#probably won't ever actually write this out because i'm a little twitchy about writing about diseases

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Random Lucy x Tommy Headcanon

Tommy freaks the absolute fuck out anytime Lucy is sick.

Even just a little cold, he'll be hovering around her, half bullying her into staying in bed and taking things easy, and fussing over her any time she so much as sneezes.

She finds it mostly sweet, even if it can be a little annoying sometimes when he practically insists on carrying her or doing menial things for her when she's feeling better and simply wanted to get up to get a glass of water.

But she understands that it's because after what happened to Greta, the idea of losing another loved one to a disease is a very legitimate fear of his. And while it often gets overlooked due to the other traumas he went through during the war, having to watch Greta slowly slip away when she was ill and die holding his hand was very traumatic for him.

So she indulges him in his mother-henning and fussing. Even if he can be a little over the top with it sometimes.

[pennemac]

walk through fire for you (just let me adore you)

Chapter 1 ▪︎Even At 3am

Series Summary- This is my first attempt at writing with criminal minds characters! The show has recently become one of my favorite things to write and ramble about. This is a series of works that are written around an autistic Spencer Reid, and his journey's of finding comfort and joy within his team.

Chapter Summary- Spencer finally reaches out when he's struggling with a bout of sensory overload. It takes a whole lot of courage on his part and a good dose of platonic love from his boss to calm him down. (ft. Spencer's stuffed axolotl)

Warnings/Topics- Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Talk of sensory issues, Crying, The beginnings of a panic attack, Platonic cuddling, A good dose of Hotch being a dad through and through :)

I post these on ao3 first! my ao3 is here

Word Count- 1.9k

There's a light pattering of the beginning of a storm outside of the hotel room window, and Spencer is so tired. He has been, in fact, for the last two days, 16 hours, and 43 minutes. 

If Spencer was any semblance of normal, he thinks, he would probably be soothed by the little sounds of rain, but he's not. In fact, it's angering him. It's a constant white noise sound, like television static, but worse, because it can't just be turned off by the click of a button. He isn't even entirely sure why it's making him as mad as it is. 

The sound itself is even making him acutely aware of the way unfamiliar sheets feel against his legs, and the way his hair won't stay out of his face. It's alot, honestly. With every second that passes, the rain makes him more and more upset. None of his usual tactics of calming down have worked so far, either. 

He hasn't been able to read, because his brain felt like it was being drowned out by the sounds of rain against various outdoor surfaces. Music, though he'd never been a huge fan of anything other than soft piano, had also felt as though it was simply accompanying the rain, assisting it in it's attempt to make him breakdown. 

It starts out like this, usually. The discomfort, leading into being easily aggravated, but from then it's everything setting him off. Rain, the constant chatter of a room filled with busy police officers, the ticking of a clock, the texture of his pants, or sheets, or any unfamiliarity. 

He's been trying to sleep for days, but he hasn't been able to. To combat this, he'd been consuming copious amounts of coffee. This had made him more twitchy, antsy, than he had been before. His hands now, even, shake as he throws the blankets and sheets off of his legs. 

The frustration reaches it's peak though, when he has to struggle to pull his socks off of his feet, and tears fall from his eyes as he leans back onto the bed. As he tries his best to just breathe, he remembers how Hotch had separated him from the rest of their team, pulling him aside and out of the crowded room, as if he'd had an innate sense that he hadn't been doing well. 

"Do you need to leave, Reid? I won't make you stay here if it's not going to be beneficial for others or for yourself." 

He hadn't managed to give a complete answer, just nodding, hands curling into his pant legs. "Go with Morgan to the mortuary. I was going to send him alone but the quiet of a car will do you good." 

His boss had moved to lay a hand onto his shoulder, deciding not to when Spencer had visibly flinched. "I am completely serious when I say that you have to stop over exerting yourself. It does nobody any good when you render yourself useless to others." 

Spencer had frowned, not exactly happy with being reprimanded, but he knew that Aaron was certainly correct. 

"Beyond that, though, I understand. I made an agreement when I hired you into this team that I'd be here when you need me. You have to reach out to someone when it's necessary." 

So now, as he sits in the dark of his room, he does his best to remind himself that it's okay to reach out when he needs someone. His hands are shaky as he finds his bosses contact and presses call before he can over think it. 

It's answered fairly quickly. "Reid? What's going on?" 

"I'm- it's not anything serious I'm just… I think I'm gonna have a panic attack and I haven't slept for nearly three days, I don't know how to stop it." 

He knows how weak his voice sounds, and he hates it. His hands clench and unclench in his bedsheets. Tears continue to slip down his face and his shoulders and neck feel tense. 

He hears a the rustling of sheets on the other side of the call before he gets a response. "Can you come up here? You know my room number, yes?" 

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." 

"Okay, come up to my room, then. You're gonna be okay." 

He nods, only realizing afterwards that Hotch couldn't actually see it. He tosses his own phone into the open duffle bag by the foot of his bed. The room he's in is uncomfortably dark, and he hesitates for a moment before he moves to reach into the black bag, pulling out a small-ish stuffed axolotl. 

It's soft, and the eyes are embroidered, rather than buttons or beads, so they feel nice for his hands to run over. The texture is soft but smooth, and he's grateful that it's that rather than shaggy or rough. 

When he's made it up onto the third floor, rather than the second, where his room was, his embarrassment levels had risen and by the time he'd made it up to the door, he heavily considered turning back. 

