says earnestly, “but this is not one of them. I would never be angry at you for being who you are, okay? I might… I might be overstepping here, and if I am, then tell me and I’ll back off, but I’ve always seen you as a mentee, and over the years that’s developed— well, I see you more as a son these days. And part of that is wanting to protect and support you no matter what you do or say or who you are.”

Spencer wastes no time in diving back in for a hug, clinging onto Hotch for dear life as he hugs back, rubbing his back gently.

“I’m so sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell us sooner, Spencer,” he says in a voice soft with affection and regret. “But I’m so glad you’ve told us now.”

He only presses closer at that, tears springing back to his eyes. “I didn’t want to lose you.” He knows what he’s implying, and even in a roundabout way, he’s glad he’s telling Hotch.

“Oh, Spence,” he sighs sadly, “you couldn’t do a single thing to lose me. I’m in it for the long haul.”

“Really?” he asks, hating how insecure he sounds.

“Really,” Hotch promises, pulling away as Spencer does. “Now, you have a whole team of agents downstairs who are feeling very sorry for themselves and really want to see you.”

Nausea rolls in his stomach and panic springs back up as he looks at Hotch, desperate for some sort of grounding. “Are they angry at me? Do they hate me now?”

“No one hates you, Spencer,” he says firmly. “I promise you that. Everyone just wishes that they’d made you feel more welcome and comfortable. We all hate that you felt you had to lock up something so integral to who you are, and we can’t help but feel we played a part in it.”

“No,” he protests — the last thing he wants is family blaming themselves when it has nothing to do with them, “it’s not your fault, it’s just…”

Hotch nods. “I understand, it’s okay. Now, do you want to go down and see them? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but it might help ease your mind to see that they really don’t hate you.”

Spencer pauses, taking a moment to think. “Can I see Derek first?”

“Of course,” Hotch says understandingly, and the comforting smile that crosses his face makes Spencer feel safe and taken care of. “I’ll send him up?”

Spencer nods and Hotch hugs him once more before leaving the room almost reluctantly. He wastes no time in picking up his phone and sending a text to Oscar. You were right. Hotch is fine. He’s just sending Derek up before I go and see the team but he says that no one’s angry and I think I believe him. Thank you, Oscar. I love you.

Not even half a minute goes past before his phone lights up with a text back. I’m so glad, baby. Call me later, okay? I want to make sure you’re okay before I go to bed. I love you more.

Before Spencer can argue that actually, he is the one more in love with the other, a hesitant knock sounds on his door. Nerves suddenly flip his stomach, and he clenches and unclenches his fists a couple of times before forcing himself to cross the room, revealing a very worried and regretful-looking Derek.

“Oh, pretty boy,” he says sadly, before crushing Spencer in a warm and tender hug. Immediately, he relaxes into the arms of one of his best friends, and relief courses through his blood at Derek’s reaction. “I am so sorry that I ever made you feel like you couldn’t tell me that you were gay or had a boyfriend. That’s completely on me. I don’t care who you love, Spencer, I just want you to be happy, okay? And if this guy makes you happy, then that’s fine by me. But if he ever lays a hand on you or—”

“Derek, Derek,” he laughs, “it’s fine I get it. Thank you, though, I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier and for snapping at you in the bullpen that time…”

“I understand, Spence,” he promises. “It’s in the past, okay? And I’m sorry for pushing so hard. I mean, I’d love to meet him but if you don’t feel comfortable or you don’t want to, that’s fine, too. It’s your life, man.”

“No, I… I think I want you guys to meet him. It’s been so hard to keep him away from the people I consider my family, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. Maybe after Christmas, we can all have dinner or something.”

Spencer smiles shyly. “Well, Oscar’s a great cook, so I reckon we could work something out.”

Derek grins, throwing an arm around his shoulders as he immediately jumps back into teasing him as they make their way to the door to go downstairs and see the rest of the team. “Ooh, lover boy’s got him a chef, hey? What else does this Oscar have going for him?”

Spencer chatters eagerly about his boyfriend to Derek, barely skipping a beat when he joins everyone downstairs, his friends taking his cues and joining in with the conversation seamlessly. He’s had enough fuss for one night, and the warmth and understanding on everyone’s faces tells him everything he needs to know.

“Do you have any pictures of him?” JJ asks, raising an eyebrow with eager expectancy as they all settle back into their seats by the fire, a warm and unbelievably happy feeling settling in Spencer’s stomach.

He blushes, digging out his phone from his pocket and unlocking it. “More than a few, I think.”

He finds the most recent picture of his boyfriend — a candid shot of him cooking in the kitchen, spatula aloft, and a huge grin on his face — and hands the phone around.

“Oh wow, you like them buff, huh, pretty boy?” Derek teases as soon as he gets his hands on it, and Spencer’s stomach twists in a sudden bout of fear, expecting to see some hesitancy or even disgust on his friend’s face. What if he thinks that Spencer has a crush on him? What if he’s uncomfortable around him now?

But if Derek’s having any of those thoughts, they don’t show on his face. He’s smiling widely and openly, all the pent-up anxiety and frustration borne from hurt gone from his body language, and he looks completely comfortable sat next to Spencer, his arm stretched out behind him on the back of the sofa.

They sit happily around the fire for a couple of hours, settling into a happy, intimate familiarity Spencer hadn’t realised was missing when he was hiding something so integral to his being from his family, and he’s still smiling when they finally part ways to head to bed, the clock ticking closer and closer to 1 am.

He gets ready for bed quickly, brushing his teeth and throwing on the top he’d stolen from Oscar the first time he’d stayed at his place; a welcome change from his worn and wrinkled suit. As soon as his teeth are brushed and the lights are all off except for his bedside lamp, he pulls out his phone, knowing there’s one more thing he has to do before he goes to sleep.

“Spencer?” Penelope’s voice sounds down the line, clearly concerned. “It’s almost 2 am here, are you okay?”

“I’m gay,” he says, getting straight to the point. The main reason he ever kept it from her was because of his fear of it accidentally getting out to the team rather than fear over her reaction. After all, multiple of his drag queen friends are also hers.

“Oh my God,” she says in that small voice she uses when she’s not actually talking to you, before finally actually replying to me. “Spencer, I’m so happy you told me!”

He doesn’t miss her choice of words, or the way she says them and he tilts his head suspiciously. “You already knew, didn’t you?”

She sighs. “Yeah. I’m sorry, a couple of months ago I saw a text from Oscar on your phone when you went to the bathroom during one of our Doctor Who marathons, and it wasn’t hard to figure out the relationship.”

“And… wait, you’re not mad at me for not telling you sooner?”

“Spencer! Of course not. I was waiting for you to be comfortable enough to share it with me. I felt awful that I knew without your consent but I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to catch you off guard or make you feel uncomfortable. It’s fine that you waited, baby genius, I’m just so happy you told me now. What finally gave you the courage?”

“Well, it might have slipped out in front of the team this evening,” he admits sheepishly, “and the only reason I never told you was because I was scared that it would slip out somehow — accidentally, of course, I didn’t think you’d tell anyone on purpose — and now everyone knows. It’s been killing me not to tell you, Penelope, it really has because I love you so much and you’re my best friend and I trust you with my life, it’s just…”

“Whoa, slow down, Spence,” she laughs fondly, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me, I understand. But I’m glad you finally told everyone and you can be yourself completely with us, now. We all love you no matter what, you know that right?”

“I do now.”

“Good. You should get some sleep, baby boy, it’s late and you’ve had an emotional evening.”

Spencer smiles. “Yeah, I know. You should, too, Pen. I’ll see you when we can finally make it home, okay? Love you.”

“Love you, too, 187,” she says softly, and Spencer can hear the smile in her voice. “Goodnight.”

As soon as he hangs up, he settles down into the bed, turning off the light and pulling the duvet up over his shoulders before dialling one more number.

“Hey, baby,” Oscar says, voice as gentle and caring as it always is, although thicker with tiredness now. “I take it everything went okay?”

“Yeah,” Spencer murmurs, already feeling tired as the safety he always feels at the sound of Oscar’s voice settles into the fibres of his being. “It went so well. I can’t wait for you to meet everyone.”

“I can’t wait either, sweetheart. Are you in bed now?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Can you talk to me as I fall asleep?”

“Anything for you, Spence,” he says softly, before transitioning seamlessly into a story about the professors on campus, and his gentle comfort and the knowledge of the unconditional love his family has for him finally lulls Spencer into the best sleep he’s had in weeks.

