#bauteam

He’d initially isolated himself, saying he’d rather be alone than be babied. Hating the looks of concern or pity always thrown his way, he missed how the team used to joke around him. 

It started with everyone always checking in on him, mindful of what they said and how they acted around him  trying not to trigger him. In the beginning, he hated it. He knew everyone was walking on eggshells around him and he just wanted to be able to go back to normal again.

Luke had tried to coax him out of his self-inflicted exile, saying he’d spoken to the team, that maybe they were being a little too sensitive. Maybe Spencer was right, and they should try and treat him normally again, instead of like a victim. It took time, but eventually Spencer learned to trust the team again, showing up to family pasta nights at Rossi’s. The team made an effort to talk to him normally. They didn’t constantly ask him how he was feeling, how his therapy was going. 

They just asked him normal questions, if he’d read anything interesting recently, or they’d share stories of their own mundane home lives, reminding Spencer that it was possible to carry on. It had been awkward at first, the team still scared of causing Spencer to panic. And despite what he said, they were still careful of what they said, the volume of their voices, getting too drunk, just to a lesser extent than before.

Luke explained to him that it was normal to have changed, that he wasn’t a worse man because of it. Of course he was going to struggle. He explained how he still loved Spencer so much, no matter what, and so did the rest of the team. Spencer still struggled to believe him, hinting that there were things he did, things that happened to him when he was locked up that would make Luke stop loving him. Luke told him that was impossible, but never forced Spencer to share anything he wasn’t ready to. He just hoped that Spencer wouldn’t torture himself with keeping everything to himself, knowing that sharing did sometimes lift a weight off his shoulders.

Despite his reservations, it didn’t change how much he relied on Luke to help him, keep him grounded and keep him from spiralling. He loved him so much and couldn’t imagine what his recovery would be like without him. He needed Luke there with him. His dependance on the other man emotionally, and now economically, scared him, but he didn’t want to find out what it would be like to go without him. Especially now that he couldn’t work.

Something Luke had noticed Spencer started doing was dissociating, one of the driving factors  behind Spencer taking his sabbatical. He’d be present, and moments later, his eyes would glaze over and he would be in another world. It frightened Luke, seeing Spencer’s gaze totally unfocused, his body tense and afraid. 

There were times his touch frightened Spencer even more than wherever his mind had taken him, or even his voice. Other times, it was exactly what Spencer needed to come back. It was when he continued to dissociate at the office that Prentiss deemed Reid unsafe for field work, a place full of potential triggers. After being demoted to desk work for a while, even that became too much for him, the team looking over and seeing Spencer once again trapped in the horrors of his own memory.

Tonight, they were at Rossi’s once again, trying to bring a sense of normalcy to everyone’s lives and restart an ongoing tradition. Spencer had high spirits tonight, in comparison to other evenings. Whilst it had been a while since he last saw the team as a whole, let alone with all their respective partners and kids, he was looking forward to some good food and company.

Although neither of them spoke about it, he knew Luke must have had a talk with them back at the office. A reminder not to overwhelm Spencer with excitement, and that he would probably keep socialising to a minimum as he usually did these days. The team listened and when they entered, took their time to greet them one-by-one before returning to their conversations, wherever they were scattered around Rossi’s ground floor and garden.

Spencer remained glued to Luke’s side as expected, letting Luke lead the conversation and chiming in when he felt ready. Everyone tried to tread the fine line of talking to the two of them without making Spencer feel excluded, yet still not forcing him into conversation. Once again, on eggshells around him, but when he felt so mentally exhausted all the time, he had learned to come to appreciate their thoughtfulness.

Spencer felt a tug on his sleeve and he looked down to see Michael, nervously chewing his own sleeve.

“Hey Michael,” he smiled, always excited to be around the kids of the BAU, even though they were growing so quickly now.

“Will you come play with us?” Michael nervously asked, wanting to spend time with Spencer who he barely saw these days.

Spencer glanced back at Luke for encouragement, but it was a no-brainer, he could never say no to the sweet child. Not counting Hank, he was the youngest BAU kid and although Spencer was Henry’s Godfather, he loved them all equally. 

“Sure thing,” Spencer unlatched himself from Luke’s arm and held out his hand for Michael to hold, finding it adorable that his whole hand wrapped around just 2 of Spencer’s fingers. He let himself be led outside to the garden, where the boys had a small soccer goal set.

