Chapter Text
Reader's POV:
After spending about an hour soaking up the steam in your oversized hotel shower, you finally got out and threw on a robe as you completed your night-time routine. Once you felt sufficiently dry, you put on your pajamas (thankfully, this time, you remembered to pack them) and blow-dried your hair.
As you looked at your reflection in the mirror, you noticed how flattering the bathroom lighting was, and you spent a few seconds posing and appreciating how pretty you felt in your cute, pink pajama set.
Finally, after finishing up in the bathroom, you walked back out to the bedroom and pulled out the room service menu. As you read over the late-night food options, your stomach started to rumble like crazy, and you realized you hadn't eaten anything since you shared a yogurt with Spencer early that morning (and promptly lost it into a toilet bowl).
Ordering with your stomach and not your head, you ended up getting a small pizza-for-one, a bowl of tortilla soup, a side spinach salad, and a slice of cheesecake— in other words, a small feast.
After placing the order, you curled up on top of your bed, turned on the TV, and started browsing through the movie catalogue. In the mood for a good rom-com, you landed on How to Lose a Guy in 10 days and rented it for the duration of your stay. It was a classic, cheesy rom-com that you'd always been meaning to watch but had never gotten around to.
Since you didn't want to start the movie before your food arrived, you got up to use the bathroom and kill some time. While you were in there, browsing on your phone, a knock at your door announced that room service had arrived, so you called back for them to leave the food outside of the room. You then got up to wash your hands and made your way out of the bathroom and to your hotel room door.
When you opened the door, an unfamiliar man's presence greeted you unexpectedly and you reacted with a surprised gasp. He had a larger, heavy build, and, from the looks and smells of it, he was very drunkenly admiring your food. It took him a second to register your presence as he turned and looked you up and down, but, as soon as he had processed the image before him, his surprise quickly turned to curiosity, and then attraction.
"Wow. Hello there, gorgeous," he said as he stepped closer to you, partially blocking you from reaching your food.
"Um... hi, I think you have the wrong room," you replied awkwardly as you tried to step around him and grab the cart. He quickly stepped in front of you, closing off the path to your food, and you heart sunk as you heard your hotel room door click shut behind you. Fuck.
"No, I think this is the right room, now," he said flirtatiously as he put one hand on the wall near your head. "What's your name?"
"Look, sir, you're very drunk and this isn't your room or your food, so please back up," you said more forcefully.
"Ooooh, playing hard to get, huh? I like feisty girls," he hissed. You could smell the alcohol dripping from his breath as he backed you up towards the wall, and you started to get this gnawing feeling in your stomach— one that you only ever got when Eric would come home completely wasted. As your hands began to shake involuntarily, you spoke up again as clearly as you possibly could.
"Sir, I'm not going to tell you again. I'm not interested. Please get away from me."
"Or what?" he replied as he tried to reach for your hair, and you slapped his hand away.
"Don't touch me. I'm a federal agent, and I will have you arrested and charged with assault," you asserted, but you knew at this point that your words were falling upon deaf ears.
"Oh, realllllly? A federal agent?" he drunkenly laughed, "Where's your badge and gun, then? Are they hiding in that sexy little nightgown of yours?" he asked as he looked you up and down like a predator eyeing its prey.
You started to panic. You had training for all sorts of situations, including ones like this, but, for some reason, you forgot every last bit of it as you stood there and watched him reach for the bottom edge of your shirt in slow motion. You wanted to move, to run away, but he had you completely blocked in against the wall--- the only thing you could do was scream for help and fight as hard as possible. As you prepared for the worst, you were readying yourself to scream when a familiar voice cut through the silence.
"If you lay a finger on her, I will personally see to it that you spend the rest of your night in an emergency room," a man called out from down the hallway, and the figure hovering over you stopped his advances to turn and look for the source of the interruption. You, however, already knew who it was before you even saw him. You'd recognize that voice anywhere.
You watched silently as Spencer strode down the hallway with his taser pointed directly at the man in front of you, and you silently thanked whatever divine spirits had made sure he showed up when he did.
