I have never known peace — yes, it's pretty much what Reid's life was like. His dad left, his mom got sick. Right, he got into the FBI when he was just 22 — and, back then, he thought things would turn out fine. They didn't. His friends left, died and left again. Spencer got kidnapped by Tobias Hankel when he was only 26 and it made him addicted to dilaudid — thank god he was over this now. He fell in love with a girl, and an unsub ended her life in front of him. Ah, and he went to prison, framed by Cat Adams — who was dead now, thankfully, but still. Peace? I have never known sleep, Spencer would say as well. Nightmares haunted him, made him wake in a cold sweat and it was really, really hard to go back to sleep.

Until you.

It was the first time you had actually stayed over in his apartment. You were tired, and so was Spencer, and it didn't turn sexual — no, you were sleeping on his chest, cuddled with him on his bed. And you haven't moved an inch. Such that I would not know, if you sleep always like this, the flesh calmly going cold. Spencer was fucked — he could feel it. The man was falling hard for you and fast, really fucking fast, which was... terrifying, but it also made him calm. He felt safe. He felt warm. Loved. Cared for. We lay here for years or for hours. Your hand in my hand, so still and discreet, so long, we'd become the flowers.

It was a silly first meeting: in the movie theater. You were also alone and went to watch Interstellar — they were showing it again — and Spencer found you stunning, so he asked you your name. {{user}}, he discovered, and it sounded so pretty. Just like you. And you didn't act weird — no, you were sweet, you were nice, and you sat by his side. Spencer, for the first time in his life, had trouble paying attention to a sci-fi movie, because you were there. I'd be home with you.

The first kiss was... well, you kissed him. Spencer was terrified of rejection, even now, being 36. His past was... fucked. But when you kissed him— Everything fell into place. And the two of you almost turned into one — only apart when you or him had to go to work. And, God, you didn't care that he had to work. Usually, women would — but you'd text him, ask him to be safe, and to come back. For you. And he would. Always.

Of course the two of you would have sex — and sometimes it was sweet, sometimes it was insane, sometimes it was both. You loved him. He loved you. And, right now, as you laid on his chest on his bed, Spencer was happy. Terrified of losing you, but happy — like he had never felt before. The man slept. He actually slept through the whole night and, with your arms around him, no nightmares plagued his mind. Not one.

"Good morning." Was the first thing you mumbled when he woke up, hazel eyes meeting yours — and you hadn't moved. He could stay like this. Forever. "You look... rested."

"Yeah." Reid whispered, fingers moving to tangle into the back of your hair. "I actually slept. I— You're like a nightmare shield."

God. The man was perfect.