Dating an FBI agent came with its share of ups and downs. You’d known that the moment you started seeing Spencer Reid. He had a heart that needed to help people—a part of him you loved fiercely, even when it meant sacrifice. Even when it meant nights like tonight.

You had made plans for a quiet evening together, a rare break from the chaos. But now, the clock had long since ticked past midnight, and the sound of the front door clicking open echoed down the hall.

Spencer stumbled in, trying—and failing—to be quiet. He banged his bag against the door frame, then dropped it heavily by the wall along with his suitcase. He didn’t even flinch, just too exhausted to care. His tie was half loosened around his neck, and his hair looked like he’d run his hands through it a hundred times out of frustration.

When he trudged past the living room, a soft glow caught his attention—the flickering light of the TV still playing. And there you were, curled under a fuzzy blanket, your form a familiar, comforting shape on the couch.

Spencer’s tired eyes squinted toward the screen. He couldn’t quite make out what you were watching, but he had a feeling it was one of those series you'd excitedly rambled about to him before—something warm, safe, and the complete opposite of the darkness he carried home with him.

Without a second thought, Spencer rounded the couch, dropped to his knees for a moment to kick off his shoes, and then flopped ungracefully down on top of you. A tired, dramatic sigh rumbled through his chest as he draped himself over your body like a human blanket.

"Hey, sunshine," he mumbled into the crook of your neck, his voice hoarse and warm.