"Whoooo the hell are you?" the guy slurred, stepping towards Spencer and then instantly stopping in his tracks when he noticed the taser.
"My name is Supervisory Special Agent Spencer Reid, and I work for the FBI. I strongly suggest that you step away from my partner over here unless you'd like to know what 50,000 volts of electricity to the groin feels like," Spencer answered, not once breaking eye contact with the man.
"Wh-you're serious?" the guy asked as Spencer stopped 2 or 3 feet away, and you watched intently as Spencer stared him down. After glancing between you and Spencer a few times, it seemed the man finally got the hint, as he lifted his palms up in surrender and started to stumble backwards down the hall. Even after the guy turned away, Spencer kept his eyes trained on him until he saw the man drunkenly stumble into his own room.
As soon as the hotel room door closed behind him, Spencer turned his attention to you and noticed that you were shaking badly.
"Hey, are you alright? Did he touch you?" he asked as he got closer, but he made sure not to put his hands on you before he knew it was okay.
"He- he tried to touch my hair, but I knocked his hand away," your voice trembled. "But then he reached for my shirt, and I didn't have my gun or anything with me, and I knew he could easily overpower me if I tried to fight back, and I just— I should have screamed, but I— I, I just froze, and—" you rambled hysterically as your eyes filled with tears.
"Hey, hey, it's okay, you're safe now," Spencer reassured you, and you instinctively leaned into him and wrapped your arms tightly around his torso, burying your head in the crook of his neck. Caught off guard by the unexpected embrace, Spencer froze for a second before gratefully returning the hug and stroking the back of your hair. It meant a lot that you felt safe enough with him to initiate physical contact after what had just happened.
"I've got you," Spencer whispered as he gently rested his cheek on the side of your head and held onto you firmly.
The two of you could have stayed that way forever, but, after a minute or so, you slowly let go of him and wiped away your tears.
"Here, let's get you inside," Spencer said gently, and you sniffled and nodded in response. When you reached for your pocket to grab your keycard, however, you realized two things: 1) you didn't have a pocket, because you were wearing pajamas, and 2) you had left the keycard on the nightstand in your room. Optimistically, you tried the handle of your door, but, unfortunately, you were completely locked out.
"Fuck," you mumbled, frustrated with yourself. "I didn't think I would need the key when I came out to grab the food."
"That's okay," Spencer replied as he placed his hand comfortingly on your shoulder. "Hotels have staff on-call 24/7 for stuff like this. My room is right next to yours, so you can just hang out with me while I call for someone to come unlock your door."
You looked up at him and gave him a teary-eyed, but grateful nod as he fished around in his pocket for his keycard. Once he unlocked the door, he let you in first before following you in with the cart of food in tow.
"Is there any chance the connecting door is unlocked on your side?" Spencer asked as he went to unlock his side and try the handle.
"No," you sniffled as you sat down at the foot of his bed. "I didn't know who was going to be staying in this room, otherwise I would've unlocked it. I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry!" Spencer exclaimed as he made his way over to where you were sitting. He put his hands on your shoulders, prompting you to look up at him. "You need to stop apologizing for things that aren't your fault. It does no good for you to beat yourself up over things you have no control over."
You responded with a small, understanding nod, and it took everything in your willpower not to apologize again for apologizing too often.
He studied you for a moment more before taking a step back and grabbing his left sleeve. You watched in confusion as he started to pull off his sweater, revealing a glimpse of his stomach as his undershirt lifted with the sweater, then fell back down to its initial position.
"Here, put this on, you're shaking," he said gently as he handed you the warm article, and you gave him a half-hearted smile to convey your appreciation as you accepted it. Even though both of you knew your tremors weren't a result of feeling cold, you were grateful for the gesture, as well as the chance to cover up. In your head, you couldn't stop hearing the man's remarks about your "sexy little nightgown," and it was making you feel disgusting to still be this exposed. You gladly slid the sweater over your head and discreetly admired the way it smelled of old books, coffee grounds, and a hint of cinnamon— just like Spencer.
