Summary: Hotch is injured in an explosion while on overseas assignment, putting Derek in a difficult position both with the team and with Spencer who has spent the last few months inadvertently falling in love with him.
Warnings: explosion, injuries, headache
Words: 3.6k
Pairings:Hotch/Morgan established
Notes: This is for @tobias-hankel’ s Spencer Whump Challenge. My assigned prompts to do my evil with were Derek Morgan & Betrayal, and if you know that going in… well I’m sorry. I am truly hoping this is just two parts, but let’s just say we’ll play it by ear. We have a long way to go before Spencer is truly whumped, huh?
Spencer felt the first twinge behind his eye the minute Dave stepped out of his office and onto the catwalk. Opening his mouth as he leaned over the railing to announce that Hotch’s plane had landed, the twinge turned into a sharp stabbing pain, there and gone in an instant. Shrugging it off, Spencer nodded and got up with the intention of letting Derek know.
The twinge in his eye became a dull throb in his forehead at the sight of Derek’s closed door, lights off. For three months, two weeks and four days (hours give or take) Spencer had been the focus of Derek’s attention. They’d been having dinner together almost nightly, carpooling, Spencer had a key to Derek’s front door. That he would leave without saying a word seemed almost impossible…but there it was. Hotch was back, and if what Dave said was to be believed, in bad shape.
(x)
Penelope had intercepted the information. She hadn’t meant to, but since the little hacking incident when Kevin was considering a highly confidential job in Karachi, she’d managed to keep that on the radar in case it popped up again. Like a nervous tick for a while, and then it settled into the back of her mind, completely forgotten until she saw the word Karachi on her screen. Just a blip, a flight coming in direct to Quantico. That didn’t seem right, it didn’t just happen and some nagging feeling in her gut told her that it was not just a coincidence that she saw it when she did. Not sure what to do with the information, or if it really was anything at all, she kept it quiet. If it really was something, they’d all know soon.And if it wasn’t, well she wasn’t supposed to know anything about anything and she’d rather not get in trouble again.
The way Rossi kept glancing at her while they ate lunch in the round table room told her what she feared wasn’t silly. They’d all been eating in there as of late, as often as they could, the smaller the team had gotten the more they tried to band together. Now it was nearly full again, and Rossi was looking for a break in conversation…a moment that he could make an announcement that was killing him. He’d been eating Tums, not his sandwich, and that told her what he was about to say was bad and it all screamed Karachi at her. He looked pale; this wasn’t just bad it was bad bad. She wished she had a Tums too.
When everyone’s mouths went full and quiet, he spotted his opening.
“There isn’t any good way to share this kind of news, so I hope you’ll forgive me for being blunt.” He paused anyway, made sure he had everyone’s attention and Penelope nodded at him, letting him know that she was at least somewhat aware…she’d seen. He figured as much. “Hotch was injured in an explosion overseas,” he was careful not to say Karachi but Penelope felt it in her bones. He lost himself in the dead silence and found it hard to continue around the lump in his throat. “It’s bad. Happened about a month ago. The job, as you know, is confidential so there was no alert…it never happened…” That last part came out with characteristic Rossi sarcasm and frustration. He sighed. “It’s been touch and go, but he was stable enough to make the flight home. It arrives here at the Quantico airstrip tonight at 4pm. He’ll be taken to Georgetown immediately…I don’t know more than that right now.” So please don’t ask, that’s what he meant to say but didn’t have the heart.
Of course, they all had questions but none of them dared to go there, they maybe didn’t want whatever answers Rossi could provide and just kept quiet. All except Emily, whose eyes had gone wide and bright. “Is he going to be okay?” She knew that was the most childish way she could have said it but “is he going to make it?” sounded too damn awful. She thought of the way he protected her, that this was how he kept her secret and kept her safe and she wanted to put her fist through the table. Or his face.
“You’ll know when I know.” That felt like a damn lie, she figured, but his vault when it came to Hotch was sealed airtight.
Summary: Hotch is injured in an explosion while on overseas assignment, putting Derek in a difficult position both with the team and with Spencer who has spent the last few months inadvertently falling in love with him.
Warnings: explosion, injuries, headache
Words: 3.6k
Pairings:Hotch/Morgan established
Notes: This is for @tobias-hankel’ s Spencer Whump Challenge. My assigned prompts to do my evil with were Derek Morgan & Betrayal, and if you know that going in… well I’m sorry. I am truly hoping this is just two parts, but let’s just say we’ll play it by ear. We have a long way to go before Spencer is truly whumped, huh?
