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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

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Every Little Thing.

Part 3!! You can find all the info about why this is such a mess in Part 1 and read Part 2 here! This is the last part sort of. I’m planning on an epilogue of sorts though!

Summary: Reader is a famous singer with a murderous stalker. Spencer has to go undercover to protect her.

warnings: mentions of murder, anxious reader, stalker

Word Count: 8681

The next time you open your eyes, the first thing you see is the shadow of an unknown person looming over you. Your instincts are screaming danger and without thinking about it, you start fighting your way out of their hands. They are trying to restrain you, so you fight back harder. You can’t stop hearing the lamp crashing on your head. It’s reminding you over and over of the danger you are in. Your self-defense training kicks in when the person wraps an arm across our chest. Afterwards, you think it should have occurred to you that the person wasn’t really fighting back so much as trying to calm you down, but you’ll blame your poor observational skills on adrenaline. It just all happened so fast.

You form your hands into “large claws” as the instructor called them in class, and swiftly shove them between your body and the arm of the attacker. Gripping the arm, you throw your weight diagonally forward, curling your body in toward your left knee. You end in a one legged kneel, having thrown the person over your shoulder. The thud they made upon hitting the floor was highly satisfying, until you looked down and recognized the face.

Derek Morgan was staring at you from his new found position on the floor, you kneeling over him with a slightly crazed look in your eye. You would start apologizing, but you are so stunned you don’t move until Morgan gets up and guides you back to the couch.

Apparently the team had been trying to reach you or Reid for a while. Neither of you answered, for reasons that were obvious now, so the team rushed over to check on you. Nobody mentions how you just threw Derek over your body as if he were a ragdoll. It doesn’t seem like the time to be joking around.

You tell them everything you can remember, starting with everything you told Spencer about the man you recognized and ending with the sound of the lamp cracking over your head. You’re surprised you didn’t cry through the whole story. Maybe you’re out of tears, physically unable to produce any more because your tear ducts dried up. If Spencer were here he’d tell you some fact about how your tear ducts never really dry out, your body just becomes dehydrated and water is diverted to more essential tasks.

At the thought of Spencer, a few tears do spring to your eyes. “Why would he take him? I was right here! He could’ve just taken me and been done with it. Oh, god. I was right there and I couldn’t stop him. No, no, no no no nonono.” You can feel all the signs of panic setting in, but you don’t have the power to stop them on your own. The team is trying to help you. They are, but you don’t hear them. You’re too worried about what is currently happening to Spencer.

It feels like time has slowed down. It’s like you’re swimming through syrup, desperately trying to stay above the surface, but the liquid is heavy and it’s sticky and it’s pulling you down. You hear what people are saying to you, but the words don’t make sense in your brain. They might as well be talking to a toddler, because all you can do is babble incoherently and point at the pieces of lamp on the ground.

You are relieving the same two scenes over and over. The look on his face when you made eye contact in the park. Then the sound of the lamp hitting your skull in the dark. The look on his face. The sound of the lamp. The look. The sound. His face. The lamp. It’s repeating in a never ending cycle. Your brain is moving so fast, you’re combining the two experiences. Logically, you know it was way too dark to see him holding the lamp, but you can see it clear as day in your head.

He’s walking across the room. He stops to pick up the lamp. He’s got both hands wrapped around it, as if he needed all the force he could possible create. HI lifts it above his head, and crash- wait. He’s holding the lamp like a mic stand. He’s holding the lamp like a mic stand!

“The lamp!” Your exclamation is so loud, Hotch looks as if he could’ve been surprised.

“He hit you with the lamp. We know.” Morgan’s voice is soothing, but your brain is moving through everything too fast to listen. You must look certifiably insane.

“No, the way he held the lamp.” Your brain is moving too fast for the words coming out of your mouth to catch up.

“You said it was too dark to see anything. How do you know how he held the lamp?” JJ looks confused more than anything at your behavior.

“I don’t. I mean, I do. I don’t know.” You’re being pulled back to the couch again. It’s as if the syrup has you in a bubble. You’re moving at a different frequency than the rest of them. You’re in a daze, not speaking as clearly as you are thinking.

“Y/N.” Hotch says your name with such a commanding presence, you’re focus is returned to the team. They’re staring at you with various expressions. Rossi looks so concerned you can’t help but think of the song you started for him. He really is the parental type. The rest of the team wear expressions that perfectly balance confusion, concern, and worry. Except for Hotch. He looks as stoic as ever, but there is a glint in his eye that seems to indicate he’s worried. “What about the lamp?”

“You’re right. I didn’t see the lamp in his hands. It was too dark.” This clears the confusion, but the concern and worry haven’t left their faces. “I can picture it though. And in my head, he was holding the lamp like I would hold a mic stand if I was trying to adjust the height.” You mime the grip in front of you. “That’s a weird fucking way to hold a lamp. So, why would I picture that?” They give you sympathetic looks, but nobody has an answer for you.