Once you finally had the sweater on properly, you looked up to find Spencer wheeling your food over. You glanced down at the cart hesitantly, having lost your appetite again, and Spencer immediately noticed the uncertainty in your expression and returned an empathetic look.
"I know you probably don't feel hungry anymore, but I need you to try and eat a little bit right now," he stated. "Your mind and body are in an extra fragile state due to the lack of food in your stomach, and I promise you'll feel better once you eat something, even if you can only take a few bites. Plus, the food's going to get cold soon, and I don't want you to be sad that you spent all that money just to not eat any of it."
You continued to stare at the food in front of you for another moment before reluctantly nodding and reaching for a slice of pizza. You then looked up at Spencer as you took a bite and watched as a small, appreciative smile spread across his face.
"I'll call the front desk and have them send someone up to unlock your door," he said reassuringly. He then pulled out his phone and dialed the front desk, explaining your current situation to the workers as you continued to take small bites. Even though your appetite was stunted, it was hard to deny that the hotel's pizza was delicious.
"They should have someone up here in a couple of minutes," Spencer announced after he got off the phone, and you greeted him with a grateful smile as he sat down next to you on the bed.
"Thank you," you said quietly as you leaned your head onto his shoulder and bit off another piece of your pizza slice. "Do you want some?" you asked, gesturing to the food in front of you. "I'm not gonna be able to finish all of this, and, like you said, I don't want to waste it."
You could feel Spencer grin as he reached for one of the remaining pizza slices.
"I'd love some," he replied before taking a bite.
"Mmmm, thith ith really good," he remarked as he chewed, and you responded with a half-hearted, breathy chuckle. You really appreciated his efforts to comfort and cheer you up.
Truthfully, you were still thinking about what might've happened if Spencer hadn't shown up when he did. The fear you'd felt in that moment, especially when coupled with the memories that this case had dredged up for you, made today an overwhelming reminder of your past, and it was getting harder and harder for you to ignore the fact that, eventually, you would have to open up to someone about it.
A knock on Spencer's door jolted you out of your present train of thought, and you reactively flinched at the sound, pulling your head off of his shoulder to sit upright. Spencer shot you a concerned look as he placed his hand on your forearm and stood up from his spot on the bed.
"It's okay, it's just the worker here to unlock your door," he said, and just to reassure you, he walked over and looked out the peephole to double-check. He then nodded and gestured for you to come with him, so you finished off your pizza slice and made your way over to the door. When he opened it, a kind-looking lady greeted you with a smile from the other side.
"Hi! Are you Y/N?" she asked, and you nodded.
"Yeah, that's me," you said as you stepped out into the hallway. "Thank you for coming up, I just locked my key in my room," you continued as you led her to your door. Spencer followed the two of you as you walked, not wanting to leave you alone yet.
"No problem at all," the woman said as she took out a keycard and unlocked your door for you. "Do you need anything else?"
"Um..." you hesitated as you held the door open, unsure if you should mention the incident from earlier or not. You looked at Spencer, and he cleared his throat as he stepped forward.
"Yes, actually, would it be possible to submit a complaint about another guest?" Spencer asked, and the lady turned towards him and tilted her head slightly.
"Yes, of course, what's the nature of your complaint?" she replied.
"A-a man was threatening me outside of my room," you interjected. "He was very obviously drunk, and, when I came out to get my food from room service, he backed me up against a wall and was verbally harassing and trying to touch me. That's actually the reason I got locked out. He only stopped and went back to his room because Spencer-" you gestured at the man next to you, "- was walking up at the time and threatened to have him arrested."
The woman's face turned to that of surprise as she listened to your story, and she took out a notepad and pen and jotted a few things down.
"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry," the woman said. "Are you a cop?" she asked, turning to Spencer.
"I, um... we both work as profilers for the FBI, actually," he stated, and he pulled out his wallet to show her his badge.
"Oh, I see," she replied, before turning back to you. "Did you know the man who was harassing you?"