Michael excitedly let go and announced that Spencer should watch him as he ran up to the ball and kicked it in the net, his small legs only allowing the ball to roll in slowly. Jack and Henry, the older boys, made a show of trying to defend the ball but letting it go into the net anyway, saying Michael was already getting too good for the two of them.

Michael giggled in response, loving being included in their games, his sleeve still being chewed on as he ran around. Spencer also loved watching them, taking a seat on the outside sofas to get a good view. He knew Hotch and Prentiss were out on the deck as well, but for now, he chose not to engage with them and was grateful they didn’t approach him. They had already said hello, but he was not in the mood to talk, especially without Luke around.

In the meantime, the 3 boys took turns scoring goals, Jack and Henry actually defending one another, whilst still letting Michael get them all in. When he missed entirely, the ball rolled so slowly it gave the older boys time to pick up the rubber net and move it so it went in anyway, causing all the adults watching to laugh at their ridiculous game.

At some point, Michael ran inside whilst the other two continued. Without the small one around, their game became even more competitive, they tackled each other, laughing loudly, sometimes shouting at one another and accusing the other of cheating. For them, it was friendly banter as the two had been friends for years, Jack was slightly older and knew to be careful, but Henry was bigger now too and he had a fair chance at soccer.

“GOAAALLLL!” Jack shouted, lifting his shirt to cover his face and run around like he’d seen soccer players do. 

“No fair,” Henry shouted back.

“Is too,” Jack retorted, running back and kicking the ball once again so it hit Henry in the legs.

Suddenly, the friendly banter turned into the two boys wrestling. They weren’t trying to hurt each other, but they were growing boys with a lot of energy, it was just fun. They continued to shout at each other as they did so until they heard Hotch call from the sidelines:

“Boys, be careful. Jack, remember you’re older than Henry.”

“It’s okay Mr Hotch I can still fight him,” Henry responded, wanting to prove himself.

“I think that’s enough.” He said instead, not wanting either of them to get hurt now that the fight was looking a little too competitive for his taste.

“Ugh you ruin everything,” Jack let go of the younger boy and stormed inside, giving Hotch an insight as to what he had to look forward to as his teenage years approached. Hotch smirked and looked back at Prentiss, knowing not to take it personally.

“Lets go inside,” he motioned, now that everyone was headed inside and it was coming up to 8pm. Rossi was punctual with serving dinner. “Reid you coming?” He asked, before grabbing his drink and following Prentiss and the boys into the house, not waiting for an answer.

“Looks like you had fun,” JJ laughed looking at the boy’s sweaty faces and grass stained clothes as they ran inside, already forgetting their fight and focusing on drinking juice as quickly as possible.

Seeing the group walk into the lounge, Luke was suddenly concerned Spencer wasn’t with them.

“Is Spencer not with you?” He asked, already heading the direction they came. 

“He was watching us play,” Michael smiled, not realising the seriousness of Luke’s tone.

“I assumed he was right behind me,” Hotch explained weakly, not even realising Spencer had never followed them inside.

Picking up his pace, Luke marched to the patio to find Spencer, still on the outside couches and staring at the grass, assuming that’s where the kids were playing.

He focused for a second to allow himself to calm before he made himself known.

“Spence?” He asked, voice as soft as it would go. As expected he received no response.

Shit

He headed over to his boyfriend carefully. Although given that Spencer did not react, Luke assumed he was deep into a flashback, meaning even if he stormed over loudly, he’d probably still receive no reaction.

He knelt down in front of Spencer, trying to meet his eyeline to see if there would be any recognition at all.

“Baby, it’s me Luke. Can you hear me?” He begged, knowing it was futile but hoping some of his words would filter though. “You are safe, it’s just you and me here.” He continued it in vain.

Then, as he always did when talking didn't work, he tried touch. Spencer’s hands were knotted together in a vice-like grip, he reached out for them to hold onto them. He also wanted to alleviate some of the pressure, knowing Spencer would be holding them tightly in a way that would hurt.

“Can you feel me? Those are my hands. Luke’s.” He managed to loosen Spencer’s hands to hold one in each of his own, using his thumb to rub soothing circles onto it.

He looked up at Spencer, still terrified that he was in such a catatonic state. Based on past experience, Spencer always got out of this state eventually, sometimes faster than other times. It didn’t change the fact that Luke was scared each and every time that Spencer would be stuck like that forever. That this would be the one time that kept him like that.