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[glowingspence]

I love your fics!! Can I ask for 4 (in mixed prompts) + moreid? Thank you so much!

(Thank you <3)

“You’ve got thirty seconds to explain to me what you’re doing here.” With one raised eyebrow Derek looks down on his daughter who stands in the lobby to the headquarters when she should be in school. “Starting now.”

“I feel sick.”

“That explains not why you are here.”

“I took the bus!” She exclaims, her hands balling into fists, “I am sick.”

“Where is your mom?”

“Why would I know, I took the bus here!” She yells while Derek rubs his face with his hand.

Ever since a few months ago, his ex-girlfriend and him had a hard time getting their daughter to school and even after long talks and Derek asking millions of questions, she stays silent and just comes up with more and more excuses not to go. And when she does, they get complaints from the teachers even if that behaviour described does not fit their daughter at all.

“Alright, I am gonna call Mommy now and she will pick you up.”

“No”

“No?” Derek questions, “If you are sick, you need to be in your bed, I am working for a few more hours and Mommy has an off day, she can take care of you.”

“I want to stay with you.”

“Baby you know where we are right?” He asks in a sarcastic tone, “I will call your mom now, we will talk about just walking out of school later.”

“Mom is at grandma's, she won’t be here for another two hours.”

“Oh and you just happen to know that?” Derek rolls his eyes and then reaches for her hand, “Alright, come here. We are gonna go up to my office and hope none of my work friends show up.”

“Why?”

“Why? Maybe because children should not be brought to work?”

“Mommy takes me all the time.” Tehya tells him.

“Your mom is a mechanic not an FBI Agent.”

“Will I meet your friends? Please?” She begs as they stand in the elevator, “I never met your friends and you met all of mine.”

“They get a heart attack if I introduce you now.” Derek mumbles inaudibly for her to hear.

“Please Daddy” She repeats, “Please, please, please!”

“They are working right now but I will see about it later okay?” He offers in a genuine tone, “But we have to talk about why you don’t go to school. I am really worried.”

“I want to meet your friends first! I want to meet the genius, the one who was a small child in highschool!” She presses again, “Please”

“Why him?” He asks with a chuckle, they are in the early stages of dating and while his ex-girlfriend had already figured it out, his daughter hadn’t and Spencer about his daughter neither, “Why not JJ? She played soccer like you.”

“No, I want to meet Spencer!” Theya beggs and when Derek just shakes her head with a chuckle she stops in the hallway, holding onto his hand, causing the father to stop, “I want to meet Spencer!”

“He is working, you can’t meet him now.” Slowly he can feel himself lose patience, “Please keep moving.”

“Only if you take me to Spencer.”

“No” Insecure he smiles at two agents walking by, “Why do you need to meet him now? Was that why you came here?”

“Just let me!” She yells and Derek glances nervously towards the door to the bullpen not far away from them.

“Calm down”

“No!” “What is going on with you?” Worried he looks at his daughter, she had never been a girl to act out much. Sure there was some attitude now and then but nothing like this and especially no yelling.

“I need to speak to Spencer!” She presses and rips her hand away, “Just bring me to him.”

“I will but you gotta tell me why, okay? We can’t just barge into Spencer’s work like this.” He tries calming her when she tears up, “Please:”

“No” She repeats, now sounding more sad than angry as a tear runs down her cheek, “It’s a secret.”

“Alright, then we will go to my office now and you will wait there and I will get Spencer okay?”

“I just want to him.” She brings out again while Derek goes down on one knee and takes her hands into his, “Please.”

“I know and you will, but Spencer does not like suprises nor when someone interrupts his work so I am going to gently tell him that you are here.” and even exist “and tell him to come to my office and there you can talk alone okay?”

“I don’t want to be alone here.” Her eyes trail over to an agent still wearing his vest, “Please”

“Tehya-”

“No, just get me to Spencer! Please! You have to get me to Spencer!” She starts yelling, “Please, please, please!”

“Baby hey-” Derek tries shooting her when she takes her hands away from him, “I understand, please-”

“You don’t listen, you don’t listen.” With her fist she hits him against the arm, “I hate you, I hate you and mom, I only want to talk to Spencer, I hate you.”

Worried and confused he looks at his daughter, unsure what to do with this reaction before she rips herself away from Derek’s hold completely and for a moment he thinks about all the calls from her teacher describing a familiar behaviour he could have not imagined his daughter acting on.

“Tehya, please, come here, we are gonna take a deep breath.”

“I hate you!” With that he runs towards the doors of the bullpen and when he enters them and Derek grabs her from behind, she starts screaming in a high pitched tone, drawing all the attention to them.

“It’s okay, you are okay, you are okay, it’s just me.” Despite her fighting, he manages to crouch down on the ground with her, holding her in his arms, “It’s just me, it’s okay, it’s okay, Spencer is over there, he is walking towards us, you can talk to him, please stop, you are hurting yourself.” He beggs as his daughter keeps hitting him, “Tehya please, it’s okay, you are okay.”

“What is going on?” Hotch comes out of his office, walking down the stairs while she keeps screaming,

“She doesn’t act like this, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what’s wrong.” He stammers, holding his child in his arms, looking up to Hotch with desperation in his eyes,

“Who is this?” Spencer questions as he kneels down to him, leveling himself with him when he sees how distraught Derek is,

“Tehya, she is my daughter. Please help her.” Anxious he looks at Hotch, “Please”

“Does she hear you?”

“Tehya, baby, you are okay, you are okay, can you talk to me? Can you talk to Daddy for a moment? You can talk to Spencer, he is here okay?” The girl doesn’t change, she keeps on sobbing into his chest, her hands gripping his shirt.

“What happened?” Hotch questions, “Start with why she is here?”

“She said she was sick and took the bus here. She has been skipping school and when she was there she got in trouble. I tried everything but she won’t talk, my guess is that she is being bullied but the teacher doesn't know and she doesn’t say anything. She demanded to speak to Spencer and I told her that this has to wait and then she started crying and got aggressive.”

“Do you know why she wants to talk to me?” Spencer asks, “We don’t know each other.”

“She said it was a secret.”

Spencer is quiet for a moment before coming up with something, “You told her about my time in school to figure out what is going on with her, did you?”

“I did.”

“I think you have your answer to why she is here.” Hotch stepped in again.

“Tehya” Spencer tries and scoops closer, “My name is Spencer, I work with your father.” Hesitantly he places a hand on her back, “Can you try and take a really deep breath for me? Your dad is going to do it with you okay?”

When Derek does, she follows his example, “Good job, we are gonna do this a few more times okay?” Tehya nods, her head leaning against his father’s shoulder as she does the breathing exercises with Spencer. “You are doing amazing, why don’t we go downstairs to the cafeteria and get something to drink? Because I bet your throat must be itchy now, that happens to me too, and then we can find a comfortable place to speak? What do you say?”

Shyly she nods and grabs Spencer’s hand and while Hotch and Morgan both can see Spencer flinch, hunching into himself a little, he allows it and stands up with her from the ground, “I will bring her back when we are done.” He announces as they walk away.

“I am sorry, Hotch.”

“It’s okay.” He helps him up from the ground, “We can talk about it sometimes else, unless you want to now?”

“Please.”

“Where are we going?” Tehya asks as they walk down the halls. She is holding a soda bottle in her hand, while Spencer holds gummy bears from the vending machine in his, their other hands linked together.

“I know the perfect spot.” They walk up the stairs before going walking into a room where Spencer grabs two blankets that were hidden in a file box and then proceeds to walk towards a heavy metal door that he pushes open, revealing a small, very small part of the roof, “Wrap the blanket around yourself, so you won’t freeze.”

He demonstrates how and then sits on the floor, leaning against the wall behind him while Tehya copies his actions, “I am bad with numbers, could you tell me your age again?” He lies, thinking that telling this girl that he has never heard a word about her won’t do anything good.

“Seven and you?”

“I am 29”

“That’s old” She states, “But not as old as my dad.”

“I know, he always makes fun of me for being a baby.” He tells her, causing her to giggle.

“He told me you are a genius but that you can’t use chopsticks.”

“Actually, I can now, I studied really hard and I ate a lot of take out food for this training and now, I can use them very well.” He places a hand on his stomach as he adds, “And I might have gained a few pounds doing it.”

“That’s not bad right?” She asks insecure and Spencer’s face immediately changes, he had just told her that to be funny.