You’ve risen from the couch to pace back and forth across the room. The team starts speculating where the unsub would’ve taken Spencer, but you’re not listening. You are so sure there’s a reason you picture the lamp like that. You aren’t paying attention to them, and they aren’t paying attention to you. At least, that’s what you thought. You’re practically muttering to yourself when you figure it out. “I’ve seen him adjust a mic stand.” Hotch must have ears like an elephant because his head instantly swivels in your direction. You make the briefest of eye contact, a small smile forming on your face as you dart back toward the team.

“You’ve seen him before yesterday?” Hotch asks, cutting off the conversation currently going on between the agents. The group turns toward you, just realizing you’re no longer walking in circles talking to yourself.

“Yes. Yes, I’ve seen him adjust a mic stand. That must be why I pictured it like that in my head. The lamp I mean.” Hotch gives you a gentle nudge, encouraging you to reach a conclusion. “He works on the crew. His first show was the Louisville show.” Morgan already has Garcia on the phone, narrowing down the names for newer hires only.

“That’s still 42 names.” You can hear her nerves through the phone, and you’ve only met her once.

“Right, we hire a lot of new people for the US leg of the tour. It’s usually the biggest part.” You try to remember anything else about this man, wishing you had Spencer’s memory.

“Y/N, what else can you remember about him?” JJ’s words are gentle, but the look in her eyes is anything but. It is her best friend that’s missing.

“I don’t know. He’s never talked to me. I tried to introduce myself once and he just awkwardly ran away. The other crew guys he was working with, though they said something though.” You start tapping the side of your head, trying to recall the memory from nearly a month ago. “They said he’s been like that since he started. A little shy, I mean. They thought he was star struck.” You know they said something else, but it feels like you’re trying to catch individual grains of sand. You can just barely see them before they land in the water, fading away. “His name! One of them said his name. Jake or John or something with a J.”

“Three names.” The hope was evident in the way Garcia said the two simple words.

“What are they? I know they said his last name too, it’s just harder to remember because I didn’t talk to him personally.”

“Jacob Hawthorne-“

“No, it’s not him. He works in lighting, great guy. Cute kids.”

“Jordan Crawford”

“No, he’s a set designer. I talk to him all the time about switching things up between shows.”

“Last one, Joshua Gr-“

“Graves! Josh Graves That’s the name. That’s him!”

“Y/N, stay here. Agent Anderson will make sure you’re safe.” You can still hear his commanding voice as he leaves the room with the rest of the team. “Garcia, look for addresses where he-” The door swings shut, cutting you off from the rest of the information.

You gave Agent Anderson a small wave, asking if he wanted coffee or tea. You were still trying to be a good host, even if the room was a crime scene.

Crime scene. Suddenly, the idea of staying in this room any longer made you feel physically ill. You threw on a pair of sweatpants and a baseball hat, grabbing your keys as you headed for the door. Before Agent Anderson, or Grant as he introduced himself, could speak a word of protest, you had the door open.

“I can’t be in that room anymore. We can go wherever you want, I just can’t stay there.” He nodded in understanding, but still looked nervous at the idea of ignoring Hotch’s order to stay put.

The elevator doors opened to a mostly deserted lobby. You instantly walk over to the small café tucked into the corner. The barista recognizes you immediately, reaching for a bag as if you had already ordered.

“Ms. L/N, a man ordered this for you earlier. He said to give it to you as soon possible, but I didn’t want to wake you up since it’s still so early.” She has a sweet smile on her face, one you try to return but fail miserably.

“Thank you.” You’re far too stressed to worry about who ordered you a pastry before 5:45 in the morning on a day you were definitely not planning on being up this early. Agent Anderson, though? He was suspicious.

As you sat down in the arm chairs just outside of the shop, he politely asked for the bag.

“Why?” You said it with genuine confusion, but apparently he wasn’t actually asking. He had the bag open and the contents dumped onto the table in a matter of seconds. A blueberry muffin, you’re favorite, and a napkin topple onto the surface of the table in front of you.

“Are FBI agents trained to waste perfectly good muffins?” It’s hard to hide the slight mirth in your voice as you stare at the muffin that rolled of the table and onto the floor. Grant must not have heard you, or maybe he just chose to ignore you. He was still looking at the napkin. He took a picture on his phone before finally returning his attention to you. Of course, now your attention was trained on the napkin. It was your turn to move quickly, sliding it over to you and holding it out to prevent him from taking it back. The message on it was written in sloppy, rushed handwriting, but it was still legible.

“You belong with me. Not him.”

“His story is bound to have dust on every page when I’m done with him.”

“The slope was treacherous, the path reckless.”

“Do you think there’s enough blank space for him?”

You aren’t proud of the first thought that popped into your head. It was true, but you still would’ve liked to think your first thought would somehow tell you where Spencer was. Or at least be about Spencer, but no.

So rude of him to use my own lyrics for this.

You moved passed it quickly though, ignoring the fear you felt at seeing an unreleased lyric in front of you. There must be some sort of clue in the note. Why would he leave it for me if he doesn’t want me to find him? Grant managed to snatch the napkin out of your hand, but you had already read it. The damage was done.