He himself needed to take deep breaths to remind himself this was temporary, and that Spencer was relying on him to get him out- even if he didn’t know it.

Holding his hands and his soothing words weren’t working. Spencer’s eyes were still distant, albeit now tears were flowing down his cheeks. Luke hated to think about where his mind had taken him. Which of the many traumatic events in his life he was now reliving.

“Please Spence,” Luke’s fear got the best of him as he began to panic. Wishing he could shake Spencer out of his trance but knowing it would only make it worse.

He noticed Hotch and Emily’s abandoned drinks out on the table in the corner of his eye, Hotch’s now empty scotch glass still with a couple of ice cubes in them.

He risked leaving Spencer for a moment, not that he could do anything to hurt himself in that short time, to fetch the glass and empty the ice in his hand.

He took it back and transferred the ice cubes into Spencer’s hands. Then he sat back and said a silent prayer. He noticed Spencer’s hands begin to grip the ice into closed fists as his gaze remained far away. 

He hoped that the cold would shock that part of Spencer’s body and bring it back into reality. He’d heard that implementing that temperature change would help remind him where he was, the real feeling versus his phantom pains.

“Baby are you with me?” Luke asked again, when he noticed Spencer blink, looking like he’d woken up from a restless sleep.

He still looked absent, but he managed to make eye contact with Luke, enough to illustrate that he was beginning to come back.

“Luke?” He croaked, noticing his boyfriend sitting in front of him. 

He was confused, couldn’t quite remember where he was and he could feel his body go into overdrive. His heartbeat was going crazy, his mind was all over the place and his body felt separate from his own. He’d just been back in prison, it felt so real. He was convinced he was trapped there forever, and then suddenly he wasn’t there.

He wasn’t sure which reality was real. Prison or Luke. 

“Are you with me?” Luke asked hopefully, grabbing hold of Spencer’s now ice-cold hands. Squeezing them so that he could have something to feel.

Spencer didn’t respond, still unsure if Luke was real. If he really was there with him.

“Can you name something you see Spencer?” Luke knew Spencer was now confused and unsure of his surroundings. He hoped that listing some senses would help make him realise.

“You”

“Grass”

“House”

“Pool”

Spencer listed. Slowly. He left long pauses between each word as he blinked and forced himself to focus on what he could really see and what was not a part of his imagination.

“That’s really good, Cariño. All of those things are here. Can you name some things you feel?”

“Hands”

“Cold” 

“Chair”

Once again, Spencer slowly answered, trying to focus on the sensations his body could feel. He was not in pain, he had not just been attacked. He could feel the ice melting in his hands, now being held by Luke. He could feel the sofa cushion underneath him.

“What about some things you hear?”

“You” Once again, he focused on Luke and tried to remind himself he was real.

“Crickets”

“Music”

The faint music in the background of Rossi’s kitchen was playing. Luke noticed their chattering had stopped, but the soft jazz continued to play.

“You’re doing so well, Baby.” Luke breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the signs that Spencer was returning to them. Only they weren’t out of the woods yet. He could easily dissociate again now, and it was likely he would feel strange for the remainder of the evening. 

“Sorry,” Spencer’s eyes welled up again as he saw the worry in Luke’s eyes. 

“None of that,” Luke now joined Spencer on the couch and held him tightly as Spencer softly cried against his chest. Luke continued to soothe him, rocking them both gently as he continued to remind Spencer that he was real and safe and wherever he was was a distant memory.

“I’m here with you. We’re at Rossi’s and we’re about to have some pasta.” He repeated for a while, losing track of time when Jack came outside.

“Is Uncle Spencer okay?” He nervously asked.

“He will be,” Luke reassured, not knowing how much the child could understand. A child who had also had to go through so much so young.

“Was it because of me and Henry?” He questioned further. He didn’t fully understand what happened to Spencer, and no one told him the details. He knew he was a kid but he hated that adults spoke in riddles to him, thinking he was too young.

What he did know, though, was that Uncle Spencer was sensitive at the moment and that they needed to be careful around him. His mom had told him not to play rough with Spencer like they used to, not to scream and shout when they were playing.

He had done exactly that when he and Henry had begun to get competitive.

“It’s not your fault,” Luke reassured. “Not at all.” 

Although he also began to suspect that their rowdy playing could have triggered Spencer, he still firmly believed it was not the boys’ fault. They were entitled to enjoy themselves and play, they weren’t at fault for the things that happened to Spencer. It was unfortunate that it happened tonight, but the kids were definitely not to blame.