“Oh no! Not at all. I mean too much take out isn’t good for your body but it is always better to eat too much of something than nothing. I don’t plan on eating it my whole life and my body is healthy, that’s all that counts.”

“The girls at my school say, I look like I am pregnant.” She tells him, “I didn’t know what it meant but now I know it means that they think I am fat.”

“I can promise you, you are not.” He assures her with a soft voice, “These girls are just saying those things to upset you, they aren’t true.”

“They say so many more mean things.”

“I am sorry, do you want to tell me?” Spencer hesitantly asks, “You don’t have to.”

“Daddy said that you got teased a lot in school too.”

“I did”

“What did you do so that they stop? Mommy said to defend myself but when I do, I get in trouble and get teased even more!” She exclaims, “It’s like they never stop.”

With understanding eyes Spencer looks down on the child next to him, her whole expression pleading for him to say something that she can do, to tell her what will fix her situation, when he himself never got out.

“Did you ever go to a teacher about this?”

“I did, she told me she hasn’t seen something like this and that I shouldn’t make something like this up.”

“I am sorry she did that, I believe you.” He assures her, “Did you talk to your mom about this?”

“No”

“Then I am guessing you didn’t tell your dad either?”

“No”

“Is there a reason for it?” Spencer nudges, “You don’t have to tell me.”

“They will just get mad and not listen to me. They will just make things worse.” She explains, “You are not going to tell him right?”

“If you are in danger, he will want to know, he is your dad.” Before the kid can protest, Spencer speaks up again, “But, I can tell him what you want him to do. He will listen, I promise.”

“Why can’t you just tell me what to do?”

“I wish I could but all I can tell you is that I wished I had a father who would protect me and I understand that you don't want him to make things worse but maybe you two can come up with a better idea.” He offers, “Or the three of us, if you want me there.”

“I don’t want him to know the things they did.”

“That’s totally fine, infact, I am pretty sure we can get you in contact with a very nice lady you can tell everything to.”

“Really?”

“Really, she is super nice, sometimes we work on cases with children and then she helps them afterwards to deal with what they experienced better and your father won’t have to know a thing about what you tell her.” Hesitant Spencer hands her the package with gummy bears, “But for now, you can tell me if you want to.”

“They steal my stuff.” She starts, hugging her legs as she looks down onto the floor, “And they shove me on the playground and draw on my things and they call me insults.”

“I am sorry.”

“I didn’t do anything and then I shoved a girl back and now they call me crazy and laugh about me all the time.” She continues, “I just want them to like me.”

“They sound like mean girls, you don’t want to be friends with them.”

“I do” She argues, “I would rather take them than no friends at all.”

“You can be my friend for now.” Spencer offers,

“You are too old.”

“Fair point.” A little bit helpless Spencer looks at her, “I am sorry I can’t give you a better advice, and I know this is not what you want to hear but if you tell your dad , he is going to make sure that this problem is taken seriously, or find a new school, or anything. When I was new here, there were a few agents picking on me, because I was not so strong and brave as them but your father made sure they knew their place and he protected me and still does and I know he would do the same for you too and never do something to hurt you okay?”

“There you are.” Derek exclaims when they both walk back into Hotch’s office and takes his daughter into his arms.

“I am sorry for hitting you, Dad.”

“Thank you, it’s alright, we just don’t do that again.” Gently he lets the pat of his thump guide over her cheek, “Did you talk to Spencer? Could he help you?”

“Can we talk at home?” She asks, leaning into his touch but anxiously looking at Hotch “With Spencer?”

“Of course, why don’t you ask Hotch if he can walk you to Garcia’s office and I will talk to Spencer real quick?”

“She works here too?” Thaya asks, her mouth slightly hanging open causing Hotch and Derek to chuckle while Spencer feels more and more like he was the only one who didn’t know.

“She does, I will show you.” With a soft smile Hotch guides her out of the room already telling her about Jack before the door is even closed and seals the uncomfortable silence between them in which Spencer just nervously moves back and forth on his feet and Derek looks at him until Spencer speaks first,

“I didn’t really know much to help her with.” He confesses not looking Derek into his eyes, “I am sorry, I couldn’t be more help.”

“She is willing to talk to me about it, that’s more than her mom and I got out of her over the last months.”

“She is a nice kid. A little bit too sarcastic.”

“She gets that from her mom.” Insecure Derek classes the space between them and places his hands on Spencer’s arms, “I was gonna tell you, I promise you. I just always waited for the right time and then it got later and later-”

“It’s fine.” Uncomfortable Spencer takes a step back, “I will help you with her problem, it’s not her fault that you lied for all those years but then I want time to think, because I am hurt.”

“You have every right to be but I promise you, if you give us a chance, I will make this up to you, you will love her, I know that.”

“I already do.” He whispers with tears in his eyes, “But I am mad at you.”

“Can you be mad and still spend the night?” Derek questions with a smirk, “We could put the bath bombs to use you bought.”

“There need to be many baths before you made this up to me.”

“I am well prepared.”

(Prompt list)

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

Dog Days, Chapter 05

Pairing: Moreid (side pairings: temporary Morgan/Savannah)

Summary: An Unrequited!Love/Dog-Sitting fic disguised as a Holiday fic. Everyone knows that the myth of ‘The Reid Effect’ has been debunked when it comes to babies and children, but interactions with dogs still leaves much to be desired. That is, until Reid finally happens to meet Morgan’s dog – Clooney. Turns out, most dogs might dislike the young doctor, but Clooney is absolutely enamored with him. Will not leave his side, begging for attention, and Morgan can’t help but see the opportunity for what it is: a chance to help Reid past his fear of dogs (because his dog is the best and what’s not to love?), while he gets a prospectfully new dog sitter as he travels to Chicago to visit family for the holidays. And Spencer is terrified of this dog, but still says yes in the face of Morgan’s earnest request. Because Dr. Spencer Reid has been silently in love with his best friend for many years, and despite his every attempt to move past it – how could he ever deny him anything? Even looking after his giant, wolf-like dog.

Rating: Mature

Chapter CW/notes: More angst and sadness, and a lot of talk about weather-proofing and home improvement activities so I hope it’s not boring. These boys are so dumb. I adore them. 

Word Count: 4,113

Masterpost Link

Ao3 Link

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Chapter 05

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-3 Days Remaining-

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At first, things are fine. Spencer hates the word fine: an informal adverb made common by slang, it even appears in dictionaries in this manner. Claiming to mean 'satisfactory or pleasing in manner' when, in reality, it's always used to mask a whole slew of emotions that mean anything but. Things go fine, as in there is nothing displeasing about the experience, nothing to complain about, and yet he can't say for certain if he's enjoying himself even when he thinks he might be. It doesn't feel right. There's something off, something missing, and his very circumstances mean that he can't allow himself to think about what exactly that 'something' is.

Even when his particular 'something' is texting and calling him at a near constant rate. 

Which is fine. Everything is fine. If Spencer had to be snowed in anywhere in the city, Derek Morgan's newly refurbished townhouse was certainly nothing for him to snub his nose at. It's comfortable, well stocked, and organized purely because everything is still half in boxes. And Morgan messages him multiple times a day, telling him about something that came to mind that Spencer might want or enjoy or need or just to… see how he is. How Clooney is. At first it's a lot about his dog, but more and more the queries are about Spencer, who can't help but think there must be much better things the older man could be doing with his vacation time. He knows his mother and aunts have put him to work around their homes, since he's there for a week, and of course Derek would gladly accept every task. It encompasses two of his favorite activities: home improvement, and helping people he cares about. 

The way that man loves is enough to send Spencer into heart palpitations that hurt far more than they should. 

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As the days and hours tick by, Spencer also acclimates to Clooney nearly entirely. The overlarge dog is underfoot practically at all times, follows him from room to room, except for the few times he lets him outside in the small back courtyard. Or the one or two times they brave the weather together and venture down the stoop steps to wade through the snow on a walk. The air outside is always crisp and clean and bright despite the overcast sky, the street quiet and vacant with nothing but the resonating hum of falling snow. They usually end up soaked to the bone from the snow, and have to spend the rest of the day by the fire to dry off and warm up, but Clooney getting to bound through the piled up snow drifts and run off energy in the way he was best bred to do really does make the whole experience worth it. 

