Nope.

This was not happening.

You were dreaming, the red stain on the crisp white sheets of your boyfriend's bed was a figment of your mind's horrific imagination.

You reached down and dabbed at the stain, red residue rubbing off onto the tips of your fingers. It was real alright.

You scrunched your face up, screaming internally while you tried to figure out what to do. First things first, you would have to run to the living room to get a pad out of your purse. Without waking Spencer up.

You had only been dating for about three months. Of course, Spencer knew you had a period, but this was territory you hoped to not have to cross until the six month mark at the earliest. Things were still new and the honeymoon phase was in full swing. It wasn't exactly "I'm ready for you to see all my bodily functions" time in the relationship yet.

You knew in the back of your mind that he would have to see it. It wasn't like you could rip the sheets off without him knowing, seeing as he was dead asleep right next to you. Whether you wanted to or not, you were going to have to face this conversation.

You slipped out of the covers, the bed mercifully not squeaking as you stood. You made it to your purse without a sound, mentally high-fiving yourself. You were in the clear, for now.

"Y/N? Y/N!" Spencer's panicked voice jerked your spine straight. "Y/N, oh my god. No, no, no-"

He slid into the room, literally slid with his socks on the hardwood, his face looking downright petrified until he saw you standing in the moonlit living room.

"Hey, Spence," you squeaked. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

He was breathing hard as he brought a large hand up to rub at his chest. "I-uh, I rolled over and you weren't there. I opened my eyes and saw blood and I—what happened? Are you hurt?"

Your eyes widened as he rushed towards you, hands on your hips as he checked you over for injuries. It hadn't occurred to you that the bed looked like a murder scene—much like the ones that you and your boyfriend encountered on a weekly basis.

"Shit, Spencer, I'm so sorry," you groaned. "I'm fine, I just got my...period."

You winced, and his face turned from one of complete alarm to one of sympathy.

"Sweetheart, why didn't you wake me?" He rubbed a hand over the small of your back soothingly, bringing the other one to smooth your hair.

"I was embarrassed," you whined. "This thing between us is new and fun and I didn't want to gross you out right out of the gate like this."

Spencer laughed and you frowned.

"No, I'm not laughing at you," he reassured you, his hands running up and down your arms. "I just think it's silly that you thought I would be grossed out by something normal and healthy when we see mutilated bodies on a near daily basis."

When you thought about it like that, you couldn't help but laugh too.

"Listen," he was suddenly serious, holding your chin with his thumb and forefinger. "I know things are technically new between us. But remember what I told you that night I finally confessed that I'm hopelessly in love with you?"

You grinned, biting your lip. You remembered a lot of things about that night. The way you and Spencer had spent two years pining after one another until it finally came to a head in a cozy inn in Alaska on the last night of a case. How you danced in the snow and made bold confessions before warming up in the sweetest way in your room, trying not to wake Emily up next door.

"Which part are you specifically referring to?" You asked with a smirk.

He flushed pink, dropping his head for a second before bringing his eyes back to yours. "When I said I'm all in? That you're it for me? I meant it. No menstrual cycle or anything else could ever scare me away."

"Is it possible for me to love you even more?" You smiled, lovesick eyes gazing up at him before reality set in once more. "But your bed, it's covered in blood and so are my shorts and-"

"Come with me," he smiled, taking your hand and leading you back towards the bedroom.

Confused, you followed, until he stopped in front of his chest of drawers. He opened the top one on the right side and your jaw dropped. "What is this?"

"It's your drawer," he said proudly, gesturing to the contents. "I was going to show you today, actually, but we got back so late that it slipped my mind. I went and got you a toothbrush, toothpaste, pads, tampons, underwear, and some extra pajama pants and shorts. I would've gotten you shirts too but you usually steal mine anyways—"

You couldn't help but cut him off with a kiss. "Spencer. You're perfect."

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "No, I'm not. I just wanted to make you feel at home here."

Your heart tugged in your chest. Was he real?

He picked up a pair of plain black panties and some new blue sleep shorts with little white clouds on them. He placed a pad on top and then pushed the pile into your hands, ushering you to the bathroom.

"Hand me your stained shorts and underwear when you're done. I'm going to throw the sheets in the washer," he said, moving back to the bed.

You couldn't help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Once you were situated with fresh clothes and a pad secured in place, you returned to the bedroom. He already had fresh sheets on the mattress and a small heating pad plugged in on your side with a glass of water and some painkillers.