Spencer heard Jack asking Luke, he heard Luke reply and he too so desperately wanted to reassure the boy, but he found himself at a loss for words again. So he protected himself by keeping his face hidden in Luke’s chest, wrapping his arms even tighter around him.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Spencer,” Jack said anyway, knowing Luke wasn’t blaming him just to be nice but still feeling guilty.

“It’s okay, Kid. I promise. Uncle Spencer will be fine, he just needs a little time.”

He looked down at Spencer who looked like he wasn’t going to be ready to join the group anytime soon.

“Hey, Kid. Why don’t you tell the others to start eating dinner? We’ll come join later.” 

Happy with his task, Jack went inside. When Garcia quickly came out to double check on Spencer - knowing he was in capable hands- and that Luke was alright with them starting the food, the team began to resume their evening. 

They had slowly begun to find a balance, trying to enjoy their time but being mindful that Spencer was struggling. They knew that sitting in silence in sombre moods was the last thing Spencer would want and it would only put even more pressure and attention on him. Carrying on, although they could not get quite as lively as excitable as they wanted, was the best way forwards.

Rossi was sure to plate two very generous helpings for the two of them, including placing even more in a tupperware for them to take home.

The two came in half an hour later, Spencer finally ready to face the team, tear stained and flushed face, but they had seen him much worse.

“You feeling better, Spence?” JJ asked, the others continuing their quiet chatter. He only nodded in response as he took his seat, grateful everyone else made the effort to not look at him.

“Let me warm those plates up,” Rossi headed to the kitchen to place them back on the pan for a couple of minutes. Refusing to microwave them.

Soon enough, the evening was back in full swing. Everyone with bellies full of pasta, laughing and enjoying each other’s company.

Luke checked in regularly with Spencer, seeing how he felt as the evening went on. He always kept some contact between their bodies, whether it was a hand on the thigh, holding hands, or wrapping an arm around Spencer. Touch helped keep Spencer grounded and his own protective instincts won over as he felt he couldn’t let his boyfriend go.

This would happen many more times but he needed to remind himself that Spencer was getting better and it wasn’t permanent. 

**** Hope you enjoyed :)

I'm gonna make this a part of a series where Spencer has to stay home for his mental health so stay tuned for more

You expected him to cave after a punch, but he caught your arm and flipped you onto your back with intent to pin you down. That didn’t work out very well because your legs wrapped around his neck and he was now struggling to get free.

One harsh punch to the gut and he staggered back. You were on your feet in record time, the both of you huffing. If he hadn’t been so massive maybe the blow would have been more effective. 

His frame was that of a titan. 

Broad shoulders, big arms. You had every intention of running in and attacking while he was still recovering. From his bent position, he had the same idea, but the second you both got close the ringing in your head is what stops you. Your head tilts as you squint, and he lets out a similar groan of discomfort.

You finally stood upright, shock evident.

“You’re like me..” You mutter. He seemed to come to the same conclusion.

“I thought I was the only one..” His gruff tone responded.

You weren’t sure what to make of that. Now it sort of made sense. Maybe instead of trying to pummel him you should have talked it over when you saw the spider patterned suit that was somewhat similar to your own.

You weren’t sure what the next step was to take, but it’s clear he isn’t a bad guy. If that was the case your senses would be going haywire. So rather than fight, you hold out a hand.

“Do you want to team up? I think we can do more if we work together.”

“Not interested. I work solo.”

He turns and you can feel a frown rising on your face.

“Come on, you’re spiderman, I’m spiderwoman, this must be fate.”

“I don’t believe in faith. “ He held out his wrist, a stream of web hitting a nearby building.

“Stay out of my way kid.”

He jumped off the building and you were fuming.

“KID!! I’M A GROWN WOMAN YOU OLD FART!!”

He didn’t sound that much older than you, just arrogant.

“Jackass.”

The following day you walk into work a bit agitated. It’s one thing assuming you were alone, but seeing someone else out there with your abilities just made you think of how much more people were just like you waiting to be discovered.

“(Y/N)!!”

Garcia’s peppy voice rang from the hallway and you grin when she came speed walking in your direction.

“You’ll never guess what. There’s a new tech guy and he’s smoking hot! Not as hot as my chocolate thunder of course but a close second.” Her little squeal drew in Morgan JJ and Spencer.