Morgan demands video at one point, because he's never gotten to see his dog running through two feet of snow, and although it takes Spencer quite a few tries with his phone he does manage to do so. The video itself starting with him pointing it the wrong direction, a cold flushed image of himself with flurries of snow caught in his hair and scarf until he gets the camera flipped around. Clooney literally disappears into a snowbank on the street and then reappears coated in the light flakes, galloping backwards and forwards with his leash trailing behind him. Spencer now trusts the dog not to run off on him again, they've done this so many times, and if he ever gets too far just a quick call of his name has the dog trotting back to him faithfully. He's never had anyone listen to him so obediently or attentively about anything, so it still astounds him that the canine (who could definitely outrun him) listens to his every command.

Morgan doesn't ask for any more videos than that, but does thank Spencer for it the next time they do a Skype call – claiming he wants to see Clooney and know how they are doing – and from somewhere in the background one of his sisters (Desiree, Spencer thinks) says he's watched it about a hundred times. Spencer highly doubts that is the specific number, but it makes him laugh. He knows Morgan is just calling and messaging him so much because he's stuck in his house; despite their talks that first day, he probably is worried that Spencer is literally with all his things. Although there really isn't much to find among his clothes and few unpacked possessions. 

But Spencer would be lying if he said he didn't mind the attention, or the company – even long distance. 

It soon becomes a constant back and forth, multiple times a day, texts and Skype and phone calls if need be; every time he hears Derek's voice warming Spencer just a little bit more. Small doses of the man that's surrounding him in the house without actually existing in the space. But it becomes second nature by the fourth day in Derek's home. The eve of Christmas Eve. 

Which is why when Spencer wakes up to a guest room that is colder than it ever felt outside, buried under blankets with Clooney now closer to him up the bed and keeping him warm with body heat and thick white fur, he immediately calls Derek out of instinct. Reaches for his phone, which luckily hasn't stalled from the cold, and when he exhales his breath fogs in front of him. That sends him into a mild panic, praying that the other man will still pick up a time zone away. 

And Derek answers him, despite the early hour and the late night Spencer knows he had with his family. No hesitation, barely a single ring and Derek's sleep-rough voice is saying his name – "Reid? What's going on, something happen?"

Spencer can't tell if that makes his heart ache or swell with affection, or a combination of both, but the reaction makes his very pulse skip dangerously. Desperately. 

And he's afraid that in his efforts to forget the Derek Morgan he had fallen in love with at the FBI, he had instead fallen in love with the Derek Morgan embedded in the very walls of this home. 

Maybe he really is doomed to remain forever broken-hearted. 

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—

 .

The power went out in the night. About ten city blocks wide, a whole power grid, and it wasn't the only one; the local news would show the power outages across the city in varying degrees making the map overlay look like a patchwork quilt. But the house Morgan had refurbished and rebuilt was still very old at it's foundation, and the electricity hadn't kicked back on when the power was restored. Bundled up like he's outside, Spencer shuffles to the electric panel near the kitchen, and follows Morgan's instructions over the phone to get everything turned back on. Flipping switches and resetting the breakers. Things Spencer really should already know how to do, he'd played with electricity quite a bit at MIT during his engineering Ph.D., but he'd never applied that knowledge to something practical like regular household maintenance. The very essence of why such studies are taught in colleges. It's instances such as this that really make him feel so very separated from the real world; as if he's still caught up in an academic bubble where there's only books and reports and the next thesis to propose, the next experiment to conduct. Roundtable discussions and Socratic seminars and lecture series. He wonders idly how many of those scholars and doctorate holders could turn the power back on in a house built before they were born if the system had to be reset. 

But Derek doesn't make him feel unintelligent or ignorant for not knowing how to do such basic things; just walks him through it step by step and knows that Spencer will be able to follow them to a tee. He is, if nothing else, a quick study in quite literally every field or activity he's ever tackled. He can even shoot a 100 with his revolver during gun recertifications, now, thanks to Hotch and Derek's guidance. 

"Everything good? Did the heater kick on?" Derek asks from where Spencer has his cell phone pinned between his ear and shoulder, holding a flashlight in his mouth and pointed toward the interior of the breaker box. The lights in the kitchen have just flickered to life, allowing him to spit out the flashlight and listen careful to the vents overhead. 

"It's not warm, yet, but it's making a sound like a dying combustion engine so I assume that's the heater," Spencer says. The old house was doing the best it could given the circumstances, just as Spencer was. 

"Okay, that's good but you should really light a fire in the living room, and then check out everything else." 

Spencer is already way ahead of him on the fire, logs in the hearth and the gas turned on. It only takes him a few minutes, now, to get the fire lit (and that really gives him a great sense of competency and pride, if he's honest) but Derek's words stick out as he gets the kindling burning. 

"What else are you talking about?"

"Well, the pipes, first of all. The water heater. You probably need to go outside and make sure the vents aren't covered either." He sighs after a moment, no doubt thinking of a few other things that he'd like to be done. "I wish I was there."

That makes two of us.

But Spencer feels himself frowning as he sits in front of the fireplace, going through the list himself and knowing that all of these things are maintenance he's never done before – but could do effectively, in theory. His reminder of his days at MIT really kick in during that moment, and he tries to sound teasingly offended as he answers Derek. "You do remember I have an engineering doctorate, right? I can do this, and I'm not going to wreck your house Derek. Just tell me what needs to be done and I'll do it."

There's a mildly stunned pause as Derek gapes at the phone, Spencer can nearly swear he can hear it. He can certainly picture it. "I know you can, Mr. Not a Genius but I have Three Doctorates, you just shouldn't have to. It's my house."

"And I'm taking care of it, so tell me how to check if the pipes are frozen and where the main water valve is," Spencer says in determination, pretending he can't hear the man smiling, chuckling, shaking his head. Half of those things shouldn't be audible. 

"Go test the faucet in the kitchen. If the water pressure is low, or you get no water at all, then some pipes are frozen." 

 .

So, to neither of their surprise, no water comes out of the faucet at all – meaning the pipes are frozen, and Derek tells him in a not so confident tone that Spencer needs to go down to the sub-basement to turn off the water valve. That's also where the water heater would be, and there wouldn't be much they could do until the house heated up enough to help thaw some of the pipes, except open all the sink cabinet doors and maybe take a blow-dryer to them one at a time. Because if one actually busted or broke, there was no way a plumber would be able to reach Spencer in the storm. 

Donning Derek's work boots, only a size or two too large, and some tools the man said he might need, Spencer descends into the sub-basement armed only with Derek still on his cell phone and the same small hand-held flashlight from before. Clooney isn't allowed to follow him down the wooden steps smelling of damp and dust and decades past, so he leaves the dog whining at the top of the stairs and ventures into the one part of the house he hadn't planned on stepping foot into. Knowing immediately that the frozen pipes were probably located down there next to the water valves, it feels even more cold with the damp as he reaches the basement floor. The air temperature changing much akin to when one descends in ocean water layers beneath where the sun can reach. 

"Alright, I'm in the basement," he says, the darkness pressing in and looking for any kind of lightswitch or hanging bulbs. The basement is mostly unfinished but still heavily worked on, fresh beams and piping and the smell of sawdust and rust mingling together strangely. Tall as he is, Spencer walks straight into the hanging pull-strings for the lights overhead before he can see them, and yanks on the thin chords with a soft click that illuminates the space in golden hues. 

"Not doing so well in the dark?" Derek chuckles, not forgetting Spencer's inherent fear of lack of light. He'd mostly gotten past it, but it still spiked his heart-rate none too gently when in complete darkness. 

"I think the next thing on your list of upgrades is more lights down here," Spencer quips back, using his flashlight still despite the lights, finding the water heater and water valves down one of the small corridors that are distinctly out of the range of direct light. He turns on more lights as he comes across them. "And drywall, that would be good." The litany of beams stretching off into the darkness is like the Mines of Moria, without the pleasant architectural details. 

"I warned you it was unfinished, did you find the water valve yet?"

"Yes, yes," Spencer inspects it, and the pipes around it, and everything looks okay – but the pipes are ice-cold to the touch and the valve looks like something one would find on a steamer ship. "How old is this thing?"

"Just turn it off; you turn the crank to turn off the water. Righty-tighty, lefty-loosey."

"What?" Spencer blanches, laughing a bit.

"You can't tell me you've never heard that before," Derek laughs right back.

"I know how to turn off a valve, Derek," Spencer says with just as much invigoration, and together (through the phone) Derek walks him through getting the water turned off and wrapping some of the pipes in plastic insulation to help warm them and protect them from the cold. 