“Y/N. You cannot leave this hotel. The team will find him. They know what they’re doing.” His words were a warning. One you intended to ignore.

“Fine. I’m going to get another muffin.” You tried to sound normal, but that’s probably what gave you away. Nobody would sound normal in this scenario. It didn’t matter if he figured out your plan though. You had a distraction for him. You waved at the barista as you walked into the shop.

“Hi, can I get another muffin? Accidentally dropped mine, whoops!” You smiled at her in a conspiratorial kind of way before leaning closer. “By the way, my friend over there” you nodded toward the agent who hadn’t taken his eyes off you as you walked away, “he thinks you’re cute. You should go talk to him!” Before you knew it, she was out from behind the counter, waving to her colleague to get you a muffin. She stood right in front of Grant, twirling her hair, but more importantly blocking his view of you.

You didn’t wait for the muffin. You slipped out the side door that lead straight to the main street, repeating the clues in your head. Dust. Treacherous. Blank Space.

Somewhere dirty, dangerous, and empty?

Ideas are flying through your head, but they don’t make any sense. The clues aren’t specific enough to tell you everything. It has to be somewhere you’ve been. Realization hits you as if a piano just fell out of the sky.

The arena. There was a staircase and some back rooms that were closed for construction. Dust, check. Unsafe conditions, check. Empty rooms, check. That has to be it.

You hail a cab, texting Hotch once you are on route to your destination. You know he’s going to tell you to stay put, but you want to make sure he knows where to go.

“The arena. They were doing construction.” You put your phone on airplane mode before returning it to your bag.

You expect to arrive at the arena to see it surrounded by black SUVs and police cars, but everything is eerily quiet. You must have beaten them there somehow. You pay your driver before walking up to the main doors. It seems like the best plan of action is to get inside and then find the construction zone. Weirdly enough, the front door is unlocked.

The sound of your shoes hitting the floor echoes in your mind as you wander through the building. It should be a fairly straightforward path, but you’re all turned around. Everything feels different. It’s no longer the nervous butterflies you get right before you perform. The syrup is coming back, only this time it’s pulling you in every direction except for the one you want to go in. You’re fighting your own sense of self preservation. Your brain is screaming at you to leave. You aren’t trained for this. You’re barely trained for anything that doesn’t involve music. But there is a part of you that still feels like this is all your fault. Maybe if you had just talked to him that day things would be different. You could’ve prevented all of this. Maybe…

The sound of Spencer’s voice pulls you forward. He sounds like he’s in pain, but the words are powerful.

“She’s not going to come. Even if she does get the note, there is no way the FBI would let her anywhere near the building.”

More guilt overwhelms you. It’s as if, all at once, the extreme stupidity of your actions hits you. You are putting Spencer’s life at risk. Hell, you are endangering the lives of any agent who has to walk into this building to protect you. You don’t know what will happen to Grant. You left him behind when all he was trying to do was protect you. You made it so he couldn’t do his job properly.

Your body leans into the nearest wall with a soft thud. You barely heard it, but it was apparently loud enough for Joshua.

“Someone’s hear.” His voice sounds playful, as if he’s really enjoying this. “Let’s hope for your sake it’s her.” You’re frozen in place as the footsteps grow closer and closer. You can’t hide. You can’t run. You can’t do anything except wait for him to walk around the corner and see you standing there.

Seeing him again isn’t like you thought it would be. You thought you’d be angered. Mostly, you’re just tired. Multiple panic attacks in one day could do that to a person. You also probably had a concussion that was influencing how you processed the emotional side of everything going on.

Seeing Spencer was different than expected as well. There was no huge wave of relief at discovering he was relatively unhurt. You felt relief, but it was like a tiny puddle surrounded by an ocean of guilt and sadness. There was mostly guilt, and no matter what anyone said before it felt different now. He was only in this position because of you. If he had not have been the one to go undercover, he wouldn’t have been targeted. And, it was your brilliant idea that landed him undercover in the first place.

He looked so panicked at the sight of you. A flurry of emotions ran across his face before settling back into a carefully controlled blank stare.

You wanted to run to him, but you couldn’t move. Yes, Josh was holding your arm in a grip sure to leave bruises, but your legs also felt like jelly. You kept thinking over and over that you shouldn’t have come. That you are only making everything worse. That everyone else’s jobs are so much harder now that you’ve put yourself here. Spencer must see it written on your face because the first thing he says after you enter the room is “It’s not your fault.”

Hearing it from him, you’re almost inclined to believe it. All you can do is nod, tears springing to your eyes.

Josh isn’t pleased with you sharing any sort of a moment with Spencer. He somehow tightens his hold on your arm, drawing a slight yelp from you. You try to remember what Hotch told you that first night. It feels like it happened months ago, but maybe you can talk your way out of this by remembering something useful. Or at least talk Spencer’s way out of it. You’ve been listening to him talk about profiling for the past week, time to put your skills to the test.