Spencer's grateful when he only has to knock once for the door to open. 

Hotch stands in the doorway, and this is probably the only time that Spencer would ever see him in just sweatpants and a soft shirt. 

He moves out of the way once he realizes who it is, letting him walk into the room. 

His boss moves in front of him, to sit on the large bed in the middle of the dimly lit space. 

"What animal is that?" He points vaguely at the pink stuffed animal clutched in shaky hands. 

Spencer stands awkwardly across from the bed, his hands fiddling gently with the eyes and the tail of the toy. "It's, uhm… an axolotl. Penelope got it for me cause she knows textures I like and don't like." 

Hotch gently sits back to make room for him. He pats the empty space, hoping that Spencer will take the invitation to sit. He does, watching his own hands as if avoiding looking up at his coworker. 

"Do you wanna talk about what's been happening? It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, but it can be a good distraction." 

He nods slowly, tucking his legs in to sit cross legged. "I- the rain. It's like… t.v. static. I haven't been able to sleep because the sheets are so unfamiliar…" 

One hand moves up to hardly brush a tear from his cheek. God, he hates this. Vulnerability doesn't come easy to him, it never has. He knows how tight his breathing is, and that realistically he should start breathing deeper to ensure that he doesn't become light headed but- it's a lot easier to say than to do. 

"Can I touch your hands, Spencer?" 

The man in question gives an affirmative nod and watches as hands slightly larger than his own come into his line of vision, wrapping around one hand that isn't wrapped around the body of a stuffed animal.

"I know it's tough, but can you breath for me? Just a few deep breaths?" 

Fingers flex between Aaron's own, squeezing in what he's fairly certain is an effort to ground himself. 

Tears drop down steadily still, and one lands softly on the back of Hotch's hand. 

A thumb circles slowly in the dip of where Spencer's hand meets his wrist. "I do hate to seem any kind of strict right now, but… Spencer, I know how hard it is to tell us when you start struggling. What I need you to know though, is that when Gideon agreed to have you on this team, and when I made the decision to keep you here, we knew exactly what we were doing." 

A small sob comes from Spencer, and it deepens Aaron's own frown. 

"You are an incredible asset to our team. You are the driving force to solving most cases we come across. There's nothing you could do, or show, or say, to us that would make us value or love you any less. If that means this, or telling us you need a break, or letting through more tendencies or quirks when we're working- all of that is good. You do so good, I jus-" 

He's cut off abruptly when his hands are shaken away and Spencer all but tackles him into a hug, arms wrapping around his neck and face pressing into his shoulder. 

"And here I thought you were always so worried about germs." 

Spencer sobs lightly, tears dampening the material under his face. His legs rest on the outside of Aaron's thighs, his weight settled on his legs. The man below him tentatively brings hands around his back to envelope him in a hug, hands rubbing down to ease the tension where he can. 

"It's- it's so much." 

And this, at least, Aaron can understand. His breathing doesn't even out more than it had, and Aaron would be much more worried if he didn't know that at least in some sense, this would tire him out. So, instead of urging him to calm down as he'd mistakenly done before, when he was less aware of Spencer's diagnosis, he takes a different route. 

"Spencer, name 3 things you can feel." 

Light sniffles come and shaky breaths still echo in his right ear, but he moves to where his mouth won't be muffled. 

"That method of- of calming people down is something they use on kids-" 

"Three things, Reid." 

He huffs a little bit, but obeys. "Your hands." He shifts where he sits. "The- uhm, the bedsheets under my knees." 

One hand goes up to his face, pulling strands of hair back to tuck it behind his ear. "My face is really warm." 

Even though Spencer was right, the method of describing different sensory inputs was something people use on children, it was working well enough for him that Aaron wasn't going to stop using it. 

"Three things you can see?" 

He lifts his head from the shoulder it had been resting on, eyes moving around the room. He looks down slightly. "My hands are shaking." A glance to the left, afterwards, "My stuffed animal is to your left." 

"And your lamp is on, but it's… dim." 

His voice is soft, and it makes him seem small. He feels small too, body trembling under Aaron's hands. 

"Can you smell anything?" 

Spencer moves his head in a gesture of affirmation. "Your cologne." He pauses to pull in a deep breath. "Cleaning products, several." 

He's breathing is beginning to fade into a normal pace, and there's less shake to his voice. 

"Taste?" 

"Mint… my uh, my toothpaste. Coffee." 

Strong hands move up to his shoulders and neck, massaging lightly into the skin there. 

"Hm. What about sounds?" 

There's a silence in the room now. Spencer sits up slightly with realization. "The rain. It's not raining anymore." 

"Mhm. Maybe the universe listened to you, for once." 

He nods softly. 

They sit like this for a moment, Spencer relaxing into the pressure of Aaron's hands, his tears slowly to a stop. 

"Can I… Stay in here? I don't think I'll be able to sleep alone." 

Hotch gives a single nod, and it would have seemed curt, but his face is soft. "Of course." 

Spencer moves slowly off of him, fumbling for the pink toy before he lays down completely. 

Hotch moves to do the same, but notes briefly the distance that had been put between them. "You can come back over here, y'know." 

A tense breath was released and it brings a small smile onto the older mans face as he feels Spencer wiggle back up to his side, one arm laying over his stomach and a head resting against his chest. He takes the opportunity to wrap arm back around slender shoulders, only after lightly brushing stay strands of hair behind Spencer's ear.

"Goodnight, kid." 

"Night Hotch."