Chapter Text
“What?” you nearly screamed. “Where?”
“I’m coming to get you,” he said. “Wait outside, I’ll be there in two.”
“What happened?” you asked, feeling your throat tighten.
“I’ll tell you on the way,” he said before hanging up.
You jumped up, grabbed your messenger bag and keys, and sprinted out the door. Bouncing on the balls of your feet on the sidewalk, you waited for Morgan’s SUV to pull up. Once it did, you scrambled to get inside, closing the door and immediately turning to him.
“What happened?” you demanded.
Morgan looked tired. He sighed and looked at your seat.
“Seat belt,” he said.
You obliged and he took off driving.
“We were on a case involving anthrax,” he said calmly.
Your heart stopped beating for a moment.
“He’s fine,” Morgan assured you. “It was a special strain that a local man created. Reid got into his office, got exposed, and found the antidote.”
“How is he now?” you asked.
“When I left him, they were blasting him with water and disinfectant. Once they got him to the hospital, they followed the instructions he had found in the man’s desk to make the antidote to the poison.”
“He’s okay,” you said out loud.
“He’s okay,” Morgan agreed. “He had to profile the man quickly to find the cure, and he did. That is one smart son of bitch you got there,” he said, managing a small smile. “None of us could have done it, that’s for sure.”
You managed to take a breath and smile a little. Morgan was pulling you into the hospital entrance now. He managed to keep up with your pace as you raced into the hospital.
He directed you up to the ICU. The hallway lights cast their dull fluorescent sheen over everything, making it look cold and too smooth. You’d been here not too long ago. You’d been the patient then. In a strange way, it was alright when that happened. It was just your life, and it’d barely been in danger. Now it was Spencer’s life, and seemed far more precious than your own.
Morgan took your hand now to lead you down the turns of the hallways and to where Spencer would lay. You tried to calm your heart. Spencer was okay, Morgan had said that much, and he wouldn’t lie to you.
Every birthday, you reminded yourself. Even yours.
As you neared the last suite in the ICU, your hands began to shake. You were aware of your breath, the sound it made as it forced its way in and out of your lungs. Morgan released your hand to open the door to Spencer’s room.
Spencer was asleep. His hair lay in tangles around his head. He looked sweaty. The blankets had been pulled neatly around him, allowing his arms to rest on top. The wires and lines that connected him to various machines seemed to prove by their bright lights and low, steady beeping, that he was, in fact, alive.
You stood at the edge of the room, fearful. You’d been in this place too many times. Morgan, yourself… This job asked too much of the people you loved, and you hated it.
You thought when you saw him, you’d run to him, but you couldn’t. Morgan stood right next to you, a solid, unmovable stone. You clasped your hands in front of you and took a few deep breaths.
“He’s okay,” Morgan whispered. “He’s fine, see?”
Morgan walked over to Spencer and gently moved a stray hair out of his face. The movement, while generated by a man with biceps as big as your calf, was tender. He motioned for you to come join him. You made yourself walk forwards and to the other side of the bed. Tentatively, you reached your hand down to touch Spencer’s hand.
It was warm, and flexed slightly at your touch, though he was still sound asleep.
“I’ll go see if the doctor has any updates,” Morgan offered.
You nodded absently as you watched Spencer closely. Never had his lips seemed so perfectly formed, never had his shoulders seemed so broad. You sighed and closed your eyes for a moment.
It could have been worse.
That’s what you thought of your boyfriend’s exposure to anthrax . It could have been worse.
It could have been a bullet, or a knife, or any number of things he couldn’t have profiled his way out of.
You jumped when you heard the door open as Morgan walked back in.
“Doc says he just checked on him before we got here, everything looks good, he’s just resting,” Morgan said, looking earnestly at you.
“Who’s resting?” Spencer rasped weakly from his bed.
You turned to him and saw his eyes fluttering open. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, but not much moisture seemed to accumulate there.
You rushed down to press your lips against his cheek. You finagled your body over the rails on the side of the bed to get next to him and burrowed your head into his neck. You clutched at him fiercely and he reached for you weakly.
“I’ll give you guys a minute,” Morgan said softly before heading out.
“Thank you,” you said, hoping he knew what he meant to you in that moment.
He nodded and slipped outside and past the frosted glass windows.
You inched back a ways to be able to look at Spencer. He shifted so he could easily look at you.
“Hi,” he smiled a little.
“Hi,” you echoed.
Your hand involuntarily made its way to his cheek, brushing along his jawline.
“Happy birthday,” he added sardonically. You let out an involuntary chuckle.
“Well, it is now that I know you’re okay,” you decided.
“Every birthday,” he reminded you.
You nodded.
Something behind you pinged, and you recognized it as Spencer’s phone. It had been placed on the table with his keys and badge.
“Can you read that for me?” he asked, closing his eyes. “I’m sure it’s just one of the team checking up on me.”
“Of course,” you said, ready to do just about anything to help him feel better.
You turned over and got up, walking over to the table. Picking it up, you saw two unread messages from Garcia. One was an audio file, one was a message.
Hope you’re feeling better, Boy Wonder. Let me know if you want me to delete the message. I know you wanted me to send it as a backup, but it’s probably not the easiest thing to look at or listen to, so I understand.
Before you could ask what the text was, you clicked on the audio, hoping that she had recorded some kind of explanation.
Instead, you heard Spencer’s voice ringing out of the phone, scared, and shaky.
“Hi, um, (Y/N)...”