“I’m here now. You can let him go.” You don’t know who is more shocked at your words. Yourself, Josh, or Spencer. You’ve never seen Spencer speechless, but apparently you trying to talk down a psychopath who is obsessed with you and rapidly devolving is enough to manage the feat.

Josh pulls a gun from the waistband of his pants. He throws you into the wall before angrily pacing through the room.

“Josh, look at me.” It takes everything in you to pretend like this is a script. As if you are playing a role in a movie. “You have me. We can be together, but you have to let Spencer go.” He’s staring right into your eyes, trying to read your thoughts.

“You’re lying. He has to die, or he’ll always come between us.” He slowly raises the gun, not quite pointing it at any one, but enough to cause your heart rate to soar.

“Josh, think about it. I’ve known you for so much longer than I’ve known him.” You nearly choke on the next words that come out of your mouth. “He’s not important to me. Not like you.”

“STOP LYING TO ME. I KNOW WHAT I SAW.” Oh no. No no no. He’s frantically waving the gun around the room as you inch closer to Spencer. You notice movement near the door you came in, but you don’t have time to investigate. When Josh aims his gun at Spencer, you don’t think before you act- a recurring theme with you today. With all the grace of a newborn deer learning to walk for the first time, you jump in front of Spencer right as the gun goes off.

You’re not sure if it’s an echo but you would’ve sworn you heard two resounding bangs instead of just one.

Spencer catches you as you fall to the ground, bleeding from the bullet wound in your abdomen.

“Spence,” you take a shuttering breath, trying to gain the strength to talk to him.

“Shh, Y/N. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” He turns to yell at someone out of your view. “I need a medic! Now!” He sounds just as panicked as he looked earlier.

“I’m sorry.” You squeeze his hand when he tries to interrupt you again. “I’m sorry, for coming, but not for sav-saving you. The world- it needs you to pr-pro-protect people. Th-thank you. For every,” you couch a bit as you try to get the words out. “For everything.” You know he is remembering your heartfelt speech to him and Morgan from a few days ago, or at least you hope he is. The last thing you say before your vision fades to black feels so random in comparison. “Don’t blame Grant.”

“Spence,” your breathing is choppy and rough, contrasting the smooth skin beneath his fingertips as he assesses your wound.

“Shh. Y/N. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” His thoughts are running wild with everything he wants to say to you, but he can’t get anything meaningful to come out. Instead he’s yelling for a medic, frantically looking at all the faces of his closest friends. “I need a medic! Now!” He can hear the panic in his voice, but no amount of training or profiling knowledge can get him to control his emotions.

“I’m sorry.” He tries to interrupt you. To tell you it’s not your fault. That you did everything right. That Josh’s profile said he wouldn’t back down without a fight. Anything, but you squeeze his hand and he can’t breathe, let alone speak. “For coming, but not for sav-saving you. The world- it needs you to pr-pro-protect people. Th-thank you. For every,” he leans in closer, wishing he could do anything to stop your pain. “For everything.” He can’t help but replay your previous conversation with Morgan. Tears are falling down his face, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Don’t blame Grant.” It takes him the entire ride to the hospital to understand why you mentioned Anderson. Even with your brain shutting down from a lack of blood flow, you were still trying to make sure nobody was blamed for your actions.

He barely listens to the EMTs and the hospital staff as he watches them wheel you back through the all too familiar ‘Authorized Personnel Only” doors.

Spencer doesn’t bother to hide his emotions when the rest of the team arrive. He doesn’t have the energy in him to muster enough energy to hide how he’s feeling from the group of profilers. They all come to the same realization simultaneously. Spencer is a wreck. There’s no other way to describe it. He spent hours in the waiting room before anyone could even convince him to wash your blood off his hands.

He just keeps thinking about how he didn’t get to say goodbye. Hell, he didn’t really say anything. You were bleeding out in front of him, having just jumped in front of a bullet to save him, and still you had more strength than he did in the moment.

Another few hours later and he still hasn’t said a word. JJ’s tried. Derek’s tried. Hotch, Penelope, and Emily tried. Nobody can get through to him. He’s either pacing back and forth or staring at a wall. Of course, his mind is racing, the words just don’t come out of his mouth.

He thinks about how much he hates hospitals. He goes over how germ-ridden every surface is, how much money is spent on healthcare in America, how many people are pronounced dead in hospitals- and then he cuts his own train of thought off.

He thinks about the statistics of gunshot wounds next. He’s hyper focused on how clean shots with an exit wound are less lethal, but yours didn’t have and exit wound so that meant you were less likely to survive- and again he cuts himself off.

He’s begging his brain for happier thoughts. Anything that won’t lead him down the rabbit hole of statistics and how likely you are to die. He clings to the first memory that pops into his head. The night he first saw you.

Hotch, Emily, and Spencer arrived at the arena while the show was still going, if the fireworks were any clue. Normally, one flash of a badge would get the team through any checkpoint, but security at this place was no joke. They called to confirm the identities of the agents before escorting them to the head of security.

