Spencer Reid/ MGG One Shots

The Gentle Man (hurt/comfort)

A/N: this was a request from my tumblr (SpookyDrReid) and i just loved it so much. So here it is to break your hearts. You're welcome

Spencer used to be a gentle man.

I say "used to" because he changed after prison.

Now, he was rough. The wounds of his trauma opened once more, leaving him vulnerable to those around him.

I saw it in him when I went with his team to go get him. The way his amber eyes no longer sparkled. I saw it in the way he flinched when I moved to hug him. I saw it. And everyone else saw it too.

I thought that I would get better with time. That if I pretended everything was okay, he would be okay. But he wasn't. He was angry at the bureau for abandoning him after he gave up the past fifteen years of his life to them. He was angry at Cat Adams for toying with him the entire time. And he was angry at the world for all it's put him through.

Life hadn't been kind to Spencer. The boy with genius brain, who skipped grades and was good at just about everything he tried, had a tough life. Between his mother's illness, his father leaving, and all the trauma that came with being an Agent.

All of it chipped away pieces of him. Taking hold until there was almost nothing left. And now he was running on fumes.

But I was the one who saw what happened in the middle of the night. I saw the horror behind his beautiful eyes. I saw the scared man who was afraid to touch me. To taint the innocent image he had of me.

But he could never.

Because I loved Spencer. All of him. The good, the bad, and the terrible, I loved him. For better or worse, that's what I said on that bright summer Sunday in June all those years ago. And I meant it. I knew what I was getting myself into when he slipped that diamond on my finger. I chose to accept anything and everything he was going to show me.

"You don't fucking get it, y/n."

Spencer had come home late in the night from a bad case. Kids. A kid like him killed those who made his life hell. And it killed Spencer that he related to him. That he empathized with a murderer.

Hotch had called me before they boarded. Just giving me a heads up on Spencer's mental state. And I was glad. It gave me time to prepare myself. Spencer had never hurt me. And I knew he never would. That wasn't the kind of man he was.

But I wasn't prepared for the storm that had features that resembled my husband that walked through that front door. He threw his stuff down by the door, toeing off his shoes and brushing past my waiting figure. He didn't say a word. Instead, he kept walking until he was in our bedroom. I sighed.

"Spencer," I called as I knocked on the door. He hummed. "Can I do something to help you?"

"You can leave me alone." I tried not to be hurt, but it was hard when his tone was so harsh.

I moved closer, sitting on the bed next to him, "Spence... please talk to me. You can't shut me out."

He jumped up, putting as much space as possible between the two of us, "you don't fucking get it, y/n. Stop trying to act like you know what I'm going through."

I looked at him with pleading eyes, "I'm not trying to pretend I know what's going on. I've never pretended to know, Spencer. I just can't help you when you don't talk to me."

He ran his hands down his face, a sigh escaping his lips in frustration. He wouldn't look at me but he didn't have to for me to see the anxiety swimming in his eyes, "I don't want your fucking help. You're my wife, not my therapist."

"I never said I was you therapist, Spencer. I know what you went through was hard. I know you did things you aren't proud of. But that doesn't make you a bad person. It makes you a fighter."

That must've struck a nerve. Because no sooner did the words leave my lips, he picked up the glass vase, that held the flowers he'd gotten me just days prior, and chucked it at the wall. It shattered. Pieces of glass and water and petals littered the wall and floor.

I jumped, tripping over my feet and falling to the floor. Tears streamed down my face before I could swallow them. Spencer stood there, his eyes flickering between me and the broken glass.

"Bunny..." I looked up at him and wiped my eyes. I'm not sure what he saw in them, but the tears in his eyes spilled over as he said, "dont look at me like that, like you're afraid of me."

I cringed. He thought I was afraid of him? I could never be afraid of him. He was a broken man and all's I wanted to do was glue his pieces back together. I'd succeeded once and I would succeed again. I didn't care if it took ten years or the rest of my life.

I stood. My legs shaky as I carefully walked towards him, "I'm not afraid of you, Spence. I've never been afraid of you." It was the cold hard truth.

He took a step back, "I make a mess of everything in my life. I hurt the people I love. I don't know why you love me."

I held him then. Wrapped my arms around his middle and caught him as his body collapsed in a heap of sobs. I carefully brought him to the floor, holding him to me while he sobbed. He gripped my shirt tight; like if he let go, I would leave. But I would never.

"You, Spencer Reid, are good. You are someone the world tried to leave behind. And you didn't let them. You're strong. You've been tested and come out better in the end. Sure, cracks remained but that's what makes you, you. I'm not afraid of you. I just want to help you heal."

He looked up at me then, his puppy dog stare crushing my heart. God, I was so in love with this man. I leaned down, pressing my lips to his in a soft, healing kiss. And when I moved to pull away, his hands caught my face, "wait. Don't pull away... not yet." And so I didn't.

Spencer Reid used to be a gentle man.

And in that room, in my arms, his wounds started to heal and he started to become gentle once more.