I would love to see more of badass reader x Spencer, but maybe reader gets hurt on a case (like a concussion or something) and only wants Spencer and we get to see more of reader’s soft spot for Spencer. Idk if that made sense or if that’s anything you’d be interested in writing. Love reading whatever you write!💕
thank you for your request and for reading babe!! —your singular soft spot for spencer rises to the surface when you get hurt in the field. fem!reader, 1.1k
Emily's foot tap tap taps hospital linoleum. The nurses are getting worried about you —your CAT scans are fine, but you're lethargic. Mildly concussed with moderate symptoms, you winced at the lights, told Emily to turn them off, and haven't said much since.
She frowns. It's not nice to see someone who's usually so closed-off openly pained. "You okay?" she asks.
"I wanna see Spence," you murmur.
Emily nods slowly. She's had this conversation with you already. You have a spot of amnesia, nothing to worry about, decidedly temporary.
"Why hasn't he come to see me?" you ask. Your voice trips and tumbles, your eyes glowing with a glassy sheen. "I thought he'd come to… make sure I was okay. But he doesn't want to see me."
"Spencer's on the way here. He was an hour away with Hotch, remember? They're on their way."
You twitch like a displeased cat under your sheets and turn away from her, sniffling weakly. Your shoulders heave with slow tears. Emily gets up to rub your back but thinks better of it when you stiffen. She doesn't understand how you function, doesn't know what it is about Spencer alone that you can be vulnerable with him and not the others, but she won't judge you for it. She just wishes there was more she could do.
It's an untold amount of time between your tears and Spencer's awaited arrival. You're worse than lethargic, depressed, hand lax behind your back and unresponsive to the sound of the door.
"She's asleep?" he mouths. His hair is limp either side of his face, flattened by anxious hands.
"Upset," she mouths back through a frown, drawing a tear down her cheek with her pinky finger.
He doesn't give Emily a second glance after that.
"Hey," he says softly, rounding your hospital bed, touching the tips of his fingers to your hip and drawing a gentle line up your side. His head dips down, bending at the waist to see you better in the dim lighting. "Hey, what's wrong?"
You make a small keening sound from the back of your throat. It's so cleaving that Emily wants to leave, so painful that she wants to stay. You're her friend too. Emily cares about you, even when it hurts to do so.
"I don't feel like me," you say.
Spencer doesn't shy away either. His expression is open, reassuring as he pops into a semi squat that can't be comfortable. His hand closes around your arm, thumb feeling the naked skin there sweetly. "It's normal to feel confused after a head injury. I promise it won't last."
"I don't feel well," you say, small, like a scared kid.
"I know."
You reach for him. Emily knows Derek would never believe it, your hands stretched out almost desperately, the pleading noise yanked from between teeth normally gritted. Spencer wraps long arms around you with the ease of someone who's done it before, maybe exactly like this.
"It's okay," he says. He's speaking with pep he doesn't feel. Emily can see he's stressed in the high pinch of his shoulders, but he's putting on a show for you. "You don't have to be scared. It's okay."
The perpetual line carved between Hotch's brows seems deeper as he enters the room. Neither of you look up, your back loosening under the lazy back and forth of Spencer's hand.
"Concerning, right?" Emily asks.
Hotch ignores her, but not for lack of agreement. "What do her observations say?"
"Mild to moderate head injury, post-concussion amnesia, fractured index and middle finger on her left hand."
"Where are her clothes?" he asks.
"They can't check her out until she gets her fingers cast and all she brought in her go bag was slacks."
"I'll get her some pyjamas," Hotch says.
Emily's not sure what's funnier, the idea of you in pyjamas, the image of Hotch choosing a pair, or the word pyjamas in his stoic murmur. He lingers to make sure you're okay, his eyes tracking the tremble of your arms as Spencer talks too low to hear in your ear, having sat down on the bed and curled himself around you protectively.
You moan something sad and Spencer laughs, your hospital gown crinkling as he massages the top of your shoulder. "Why would you say that?" he asks lightly. "You think you know better than me? Really?"
"Of course not," you say. If it were anyone else, you'd have knocked them off the bed already.
"I don't remember you having an eidetic memory," he furthers.
You actually manage to laugh for the first time since your initial injury. "I don't remember anything right now," you say.
Emily leans over to Hotch. "You know, when we first came in, I suggested to the nurse that she might have amnesia because she kept asking me where she was, and she looked me dead in the eye and said, well, good thing you're not a nurse."
Hotch scoffs a laugh. "It's a little surprising even now. Seeing them together, you'd never think it."
"Think what?" Emily asks, fond rather than judgemental. "That she's as emotional as a China teacup?"
"I'll remember for both of us," Spencer murmurs, stroking your face. "Okay? So calm down."
Derek once told you to calm down and felt the cold of your icy attitude for a ragged week. Spencer says it and you take a visible deep breath, your head laying back in your pillows, his hand quick to cup the side of your neck. "Okay," you say quietly.
"It's not just that," Hotch says, failing to explain further.
He doesn't have to. Emily knows what he means. You can be snippy, aloof, unfriendly. But it's not just your softening that's surprising, it's Spencer's growing confidence. The ease with which he handles you, hands unabashed in their comforting.
"Want me to find you something to wear?" Spencer asks.
"We got it," Hotch interrupts. "Take it easy, Y/N. Rest."
You nod obediently. He and Emily leave, hearing a last snippet of conversation as the heavy door closes behind them.
"You wanna sign my cast, when they do it?" you ask hopefully.
"Are you kidding? I'd love to. I've always wanted to sign someone's cast, and it's good for your morale."
"Will they be in a cast long, do you think?"
"They should be healed in about six to eight weeks, but you may not regain full strength for another two months afterward. There have actually been studies…"
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