"We'll make a construction worker out of you, yet, pretty boy," Derek teases when Spencer finishes up, proud and – once again – kind of wishing Derek as here. That they could be doing this together. He's never built something like this with his hands. Sure he has a litany of patents for things he's engineered, but from the ground up this was work with his hands that felt real and tangible and purposeful all at once. "If I'd had time to finish the basement up before we left it probably wouldn't have been an issue, so I'm sorry about that."

"It's a learning experience, that's for sure," Spencer assures him, a smile evident in his voice and Derek makes amused noises in response. The two playing off each other in effortless ways, even hundreds of miles away. But their good mood is quickly turned by the sound of creaking, straining metal – "Derek…"

"What? Is something–"

The pipe beside where Spencer had been working a little further from the valve protests greatly, and Spencer's too quick thought processes realized (purely from a comprehensive engineering standpoint) that even though the water was turned off they still needed to drain out what was in the pipes to keep the ice from making them expand. Which he hadn't done. And couldn't do from where he was kneeling on the floor. 

Surprise! He’d been too late after all.

It burst with an explosive spray of water that was, thankfully, short lived thanks to the water indeed being turned off – but it's trajectory aimed purely at Spencer's face and chest making him emit a very undignified shriek and dropping his phone. He could barely hear Derek calling his name over his own sputtering and laughing, because of course the pipe broke just as he thought he was finished! But he swore he heard the other man say his first name once more –

"I'm fine!" Spencer calls, keeping the phone away from the pooling water and his dripping hair. "The pipe broke! It ended up on me more than the floor. Hold on–" He fumbles to get the phone on speaker, fails for long enough Derek doesn't seem to think he can hear him. 

"Reid, pretty boy, you know you charm the hell out of me and I love you for it – but how on Earth do you get yourself into these messes," the man is laughing, contagiously caught from Spencer's own, a back and forth symphony that Spencer echoes even though he's sure his heart has stopped in his chest. He knows he heard the man correctly, the words ringing in his ears, but not enough to drown out what follows. "You okay, kid?"

"I'm fine," he lies, but at least this time it's only a half lie. He feels like he’s floating on air. His heart a runaway thing in his chest, but the water was ice cold (and probably very unsanitary – he’s trying not to think about it), but it pulls in the cold of the basement like a magnet. Settles deep into every cell in his body with each passing second. "Just recalling whatever I've read about preventing hypothermia." Most of which requires another body and body heat, and he flushes – thankful that Derek called him on his phone and they weren't video-calling on the computer. 

"Well, should we consult the professional on that one?"

That comment alone stalls everything in its tracks.

He's ashamed to admit it, but Spencer had forgotten about Savannah entirely in that moment, and in many of the moments leading up to it. It sobers him faster than the cold water could ever have.

"I do trust her advice more than yours, right now," Spencer quips to cover the sudden dead-drop his heart had just done, quietly wounded and refusing to acknowledge why.

"How is this my fault?" Derek sputters in faux outrage, and it makes Spencer smile the smallest bit. Eases the strain of his very literal reality check, bringing him back to the day-dream-like bliss he’d been in that made his smiles so much easier to hold. Adoring and charmed by Derek, as the older man had so eloquently put it, tossing banter back and forth while Derek fetched Savannah to give Spencer his treatment instructions – and Spencer patched the pipe as best he could. 

The activity is a definite throw back to his days at MIT working on the atom colliders and other experiments his fellow doctoral students would work on. He actually knew how to use part of the rubber hosing and C-clamps to mend the broken part of the pipe, but he made affirmative noises and nodded along as Derek explained it to him anyway. Just to hear his voice in his ear a little bit longer. 

 .

—

 .

Penelope messages Spencer just about as much as Derek does. For much the same reasons, (him being alone in Derek's house), but entirely different motives. Spencer can't actually speak to Derek's motives anymore. It's been a few days and he has the run of the house down now – as well as Clooney's routine – and yet Derek messages him day and night. 

Not that Spencer's complaining any.

But Penny is worried about Spencer, and makes that very obvious by stating it at least twice a day. Because 'getting over Derek Morgan' is very much an impossible when living in his house. No matter what Spencer says to her, or himself, for that matter.

 .

[Penelope] I really don't like you there all alone. And I don't like me all alone either. We should have made a snow-proof bunker together.

[Spencer] Next time you and I can find a place to hole up when the city gets snowed in. 

[Penelope] And not at Morgan's house. My place. Yours is too cold.

[Spencer] I think it’s the insulation that is terrible. I'm learning a lot about home improvement from what books Morgan has lying around. 

[Penelope] God, I bet every room in that house is toasty warm. 

[Spencer] All except the guest room, Morgan says it needs new insulation. He keeps telling me to sleep in his room where it's warmer.

[Penelope] Spencer Reid don't you dare.

[Penelope] I will get to you in this snow, don't think I won't.

[Spencer] I might not have a choice if the power goes out again, but I'll avoid it at all costs I promise.

[Spencer] And you stay off the roads please. You scare me even when there's no ice on the streets. 

[Penelope] I drive better than you. I've seen your parking.

[Spencer] Which is why I take the bus, or car pool with Derek.

 .

A millisecond too late he realizes what he typed and sent. His fantasy-like informalities slipping through once more. God, he hates texting. But Penelope is pretty insistent on it – otherwise their phone calls could go on for hours. He makes a pained face and lets his head fall to the kitchen counter, where he'd been messaging her and drinking his mid-day coffee. Still a little chilled and his hair lightly damp from his run-in with the pipes in the basement that morning. He bangs his forehead there a couple times waiting for Penny's reply.

 .

[Penelope] I really worry about you there, honey.

[Spencer] I know.

[Spencer] I'm going to be fine. 

 .

He only wishes that sounded convincing, but Penelope drops it for the time being. The lie so plain and obvious that it really warrants the pity she bestows upon him. Leaving him in the crushing silence of Derek's house, with nothing but his thoughts echoing in his head in time with every beat of his battered heart. 

Abandoning his coffee, still warm and only half gone, Spencer retreats to his chilled guest room and Clooney follows faithfully. A little more quiet than usual, a soft whine sometimes coming from his throat. But Spencer finds himself preoccupied by his thoughts, about how often he's had to lie to Penny and to Derek and to… himself, about being 'fine.' When he's not really that fine at all. He's lying so often it's becoming blatantly discernable – all of it. About his state of mind, and the wounds on his heart. Before coming to stay in this house, Spencer had truly believed that he'd been treading this strange no-man's land of friendship and infatuation, where he could finally – finally get over this damn crush. This love. That has been years in the making, and taken deep roots beneath his feet.

He just kept telling himself that if he could make it one day not longing for his best friend, go a whole 24 hours without thinking about Derek Morgan, then maybe there was still some hope out there for him to not go through life this broken-hearted. 

He thought maybe being snowed in would solidify that.

Instead, it's made everything worse. 

The bed dips beside where he's been sitting, and Clooney leans into his side tentatively, laying down so as not to send the thin man toppling. He curls up there, facing away but offering a steady back and canine shoulders, thick fur and enough solid grounding to hold him up if he wanted to. The soft whine of empathy, sympathy, compassion is back. And it lowers another crumbling wall of inhibitions, to the point Spencer accepts the offered shoulder. So to speak.

He leans into Clooney in turn, and hugs the dog carefully. Feeling ridiculous, and small, and like a child hugging an over-large teddy bear. But after a moment it's hard to find a reason to care about any of that. He'd gone in search of the only comfort available to him, leagues from the nights he spent alone at home, and found it in the companionship of the one creature he's feared for most of his life. There's an irony there, but his brain is too soaked in despair to decipher it. 

Holding onto Derek's dog like a lifeline, Spencer refuses to let go for long minutes, and pretends his eyes aren't burning at the overwhelming enormity of it all.

If only the snow would melt, if only Derek would come home  – so Spencer could leave this place, and hope to forget that it feels like he belongs there more than anywhere else in the world ever has before. 

 .

—

tbc…

—

Tagged list so far: @lilibee​, @dumpsiteforfics​, @kenni-woodard​, @merpancake​, @emmyraebird​,  @physics-magic​, @thaddeusly​, @tobias-hankel​,  @sideblogforcrimpy​ @anxious-enby​​

(To be added to the taglist just send me a message via comment, reblog, ask, or DM!)