You shook your head, no.
"Did you happen to see what room he went into when he walked away?" she furthered, and you started to shake your head again when Spencer butted in with,
"317. The 3rd door on the right from the end of the hallway." He pointed down the hall for reference as the worker wrote down the room number.
"Alright, thank you. I am going to relay this information to my manager and make sure that the man who harassed you gets blacklisted from staying at this hotel in the future," the woman said. "Unfortunately, even though you work in law enforcement, I don't think we are able to give you his personal information without a warrant due to guest confidentiality. However, I can personally ensure that all of your room service bills for the remainder of your stay are comped, and I may also be able to swing you an extra night for free once I talk to my manager. I know it's not really ideal, but it's the best I can right now do to make up for this incident."
"Thank you so much," you replied. "I don't think I could accept an extra night, since our whole team travels together, but I really appreciate it."
"Of course. I'm so sorry, again, that this happened to you, and if you need anything else--- anything at all--- please don't hesitate to let us know," the woman said as she slowly started away.
"I will. Thank you very much," you replied with a nod as you took a step into your room. Spencer waved awkwardly to the employee before turning to you and stopping at the entrance to your room. You could tell he was unsure of whether or not to follow you in, so you opened the door wider and gestured him inside.
Once you were both in your room, you locked the deadbolt behind you and then unlocked and opened the door connecting yours and Spencer's rooms.
"Thank you," you said, turning to face him. "I don't know what I would have done without you."
"Don't mention it," he responded with a gentle, affectionate smile as he headed through to his room and grabbed the cart of food.
"Do you think you can eat some more?" he asked as he wheeled the room service over to the foot of your bed, and you nodded in reply.
"Yeah, I think so, if you'll stay and eat with me," you answered, and Spencer's face softened at your response.
"Of course I will," he said comfortingly as the two of you made your way over to the foot of the bed and sat down. "Would you be more comfortable sleeping in my room tonight?" he asked. Quickly realizing that his question made it sound like he wanted you to sleep in the bed with him, he added,
"And I could sleep in yours? So if the guy comes back for some reason, you won't be in here?"
After having a mini-heart attack at his initial phrasing of the question, you shook your head.
"No, it's okay, I think I'll be fine sleeping in here," you reassured him. "But... would it be okay if we kept the door open between our rooms for tonight? It would make me feel a little safer to know you're just over there."
"Yeah, of course. Anything you need," Spencer affirmed.
You gave him a grateful smile as you grabbed the bowl of tortilla soup and moved it closer to your edge of the cart. As the two of you resumed eating, a comfortable silence fell between you; however, not long after the conversation had halted, you started to think about all of the terrible memories that today had brought up, and your mood quickly fell again as you looked back on the events of the last few hours.
When you were finished eating, the only thing untouched was your cheesecake, so you decided to put it in your minifridge to save it for later. You then went over to your side of the bed and got in, pulling the blanket over your legs to warm yourself up a little bit.
After Spencer finished up his last slice of pizza, he got up and rolled the cart to your door, then turned to ask,
"Do you want me to put this outside? Or should we wait until we leave tomorrow, just in case the guy recognizes it and comes back?"
"We can keep it in here until the morning," you replied, to which he nodded and pushed it up against the wall.
"So, um... that movie on your TV, it says you rented it. Were you planning on watching it tonight?" Spencer asked as he awkwardly stood at the edge of your bed, unsure if he should stay or leave.
"I... I was, but that was before..." you trailed off, and he nodded in understanding. You both fell into an awkward silence for a few seconds, glancing awkwardly around the room, before you finally broke.
"I lied about having food poisoning today," you blurted out, tired of having to keep up with this act.
"What?" he replied, caught off guard by your unexpected confession.
"I don't have food poisoning. I'm not sick," you reiterated.
"But I... I watched you vomit into a trash can 6 hours ago, so clearly something was upsetting your stomach," he argued as he slowly made his way over to the opposite corner of your bed.
You sighed and put your face in your hands as he sat down a few feet away and looked at you with a concerned expression.