Spencer felt the first twinge behind his eye the minute Dave stepped out of his office and onto the catwalk. Opening his mouth as he leaned over the railing to announce that Hotch’s plane had landed, the twinge turned into a sharp stabbing pain, there and gone in an instant. Shrugging it off, Spencer nodded and got up with the intention of letting Derek know.
The twinge in his eye became a dull throb in his forehead at the sight of Derek’s closed door, lights off. For three months, two weeks and four days (hours give or take) Spencer had been the focus of Derek’s attention. They’d been having dinner together almost nightly, carpooling, Spencer had a key to Derek’s front door. That he would leave without saying a word seemed almost impossible…but there it was. Hotch was back, and if what Dave said was to be believed, in bad shape.
(x)
Penelope had intercepted the information. She hadn’t meant to, but since the little hacking incident when Kevin was considering a highly confidential job in Karachi, she’d managed to keep that on the radar in case it popped up again. Like a nervous tick for a while, and then it settled into the back of her mind, completely forgotten until she saw the word Karachi on her screen. Just a blip, a flight coming in direct to Quantico. That didn’t seem right, it didn’t just happen and some nagging feeling in her gut told her that it was not just a coincidence that she saw it when she did. Not sure what to do with the information, or if it really was anything at all, she kept it quiet. If it really was something, they’d all know soon.And if it wasn’t, well she wasn’t supposed to know anything about anything and she’d rather not get in trouble again.
The way Rossi kept glancing at her while they ate lunch in the round table room told her what she feared wasn’t silly. They’d all been eating in there as of late, as often as they could, the smaller the team had gotten the more they tried to band together. Now it was nearly full again, and Rossi was looking for a break in conversation…a moment that he could make an announcement that was killing him. He’d been eating Tums, not his sandwich, and that told her what he was about to say was bad and it all screamed Karachi at her. He looked pale; this wasn’t just bad it was bad bad. She wished she had a Tums too.
When everyone’s mouths went full and quiet, he spotted his opening.
“There isn’t any good way to share this kind of news, so I hope you’ll forgive me for being blunt.” He paused anyway, made sure he had everyone’s attention and Penelope nodded at him, letting him know that she was at least somewhat aware…she’d seen. He figured as much. “Hotch was injured in an explosion overseas,” he was careful not to say Karachi but Penelope felt it in her bones. He lost himself in the dead silence and found it hard to continue around the lump in his throat. “It’s bad. Happened about a month ago. The job, as you know, is confidential so there was no alert…it never happened…” That last part came out with characteristic Rossi sarcasm and frustration. He sighed. “It’s been touch and go, but he was stable enough to make the flight home. It arrives here at the Quantico airstrip tonight at 4pm. He’ll be taken to Georgetown immediately…I don’t know more than that right now.” So please don’t ask, that’s what he meant to say but didn’t have the heart.
Of course, they all had questions but none of them dared to go there, they maybe didn’t want whatever answers Rossi could provide and just kept quiet. All except Emily, whose eyes had gone wide and bright. “Is he going to be okay?” She knew that was the most childish way she could have said it but “is he going to make it?” sounded too damn awful. She thought of the way he protected her, that this was how he kept her secret and kept her safe and she wanted to put her fist through the table. Or his face.
“You’ll know when I know.” That felt like a damn lie, she figured, but his vault when it came to Hotch was sealed airtight.
(x)
The dull throb started pounding without mercy when Spencer’s phone buzzed against his thigh. Staring into Derek’s office, the plants glistening in the dark, he felt something surge through him. Hot like anger but more than that. He couldn’t think of the right word, his mind had gone white hot. The buzzing at his thigh a second time startled him from the pain. The first had only been an email from Dave that he didn’t want to read, it probably had to do with Hotch and he didn’t want to know anything, not yet. The second was a text from Derek asking him to please stop by his house after work to let Clooney out into the backyard for a bit. There was subtext there, he was at the hospital, he was with Hotch. He didn’t need to say it, and it certainly shouldn’t have surprised him.
Grab yourself some takeout and sit with him for a few, yeah? Feel free to snag a beer and sleep over if you want…I’ll give you some cash tomorrow. Thanks buddy.
Buddy. Buddy. He pressed the heel of his palm into his eye socket and saw stars. Buddy.