[truegenius]

Because of You

moreid blurb for @spencers-renaissance <3

Summary: Spencer breaks up with his long time boyfriend. Derek comforts him.

Pairing: Moreid

Rating: G

tw: none

"Can I stay here tonight?" Spencer asked as Derek stood at 3:24 am, holding his front door open with a confused look on his face.

This in itself would not be out of the ordinary. Spencer often showed up at his house at odd hours of the night, sometimes to discuss potential breaks in a case, or to show Morgan a documentary he discovered that he thought Derek would like, and many times to raid the older agent's fridge as he steadfastly refused to buy food of his own. Derek never said anything; he never minded caring for the genius. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he secretly enjoyed being the one to make Spencer’s face light up and could feel an anger rise in him what it was caused by anyone else.

What drew Derek's attention was the state the young genius was in. Spencer was clad in only the dress shirt, khakis, and converse he had worn to work that day, and soaked down to the bone due to the thunderstorm raging outside. He had no bag or coat or umbrella and Derek was sure that his phone must have incurred some form of water damage. Spencer's hair was strewn about from the howling wind, but from what Derek could see through the strands of hair covering Spencer's face, his eyes were red and his cheeks were puffy.

"Reid," Derek said, desperately wanting to put his fist in the face of whoever caused it but deciding instead to pull the genius into a bone crushing hug, “What happened? Did you walk here?”

Derek didn't gave Spencer time to answer as he pulled away and nudged him into his apartment. He closed the door softly behind him as he watched Spencer carefully. The doctor was in the middle of his living room, creating a puddle on the hardwood floor where he stood, with his shoulders hunched and hair still falling in his face, looking like a lost puppy. This boy was going to be the death of him.

"Are you alright?" Derek said, walking over to him slowly and tucking the hair covering his face behind his ears.

“I will be,” Spencer whispered and gave Derek a small smile. After a moment of silence, he asked, "Uh, can I have a towel?"

"Oh! yeah," Derek said, taking a step back, "C'mon pretty boy, let's get you cleaned up."

Spencer followed Derek down the hallway, slipping into the bathroom as Derek continued down the hall to find some dry clothes for the both of them. Derek quickly changed out of his damp shirt and went to rummage through his closet to find clothes that might fit the smaller man. He ended up with a t-shirt about two sizes too small on him, a pair of sweatpants that he found in the bottom of his drawer, and a pair of fluffy pink socks, a birthday gift that his sister had gotten him as a joke.

"Hey Spence," Derek knocked on the closed door to his bathroom, "I've got some dry clothes for you out here if..."

He trailed off as Spencer opened the door wearing only his boxer briefs and signature mismatched socks. Derek had to actively avoid dragging his eyes up and down his lithe frame and slightly toned stomach as Spencer took the clothes from his hands and promptly shut the door in his face. Derek stood there for a minute, slightly stunned by Spencer's quick change in demeanor. He shook it off and wandered into the kitchen to make something that might calm Spencer down.

Spencer padded into the room just as Derek finished pouring hot chocolate into two mugs. Derek smiled slightly seeing the genius in his clothes which were still incredibly baggy on the kid. He slowly sat in one of the stools at the island as Derek slid a mug across the counter. The room was quiet as they drank in silence with Spencer occasionally looking over at the man leaning on the counter across from him, looking backdown into his mug every time Derek made eye contact.

Derek finished his coco first, rinsing his cup and leaving it in the sink before taking the seat next to Spencer on the other side of the island.

"Pretty boy, please," Derek said, "Talk to me."

“Aaron broke up with me." Spencer whispered after a long moment, his hands fiddling with the handle of his mug.

"You were dating someone? Wait—" Derek paused to process what was just said. "You... were dating... Hotch?" He asked, feeling the jealousy radiate through him as he tried his hardest not to put any judgement in his voice.

"What?" Spencer asked, furrowing his eyebrows, "No. Aaron Faller."

Derek stayed quiet, urging him to go on.

"I met him in college. We, uh, we started dating about three years ago... before I got into the bureau. After we graduated, he decided to follow me here. I thought-" he paused to collect his thoughts, "I thought we were gonna be together forever."

Spencer's voice cracked at the end and Derek could tell that the kid was near tears. The doctor refused to make eye contact, choosing instead to stare furiously into his hot chocolate. Derek could see as Spencer processed the emotions going through his head, going from sad to confused to angry before settling back on sad again and he had to fight the urge to pull the smaller man into another hug.

“I wanted him to love me as much as I loved him... I thought he didn’t,” Spencer whispered, “I told him that, too”

Spencer got up suddenly, startling Derek with his sudden movement as he went to put his mug in the sink.

“And you know what’s funny?” He said with a laugh as he turned the faucet on with so much force that Derek thought it might snap off, “He said that I was wrong. He said I had it backwards, that he loved me more than I did him, and do you know what the worst part is? I think he was right.”

“Spence,” Derek said, trying to get his attention as Spencer was still aggressively washing the mug. He turned off the water with just as much force and dropped the mug in the sink with a loud thud.

Derek knew that he had to choose his words carefully as Spencer looked like the next words he said might break him entirely, “Take a breath. Take your time.”

Spencer looked down as he fiddled with his hands and mumbled, “He said... he said it’s because of you”

He still refused to make eye contact and there was a long moment of silence before he continued, “He said that ever since I got in to the BAU, ever since I met you, all I would talk about is you and that every time we had a conversation, no matter where it started, it always ended up leading to you. Things on the street or stores that we would pass would always somehow remind me of you.‘Oh that restaurant? Derek mentioned that place has good Mexican food’ or ‘oh that park? Derek plays basketball there on the weekends’ and I hate myself for it. I hate myself for not noticing it and I hate that I was too wrapped up in you to realize that I was hurting someone that I truly care about and I hate that I don’t care that Aaron broke up with me because he is a genuinely good person who absolutely does not deserve any of the crap that I’ve unwittingly put him through. But what I hate most is that I don’t care enough to end things with him properly. God, I didn’t cry, I didn’t ask him to stay. When he confronted me, all I said was ‘I’m sorry’ and left. What kind of asshole would—”

Spencer halted his ranting when he heard the man across from him let out what sounded like a giggle. Their eyes finally met and Derek couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto his face. However it was quickly replaced with shock and it almost gave Derek whiplash with how instantly Spencer went from shy to seething.

“I fucking knew it. I knew you’d be like this,” Spencer hissed, moving around the island to point a skinny finger in Derek’s face, “You with your gigantic ego. You love this don’t you, ruining my life. Derek Morgan finally gets poor little Spencer Reid under his thumb. You just think—”

“Spence!” Derek was laughing again because no matter how hard he tried, the over dramatic doctor was about as terrifying as a baby kitten. He caught Spencer’s hands in his own as the genius feebly tried to hit him in the chest, “Spence, I’m smiling cause—”

“Cause you—” Spencer started as he tried to wrestle his hand out of the stronger man’s grip.

“Because I love you too, Spence” Derek interrupted.

“You—” Spencer stopped struggling, “You what?”

“I love you pretty boy. I have for a long time.” Derek smiled as he watched Spencer process his words.

“But I didn’t...” Spencer trailed off.

“You don’t have to. I know.” Derek smiled softly, “Call me selfish. Call me whatever you like but I’m glad that Aaron broke up with you cause now I can have you all to myself. And I’d really like to kiss you now if you’ll let me.”

Spencer didn’t bother to answer as he crashed his lips onto Derek’s.

taglist: @hotchsbabygirl @spencers-renaissance @wheelsup @makaylajadewrites @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @ssa-m-187 @hotchgans @honeyharreh @morceid @scandinavian-punk @reidology @lavenderbau @ssa-prentissinred @dr-omalley @athenna71 @temily

[crimmy]

mini moreid blurb vaguely based on this picture (:

Lately, Spencer hadn't been smiling as often. It's not because he was sad per se, or that he wasn't content with his life. He loved his job, he loved his friends, he got to talk to his mom every day. He wanted to smile at little things, like the perfect cup of coffee, getting complimented for his mismatched socks, watching his favorite foreign film in theatres, but he couldn't. He couldn't remember the last time he didn't feel like he had to force a smile.

It was another day just like the others, his coffee was fine, the book he was reading was mediocre at best. He walked into the bullpen, pushed his glasses up his nose, and sat down at his desk. The huge pile of files was haunting him, he rubbed his temples, frustrated. He sat quietly for a moment, then grabbed the first of dozens of files he was to finish that day.