"What is it?" he asked softly, and you took a deep breath before lifting your head and meeting his gaze.
"Spencer, I'm sure you know that before I came to work for the FBI, I was finishing up grad school at UCI," you started, and he nodded along as you spoke. "But what you don't know is that, while I was working towards my PhD, I was in a fairly long-term relationship with a really terrible man."
You could tell from the way Spencer's expression shifted that he was starting to connect the dots as he figured out where this was going.
"His name was Eric, and we met through a mutual friend while I was working on my master's," you continued. He was a car salesman back then, which meant he could charm just about anyone into liking him... so, going into the relationship, I thought he was this really amazing guy. I was so swept up in the infatuation stage, I hardly even noticed when he started to gradually cut off my relationships with other people, making me more and more dependent on him. He'd also try to control little things about me, like making comments about my clothing if he thought I was showing too much skin, or getting mad if I talked to other guys, even if I was just doing something as trivial as ordering my food at a restaurant. Initially, I just wrote a lot of it off as him being insecure, but, after a while, his anger started to escalate. He would yell at me over the tiniest things, like forgetting to buy him beer when I went to the store, or asking him to help with the dishes. Stuff like that."
Spencer listened intently as you spoke, nodding as he processed the various details of your story.
"He always liked to drink... but it got especially bad after he got fired from the dealership for yelling at a customer. That night, I-" your voice wavered as you struggled to continue. "I remember he went out for a really long time, and I stayed up waiting for him to get back, because I didn't know where he had gone or if he was okay... and, finally, at, like, 3a.m., he showed up completely plastered, and just..."
You took a deep breath as your eyes filled with tears.
"The way he looked at me that night... it was like I was just a piece of meat to him... and he wouldn't take no for an answer," you said, choking on your words, and Spencer's heart broke as he watched you struggle to hold yourself together. You blinked away your tears and looked down at the bed, unable to maintain eye contact as you continued. "When I would tell him to stop, it was like... like I was challenging him, and.... and eventually, it got to the point where he would hit me and slam me against the wall if I didn't just shut up and take it. That's why I got sick, seeing those women's bodies today... the bruising, the hickeys, the assault... it reminded me so much of what he used to do to me,"
By this point, the tears were falling from your eyes uncontrollably, and you looked up at the ceiling as you wiped your cheeks with the sleeves of Spencer's sweater in an effort to stop crying.
"God, sorry," you said with a sniffle as you glanced around, trying to avoid looking directly at Spencer while you gathered yourself.
"Stop. Don't be sorry," Spencer replied softly as he scooted closer to you and took one of your hands into his.
"The day after, he bought me flowers, and a really nice necklace, I guess as his way of apologizing... but then, whenever he would get drunk— which was most nights— he'd just hurt me again, and then buy me gifts again. It became this constant cycle," you said, your voice cracking throughout.
"And I... I know you're wondering why I didn't leave sooner," you stated, and Spencer immediately shook his head.
"No, I—"
"I was just so scared, Spencer," you said as you finally met his gaze again with tear-filled eyes. "Even if I left him, he knew where my classes were, he knew all of my friends, he knew my entire schedule... he would know exactly how to find me. My only option was to pack up and leave everything behind. But I was so close to finishing my degree... I couldn't let him take that from me, too."
Spencer gave you an understanding, sympathetic nod as he gently ran his thumb over the side of your hand.
"I knew that a police report would be too risky without concrete proof," you continued, "So I just started to collect evidence against him. I documented my injuries with photos and videos. I bought spy cameras and audio recording software and hid them around our apartment where I knew he wouldn't find them. And I just built up my case against him, until I was finally able to graduate. It felt like forever, but, when graduation day came, I was so relieved... I didn't even care about the PhD anymore. I just needed to get away so he could never hurt me again.
As soon as my graduation ceremony was over— which he didn't come to, by the way, because he was out on a bender with his piece-of-shit friends— I went home and packed my things. I got out of that apartment as fast as I could, made my way down to the police station, and gave them everything I had.
