The Red Lounge ~Spencer Reid x Reader ~

By My Side

Early Morning attitude adjustments.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mfhBoHKnTOY

I startled awake, my body shooting up from the mattress as the last images of my nightmare faded from my vision. I was panting, my body shaking and sweating. I turned, glancing down to Spencer, who was staring up at me, sad concern on his face as he watched the panic leave my body slowly. "Sorry." I gasped, throwing the blankets off my body, only to hiss at the burn on my ass and legs. I glared down at the pain, as if it was a real person, then stood, needing to walk off the dream.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, his voice breaking with sleep as he too, sat up, facing toward me without leaving the bed. I shook my head, and in my vanity I saw him frown, but his eyes connected with mine in the reflection and he sighed.

"It wasn't even really a nightmare." I replied finally. I saw his head tilt and I turned to face him, deciding I wanted nothing more than to be in his arms. He read this on my face and opened his arms to me, allowing me to climb into his arms as he laid back down on the bed, my arms tucked safely between us. "It was just... panic. First I was trying to find my mom in the home, but no one knew where she was. And Jamie was there, just sitting there, not doing anything to help. And... my dad-" I trailed off, my hand stilling on his chest where I had begun drawing circles around a mole.

"It's a common trauma response," he started, bringing a hand up to brush hair away from my face and tuck it behind my ear. "You are being asked to shoulder all these burdens, with no one to help you unload them." He smiled, his hand resting on the side of my face, the weight grounding me to this waking world. "Even therapists need therapists." He finished, shrugging and smiling a goofy smile. I couldn't help but copy it, my face tilting in a disturbed and tired smile.

"Who helps the last therapist then?" I teased and Spencer searched my eyes in the moonlit dark and I looked over his shoulder, watching as the sky was just beginning to turn grey, the memory of us in the park forcing itself to the forefront of my mind.

"Like, who's the alpha therapist?" He replied, drawing a giggle from my chest, a bright smile appearing on his face at the sound.

"Yes, precisely." I said seriously, trying not to laugh as I nodded. He mimicked my face, that serious consideration crossing his mind.

"I suppose it's a vicious cycle." He replied with a non committal shrug.

"It will remain a mystery." I agreed, before the both of us laughed, my head dropping to his chest as his arms circled around me.

We sat, breathing each other's air for a moment, and I shifted, curling even closer into his side, breathing deeply the smell of him. His cologne had worn off by now, and all that I could smell was him. The slight smell of sweat and sleep lulling me back to sleep.

*~*~*

When (Y/n)'s breathing finally evened out, Spencer took the time to examine her face closely. He had been awake from the moment she started twitching in her sleep, a nightmare of his own waking him moments before. He had considered reaching out to her to bring her close to him, but he knew from experience that all that would do would scare her, this house and life was restrictive enough, and in a state of half sleep which she would no doubt be in if he grabbed her, she would only panic and possibly lash out.

Instead, he had started talking to her quietly, saying her name and telling her that he was there and that she was safe. She had started muttering, but the twitching stopped, and so he had brushed his fingers up and down her arm until finally she shot up, awake, breathing as if she had never had air before.

Now, back asleep and peacefully smiling as she nuzzled into his chest, he traced the lines of her face with his eyes. The way her hair framed her face though she hated when it was in the way, subconsciously brushing it out of the way, even if there was nothing there she would repeat the motion, as if the thing bothering her was as easy to brush away as an errant strand of hair. How her eyes lit up when she spoke about something she loved, or how they shined with silent appreciation. He would do anything to make her look at him like that again.