“He looks a bit scary.” Reid commented.

“I think he’s just the tough love type, like Hotch. They sort of have the same scowl.” JJ makes a face and you smile. Hotch comes walking through the door and there’s a very tall man behind him. You have to physically stop yourself from laughing out loud because their expressions almost mirror each other.

Hotch stops when he’s in front of all of you.

“This is the team. In the event that Garcia is ever away or on leave, you’ll be covering for her. This is Miguel O’ Hara, he just joined us from the force located in New York.”

He nods, but his facial expression hasn’t changed. Garcia is the first one to shake his hands, winking suggestively. The rest of them go one by one. No doubt making their own assessments on his character. When it’s your turn, you step forward with your hand out. He means to shake it but before you make contact the ring at your temple goes off. Miguel squints. The throb at the side of his head you realize is very similar to yours. You both stare at each other in surprise.

“You..”

It’s said simultaneously.

They all exchange a look and you take a step back clearing your throat. So does he.

“I have to use the bathroom.” You both say in unison. You both go pacing off in different directions and Garcia tilts her head.

“That was really weird right, it wasn’t just my imagination.”

Morgan laughs.

“Maybe it was a one night stand.” He suggests.

“That would be terrible.” JJ adds.

Hotch breaks up the little session, ushering them all to the table as they wait for you to return to get started on the case.

You find yourself running circles in the bathroom as you try to make sense of it. Passing a hand through your hair, when you’re finally exiting, your head lifts, meeting the chocolate gaze of the man who has your brain in disarray.

“We need to talk.” Miguel speaks.

“That’s an understatement.”

You guide him to a more private area. Checking left and right of the lunch room, you turn back to him.

“Are you following me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, chica.”

His little spanish drawl really shouldn’t sound so good.

“I didn’t know you work here either.”

From his tone it’s obvious he isn’t pleased. There’s nothing either of you can really do. If he were to transfer out it would definitely raise some red flags.

“Why did you leave New York?”

His jaw is set. You aren’t certain if it’s from the question or the fact that he knows your occupation, so lying to him isn’t wise.

“I was trying to get away from my night job.”

“Obviously that didn’t work.”

He still looks irritated.

“Stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine.” He’s about to walk away, but you grab his arm.

“Wait.”

You sigh heavily, looking down.

“Listen, I know you don’t like this. I’m sorry about last night. I should have talked to you before I attacked. I can tell that this situation isn’t ideal for you, but I really do think we can do the most good by working together.” Your eyes are somewhat pleading. His body is still set in an almost defensive position and his shoulders finally slump.

“Fine. But don’t get in my way. I’m not going to be babysitting.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

From that point on, you formed sort of a pack. He couldn’t say that he really anticipated it. His day job was pretty mellow compared to your own. On the nights that he was patrolling the streets on his own, he felt his thoughts stray.

The days that he did see you, there was a light air about you. Each patrol you both did together you just seemed so carefree, unburdened. You were lively and bright. The very opposite of him. He couldn’t truly understand how you could emit so much happiness dealing with what you saw on a daily basis.

“YEAH!!”

Your shout echoed over the building as you jumped to another. Miguel was following behind, not as energetic.

“We’re here to do a job, not play around. Stay focused.”

“Could you stop being such a drill sergeant. It’s just a patrol and crime has been pretty low lately thanks to me.”

Even under the mask he can tell that you’re wearing a childish grin. You land, feet sticking to a small statue ahead as you turn upside down.

“I told you I wasn’t going to be babysitting.”

“It feels like I'm the one babysitting. Yesterday you almost got snagged by those cops.”

“I was distracted.” He grumbles.

“Mhmm, yet you keep lecturing me. It seems you're the one who needs to be focused big guy.” He hisses at you in a cat like manner and you giggle.

“Calm down blue panther, I’m just teasing.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Spider kitten?”

“Stop it.”

“Captain Meow Meow.”

“BE QUIET!!”

Oh how you loved to push his buttons. He really emitted old man energy. His stoic demeanor didn’t help either.

“Word of advice, angry bird, you might want to start being nicer to people. If you keep glaring at everyone around they’re going to think you're some kind of serial killer. I work with profilers so the less attention you draw to yourself the better. Stop leering at everyone all the time.”

“I’m not leering, this is my face.”

Of course you think he’s pulling your leg, but his expression stays neutral. You burst in a fit of laughter and he turns in the opposite direction.