(x)
The hospital was quiet, or at least everything that went on outside of Hotch’s quiet room seemed to fade into a sort of background noise that Derek didn’t register. He stared at Hotch in the bed, roughly a month out from an explosion that took his mobility and his eyesight. Temporarily, they kept assuring him. Just a few weeks out from a crude hip surgery, nothing like he would have gotten at home but given that his station was highly confidential, and he’d been living out of a tent for months, it was holding. The surgeons were top notch and the hospitals were good but they weren’t there for comfort and they had to push him through quickly. They had options in the future. Opening him back up felt like a wallop to the gut, a step backward, and his hip being crushed was really the least of his concerns. His eyesight, that would be a matter of time, simply waiting. Derek was, justifiably, most concerned with the way Hotch looked at him and didn’t seem to really know who he was.
That wasn’t entirely the truth, though. Hotch did know, but sometimes his thoughts were crystal clear and sometimes they were scattered and washed out. Everything was there but none of it fit together. His mind was a beach after a great storm, memories scattered in the sand and surf, partially buried. It was a treasure hunt. In those moments of confusion his eye (the other was taped under thick gauze) went faraway and Derek longed to know what was going on in there. Sometimes he was there in the hospital, and he knew about the Humvee that had blown to bits one hundred yards away. Just a football field between he and molten metal. He remembered the way the air stilled and then pressed hot against him, forced him in the opposite direction. He remembered his feet pounding the hard sand as he tried to find safety, listening to the screams of people who hadn’t been so fortunately far away. He remembered hearing the wheel screaming through the air before it slammed into him, throwing him sideways and knocking him out. He didn’t remember anything between that and waking up in the medical tent with pain he couldn’t account for.
“Where is here?” Hotch asked, blinking himself awake for the second or third time that hour. He couldn’t seem to keep from falling asleep. The drugs in this hospital were stronger than he’d been used to, and though they couldn’t seem to touch the throbbing in his hip or the wailing pain in his head, they did make him sleep through it. Derek was beside him, ever dutiful, and sometimes he understood that it was because there was something there…love, he recognized it, but that felt far away, like it belonged to someone else.
“Georgetown,” Derek replied for the second or third time that hour. Each time it was met with a scowl and each time he smiled at that, because that was Hotch. He was still in there. “They’re gonna let me break you outta here in a few days I bet.” Wishful thinking or lies, he didn’t really dare to break it down.
(x)
Spencer’s head hadn’t stopped pounding since Hotch’s plane touched down. He didn’t mean to associate his pain with Hotch’s return, but they were tied together inexplicably. He didn’t know why and it was probably a fluke, but with the lights off and an ice pack resting on his forehead, he couldn’t help but wish that Hotch was still in Karachi. Of course he didn’t want him hurt, nothing like that…just there. It should have been longer. He knew that was just as wrong, whether he was hurt or not, but he couldn’t seem to move past it.
Three months. In that time, he and Derek had spent a lot of time together. He’d begun teaching, asking for reassignment from the BAU to somewhere that he could try to heal from the loss of Emily rather than just burying it in piles of work that only served to remind him of what he’d lost. Hotch deciding to take a post overseas had affirmed his decision…they all needed to figure some things out and her empty desk didn’t help. Derek started leading the team, small as it was, and they had to make more of an effort to see each other when they didn’t work in the same department.
Three months of dinners, of getting a key to Derek’s house to care for Clooney when the now very small team had to leave town. Three months of the guest bedroom in Derek’s house mostly belonging to him.
So, if his headache started the minute Hotch was back on US soil, and his headache continued while Derek pulled away from him…well how could he associate it with anyone or anything else? Derek wasn’t pulling away, he supposed, not yet, but he hadn’t heard from him outside of that one text message in a couple of days. Normally Derek would send him silly memes or ask him questions, invite him over to watch a movie…radio silence was deafening.
A knock at his door barely roused him from the darkness of the pit he’d been falling into. He glanced at his watch, squinted until it came into focus and almost thought he was dreaming. Who came to his place at 1am? Who came to his place at all? He’d passed out on the couch with his record player going, now just crackling and popping to let him know the album needed flipping…every light in the place was on, but that was nothing new. He slept that way.
“Hey kid,” Derek said, slouching in his doorway. Spencer moved out of the way to let him in, but Derek came only a little of the way inside. “I can’t stay, I was just driving home and saw that your light was on…thought I’d say hi. It’s been a rough few days.” Spencer smiled wearily and jammed his thumb against the throb in his temple.
