spencer reid one shots

doctor reid//spencer reid

word count: 2.3k
warnings: death of a child (but no description of the event)

work is almost never easy. running around an ER and being a trauma surgeon doesn't really make for good days. sure, there are moments when we save a patient and they get to walk out of the hospital with a smile. but other days, families leave without the person they drove to the hospital for just a minor concern. those are the days that i lock myself in a bathroom after someone dies on my table and just cry until i get paged for another surgery.

there's days where i'm the one who feels like i've lost a family member, where i go home and mourn the loss of a patient. and sure, there's days where no one dies and i can save a life, then i go home and have dinner with my husband and have a good nights sleep.

but those days rarely happen. i'm good at what i do and i know it, hit theres day where a patient is past the point of return, where a resident makes a mistake that i have to take the blame for, where a small black spot is missed in a ct scan and the patient dies before we realize the issue. those days happen more often than i want to think about.

i drag myself home on those days, choking back tears and ignoring the rumbling in my stomach as i recognize that i haven't eaten in my entire sixteen hour shift. and those are the days that i clench my jaw to keep myself from breaking down and getting into a car accident.

and those are the days, days like today, where i don't have the energy to even hang up my bag or put my keys in the bowl when i open the door. where all i can do is just try to keep my knees from buckling and try not to trip over the carpet.

the silence in the house is almost suffocating and a bit alarming, and the red flags in my head start to fly. i suddenly have a new surge of energy, sprinting up the stairs, eyes frantically scanning across the doors in the hallway.

i find a bedroom door cracked open, a soft glow shining into the hallway. i creep forward, trying to keep the floorboards from creaking, and pushing the door open further.

spencer has his back to me as he bounces the baby in his arms, shushing and cooing quietly, despite a silent baby. i watch for a moment and let my heart swell up, and my presence is only discovered when spencer bounces around in a full circle, smiling as he finds me in the doorway.

"hi," he whispers, placing his large hand atop david's head.

"hi," i whisper back, stepping inside and closing the door a bit. "is he okay?"

spencer nods, adjusting his hold. "he was just a little fussy. nothing to worry about."

"are you sure?" i place my hand atop his, staring down at david's chubby cheeks and pouting lips and closed eyes. "are you sure he doesn't have a fever or a-"

"he's fine," spencer insist, narrowing his eyes at me. the bouncing stops, and he presses himself into my side. "are you okay?"

i just keep my eyes down on my child, smiling when he hiccups and cuddles up against spencer's shoulder. the tears well up in my eyes, and when i place my finger on top of david's tiny hand, that is clutching spencer's cardigan, he grabs my finger and squeezes. just like the day he was born.

"no," i answer, despite the small smile on my face, "but he's so cute, isn't he? i can't believe we made him."

"do you wanna talk about it?" spencer asks, slowly walking back to the crib and placing david down. he only fusses a little bit, letting out a whine and releasing my finger from his grasp.