He was about halfway done with his third file when he noticed someone approaching his desk. “It's only 9:30, pretty boy, how about we take a break and get you another coffee, huh?” Derek said, leaning down, raising his eyebrows, and giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder. Looking up at Derek, spencer put his pen down.

“Yeah, sure. I could probably use a break. Actually, the brain is known to stop functioning as well after two hours of intense concentration, you probably caught me at just the right time. otherwise, the rest of my files would have been subpar.” He continued to ramble like that for a while as they made their way to the break room. He didn't notice, but Derek had a sparkle in his eye, one that only seemed to come out when Spencer spoke.

When they got to the break room, Spencer was still spitting out facts about the brain and concentration. Derek hadn't interrupted once, apart from asking a clarifying question. He wasn't turning him out either, he was hanging onto every word, every slight change in tone. Derek refilled Spencer's favorite mug and added copious amounts of sugar. He waited for the next natural pause in spencers speech and said “All done, brainiac. Lots of sugar, just how you like it.”

Spencer smiled. His first genuine smile in days. He couldn't control it, something about Derek knowing how to make coffee for him made him giddy. But not just that, it was the fact that he paid attention, he was looking out for him. Derek always knew what he needed.

He grabbed Spencer's cheeks with his hand. “There's that smile I've been missing. It's cute, I like to see it.” They both left the break room happier, Spencer now knowing that Derek really is his soulmate.

[goldencatchflies]

𝗗𝗶𝗻𝗼𝘀𝗮𝘂𝗿𝘀 𝗜𝗻 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲

⊹ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @blakes-dictionxry @spencerreidstie @reese-the-edgy-enby @moreid187 @hannibalslut @gaymemeaesthetic @reidrights @agentshortstacc @moreidism @ssaemxlyprentxss @pretty-b0yy @abitcriminalminds

⊹ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid ⋆ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1492 ⋆ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Alcohol Use! (nothing violent though, this is pure fluff)

⊹ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Spencer finds out about the Dinosaurs In Love song, and he gets really soft over it. Cue a shit ton of fluff.

⊹ 𝐀/𝐍: I didn’t plan on posting this, but here you go! There’s a little bit of angst if you squint, but I’m sure it can be over looked by the fluff! (Also this the type of thing where if I hadn’t added a literal kiss scene I would’ve been like "cOuLd bE rEaD As pLaToNiC!1!1!")

Spencer sat on his motel bed, hugged to a half empty wine bottle, as he stared ahead singing mumbles under his breath.

“Pretty boy, you alright?” Derek sat at the end of the bed, and placed his hand on Spencer’s knee, bringing him out of his thoughts. Spencer sniffed, wiping away his tears, and nodded slightly.

“‘M fine,” He sighed. “I was just thinking about the dinosaur song.” He smiled, shyly when Derek grinned at him. He rubbed Spencer’s knee, and brought his other hand to the boy’s chin, making him look at up.

“You sure that’s all?” He gazed into Spencer’s eyes, deep enough to recognize he wasn’t, in fact, ok.

“I was just thinking...” a tear slipped down his face, as he looked anywhere but Derek’s eyes. “We’re the dinosaurs!” He scoffed with a sad smile.

“Ok, I think you, Mister,“ Derek started, getting up and removing the bottle from his hands. “Have had too much of this!” He wiggled the bottle in the air, placing it on the counter on the other side of the room, and he moved to lay next to Spencer.

“I mean think about it!” He tried to convince Derek as the older man pushed him back on the mattress, and lifting his leg so the heel of Spencer’s foot rested at Derek’s chest.

“I’d rather not,” he smiled, untying his shoe laces, and sliding the shoes off his feet, placing them in front of the nightstand before moving to Spencer’s go bag to find his pajamas.

Spencer sat back up right, staring at his mismatched socks. “Where did my shoes go?” He whispered under his breath, causing Derek to chuckle. “Anyway, just think about it!” He looked back up at Morgan, who was currently removing a white tee shirt, and a pair of black sweatpants from Spencer’s duffle bag.

“Ok, doctor, enlighten me!” He sighed, raising his brows sitting next to Spencer on the bed.

“What if-“ Spencer’s voice broke as he started sobbing uncontrollably. Derek furrowed his brows and stared, surprised at the way his mood changed in the matter of seconds. “What if one day our Big Bang-“

“Our Big Bang?”

“Comes, and- yes! You know like, like-“ he stuttered “like an unsub...” he whispered, sighing in frustrated. Derek nodded, whispering a small ‘ok’ before Spencer kept explaining. “What if our Big Bang comes, and I can’t say goodbye?” He leaned over, resting his head on Derek’s shoulder, as he cried.

“Ok, yeah, you are definitely drunk!” Derek said to no one in particular. He knew Spencer wasn’t too drunk so he’d remember this in the morning, but he still didn’t want to admit that the kid had made himself a really good point. He ran his hands up and down his back, as Spencer sobbed into his chest.

“C’mon, pretty boy,”-he started, lifting them up untill they were standing between the hotel beds-“get changed, at least, ok?” He said, softly. Wether Spencer would remember this or not, Derek still tried his best to take care of him. The young man nodded, taking the clothes that had once been forgotten on the bedside table, into the bathroom to change. He came out a little while later, rubbing his eye with his palm, stumbling and sleepily making his way to Derek’s bed.

“Pretty boy, what’re you doing?!” Derek said, automatically scooting over, and letting Spencer lay next to him. They stayed next to each other, with Derek’s back against the headboard, and Spencer’s head on the pillow beside him. Spencer looked up at him, causing the older man’s eyes to dart down to meet his.

“What?” Derek chuckled lightly, as Spencer stared fondly. He nodded 'no' against the fabric, and lifted his head so it rested on Derek’s lap. The older man ran a hand through the boy’s hair, as Spencer fell asleep, waking up a few hours later to a pair of strong arms wrapped around him.

He moved carefully, trying not to wake up whoever was next to him and turned to see Derek, pressed directly against him, holding him tightly in his arms. Spencer’s eyes went wide, as he tried to remove the pair of hands that interlocked behind his back. Once he was finally free, and off the bed, panic started to rise, and he stormed off to the bathroom. He came back out to see his best friend sprawled out on the bed, and he couldn’t help but stare for a while.

The golden lighting from the window matched perfectly with his dark skin. Spencer memorized this moment like it was the most important thing in the world. He memorized the way Derek’s back muscles fit perfectly on the white bedsheets, creating a beautiful contrast. He memorized the chirps from the birds that passed by the open window, and the way Derek breathed in his sleep. He sat on his bed, not taking his eyes off the older man even for a second.

Derek huffed and moved slightly, the soft sunlight hitting his eyes, giving him a morning kiss. He woke up with a heavy sigh and big smile as the memories from the previous night flowed back into his mind. He turned to find Spencer staring directly at him with the most mesmerizing softness to his expression.

“Good morning my little dinosaur!” He teased, snapping Spencer right out of his thoughts. They boy blushed lightly, bowing his head in hopes that Derek didn’t notice his rosy cheeks. “Like the view?” He chuckled, making Spencer smile a little. The young man might’ve been filled with embarrassment, but Derek always found a way to make him smile. It took a while for the previous comment to hit him, but once it did he was confused as ever.

“‘My little dinosaur?’” he questioned, making Derek chuckle, as he sat upright on his own bed, directly across from Spencer. The beds were close enough that their knees brushed up against each other, but not too close where it would make them uncomfortable.

“Dinosaurs eating people, dinosaurs in love...” Derek sang, and Spencer gasped, trying not to laugh as the events from yesterday slowly came back to him. He lowered his head, hiding his embarrassment in his hands, and Derek laughed. “C'mon, it was that bad!” He loved marking Spencer blush.

“Oh god!” Spencer’s laugher was muffled by his hands, but still audible. “I’m so sorry!” They laughed and smiled, and Derek made his way to sit next Spencer, bumping him in the arm as the boy died inside of embarrassment.

“Y’know...” Derek started once the laughter had died down, and mood had softened. “You did make... an interesting point...” he moved his hand to rest atop Spencer’s, and the other man took in his own, subconsciously, as they both stared down at the soft movements. “If... something ever happens, out in the field...” he darted his eyes to look up at Spencer’s, hoping he would mimic the movement, and he did. They looked at each other for a moment, and it was Derek’s turn to be overwhelmed by beauty.