“Fell asleep on the couch I guess. It’s good to see you though.”
“You want to come over for dinner tomorrow night? I probably won’t cook but I’ll spring for take-out. Your pick.”
“I’d love to.” It was as simple as that. Derek never came any further in, and there was no ceremony over him turning and walking out the door. The lights stayed on the but the record was put back into it’s sleeve and he went back to sleep on the couch. His headache didn’t keep him awake.
(x)
Spencer’s feet were kicked up on the coffee table, a sign of familiarity that he didn’t often affect in another person’s home. But he could here, he had a key, he practically lived here. More than that, he was in socks, toes wiggling in the warm dry air where the fire hissed and popped to keep them comfortable. The first frosts of winter were just settling in, the emerald blades of grass would be glittering and stiff in the washed-out gray of dawn. Derek sat on the same couch, though his feet were curled beneath his thighs while Clooney snored his dog dreams beneath him. His paws twitched and Spencer wondered if he was dreaming of the squirrel he’d chased into a tree earlier that night. Hours he’d spent, and he couldn’t seem to make himself leave…this felt like home. The room was quiet, dizzying and sweet, and Spencer couldn’t help but lose himself staring at the way Derek basked in the glow of the embers. It was late, he was sure he should leave but it was so nice there with Derek, so easy that instead of making the announcement that he’d be heading out, he drew nearer.
Derek didn’t shy away, he let Spencer lean toward him happy and warm. “You wanna stay tonight?” Derek asked, his voice thick like honey dripping over Spencer’s washed-out muted senses. He was two glasses of wine deep, which is more than a lot for him, it was basically unheard of. The orange chicken and rice sat like lead in his belly, holding him firm where he sat.
“Yeah, I probably should.” He was planning to take a cab, that was easy, but this was better.
He was already leaning toward Derek, thinking this is the moment, he’s just been invited to stay the night and he was richly inundated with velvety red wine…it was now or never. (He didn’t give even one thought to Hotch being in the hospital. He’d feel bad for that later, but it didn’t cross his mind now.)
Now or never. That was all he could think. Like a skipping record, he felt it in his chest.
“Derek?” It was a familiar voice, rasping and raw from the darkened hallway. The sound of Clooney’s tail thumping the floor broke Spencer from his reverie and a moment later Hotch came limping into the room all messy hair and squinty eyes. His hair really was everywhere, his features grim and drawn beneath shards of matted black. He was leaning hard on a crutch, barely putting weight on his right leg, hopping a little as he came to a stop. Derek jumped up from his perch on the couch and went to him. Just went right to him, drawn like a moth to a flame, he didn’t even hesitate. His arms flew immediately to Hotch’s sides, as if the crutch wasn’t enough, and maybe it wasn’t but still. He just left Spencer sitting there swimming in the moment that never was. He blinked stupidly, wondering if he really would have kissed Derek or if he would have chickened out.
“What are you doing up?”
Hotch blinked slowly at him, and Spencer could see that he was trying to sort out the situation. He saw Spencer on the couch, two glasses of wine, a fire and he could see it clear on Hotch’s face…he thought this was a date. Date night. He used to have those but that was all fuzzy and gray. The room was fuzzy too, he really couldn’t see well, everything was a mess of color and shape framed by blurry black nothing. Out of focus camera lenses.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered sadly. “You have company…I’ve interrogated you.” He frowned, that wasn’t the word he was looking for. Spencer’s stomach twisted in a knot, he hated seeing Hotch like this, but he was hardly paying attention. It was Derek he was watching. The way he was gently holding Hotch upright, waiting as he searched for the right word. “Interrupted, I mean.”
Derek let out a soft laugh and shook his head. “It’s just Spencer…from work?” He added that last part with a nervous edge, wondering if he was crossing a line, making too strong an assumption. Sometimes Hotch was crystal clear, and sometimes it just took a little longer, a little slide sideways through the murk, before he could catch the recognition he needed. Muddled and shaken up, not gone.
Hotch squinted with the one eye not covered in gauze and nodded slowly. “Right. Spencer…hi Spencer. Good to see you.” Spencer forced a thin-lipped smile and waved; it was an awkward gesture that made him feel slimy after what he’d just been thinking about doing. Derek turned his attention fully back to Hotch and Spencer was able to let out the breath he’d been holding.