That’s when Spencer saw you for the first time. Hotch was arguing with the head of security, a woman named Carrie. Emily was interjecting, trying to convey how important it was that the three agents speak to you immediately without giving away any details about the case. Spencer, if not for his eidetic memory, would have no idea what had been said. His attention was drawn elsewhere when you ran off the stage.

He knew it was the last song of the night because of what Carrie was saying. It was clear to them she was stalling the team, so you could finish the show everyone was there to see.

You had a bright smile on your face, but it seemed off to Spencer. There was a slight sadness in your eyes, and he wanted nothing more than to ask you why. The feeling perplexed him. He’s never been a social butterfly, but your presence was captivating.

He watched your smile transform into genuine happiness when you slid your arms into a new jacket for the final performance, and he wanted to ask about that to. He wanted to learn everything he could about you.

He would’ve thought his heart had skipped a beat when you made eye contact, but he knew logically he would’ve required medical attention had that actually happened. The moment was brief. Your expression, although still happy, transformed into slightly quizzical when you glanced at the three agents. He watched as you thought about who they could be before discarding all thoughts from your mind to focus on the grand finale. He kept watching as you ran back on stage, the smile only growing in size and authenticity when you looked out at the crowd.

He replays that memory in his mind, all the while ignoring the concerned glances and attempts at conversation from his friends. He desperately clings to the way he felt during that 30 second interaction.

He doesn’t understand the feelings that started in that moment. It’s like as soon as he saw you, something in him shifted. He can’t explain it. He’s not blind. He saw the smirks and subtle glances the other profilers were giving when they saw him interact with you. He was just as surprised by his willingness to comfort you, both emotionally and physically. He’s never been one for touching people he doesn’t know. There’s too many germs. But with you, everything is different... With you, he wants it all. Every little thing.

Spencer has never believed in love at first sight. He’s always been too practical, has always thought too logically. But, after the tenth time reliving that moment, he still has no other explanation for the desire he felt. The desire he still feels to learn everything there is to know about you.

All week, he’s chalked it up to his inquisitive mind. He’s always loved learning, so that must have been what was happening here. He’s never spent any considerable amount of time with a musician before, so it’s only natural that he would want to learn from the experience.

That’s a much easier explanation to accept than love. People can’t fall in love in a week. Even if it was a week spent nonstop with each other. But something in the back of his mind was screaming at Spencer to tell himself the truth.

And so he did. And it only confused him more. He’s a man of science. Proving theories with facts, not emotion. Of course, he’s always wanted to be in love, but life has shown him again and again that it wasn’t probable for him. That’s why he nearly fell out of the chair he was in when the realization dawned on him.

“I haven’t had enough time.” It’s barely a whisper, but all his friends are right there hanging on his every word. They wear cautious expressions, as if he could be easily spooked back into silence.

“Enough time for what, kid?” Morgan’s voice is uncharacteristically soft. Even in his most calming moments, Derek always puts power behind his words. It’s why he’s so good at helping people, but this is different. He can tell Spencer is hurting, and he doesn’t want to spook him back into complete silence.

“I’ve barely scratched the surface. I have so much left to learn.” Although he’s still whispering, Spencer’s voice is growing more frantic as he looks between the concerned and confused faces staring back at him. His brain is moving too fast to really explain the thought process going on inside. He can’t put into words how it wasn’t love at first sight, but rather the desire to love you. He saw you and just knew he could love you. That desire to learn everything about you somehow turned into love in the span of a week. Before he can fall even deeper into the rabbit hole he’s found himself in, Spencer is jolted out of his head by the feeling of Rossi’s hands gripping his shoulders.

“I know, kid. You’ll have more time.” Rossi’s words are so confident, Spencer has no choice but to accept them as fact. His heart slows back down to a normal pace. His breathing becomes more regular. His legs stop bouncing. His hands stop fidgeting. And he accepts the comforting words from his family.

You’re running. You don’t know where you are. You don’t know how you got here. But you know you’re running.

You feel at ease. You don’t know why. You know it to be true though. You feel safe. Peaceful.

You try to look around. Try to figure out why you’re running. Are you running toward something? Away from something? For fun? It feels fun.

You hear voices. It sounds like laughter. Slowly, you put the pieces together.

You’re in your backyard. Playing with your children. Yours and Spencer’s children. There’s three of them. All girls. The youngest is 4. The other two 6. Twins. You have twins with Spencer. You bask in the joy of it all.

You’re running because you’re playing tag. With your daughters and Spencer. He’s got the all teamed up against you. It feels unfair, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

There’s a song playing in your head. One you’ve never heard before. It’s beautiful though. So happy. You’ll have to write it down. Find out if you’ve written it in the moment or if you are simply remembering it from long ago.

You still can’t remember how you got here. All you remember is dark. And cold.

Dark and cold. Dark. Cold. A gunshot.

The memory is foggy, but it’s there. The scene in front of you changes. The song is still playing. Its positivity doesn’t match the scene.

