Spencer Reid: Oneshots

I'm Not Going Anywhere

Summary: Reader makes sure Spencer is feeling better after a particularly grim nightmare.
Warning: Mention of murder, nightmares

Your head lay gently atop Spencer's chest, the smooth pattern of inhaling and exhaling easily sending you to sleep. You never fell asleep easily, but somehow, with Spencer, you always were out in minutes. Truthfully, you didn't have a very valid base for that claim since you'd only gone to sleep with him once before this. The two of you met after you got a flat tire, and he drove you home, which was oddly fitting for a guy like him. Neither of you had been in a serious relationship before and took it slow, only sleeping together for the first time after 3 months of dating the week before. It felt like a nervous weight was lifted, and you felt closer to him in a certain way. So when he invited you inside after going to a museum, you sort of figured that this was bound to happen. Not that I mind. You must've been asleep for a few hours when you heard faint mumbling. Your eyes were heavy, and you were exhausted. Am I dreaming? You brushed it off as muffled noise from outside, the city was loud all the time anyways. You shut your eyes again, hoping that Spencer's almost rhythmic breathing would send you to sleep again. Geez, he breathes faster when he's asleep. You shut your eyes, the murmuring not subsiding. What was it? To you, it sounded like...no? That can't be right. You shut your eyes, drowning out the noise. It stopped for a few minutes as you drifted back to sleep.

"No...no...no...NO! Y/N! Y/N! NO!"

You shot up, looking over at Spencer. His eyes were shut, sweat dripping down the side of his face as he tossed and turned, still yelling. "Spencer! Spencer! Spence!" You grabbed his shoulders, shaking him. "Spencer! Wake up!"

The boy's eyes opened quickly as he gasped for air. "Y/N?"

You realized you were crying. "I'm right here," you whispered, gently brushed your fingers along his jawline. "I'm here."

"I'm sorry," he breathed, his voice breaking slightly. "I'm so sorry."

"Hey, what are you sorry for?"

"This. All of it. The cases, the screaming, the long hours, the—"

"I mean this with all the love in the world but shut up, Spencer." You moved some hair from his face. "You know I don't care about that."

"You don't have to pretend," he whispered.

"I'm not pretending." You cupped his face. "I love you too much to care."

Spencer wiped his eyes. "What did I say?"

You bit your lip. "My name and no."

His eyes glossed up. "You were there." His voice cracked, tears coming out.

"Spence...shhh." You moved his head to your lap, gently running your hands through his hair. "My psych class in college said talking about this kind of stuff is good for you."

"I don't wanna freak you out."

"It's a dream, and what can happen when I'm safe here with you?" You kissed his forehead.

"They took you, and they killed you right in front of me." Oh.

"Who is they?" You asked quietly.

"I don't know," he breathed. "I'm sorry."

"It was just a dream, okay?" You continued to stroke his hair, just letting his tears soak your—technically his—shirt. "Everything is going to be okay. I'm right here." How are you even supposed to calm someone down from that?

"Sorry," he said quietly, moving the covers as to invite you to lay back down. You smiled softly, laying down so that your foreheads gently rested against each other's. "I've never had someone here for me like this."