“I’m leaving.”

“N-No wait..wait..I’m sorry!”

You try to get out between your soft giggles. He jumps right off the ledge and you follow along.

Clearly it would take some time, but you have a feeling that he’ll begin to open up.

One particular night he lands on a building. It’s sort of become your designated spot to meet up. You weren’t wearing your mask, the wind just blowing through your tresses as you stared at the lights. When he took a seat at your side, you sent him a smile.

“Hey.”

Your tone was soft, and it's’ when he finally looks directly at you he sees the pain you try to cover with a smile.

“No smart quips today.” He asks.

You shake your head.

“Not today.”

That’s all you say.

He doesn’t like this. He’s the one who’s supposed to be brooding and secretive. He’s gotten used to your smile. You give your head a little shake, sliding on your mask.

“Let’s get to it.”

You move to rise to your feet, but he places a hand on your shoulder and you halt.

“Yo te cubro.”

You’re not certain what he just said, but it does offer a sense of comfort. His tone alone was an invitation to lean on him with your problem. This time when you smile, it’s genuine. Even if he can’t see it.

“You know I don’t speak Spanish right.” You tease. He just looks at you blankly for a moment, but then he pulls his hand away.

“Adios.”

“W-Wait I’m just pulling your leg, come back!!”

It’s obvious to him that your antics would never truly stop.

Despite your very different personalities, Miguel has to admit that it’s nice having someone who’s not only aware of his secret, but really understands what he deals with. He’d lectured himself to be self reliant. It was second nature. Regardless of how much he put up the lone wolf act, you were relentlessly by his side.

In the more dangerous cases, you advised him that it would be better if you both tackled it together. He knew it was reckless to go against you on this mission. But you’d been gone for the last week with the team and he felt like once you returned you would need the rest. He could deal with criminals in the time being.

Except these weren’t any old criminals. When he saw the automatic guns it should have been a dead give away. That night started with an onslaught of gunshots and ended with explosions.

“You spider freak!!”

The insult yelled at him doubled with the multiple bullets that he narrowly missed was an incentive to wrap this whole thing up. He’d taken down the two men in record time. That warning throb at the back of his head alerted him that trouble was imminent and he turned just in time to catch a glimpse of the countdown from what he could only assume was a bomb stuck to the far end of that room.

“Mierda.”

It would seem that he wasn’t the only one trying to take out this crime boss. He grabbed the two unconscious bodies, sprinting for the window just as the beeping rang in the background. The explosion sent him flying out the window, the edge of flames just barely catching the back of his suit. He grunted at the shards that rammed into his back. He’d skated down the side of the adjacent building just in time to hear the cop cars ringing in the distance. Dropping the men, he pinned them up on the wall with his webs as he took off in the sky.

The trip back home was a rough one. He was a little less ecstatic that his apartment was at the very top of the building. It felt so convenient at the time, given his abilities. He basically throws himself into his window, grunting at the burns and scratches on his body. It would heal in under a week. That didn’t mean it would hurt any less. For a moment he just sat there. He was too worn out to move, and the cuts and bruises were starting to make his body go numb. It took him a moment to realize that there was a thicker piece of glass wedged in his arm and it was bleeding more profusely than the others.

He heard shuffling on the roof, and his head turned at the sound. When he saw your upside down form, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Are you really sleeping? There's like a massive explosion downtown at rivers avenue. I got back in about twenty minutes ago and there were cops everywhere. I was lucky to make it here without getting jumped.”

You casually jumped through the window. When you were fully inside, it seems you finally took the state of his battered form.

“Miguel..”

He could spot the worry in your voice and you basically ripped your mask off as you dropped to his form.

“Where’s your first aid kit?” He intended to resist, but he saw your stern expression and decided against it.”

“Lower bathroom cabinet.” 

You ventured over immediately, and he finally removed his own mask, turning his body in clear discomfort. You came back with the red kit, opening it and grabbing the rubbing alcohol and pieces of gauze.

“I’m fine, you don’t have to play doctor.”

“Shut up.”

He was stunned at the reply. You looked more than pissed.

“I told you to wait for me and you still went on ahead and tried to take down an entire crime organization on your own."

You slipped on some latex gloves and cleaned your hand with the alcohol. Your eyes moved to the bigger shard and you removed it. Miguel gritted his teeth at the sting when you poured the liquid onto the wound. But he stayed as still as he could. You cleaned and dressed the wound as you moved on to the others.