It’s like you’re watching a movie. Spencer is holding you. You squeeze your eyes shut. You want to go back.

Back to your kids.

Back to being happy with Spencer.

Back to running. Playing. Being in love.

Then you hear beeping. It’s quiet at first. Drowned out by the song in your head.

Then the song is getting quieter. The beeping getting louder.

Then the song is gone. You can only hear the beeping.

You remember everything when you open your eyes. It comes back to you like a wave crashing over your head, dragging you back into the ocean.

Instead of focusing on the trauma, you focus on the song.

It only takes 30 seconds for you to find your phone on the table next to your bed, open it to the voice memos app, and start recording.

You sing as much of the song as you can remember. It’s not hard since the feelings behind it are so strong. The first verse comes from the forth night you spent with Spencer. You couldn’t sleep so you convinced him to get coffee with you. It didn’t take much convincing for the coffee part since he’s pretty much addicted to the stuff. It took some convincing for him to agree to where you wanted to go though. You wanted to go back to his favorite coffee shop, but he said you could just get some in the hotel. You managed to convince him to go though. He insisted on driving since he now knew you didn’t like it much. The gesture did not go unnoticed. You knew he didn’t like driving either.

The chorus, second verse, bridge, and breakdown are jumbled, but they’re all there. It’s harder to get it right because it’s not coming from memories of you time with Spencer. It’s coming from what you hope to do with him. After a few tries, you’ve got the whole thing in order.

You lay back in your bed, the song replaying in your mind as you fall back asleep.

5 hours and 42 minutes. It’s been 5 hours and 42 minutes since you were wheeled into surgery. Every member of the team has gone up to ask about your condition at least once.

The nurse they’ve been bombarding with questions walks into the room and immediately all eyes are on her.

She escorts the team out of the waiting area into a private room before she says anything. “Since Ms. L/N is a high profile patient, we have a certain protocol to follow. All I can tell you right now is that she’s out of surgery, and she’s stable. Her security team is on the way and will need to approve any and all visitors. Once approved, her doctor can give you more information.” And then she leaves before any questions can be thrown at her.

Everyone breathes a collective sigh of relief when they hear that you’re stable. That relief is replaced by frustration when they realize they have to wait to see you. Especially for Spencer. If he could walk more than two steps in this tiny room, he’d be pacing it. Once he starts rambling, not a single team member dare to interrupt him.

It must have been 25 minutes of fidgeting, mumbling, and checking their watches before Carrie walked into the room, interrupting Spencer’s rant.

“I don’t see why our badges aren’t enough proof that we can- Carrie. Finally, can we go see her now?” Based on the look in Spencer’s eyes, anything other than an affirmative answer would not end well.

“Spencer, of course. I just had to confirm your identity in person. It’s standard procedure when she’s in the hospital. For safety reasons. The doctor should be coming in any minute and she can take us to her room.” As if on cue, the doctor walked in.

“Hello everyone, sorry to keep you waiting. Ms. L/N’s surgery went very well. The bullet was removed and all the internal bleeding was stopped before it got too bad. As you know, we’ve got her in a private room. She can have visitors, but limit it to one or two people at a time. Do you have any questions?”

Spencer knows somewhere in his mind that he should ask the doctor everything about your condition, but he can barely keep it together enough to shake his head no. He doesn’t trust himself with words right now.

“Alright, follow me to her room.” A parade of agents, along with Carrie, follow the doctor down twisting hallways to the private wing. “Now, remember one or two at a time. Last I checked, she was still asleep.” Spencer’s gaze drifts from the doctor to look at you through the window. At first glance, he would’ve sworn your eyes were open, but when he looked back again they were closed.

“Once I go in there, I’m not coming back out until she’s awake.” He turned to the rest of the group.

“Spence, it’s okay. You go in. Let us know when she’s awake.” JJ gave him a reassuring hug before her and the rest of the team wandered back to the waiting room.

Spencer and Carrie walked in slowly, as if any sudden movement could hurt you. For the first time in his life, Spencer’s mind was completely empty.

There were no statistics. No miscellaneous facts. Nothing.

He looked at you, asleep in a hospital bed after you saved his life, and he allowed himself to just feel.

It took a strange amount of concentration for him to only feel. His brain wants to butt in with statistics about the surgery or to count your breathing so he will notice any change in the pattern. But, he blocks it out. For you.

He sits down in the chair beside your bed, grabs your hand in his, lays his head on the side of your bed, and feels everything.

He feels all the love he’s been denying for the past week. He feels all the relief of knowing you are okay. He feels all the pain of watching you slip away from him. He feels everything he’s ever blocked out with numbers and statistics. And it’s exhausting. To feel so much at once.

Without thinking about it, he feels his eyes grow heavier with each added emotion.

Love.

Relief.

Pain.

Sadness.

Greif.

Anger.

Fear.

Gratitude.

Happiness.

Just the prospect of being happy is heavy enough that Spencer falls asleep.