He stared into hazel eyes, as the sun kept rising, lighting up the room, brightening it more and more by the second. He moved his free hand to where finger tips met Spencer’s jaw line as they stared at each other. “I need you to know...” he trailed off for a moment, as they moved closer and closer. “How much you mean to me...” Spencer nodded, tightening his grip on Morgan’s hand, leaning forward and pressing his lips to the other man’s. There weren’t fireworks, there weren’t sparks, there wasn’t anything special. It was just a kiss. A long, soft, the most chaste kiss of Derek's life, but still just a kiss, and the sun sparked golden shadows on their faces as they broke apart.

“Derek I-“ they pressed their foreheads together, as Morgan dropped his and to hold Spencer’s. “Nothing will happen to us, ok?” Spencer moved back just enough to look into Derek’s eyes. The older man nodded lightly and smiled, for what had he now to fear? Spencer dropped his head on the crock of Derek’s neck, and let go of his hand, pressing them to his chest, and pushing him back down on the bed. He moved to sit on top of his stomach, as Derek wrapped his arms around his waist, and Spencer rested his head on the older man’s shoulder.

It’s a quarter past 6, and they knew they didn’t have to go into work for another 2 or 3 hours, so held they each other in their arms. Spencer recited the song lowly, running his fingers over Dereks collarbones, while he thought of nothing in particular. Derek, on the other hand, couldn’t stop staring out the window, seeing the birds chirp and dance around one other, praying they’d never get their Big Bang, as he held Spencer tight, hoping the same for themselves.

[moreidism]

oh look it's crying over moreid hours again 🧐🧐🧐

when moreid hugged each other and derek tried to say i love you but spencer already said he knew what's derek going to say.. and derek said he meant it.. this is also after he and the team knew about spencer's mom and morgan made him promise to get himself tested too 🥺🥺 idc about what people think but they are soulmates i swear 🥺 derek has always been worried about spencer when it comes to things like this and he's also the one who always notices when something's wrong with him 😭😭😭

and then we have the moment before derek left, where they hugged again and derek finally said i love you to him and spencer replied it back 🥺🥺

even if they didn't end up together, i will always see them as soulmates (let's not forget how spencer basically think of them both as soulmates and true friends too). the way both of them understand and love each other.. and how derek is sorry he could not stay because he knew how much spencer disliked change and goodbyes but spencer was okay with it because he knew why and he wanted derek to be happy 😭😭😭😭

Both of them were pretty emotional during both hugs and spencer definitely cried,, and spencer who isn't a hugger, hugged derek tightly and that just showed how much derek means to him and idk what else to say at this point im wiping my tears as I type this.

The point of this post is just to tell you guys that moreid are

✨✨ Soulmates ✨✨

(i still cry every single time i watch the scenes where derek left and he hugged spencer and all those sad stuff 💔💔💔💔💔)

(im so bad with words i hope the things i say actually make sense.... heh)

[electricsockhead]

Do you have any Jenelope NSFW headcanons? Please and thank you! :)

Ok, so I don’t do NSFW on here, but here are some cute and very random jenelope hcs instead!! (background moreid because I can’t not add them ejshajnd)

Before they got together JJ would gush to Spencer and Emily about how she’s madly in love with Penelope and Penelope would do the same with Derek but they both thought the other would never be interested 🥲

JJ would go "she’s probably into Derek" and Penny would go "she’s totally straight 😭💔"

at the very very beginning of their relationship (and a little before too) whenever either one of them would have a nightmare they would always call the other and just listen to their voice 🥺

JJ was always too scared to say something, so Penelope made the first move

She thought she was joking tho so for their first couple of dates JJ though Penelope still saw her as just a friend

But then JJ got hurt on the job one day and they weren’t sure if she was gonna make it 🥺💔

and penny took the first flight there and held her hand any time she could 🥺

JJ had to kept being brought out of the room cuz there was something wrong with her IV

And Penny was terrified that she was going to lose her without ever getting to tell her she loves her

Then when JJ comes back and the doctors say she’s gonna be fine Penelope feels like she can finally breathe again, and she never leaves her hospital room

When JJ wakes up penelope is asleep, holding her hand and resting her head on her thigh

JJ tugs at her hand and she wakes up and they’re both kinda teary-eyed and Penelope tells her how scared she was because she loves her

And JJ actually believes her and when she’s clear to go home, they spend the entire afternoon cuddling on the couch and Penelope runs her fingers through JJ’s hair and kissing the top of her head

And JJ just reassures her on how she’s ok, and she’s safe 🥲

after that they get super clingy and just generally protective with each other

Penelope and Derek will complain to each other about how JJ and Spencer shouldn’t be in the field, but their judgment is biased because they just want their partners to be safe at all times

and JJ and Spencer will gush about how hot Penelope and Derek are, and how they’re just absolute simps, and all Penelope and Derek have to do is ✨smile✨ and they melt On The Spot

JJ also talks about how she wishes penny wouldn’t be in the conference room when they’re going over a case because sometimes she accidentally ends up seeing the pictures and she gets really sad and grossed out and JJ wishes she didn’t have to go through that

while Spencer also wishes Derek wasn’t in the field as well cuz a lot of times he ends up being the leader and that could really poorly backfire

Either way they spend hours on end gushing about their significant others jejskekska 🥰

Whenever they get into arguments, JJ always sleeps over at Emily’s and Penny will spend most of her days with Derek and Spencer

When they finally make up again, they get real clingy to each other and Hotch has to put on his Mean Face to get them to leave each other’s side again 🥰

[makaylajadewrites]

last time I promise

Strawberries in Winter

This is just an absolutely terrible drabble that I pounded out in like an hour. It’s a mess, so whoopsies.

Pairing: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid

Tags: Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drabble, Angst

Summary: 

“Do you believe in God?” Spencer asked one day while sitting in the clouds.

“Why would I?” The angel beside him responded, watching the needle dangle from Spencer’s holy skin.

Read on AO3 here

Keep reading

[abortionado]

15,9, and 3 for moreid? i live to make you sad :)

Oh wow okay

3. Which one outlives the other, and how do they cope?

Spencer dies young. Horrible work-related incident. Obviously, I don’t think Derek would take it very well. He’d be devastated and most likely angry for a long time. It’d take months for him to really internalize the fact that Spencer is gone. He’d sleep on his couch so that their bedroom would look exactly the same way it did the morning they woke up next to each other for the last time. I think, since he’s religious, Derek would only go in their bedroom to pray/talk to him, because he knows Spencer was always scared of being left behind and forgotten. (“I hope you’re happy, wherever you are. I haven’t forgotten about you. I still love you. I look at your picture every single day. Everybody misses you. It’s not the same at the BAU without you.”)

He’d finally clean out the room after Hotch makes him go to therapy. (Penelope helps him. They both cry a lot.)

Every day after that is a single baby step forward. It’s years before he’s able to love again. He never forgets Spencer, but the hurt subsides, and he’s able to look back on him and feel lucky to have known him at all. (He still talks to Spencer from time to time, just to make sure he knows he’s never forgotten and never unloved.)

9. Which one swears more?

Derek. Full stop.

Spencer is definitely one of those extremely pretentious, obnoxious people who thinks that swearing makes you look crass and unintelligent, because there are “better words for any situation,” and it’s “lazy” to use a catchall.

Derek, who is the furthest thing from unintelligent but not as hellbent on appearing intelligent as Spencer, develops a swearing habit as a result of this. Generally, he’s not like Emily, who probably drops F-bombs in her sleep, but he’s willing to take that page out of her book to watch the little displeased nose scrunch Spencer does when he’s slightly pissed off.

(Things like “hey, baby! Good morning! You want some fuckin’ pancakes?”)

15. What do they change about each other?

Before Spencer, Derek wasn’t really interested in domesticity or settling down or anything like that. It was impractical with the demanding hours and inherent danger that came with working at the BAU. He’d always wanted a family, and been a little sad that it wasn’t in the cards for him, but he saw it as an impossibility until he met Spencer. He loves Spencer so much that he’s more than willing to adjust his work life to settle down with him.

Spencer is horribly insecure and emotionally immature when he meets Derek, and being in a relationship where he loves so deeply and is so deeply loved teaches him a lot. Teaches him how to live with another person, teaches him how to handle arguing (he learns to be less petulant and moody when dealing with someone he can’t fathom losing), and, above all, teaches him that he’s loveable and not nearly as worthless as he’d thought.