The Chariot (Spencer x Reader)

SEVENTEEN

warning: gun violence, blood, death/dying

My eyes fluttered open to see the faint morning sunlight peeking through the curtains in my bedroom. I rolled to my other side to face Spencer, the movement causing him to hold me tighter.

He groaned.

"Good morning." I brushed a piece of hair behind his ear before placing a small kiss on his cheek. "I'll go make breakfast. Just stay here," I whispered.

I went to the kitchen and turned on the coffee pot. Thankfully, the avocado I had left sitting out on the counter while we were on the last case just so happened to be perfectly ripe. I knew that I had the chance of being pulled away from D.C. at any moment for work but yet I continued to buy avocados. It was like a weird, low-stakes game of Russian roulette where the bad (and most frequent) outcome was I would come home exhausted from a case to an empty apartment and a rotting avocado in my kitchen.

So, I threw some sourdough bread in the toaster and cracked a couple eggs into a bowl. I really did love to cook, but eggs were never my strong suit. Scrambled eggs are practically impossible to mess up, though, so that's what I made to go along with the avocado toast.

Coffee and breakfast in hand, I walked back to my bedroom to find Spencer passed out again. I debated briefly over whether or not I should take the food back to the kitchen and let him sleep.

"Hey, Spence, I have breakfast." I was too selfish to let him sleep.

He immediately perked up, slowly propping himself up on his elbows. "For me?" His voice cracked as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. I was convinced that there was no better sight that Spencer right after waking up. The disheveled hair and overall messy appearance was so different than how he presented himself to the rest of the world, and I loved it.

"For us. Here," I handed him his cup of coffee.

Saying we were happy would be an understatement. Both of us would've been content to stay there for the whole day, laughing, talking about whatever came to our minds, just enjoying each other's presence.

But that's not the way the universe works. We eventually had to get ready for work – our briefing at 10am was fast approaching.

"Could we stop at the bank really quick before we go in?" I asked as we got into my car.

"Of course," he approved.

I put the car into gear and drove to my bank, the soft sounds of the radio filling the otherwise comfortable silence. It was only a minute or two out of the way, and we had a couple minutes to spare before we would be late.

I pulled into a parking spot and left the car running, "I'll be right back." I pecked him on the cheek in such a comfortable, domestic way. It was becoming second nature at this point.

"Okay," Spencer flashed me a tight-lipped smile.

I stood in line to see the teller for what felt like 30 full minutes but was probably only 2 or 3 in reality. An elderly woman in front of me, though kind of adorable in her oldness, was taking forever.

Before my brain could register what was happening, my body hit the ground and crawled behind an armchair in the lobby. Gunfire had erupted by the entrance to the bank.

I smacked my hip where my holster normally rested, but there was nothing there. Fuck, my gun was in the car.

I peeked around the side of the chair to see a man and a woman, both wearing ski masks and shooting bullets into the ceiling to control the bank customers. The woman remained by the front door while the man began rounding up the hostages.