For about twenty minutes, you tended to him. He was almost afraid to speak with how heatedly you were glaring at each injury you cleaned and wrapped. When it was finally over, you slipped the gloves off next to the many pieces of bloody gauze you’d discarded.

“The burns are starting to heal which is great. You should feel much better in the morning. Don’t get any of those bandages wet.”

“Gracias.”

You didn’t respond to his thanks, heading for the window. He expected you to say something, anything, but you just left and he leaned against the bed with a grumble.

The days that followed, he realized that you were giving him the silent treatment. His wounds healed in the span of two days, so he was out and about, but you never joined. Outside of work, he didn’t see you at all. Three days turned into a week. A week turned into two weeks.

It became apparent that you were avoiding him, because any chance he tried to grab at a conversation you would take off in the opposite direction. It didn’t help that your job had you gone for days at a time. Even when he’d stopped by your apartment, your windows were locked and your lights would be off.

He didn’t realize how much it pissed him off not to be close to you anymore.

When he caught another agent shamelessly flirting with you in the bullpen, that was the breaking point. His large form shadowed over the man who visibly tensed.

“I need to speak with her.”

Nothing else was said. He fled so fast you could practically see the dust. Your glare trained in Miguel’s direction. It’s clear that he wouldn’t leave until you both talked and his presence was starting to draw the attention of your team. You nudged your head and he followed you down the hall. You stepped into an empty interrogation room.

“Is there a reason you’re intimidating other agents?”

“Are you going to continue running from me?”

“I don't know what you mean. You insisted that you wanted to ride solo, so I gave you what you wanted. You obviously don’t trust me so I think it’s better this way. “

“Of course I trust you.”

“I didn’t realize you became a comedian while I was away. I don’t have time for this, I need to get back.”

You turn to leave. The second he reaches to halt you, you fire a punch, one that he catches with ease. His brows are knitted in frustration, quite similar to yours.

“Why the hell are you so angry!!”

“BECAUSE I CARE ABOUT YOU!!”

It’s hard to hide his shock. You pull back your hand, heaving out another displeased groan.

“You have no idea how hard it was for me to see you there burned and bleeding out on the floor. My mind kept going to the worse case scenarios of that night. It was horrible. I begged you not to go and you promised me you wouldn’t but you still did. A part of me hates you…I hate you for making me feel that way..”

He feels like a complete idiot. He’s taken for granted that he no longer has to do it all on his own. He’s not used to people caring or worrying about him. He understands his mistake. Looking at you it’s obvious that it’s been eating you up inside.

“Lo siento cariño.”

From the flush of your cheeks, it’s clear that you understood that statement. He takes a step, a dangerous little smirk growing on his lips.

“Porque tan tímida.”

You shake your head furiously.

“N-No, that’s not going to work on me!! you think you could use your suave little tone and I’ll just forgive you! Not happening!!”

Your heated face says otherwise. He backs you up and when you catch sight of his fangs that peeks out when he licks his lips, you visibly swallow.

“M-Miguel w-we’re at work y-you can’t-”

The minute his large palm rests delicately on your cheek, you’ve forgotten what you planned to say.

“I don’t see the problem.”

Suddenly you miss brooding Miguel because this side of him is too much for your heart. His hand moves lower, and when he catches your bottom lip with his thumb, you feel as though you’ll implode on the spot.

“¿Quieres que te bese..”

His sultry tone is a sin in itself, and you find yourself nodding at his words.

“P-Please Miguel..”

You’re practically begging.

“Curse you duolingo!!”

If you hadn’t decided to brush up on your Spanish, his seductive words would not be having such a strong effect right now.

There’s a bit of a smirk on those delicious lips and he finally gives you exactly what you want. His hands secure around your waist, and he lifts you off the ground as your lips collide in an act of desperation. 

You hum at how perfect his lips feel against your own as if this is where they were always meant to be. His dark locks tickle your forehead and you find your hands sliding through the mass of brown tresses. The moment your tongue slips past his lips, they briefly brush his fangs. It’s strangely arousing. His tongue meets your own and you just hold on tighter.

“Miguel..”

He has you dazed with just a kiss. One of his hands has ventured lower. He gives you a soft squeeze and you moan.

Miguel is the one that draws back, he wants to take in your hazy expression.

“Am I forgiven?”

“Yeah, sure...”