The first thing he notices is that he’s running. He’s chasing someone. But not like he normally has to. No. There’s no unsub. Nobody is in danger. He’s playing a game. With children. His children. His and Y/N’s children. He has three daughters. The twins are older, around 6. The youngest is 4. They are helping him chase their mom. His wife. He’s built quite a future for himself in his head. He listens to the sounds of laughter, memorizing each individual’s laugh.

He feels something squeeze his hand and he’s awake. Groggy, but awake. He wants to go back to the dream. To remember what pure happiness feels like.

Then he remembers where he is. And why he’s there. The grogginess is gone. He’s alert in an instant. He’s looking at you, but you aren’t focused. You’re mumbling under your breath, looking for something in the sheets with your one free hand.

“My phone. Where’s my phone? Was it real? Did I dream it?” You seem so flustered, and he can’t fathom why your phone could be so important, but he finds it for you nonetheless.

“Thank you!” He watches as you rapidly open your phone, intently staring at the screen as if it might disappear.

“What are you-” Before he can finish the thought, a voice- no, your voice is playing from your phone.

“It was real…” You are clearly in a daze, but the happiness in your voice is contagious. Suddenly Spencer is smiling, pulling you closer to him as the lyrics to your song play in the background. He peppers soft kisses over any piece of skin he can reach. Your giggles fill him with even more love. Even more happiness.

When the two of you finally separate, he asks the first question he can think of. “When did you write this?”

You think back to your dream. The love. The joy. The pure happiness. You feel Spencer brushing the tears off your cheeks before you even realized you were crying. “It came to me in a dream. I… I guess I woke up earlier and I wanted to remember it. The dream. The song. It was all so beautiful. So happy. You were there. And then when I woke up I just recorded everything I could remember.”

Spencer is looking at you with such adoration that you almost feel shy. You want more than anything for that dream to be a reality. Not right away obviously, but in the future for sure.

“It’s beautiful.” His words are soft and low.

“It’s about you.” If you weren’t in a hospital bed, you might be inclined to think you were still in a dream. “About us.”

“I love it. I love you.” Spencer whispers the words into your skin. Almost like it was involuntary, it slipped out like a breath.

“I love you too.” He kisses you again, before the sound of the door opening breaks you two apart.

Carrie rushes in when she sees you’re awake, not realizing the moment that had just occurred.

“Oh, Y/N. I’m so glad you’re okay!” She squeezes you lightly in a one armed hug, the other hand carrying a tray of coffees and a paper bag. “I brought coffee for Spencer and a scone for you!”

“Well, I hope you poured a mountain of sugar into it. He likes it sweet.” You turn to smile at the man only to find him already looking at you.

“Only as sweet as you.” You laugh at the cheesiness of the moment, but you blush anyway, squeezing his hand. “Thank you, Carrie, for the coffee. I should go let the team know you’re awake.” He kisses your forehead before he walks out of the room.

“Oh honey, you have a lot to fill me in on.” Carrie is looking at you with the biggest smirk you’ve ever seen. She has been your head of security for 4 years, and the two of you have become close friends through all the crazy experiences. Although, nothing as crazy as this.

“What do you mean? I told you I thought he was cute…” You really have no hope of hiding this from her, but you can mess with her a little bit.

“Yeah, but kissing you on the forehead? Calling you sweet in the corniest of ways? What’s going on? Tell me!!” You could leave her hanging, but you are really feeling the need to gush.

“I wrote him a song. In my dream. I think it conveys everything pretty clearly.” You play the song for her, again remembering how you felt in the dream. When it’s over you’re nearly in tears again.

“It’s stunning. Just so beautiful. I’m glad you’ve found someone who makes you so happy.” You can tell she’s nervous about something, and you’ve got a pretty good idea of what.

“Carrie, don’t worry about me. I really think he’s the one. I’ve never felt this strongly, especially so fast. And I know what you’re thinking, fast might not be good, but we’ve spent so much time together. I mean, think about it. How long does the average date last? 2, 3 hours? At that rate, we’ve already been on roughly 37 dates! And that’s if you don’t count the hours we spent sleeping, which we also did together!”

Carrie snorts at that. “Yeah, sleeping.”

“No, I mean actually sleeping.” You try to stress the point. “He kissed me once, but the rest of the time was spent getting to know each other, writing songs, him working on the case, and sleeping. Eyes closed, pajamas on, sleeping.”

Her eyes soften, the smile on her face widening before she responds. “Okay. I won’t worry… too much.” You’re just about to tell her about the dream when the door opens again.

Penelope comes storming into the room with flowers and a teddy bear, whisper shouting about how happy she is that you’re okay. Just before you turn to give her your full attention, you can see Derek and Spencer talking in the hall.

“Come on Pretty Boy, what’s going on there?” Derek’s wearing his usual smirk for whenever Spencer’s love life is concerned.

“What do you mean?” Try as he might, Hell would have to freeze over for Derek to stop this line of questioning.