You glanced over at Spencer who had become more alert. He moved like he thought about asking you to stop the recording, but instead he relaxed into the bed and watched as you listened.
“It’s Spencer,” the recording went on. “I, um, I did something stupid,” he laughed. “And it’s not looking so good for me right now. I just really wanted you to know… You know, in case something happens… That I love you and--” his voice caught and he had to clear his throat, “I was going to ask you to marry me. I wanted you to know that… In case I don’t, um, make it… I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I spend every day proud to belong to you.”
Someone called for him in the background.
“I gotta go, Garcia, please, make sure this makes it to her if I don’t--”
The recording ended, presumably because the message it had been intended for had finished.
You put the phone down on the table. The entire time you had been staring at Spencer. He watched you carefully, resigned to lay in bed and wait for whatever your response might be. You walked slowly over to him, your mind absolutely set.
You made your way carefully into bed with him, and he watched you as a scientist might watch a dangerous but exciting experiment.
“You thought you were going to die,” you said evenly.
“It was a strong possibility,” he answered, his voice strained.
“And your last words to me would have been to ask me to marry you.”
He looked down at the sheets and then back up at you.
“I didn’t want to die knowing you didn’t know that was what I wanted for us,” he said.
You nodded slowly.
“And now that you’re not dying?” you asked. He cocked his head to the side slightly, not understanding your implication. “Is that still what you want for us?”
“Of course,” he answered quickly. “It’s what I’ve always wanted for us. While traditional monogamous marriages typically involved or implied ownership or possession of the female by the male, I would posit that in today’s sociological and economic environments, marriage presents an opportunity for both declaration of equality as well as love. Anthropologically speaking there are many benefits that--”
You cut him off with a kiss. When you’d sufficiently rid his mind of the rest of his facts in support of marriage, you pulled away smiling.
“You, Doctor Spencer Reid, want to marry me?” you confirmed.
“Yes,” he answered breathlessly.
“Okay,” you smiled.
“Okay?” he repeated.
“Every birthday,” you reminded him.
He grinned and his eyes lit up.
“I love you,” he smiled before kissing you.
“Oi, break it up love birds, mama needs some love,” Garcia announced, rushing into the room with her pink dress, neon green heels, and purple handbag.
You giggled and pulled away from the kiss to allow her to see Spencer.
“Hey, I’m over here!” Garcia waved her arms. Spencer was still staring at you, all but oblivious to the fact that she had made such an entrance.
“Hm?” he finally said, once she’d hit him lightly in the arm.
Prentiss, Rossi, Hotch, JJ, and Morgan filed into the room after that, all gushing over how good it was to see that he was still doing okay.
“The Boy Genius lives to fight another day,” Rossi smiled, patting Spencer’s foot.
“Dr. Profiler himself,” Prentiss nodded.
“Soon to be Doctor and Mister Profiler,” Spencer smirked, glancing at you.
“What? No, really? No,” Garcia gasped.
“When?” Prentiss laughed.
“Two minutes and forty-three seconds ago,” Spencer announced.
“Congratulations,” Hotch smiled warmly.
“I call being maid of honor!” Garcia raised her hand as if in class.
“Granted,” you smiled.
“I’ll fight you for it,” Morgan warned.
“Oh, baby, that is a fight you will not win,” she warned.
Morgan smirked.
“Alright there’s been enough excitement for one day. Reid, we’re glad you’re alright. We’ll let you rest,” Hotch decided.
And, as always, when he spoke, his word was law. Everyone made their goodbyes and filed out of the room.
When you were finally alone, you both took a deep breath and exhaled.
“Us, married,” you laughed.
“You still want to?” he asked nervously.
“Of course,” you chuckled. “It’s only been a few minutes since I said yes.”
He shrugged.
“Just checking,” he said.
You bit your lip, a troubling thought occurring.
“This is not the first time that we’ve been in the hospital together because of your job,” you said softly.
“I know,” he answered.
“I don’t want to tell you to leave,” you said. “But I don’t want to end up here like this ever again.”
“I know,” he repeated.
There was silence as you both waited for the other to speak. You couldn’t ask him to leave his job, but nor could you walk through these doors again the way you had today.
“I can’t bear to lose you,” you forced yourself to say.
“Nor I, you,” he said. He paused before adding, “So I will leave.”
While those were the words you wanted to hear, it didn’t feel any better to actually hear them.
“I said I would never ask you to do that,” you pointed out.
“You’re not asking me, I’m volunteering,” he said quietly. “Profiling has been my life so far, but that doesn’t mean it has to be the entirety of it. I want you to be my life. And that means being around to live it.”
You smiled faintly, your heart feeling as if a thousand pound rock had been lifted from it.
“What will you do instead?” you asked.
“I have three PhD’s and two BA’s,” he smiled. “I think I can figure something out.”
“What about that position they offered you at the university?” you asked.
“You think I was a good professor?” he asked.
“I do,” you smiled.
“Maybe I will return to it then,” he said. “Statistically, it is far less likely I would be exposed to anthrax, for one, and psychopaths for another.”
“I should hope so,” you chuckled.
As you lay there for a moment, you realized something. You were engaged . While it hadn’t been the traditional proposal, somehow, it fit. It with with the chaotic meeting in your kitchen, with the haphazard way you’d told him you loved him. It fit because it didn’t matter how it had happened, it only mattered that it had happened.
And you knew that this birthday would be one to remember for the rest of your life with him.