Multifandom Oneshots + Imagines

S p e n c e r

(This is placed around Season 5.)

Summary: After Spencer being kidnapped by Tobias Hankel, trapped in a room filled with poisonous chemicals, and being shot in the leg, Y/n is worried about Spencer's wellbeing. Y/n decides to talk to him about it. This can be interpreted as platonic friendship or romantic interest pre-confession.

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I curl up into one of the chairs, making my figure as small as possible. The fetal position always makes me feel safe, free of limbs poking out awkwardly. Maybe it's the childhood fear of monsters under the bed.

My eyes dart around the plane, taking in the figures of my teammates. Hotch on the phone, speaking softly so as to not disturb the others. Morgan with his headphones in, eyes closed and head leaned against the chair. Reid dragging a finger down the pages of a book, flipping the page every so often.

I observe him quietly, eyes darting from his face to his hands and back, drinking him in. A pit in my stomach grew as I became lost in thought.

So much has happened to him lately. He's been through much and he acts as though nothing is happening.

I looked down, chewing my lip. I wanted to say something, but I didn't know what. I didn't know whether to scold him for making me worry or just hug him. Truthfully, I wanted to do both.

It never ceases to amaze me, how selfless he is. It's admirable, but it's still scary.

All throughout the flight home, I wanted to say something, but words failed to form in my mouth. Even when we had arrived back in Quantico the right sentence didn't come to me. It was only when he was gathering his things preparing to leave that I opened my mouth.

"Spencer?" I glanced up at him, my voice small.

"Yeah?"

I had no words. All I could muster was a small "Bye," and a feeble hand wave.

"Bye. See you tomorrow." He smiled before disappearing from the office and out of sight.

That was pathetic.

There was nothing I could do now. I pushed through the last of my paperwork, hurrying home. I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed, feeling worn down. When I had reached my bed, however, sleep did not find me. My thoughts were still filled by Spencer.

Is he okay? Is he still awake? Has he eaten?

I glanced at the clock. 11:13 PM. I pondered the idea that had just come to mind. I weighed my choices, eventually deciding that my mental restlessness outweighed my physical exhaustion. Grabbing my keys, phone, and other necessities, I found my way out the door and into my car.

The closer to his place I got, the more worried I became, my mind wandering to a few worst-possible-scenarios. Realizing what I was doing, I turned on music, needing something else to focus on in the meantime. Being upset won't do any good.

The walk from my car to the door of his apartment was a short one, but as I reached the door, I was certain that this was something I needed to do. I didn't even know what I was going to say- in regards to why I was at his house late at night, or what I wanted to say on the plane but didn't know how to. I just needed to see his face.

However, as I knocked, regret began creeping in. Oh God, what if I'm disturbing him? I don't want to wake him...

But I didn't have time to take it back as the door had already opened. There he was, in a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. There was nothing special about how he looked, just about him.

"Y/n? What are you doing here?" He didn't seem annoyed, just surprised.

I looked down, feeling silly all of a sudden. "I don't know. Just wanted to talk to you, I guess."

Crap. That made it sound like I know what I want to say.

He paused for a second, then stepped aside, gesturing for me to come inside. I did so, finding my way to the couch and sitting tentatively. He sat next to me, pouting eyes trained on me.

"What did you want to talk about?" He asked. His voice was soft, like the voice he uses when he's talking to children. It's calming, but seeing as I'm the same age as him, it makes me feel small.

I took a breath, fiddling with the hem of my shirt. Here we go.

"I'm just...worried about you, is all. You've had a whole lot happen these past few months and you haven't talked about it. Not that you have to, or that it has to be to me. I guess I just wanted you to know I'm here if you need me." I let the words flow from my mouth, not knowing where I was going with it. Truthfully, it was much easier to say once I'd gotten the ball rolling.

A silence I didn't know how to interpret filled the room. I looked up at the man, seeing his eyes glossed over, a hurting look on his face. The moment I had made eye contact with him he looked down, sniffing. Rubbing his eyes, he muttered, "Thank you. I don't know if I'm ready to talk about it right now, but I think I need to."

A faint smile graced my lips, watching him. It felt a little odd smiling at someone as they fought tears, but it was that kind of sympathetic smile. This only stirred his emotions up, and a tear fell from the corner of his eye, leaving a trail down his cheek. I leaned back on the couch, opening my arms. I didn't want to hug him without his okay because I understand some people don't like physical touch when they feel vulnerable.

But to my moderate surprise, he crawled into my arms, laying his head on the crook of my shoulder, the arm he was laying on curled around himself and the other around my waist. He tucked his legs in, letting himself cry in my arms. I used one arm to caress his hair, the other holding his hand. My thumb moved delicately over the back of his hand.

We just stayed like that for a while. His choked sobs broke my heart, but I knew he needed it. I didn't speak, knowing he needed to focus on his pain in order to get it all out. Honestly, I doubt I would have known what to say anyways- I'm not good with words. I focused on my breathing, setting an example for him to mimic. When he was ready, his whimpers died down into sniffles, and then into silence. When it sounded like he had finished, I spoke.

"Hey, I hope you know you're doing a good job. You're a good profiler and a good guy. You're handsome and smart and sweet, nobody deserves you. I care about you, the team cares about you." I rested my cheek on the top of his head carefully. He was trembling ever so slightly, and I think a part of me was afraid to break him.

He only nodded, breathing a shaky breath.

It's okay, Spencer. I'm gonna make sure you're okay.

-

A/N: So this was actually not what I had in mind at all when I started writing. It was supposed to be dramatic and heart-wrenching but it turned out to be delicate. Funny how that happens.