“Did you need something?”
“I…” he began, licking his dry lips with his dry tongue. “I was thirsty.” A look of complete bewilderment crossed his features, as if what came out of his mouth might not have been true. He knew it was though, he just didn’t trust himself.
“I left a glass of water on your nightstand; did you see it?”
Spencer watched the interaction with some vague interest. It wasn’t what they said that he cared about, but Derek’s body language, the way he gently surrounded Hotch there, made sure he stayed steady on his feet. His voice was so quiet that Spencer almost couldn’t make it out, filling him with an oddly itchy feeling. Like being a kid and spying on your parents in some adult moment, arguing in hushed voices or kissing in the hallway, nothing big but just not for your eyes. He pressed the heel of his hand into his right eye and breathed through the low throb that had appeared again. It had been quiet all night.
Hotch shifted and looked down at his feet, stared hard at his black and gray wool socks like the answer was there. His voice dropped to barely audible and almost sad. “I knocked it over.”
Derek nodded in that sagely way he had and didn’t press further, and Spencer was thankful as they left the room. Back down the hallway, Hotch limping badly against the crutch with Derek’s arm slung around his waist in a way that made Spencer’s stomach twist. Hotch’s hip was screaming at him for being upright, but it sort of just screamed and throbbed all the time no matter what he did. Sometimes he forgot why it hurt and those were the worst times. Right now, he remembered that much. The tire flying through the air, turning to run and the feeling of it slamming into him, knocking him to the ground as flame and shrapnel swirled around him. Each step reminded him with a sort of bright white clarity, but Derek’s hand on the small of his back felt disconnected from anything here. That moment, that feeling was different and pleasant…they’d been at a beach somewhere in Florida with Jack, Derek’s hands rubbing sunscreen all over his pale skin, dragging sand from the small of his back upward. He glanced over to take in the sight of Derek beside him, desperate to hold onto this clear moment, this piece of memory that Derek held firm against him with warm fingertips. The clarity was beautiful, but it brought with it the knowledge that it would fade into the gray fog again. He hoped it wouldn’t stay away as long this time.
Back in bed, it was all Derek doing the work. Maneuvering his limbs, propping pillows in all the right places. He could do so very little for himself right now except get angry at his limitations and it took every ounce of energy he possessed not to take that anger out on Derek. “Do you want me to stay with you?”
“No,” he replied, closing his eyes. He felt his lashes drag against the inside of the gauze, damp with tears. He could take the gauze off, but the look Derek gave him when he saw his eye, that he couldn’t bear. It burned under light, and he saw the world through a haze of red, easier to keep it shut away. “Goodnight.” He almost tried to say Derek’s name but second guessed himself, worrying he’d get it wrong. He’d done it before and the look in Derek’s eyes when he’d said the wrong name made his stomach hurt. Instead, he just settled with his eyes closed and willed the hours from now until his next dose of medication to pass without incident.
Derek collapsed into his place on the couch a different man than the one who had left. Spencer didn’t think much of it, he too was a different man than he’d been before when the wine warmed his belly and made him think of kissing Derek. The sensation now was something else, something ugly. And his head hurt worse.
“I didn’t realize he was out of the hospital yet,” he muttered with more than a little salt in his tone. Derek hadn’t told him, kept that a secret. Maybe he wouldn’t have said a word if Hotch hadn’t come in looking for water. “Is he…”
“It’s complicated.” Derek ravaged his face with his hands, dragging them up and down again like he was trying to rearrange his features. “Everything is right now.” He was trying to hold it together, but all at once his face seemed to crumble, fall and his eyes shone bright with what Spencer thought were probably tears.
“What can I do?”
If Spencer’s hand fell into place on Derek’s thigh as he asked, neither of them paid it much attention.
I am being a big ol’ slow poke about finishing all of the stories I have mistakenly started, so I thought I’d offer a tiny little peek at something I am working on for @tobias-hankel and their Spencer whump challenge. It’s a whole lot of cruelty…this is just the tip of the iceberg. Also, it isn’t edited so it might not look exactly like this when the whole huge thing is finished but you get the idea. (If anyone wants to be tagged when it is posted…hopefully by this weekend…let me know?)
