Dear Spencer Reid | 1

11. mistaken

"I love you."

—
A chill ran down your spine, and you raised your eyebrows.

"Did you just say what I think you said?"

Spencer nodded, smiling widely as he cupped your face, squishing you so that your lips would pucker like a fish.

"Why wouldn't I love you? You're my best friend. I also love Derek, Garcia, even Hotch, though he's kind of mean from time to time.." Spencer trailed off, mumbling as he continued.

Best friend?

You knew he was most likely heavily drugged from all of the pain he was in, but the way he spoke stung you.

You didn't understand. You stared back at him in disbelief, wanting to scream in his face.

"I'm going to actually.. Go get some more coffee. I'll be back." You retracted from his grasp, and picked up your empty cup, rushing past a sleeping Derek as you exited the room. You closed the door softly behind you, and bent over, pressing your hands onto your knees. the paper coffee cup clattered to the floor as you squeezed your knees, feeling as if you had been punched in the gut.

This was a complete embarrassment.

You had blown your whole relationship out of proportion, and the emotional karma was all falling upon your shoulders.

All of the longing gazes, delicate kisses.. You refused to believe the passion between the two of you was completely fabricated.

You heard the door click open behind you, and you stumbled as you got back to your feet, turning around.

"Hey.." Derek spoke, yawning. "I thought you were getting coffee? That's what Spencer told me, at least."

You shook your head, and pressed your palms into your forehead.

"Spencer told me that he loves me.." Derek's lips began to curl into a smile. ".. As a friend. He said, 'why wouldn't I love you? You're my best friend.'" Derek's expression dropped.

He paused, and put a hand on your shoulder. "Let me talk to him. I swear, I can get the truth out of him y/n. I know- I know he looks at you in a different way then anyone else. Trust me."

You shrugged, fiddling with the zipper of Spencer's sweatshirt. "I'll go get some food for the two of us. Promise you'll be done with your heart-to-heart by then?"

Derek nodded in response, and returned into Spencer's room, whilst you walked the opposite way, towards the visitor's cafe.

Derek let out a frustrated sigh, and Spencer sat up a little bit.

"What's wrong?" Spencer asked, his fingers playing with his hospital bed sheets.

Derek took the seat you had previously been sitting in and leaned his elbows on the bed.

"Spencer, you may have an IQ of 187, but you're a fucking idiot sometimes." Derek's words confused Spencer.

"How do you mean? I know I wasn't being careful when we were cornering the unsub, but we couldn't see that he had extra rounds for his gun-" Derek held up a hand, interjecting.

"I'm not talking about the case. Anyone could've gone down for that. I'm talking about y/l/n."

Spencer raised his eyebrows. "What about y/n?"

Derek groaned. This would be a lot harder to work out than he thought.

"Reid, she drove here straight from a club. You know that a long drive sober can be hard enough. I could hear her heart breaking in her voice as she sobbed from the other goddamn line of our phone call as I told her that your ass got shot!"