When they finally arrested Eric, he ended up taking a plea for 12 years with the possibility of parole after 8. It sounds like such a long time, but..." you trailed off, and Spencer looked at you with a grim sense of understanding.
"It's not enough," he finished, and you nodded.
"Not even close," you replied, wiping your face again as more tears rolled down your cheek. "When I moved here, I... I changed my last name so it would be harder for him to find me... but he knew it was always my dream to work for the FBI. I have no doubt that, as soon as he gets out of prison, he's going to want to track me down, and..."
"Hey," Spencer said as he squeezed your hand. "You work with the best team of profilers in the world, Y/N. Do you really think we would let anything happen to you? Do you really think I would let anything happen to you?"
Your lip quivered as you started to cry more intensely, and you squeezed your eyes shut so that you wouldn't have to face Spencer while you broke down. You felt the bed shift under you as Spencer scooted up next to you on the bed and pulled you into his arms so that your head was resting on top of his chest.
"Come here," he whispered as you leaned into him and started to sob into his shirt. It had been so long since you'd had to openly confront your past, and this was the first time you had ever told someone the entire story, from start to finish. As your tears began to dampen Spencer's clothing, he gently stroked your hair and held you close to his chest.
It was quiet, aside from the sounds of your sobs as they slowly turned to intermittent sniffles, and it stayed that way for a few minutes until Spencer abruptly stopped running his fingers through you hair. You felt his body turn stoic, freezing as though he'd just had a moment of realization, so you leaned back and sat up to get a better look at him.
As he stared back at your glistening face, you immediately noticed that his expression was still riddled with concern, only, this time, it was more worry than sympathy.
"Is..." he trailed off. "Is that why you looked so scared the other day when I raised my voice at you?" he asked, his voice cracking with guilt. You thought back to the other night, when you had reached up to examine his neck.
"Don't touch me! I'm fine," he had yelled as he slapped your hands away.
You started to pick at the skin around your fingers and looked down as you gave him a small, affirming nod. Even though you had almost forgotten about the incident altogether, it was obvious with the way he brought it up that Spencer had been thinking about that moment ever since it happened.
"Y/N, I—" he wavered. "I'm so sorry. I... I never meant to raise my voice or get physical with you. I was so disoriented, and I just snapped so easily... but I swear if I had known—" he stammered, trying to figure out the right words to say.
"Hey," you said, grabbing both of his hands with yours and looking him in the eyes. "It's okay. I forgive you. You couldn't have possibly known."
"Yeah, but I shouldn't have yelled at you, regardless. You didn't deserve that at all. I acted like such a piece of shit," he replied with a shameful expression, and you started to run your thumbs over the sides of his hands.
"Spence, stop," you enunciated. "If you were a piece of shit, you wouldn't be sitting here comforting and apologizing to me right now. I know for a fact that your intentions weren't to hurt me--- physically or emotionally--- last night. You were obviously overstimulated after what had happened in that house, and I don't blame you at all for the way you reacted. If anything, I should have paid more attention to your body language and verbal cues before I tried to touch you. It's not your fault that I wasn't respecting your boundaries."
Spencer's expression softened at your words as his focus shifted back and forth between your eyes. Delicately, he reached out and touched your face with his thumb, gently wiping away what was left of the tears on your cheeks. He then smiled at you affectionately as he wrapped his arm around the back of your neck and pulled you into his chest again, initially hugging you so tightly you thought you might pass out. After a few seconds, he finally loosened his embrace just enough to allow you to breathe, and cradled the back of your head in content silence.
You remained there for a long time, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat and allowing your head to rise and fall in sync with his chest. Eventually, the repetitive motion of his breathing and the beating of his heart acted as a soothing lullaby, slowly guiding your mind towards the realms of slumber. With each passing moment, your eyelids grew heavier, and the world around you began to blur. The warmth of his embrace, combined with the familiar, soothing scent of his clothing, created a sense of safety and contentment that allowed you to surrender to your exhaustion and drift into a peaceful sleep.