oneshots

28

You heard the key turning the lock of the door, indicating that your husband, Spencer, is back. Your heart beat fast in your chest, your palms becoming sweaty. You set the food you prepared for his return out on the table, making sure everything is perfect. Spencer returned from a two-week long case in Wisconsin, and you wanted to do something special for him.

Standing in the corridor to the hall way, smoothing over the black dress that you picked out, your hands run over your stomach, the gesture bringing a new wave of emotions. You can feel the tear welling up in your tear ducks. You quickly fan your face, trying desperately to stop the tears.

The front door swung open, revealing your very tired husband. You plastered a smile to your face as you walked towards him, your arms stretched out, pulling him into a comforting hug. His long lanky arms wrapped around your frame, lifting you off your feet. You inhale his scent, the smell of his cologne mixed with old books taking you somewhere else.

"I missed you, Babe."

"I missed you, too, Y/N." Holding each other for a few moments, you hear the front door close. Spencer set you back on your feet, releasing you from his hug. He smoothed your hair back, taking the strains and tucking them behind your ear. He bends down and press his smooth lips on your forehead. You revel in the kiss, feeling guilt and worthlessness washing over you again. You fight back the tears, forcing another smile on your face.

"I made you dinner. Your favorite, Spaghetti." Ignoring the look of confusion on his face, you take his hand and lead him to the table. The smell of the spaghetti filling your nose, causing your stomach to churn. You force the bail back down, keeping your face as neutral as possible, but the act didn't go unnoticed by the profiler.

Waited for him to sit down before you forked him a decent amount of spaghetti on his plate. You sit down across from him, resting you chin in the palm of your hands, keeping your eyes on him. His face scrunched up, eyebrows knitted together. He cocked his head to the side, his plate of food long forgotten.

"You're not going to eat?"

"Don't worry about me babe. I'm not hungry." He wipes a hand over his face, a sigh leaving his plump lips. He pushes his plate away from him, leaning forward so his elbows rested on the table. His weary eyes lands over your form.

"Y/N, what's wrong?"

"What do you mean?" Starring at the table, you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms over your torso. You glance up at him, seeing his eyes rack over your body, dancing over your facial features. You can almost hear the gears in his head turning, trying to figure out something.

"Spencer, please stop profiling me."

"Do you blame me. Two weeks ago you called me, telling me that you have big new to tell me. I could hear it in your voice that you were so excited and happy to tell me. But now, when I come back, I see that that happiness is gone from your voice. You look like you haven't slept for days, and I can tell you are holding back tears." He outstretched his hand, taking one of your hands, untucking it from your torso. "Please Y/N. Just tell me what is wrong. I can take it."

Looking into his big brown eyes, his eyes filled with worry, his grip on your hand tightening. You noticed the bags under his eyes from lack of sleep. Your heart ached for him, he's already been through enough, why should you make it even worse. You want to tell him but the guilt is taking over. You haven't noticed but tears began to fall from your eyes, coming down in big droplets. A shaky sob fell from your lips, your shoulders shaking. Here it comes, what the doctors described to you what will happen, since you didn't cry then. The weight of it all coming down and smothering you until you were left a red faced mess.

Doubling over, you head landing in your lap. You hear the chair scratch the floor as Spencer appeared in front of you, kneeling, his hand rubbing your back.

"I-I'm s-s-orry, Sp-enc-er." You hiccupped.

"Tell me what's wrong, please. Y/N." Lifting your head, your teary eyes connecting with his. Your heart breaking even more, almost painful. Taking deep breaths, you try to calm down enough to get your sentences out clearly. Spencer puts his hands on your cheeks, his thumbs wiping away your tears.

"About three weeks ago, I wasn't feeling good. I was throwing up, I was always tired, my back was aching more than usual. I thought it was the flu, so I went to the doctor. It turns out that I was..."

"Pregnant." He finished your sentence, a ghost of a smile upon his face, until it clicked. "You said was?"

New tears came, you hiccupped again, full blown sobs coming out. "I woke up a few days ago, and I was bleeding. There was so much blood, I knew something was wrong. I'm s-s-so s-sorry. I couldn't keep our b-baby alive. I can't do the one thing that a woman is supposed to do."

"Y/N, don't you dare say that. Look at me." He forced you to look at him, your eyes closed tight, snot dripping from your nose. His voiced wavering as he spoke. "Do not blame yourself for something that commonly happen to 75% of women. None of it is your fault."

"I f-f-feel so usel-less. I couldn't give you the family that you deserve." Clutching onto his button down shirt, you finally opened your eyes. Spencer was crying as well, his face scrunched up, the epitome of broken with in his expression.

"Y/N, you don't need to prove yourself to me, you don't need to have a child to prove your worth. I married you for you, not what you can give me. I love you so much. Don't ever think that you are worthless." He scoots closer to you, his body resting between your thighs, smoothing back your hair. "There will come a time where your belly will be swollen with my child. It's perfectly fine that it didn't happen this time. We will try again. But you are not useless. You are so strong, and caring. And I know that when we do have our first daughter or son, that you will be amazing."

Your heart fluttered, as the tears stopped. You stroked his jaw, working your way up to his cheeks. The heavy atmosphere lifted slightly as the two of you looked deeply into each others eyes, not saying a word. He stared so intently at you, his eyes showing you that he believed every word that he said. Desperately wanting you to believe them as well. Feeling the love mixed in with the sorrow, the emptiness that you once felt that dreadful day subsiding, but only a little. The pain of having a miscarriage forever burned into your soul.

This man. This sweet, perfect man is all you have to hold on to.

Grateful that you married him.

Ecstatic that you can call him yours.

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder, small whimpers replacing the sobs. Spencer wrapped you in his arms, pulling you tight against his chest. His heartbeat thumped loudly in his chest, the sound like music to your ears.

"I'll call Hotch and request a few weeks off. You need someone here to help you cope with your loss."

Nodding your head, your eyes began to droop. Spencer heard you breathing becoming even. Tucking his arm under your legs, he picks you up bridal style, and carries you to your bedroom. Pulling the covers back, he sets you gentle on the bed, lying next to you. You cuddle into him, his chin resting on your head, your fingers curled in his shirt, feeling safe and secure, like always.

You slowly drift off to sleep, his breathing putting you to sleep. The thought of your unborn child drifting to the back of your head as you basked in everything that is your husband.