Innocence [ spencer reid x reader ] ✔

thirteen: lies

TW: mentions of drug use, yelling, use of a safe word
also: not me using the same gif as constantpanicmode in this chapter oop (i love you bby) this chapter may or may not be ✨inspired✨ by her fic

The jet ride back to headquarters was a quiet one. After leaving the plantation, the team had taken Spencer to the hospital to get him checked out. He had minor injuries: a beaten foot and a cut on his head that they stitched shut. He was severely dehydrated—they hydrated him with fluids and got some food into his system. You—along with the team—never left his side, sleeping in his hospital room and making sure he was never alone.

He barely spoke—which is super unlike Spencer. He assured everyone he was okay, and a very big chunk of you definitely did not believe him. You eye him, laid across the little bench on the jet, passed out. His lips are slightly parted, his breathing even. You bite the inside of your cheek, remembering him at the cemetery, slipping something into his pocket.

What the fuck was it?

The jet lands and you walk over to Spencer, shaking him awake gently. He jolts awake, his hand moving to grip your wrist. He looks up at you with wide eyes, his breath hitching in his throat.

"Hey, it's just me," you whisper, kneeling down so you're level with his face. "It's just me."

After a moment, his grip loosens from your wrist. "S-Sorry."

"It's okay," you say gently. "Come on, the jet landed. Let me drive you home."

He sits up, rubbing his forehead before standing. You and Spencer exit the jet, trailing behind the team. Your hand brushes his and you move to grab it, trying not to feel too rejected when Spencer pulls his hand away. You purse your lips, inhaling deeply through your nose. When the team walks into the bullpen, Hotch turns around to face everyone.

"All things considered, paperwork can wait. Everyone please go home."

The team breaks apart, and you walk ahead of Spencer, silent. You hear his footsteps behind you as you walk to your car, unlocking it. You climb into the driver's side, Spencer slipping into the passenger's side. You start the car, turning your head to look at him.

"Spence." He keeps his gaze forward, his jaw clenched. "Spencer. Look at me."

He turns his head, his hazel eyes looking into yours. "Don't."

"Don't what?" You ask him softly, reaching over to grip his wrist softly.

"Don't look at me like that," he whispers. "Like I'm...a victim."

"Hey." You lean closer to him. "You just went through something extremely traumatic. Maybe you don't like being called a victim, but that's what you are. You were fucking kidnapped, Spence. I was so fucking worried."