Spencer Reid | Oneshots

Fairy Tales ☁️ (G)

Summary: Spencer comes home to his very tired wife and even more tired child who refused to go to bed without a bedtime story from their dad.

Rating: G

Content Warning: None!

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There was something particularly unnerving about pulling up to my house at 1AM on a Wednesday to find nearly every light in the house turned on and music blaring so loudly that I could hear it from the driveway.

Normally, I would have been worried that something had happened, having seen what I've seen at my job. The loud music could be a distraction from much worse sounds, and the lights on could be a cry for help.

But as I approached the door, I heard a very familiar two-year-old voice practically screaming the words to 'I Just Can't Wait to Be King' from Disney's Lion King. In an instant, my concerns, while still present, quickly changed from morbid to lighthearted.

The music was deafening when I opened the door, which I quickly shut behind me to try and spare my neighbors the noise.

What I found inside could only be described as pure chaos.

Toys were strewn all over the floor, with half-empty juice boxes and snack bags on every tabletop I could see. Carefully making my way through the hallway, I tried to restore what little order I could.

I wasn't mad, though. In fact, I couldn't stop smiling. As much as I hated clutter and mess, each aberrant object was painting a vivid picture of what exactly my wife had put up with while I was away. I was starting to wonder where exactly she was while I cleared a path to the living room.

But then I saw her. She was curled up on the couch, swaddled in one of my cardigans and desperately clutching a pillow. Another room over, our child had moved on from Lion King to Mulan.

She didn't even flinch at the rhythmic swells, so fast asleep that if it weren't for the gentle rising of her chest, I might be worried something was wrong. But no, she was just a very, very tired mother.

And God, did I love her.

Leaning over the back of the couch, I gently ran my hand over her hair. At first, she still didn't move beyond a small twitch of her lips into a smile at the contact. I couldn't help but laugh.

The sound, although barely audible over the music, was enough to break through her near-comatose state. She shot up in the couch, almost falling off in the process.

"I'm awake!" she shouted, her voice hoarse and entirely unconvincing.

"Sure you are," I returned at a quieter volume, resting my forearms on the couch to continue taking in the sleepy sight.

Once she noticed it was me, her entire demeanor changed. The tension fell from her shoulders and her head fell to the side with an exasperated sigh.

"Oh, Spencer, thank fuck you're home."

"How are you sleeping through this?"

I noted the bored expression on my wife's face as she glanced over to the other room, clearly unaffected by the commotion.

She looked back at me equally exhausted before she droned, "Spencer, I have not slept in over 48 hours."

"What's happening?"

The look on her face caused guilt to brew in my chest, because I could tell that she was trying to find a way to explain what was happening without letting me blame myself.