**
Spencer’s feet are kicked up on the coffee table, a sign of familiarity that he didn’t often affect in another person’s home. He’s in socks, toes wiggling in the warm dry air where the fire hisses and pops to keep them comfortable. Derek is on the same couch as he is, though his feet are curled underneath him while Clooney snores his dog dreams beneath him. The room is quiet, dizzying and sweet, and Spencer can’t help but lose himself staring at the way Derek basks in the glow of the embers. It’s late, he thinks he should get going but it’s so nice here with Derek, so easy, that he draws nearer.
Derek doesn’t shy away; he lets Spencer lean toward him happy and warm. “You wanna stay tonight?” Derek asks, his voice thick like honey dripping over Spencer’s washed out muted senses. He’s two glasses of wine deep, which is more than a lot for him, it’s basically unheard of. He isn’t sure Derek has even touched his glass, but he isn’t sure of much right now except that his heart just started drumming a new beat in his chest.
“Yeah, I probably should.” He was planning to take a cab, that was easy, but this was better.
He’s leaning toward Derek, thinking this is the moment, he’s just been invited to stay the night and he’s richly inundated with velvety red wine…it’s now or never.
Now or never.
“Derek?” It’s a familiar voice, rasping and broken from the darkened hallway. The voice sounds like raw pain, and he shivers. Clooney’s tail begins thumping the floor and the noise breaks Spencer from his reverie. A moment later Hotch is limping into the room all messy hair and squinty eyes, looking like someone ravaged by sleep. He’s leaning hard on a crutch, barely putting weight on his right leg, and Derek jumps from his perch on the couch and goes to him. Just goes to him, drawn like a moth to a flame, he doesn’t even hesitate. His arms fly to Hotch’s sides, as if the crutch isn’t enough, and maybe it isn’t but still. He just leaves Spencer sitting there swimming in the moment that never was.
Summary: Hotch is injured in an explosion while on overseas assignment, putting Derek in a difficult position both with the team and with Spencer who has spent the last few months inadvertently falling in love with him. (Set around 07x01 - It Takes a Village but canon divergent by a lot.)
Warnings: drug use, infidelity (almost), kind of non-consensual touching, panic, pain…kinda nsfw so do with that what you will…Derek is about to have a lot of regrets.
Words: 2.1k
Pairings: Hotch/Morgan established
Notes: This is for @tobias-hankel’ s Spencer Whump Challenge. My assigned prompts to do my evil with were Derek Morgan & Betrayal…ooooooogh. This one is rough. I had a hard time writing it, not gonna lie. I threw a few temper tantrums. But we press on, right? Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do to get the outcome we’re after…
Lights out everywhere. The whole town was pitch black in a swirl of snow. A surprise late season storm, and the only perk Derek could see as he watched a flame flicker to life in his zippo was that at least the unsub would be held up as much by the storm as they were. Hard to hunt when no one was leaving their homes and so far, he didn’t have another victim that they knew of. Time was suddenly suspended in the mountains.
“Generators should kick on shortly, but it’s so damn cold who knows. Y'all should go back to the lodge and get some shut eye while ya can. Bound to be a long cold night.”
“They got power?” Derek asked, smirking in the dark. The sheriff laughed.
“Not likely. They got generators too but in this kinda freeze…well everything up here’s old, see. Might take a bit. Few extra blankets and a night cap might not be a bad idea.”
The lodge, perched in a small clearing of trees, was dark. Shockingly dark, though the hum of a generator could be heard rumbling from where they parked their tired SUV. The snow was piling up rapidly, by morning it might be buried. “Well, something has power…” Rossi muttered, following the team through the deep snow. He could feel it forming clumps against his socks, bunching up against his ankles. Rossi really, really hated the snow. (Now, snow falling outside a warm cabin with a crackling fire and a glass of Sangiovese…that was different. This was not the same.)
“Not us,” was all Emily said, she and JJ breaking off from the pack to make for their room. Derek regarded Spencer with a strange look, wondering if he was still upset. It didn’t seem like it but he’d learned over the years that if there was anyone he was absolute dog shit at reading, it was Spencer Reid. The kid had more nooks and crannies than an antique shop. The first thing Derek thought when they entered their room was simply that he wished he’d thought to leave their heater on, at least it would be warm in there now. Hotch wouldn’t have forgotten that, he would have turned it up to full blast, the room would be stifling but no. It was almost as cold as outside.
Summary: Hotch is injured in an explosion while on overseas assignment, putting Derek in a difficult position both with the team and with Spencer who has spent the last few months inadvertently falling in love with him. (Set around 07x01 - It Takes a Village but canon divergent by a lot.)