“I mean, I see how you look at her. Hell, we all watched you fall apart in the waiting room. What’s the deal? C’mon man, fill me in!” Spencer doesn’t know how to describe it. He doesn’t know how to convert the emotions he’s recently accepted into words, so he tries something else.

“She wrote me a song.” Spencer’s words are wistful. He’s transported himself back into dreamland. Back to the kids and the games. Back to happiness.

“Kid, it’s more than that. She wrote all of us songs.” Derek’s words cause the dream to sleep away yet again. .

“No, well yes. Although technically we wrote that song about me together. I mean, she wrote me an entire song. In a dream.” This time, Derek replies too quickly for him to slip back into the dream.

“Reid. You’re not making sense. You dreamt that she wrote you a song?” Derek’s words are comforting, like he’s trying to figure out the best way to help Spencer convey his emotions without pushing him too far.

“No. She said after her surgery, she had a dream. About me. About… us. The song was playing in the background.” Derek nods, finally understanding his friend.

“Okay, so what was the song about?” Again, his words are soft.

“Us. The time we’ve spent together and the time she wants us to spend together in the future.” It’s taken Derek this long into the conversation to realize why Spencer seems so out of it. He’s happy. He’s not faking it. He’s not hiding behind statistics. He’s just happy. Plain and simple.

“And that’s what you want to?” He can’t help but smile, really truly smile, at the pure look of adoration that Spencer wears when he looks through the window at you.

“More than anything.” Derek pulls him into a hug. Normally, hugs like this are typically reserved for when they just saved each other or after a particularly bad case. This case, although involving Spencer’s kidnapping and a trip to the hospital, had a rather positive outcome.

“Good. You deserve it man.”

A few days later and you are itching to leave the hospital. You’ve been working to reschedule your tour dates so you can fully recover before performing again, but even with that it’s incredibly boring to be stuck in the hospital for so long.

“Good news. You can leave the hospital tomorrow!” Spencer walks in, followed by the rest of the BAU team. They’ve been taking turns visiting you, something you suspect Spencer asked them to do, but you don’t really mind. You’ve actually become good friends with most of them.

“Yay!” Before too much celebration can occur, you’re passing out USBs to each team member. “I’m glad you’re all hear. I managed to record some preliminary versions of your songs! Listen to them whenever you’d like, or don’t that’s cool too. Either way, I’ll make sure to get you the properly recorded versions when I get a chance to go into the studio. I included some thoughts about other inspirationsas well, so don’t feel bad if there is a lyric that doesn’t really match you.” The majority of the team give you thanks and endless praise before Hotch clears his throat.

“Our songs? Did I miss something?” You chuckle at that. The man clearly doesn’t miss anything ever.

“Nobody told you? The first day I met you all, Pen asked me to write a song inspired by her. Trust me, it wasn’t hard. She’s a fountain of inspiration. Then when I was waiting for Spence to get back so we could go to the hotel, I came up with one or two for everyone!” You can’t tell if Hotch is more or less concerned now than when he was out of the loop.

“So I have a song? What is it?” The rest of the team can’t hide their smirks. It’s clear they never get to see their boss act this nervous.

“Well, it’s on the CD!” He groans at the idea of waiting when everyone else already knows. “But, since everyone else got a sneak peak, I’ll give you one too. Wasn’t it beautiful running wild till you fell asleep? Before the monster’s caught up to you… It’s okay, just wait and see. Your string of lights is still bright to me. Oh, who you are is not where you’ve been. You’re still an innocent.” You give everyone a minute to think about the lyrics before the silence is too much for you to take.

“I’m sorry if that’s weird! It’s just, the first time I saw you, and there was this look in your eyes. In all of your eyes, but yours the most.” You are looking straight at Hotch. “Like you’ve been through some really terrible things, and maybe you had to do some things that can be hard to deal with. But, that doesn’t make you a bad person or anything, ya know? That’s where the inspiration came from…” You can’t tell if your rambling helped or not. The profilers are so hard to read. Pen is subtly crying near the side of your bed, so you pull her in for a hug. Before you know it, the rest of the team is joining in.

“It’s not weird at all. You are pretty good at reading people, ever consider becoming a profiler?” Hotch is clearly trying to lighten the mood, but his expression conveys how much he appreciates the song.

“I think this will be my first and last case. Clearly I’m not that great at talking down the bad guy.” You shudder to think of putting yourself in that position again.

“From what I heard, you did a pretty decent job. The ending was exactly what we expected unfortunately. Plus, you can definitely hold your own. I heard you flipped Morgan over your shoulder like a ragdoll.” Rossi’s comment earns laughs from the entire group.

“Please, I just caught him off guard. Although, I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on his face afterwards.” Again, the groups laughs. “I just wanted to thank you all. For protecting me, but also for visiting me so much. You really know how to see the positive side of things.”

“Anyone willing to jump in front of a bullet for Spencer is definitely a friend of ours.” JJ chimes in.

You can’t help but truly smile at the team. It seems you’ve found yourself another family, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #Criminal Minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst

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