You fought the tears welling up in your eyes. You had never felt so absolutely loved and cared for in your life.

"I'll take those," he appeared next to you, gently taking the blood soaked clothes from your hands.

You felt a little awkward giving him your period blood-stained clothes like that, but he didn't even flinch. You thanked him, taking a few sips of water with the pills. You found him at the utility sink in the laundry room, rinsing your clothes in cold water to get the blood stains out before washing them.

You wrapped your arms around him from behind, resting your head against the lean muscles of his back. "You're an angel, Spence."

He hummed contentedly. "Just doing my job, honey. Go lay down with the heating pad, I'll be there in a minute."

He turned to give you a sweet forehead kiss before wringing out your clothes in the sink. You reluctantly padded back to the bedroom as the cramps set in. You curled up in a ball on your side, the heating pad situated snugly against your pelvis.

Warm arms wrapped around you before you felt Spencer's entire body heat surround you, tugging the covers up over you snugly.

"Where did you learn to do all this?" You asked softly.

"I'm a doctor, remember?" He teased, tickling your side lightly.

You giggled and squirmed. "You're not a medical doctor, genius. Seriously, where did you learn all about periods?"

He exhaled slowly. "My mom's memory issues started pretty early when I was graduating high school. Whenever I would come home from college, there would be little things she'd forget. Sometimes she would forget when she had gotten her period, and I would help her clean up her bed and get her set up on the couch. Besides, it was just me and her growing up. I was a naturally curious child so she had to teach me about feminine menstruation pretty early when I found her pads in the trash can."

You snuggled deeper into his embrace. "You're such a good man, Spence. You're an amazing son, an amazing FBI agent, and an even more amazing boyfriend. I honestly don't know how I deserve you."

He kissed your shoulder, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. He always said he loved the coconut scent on you. "I'm the lucky one. I kind always figured I would die alone."

You snorted. "You might wish you could die alone after a few years of me. I can be a mess sometimes."

He shook his head against you. "Everyone's a mess. But you're my mess."

You smiled, reaching back to scratch at his scalp like he loved so much. He hummed, leaning into your hand.

"Want me to massage your stomach?" He murmured against your ear.

"Please," you sighed.

He wasted no time in moving his large, warm hands to your lower stomach, right above where your uterus was currently throwing a tantrum. He massaged light circles and tested different patterns, asking you every few minutes if the pressure and motion was okay.

Soothing relief gradually took over and you felt yourself on the brink of blissful sleep. "I love you, Spencer," you whispered in the dark.

"I love you too, Y/N. Get some rest." Spencer kissed the side of your head, never stopping his soothing movements against your stomach until you were fast asleep.

You woke the next morning to the loss of Spencer's body warmth and frowned until you smelled pancakes. He was soon in the doorway, carrying two plates of chocolate chip pancakes, cups of orange juice gripped precariously in the crooks of his elbows.

"Good morning. How are you feeling?" He asked, placing the plate of hot pancakes down on your lap. He set the orange juice glass down on the nightstand before circling to the other side to climb in next to you.

"Much better. What's all this?" You asked, a grin spreading over your lips.

"I read that chocolate, in small doses, can actually help ease period cramps," he said with a bashful smile, gesturing to the pancakes. "Many medical professionals believe that's why most women, even ones who don't particularly like chocolate, crave it on their period."

You took a big bite, moaning at the warm sweetness. "It's delicious. Thank you. And it's really sweet that you did all that research."

"There's no need to thank me, honey," he said, smoothing your hair. "I like to think I'm good at taking care of people."

"You are," you agree. "I hope I can take care of you the same way."

"Well," Spencer chuckled, "I don't get periods, but you take care of me all the time, even when you don't think about it. Like when you bring me food when you know I haven't eaten on cases. Or when you give me scalp massages when you can tell I've had a stressful week. Or when you take my dry cleaning with yours because you know I'll forget. You do so much for me and I don't tell you thank you often enough."

You shrugged. "That's no big deal."

"It is," he insisted. "You do it not because you have to but because you want to. That's what makes it meaningful."

"You're the first man I've ever really felt that kind of thing for. The want to care for them. You mean the world to me and I want to help make you happy," you smiled.

He took your hand, kissing your palm with chocolate pancake lips before clutching it to his chest. "You do make me happy. Always."

Was this my best work? Probably not. I've been in a writing rut lately but I'm trying to work through it so I can spark my creativity again and give y'all the content you deserve. Hopefully more new material coming soon! Love ya bunches and bunches!

~🌸