Warnings: drug use, infidelity (almost), kind of non-consensual touching, panic, pain…kinda nsfw so do with that what you will…Derek is about to have a lot of regrets.
Words: 2.1k
Pairings: Hotch/Morgan established
Notes: This is for @tobias-hankel’ s Spencer Whump Challenge. My assigned prompts to do my evil with were Derek Morgan & Betrayal…ooooooogh. This one is rough. I had a hard time writing it, not gonna lie. I threw a few temper tantrums. But we press on, right? Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do to get the outcome we’re after…
Lights out everywhere. The whole town was pitch black in a swirl of snow. A surprise late season storm, and the only perk Derek could see as he watched a flame flicker to life in his zippo was that at least the unsub would be held up as much by the storm as they were. Hard to hunt when no one was leaving their homes and so far, he didn’t have another victim that they knew of. Time was suddenly suspended in the mountains.
“Generators should kick on shortly, but it’s so damn cold who knows. Y'all should go back to the lodge and get some shut eye while ya can. Bound to be a long cold night.”
“They got power?” Derek asked, smirking in the dark. The sheriff laughed.
“Not likely. They got generators too but in this kinda freeze…well everything up here’s old, see. Might take a bit. Few extra blankets and a night cap might not be a bad idea.”
The lodge, perched in a small clearing of trees, was dark. Shockingly dark, though the hum of a generator could be heard rumbling from where they parked their tired SUV. The snow was piling up rapidly, by morning it might be buried. “Well, something has power…” Rossi muttered, following the team through the deep snow. He could feel it forming clumps against his socks, bunching up against his ankles. Rossi really, really hated the snow. (Now, snow falling outside a warm cabin with a crackling fire and a glass of Sangiovese…that was different. This was not the same.)
“Not us,” was all Emily said, she and JJ breaking off from the pack to make for their room. Derek regarded Spencer with a strange look, wondering if he was still upset. It didn’t seem like it but he’d learned over the years that if there was anyone he was absolute dog shit at reading, it was Spencer Reid. The kid had more nooks and crannies than an antique shop. The first thing Derek thought when they entered their room was simply that he wished he’d thought to leave their heater on, at least it would be warm in there now. Hotch wouldn’t have forgotten that, he would have turned it up to full blast, the room would be stifling but no. It was almost as cold as outside.
“I say we pile all of the blankets onto one bed and huddle for warmth,” Derek announced and Spencer nearly choked on his tongue. “It’s the smartest option. Better to do it now while we’re not too cold than in the middle of the night when we’re both shivering.”
Spencer had no argument. It was smart, sure, but also exactly what he wanted. While he went into the bathroom to change into his pajamas, Derek decided he’d do it right out in the open while he called Hotch. He just wanted to say goodnight, they hadn’t talked since the argument about the damn pills, and he still had plenty of battery charge if he made it quick. “Hey baby, how are you doing?”
Hotch was quiet. It was a bad pain night, one for the books. He was trying to bide his time and make the pills he liked stretch until the new prescriptions could be filled but it was unpleasant, and he was having a very bad time with it. “I’m okay.” That’s what he said, but what he meant was that he wished Derek was there and it was understood. Derek could hear the strain in his voice.
“I’m sorry baby,“ he said quietly. "I’ll be home soon. We just got hit with a bastard of a storm…it’ll be a few more days.” He spoke with a softness in his voice that he hadn’t been able to find in the time he’d been away. He still felt terrible for snapping the night before, was just glad that Hotch was willing to talk with him after that. “I miss you.”
Hotch hummed in response, somewhere deep in the belly of his pain with nothing more than a handful of aspirin to take the edge off. It wasn’t cutting it. Jess was rubbing his lower back, kneading in circles to try and take some of the pressure off but it was barely helping. He told her it was good because it made her feel like she was doing something while Sean slept. They were ships in the night these days. One on duty while the other slept or kept Jack occupied. Sean was better at helping him manage his pain, he could take him for walks (mostly up and down the driveway, maybe to the corner) because he was strong enough to help if anything happened. Jess couldn’t do that, so she sat with him and rubbed his back.
(x)
It didn’t take long before Spencer was shivering. Derek’s internal thermostat seemed to be firing on all cylinders, he was still plenty warm, so he pushed right up next to the kid and whispered something cheeky about snuggling in the dark that made Spencer laugh. He’d taken one more of Hotch’s Vicodin while he was changing, the fear of the dark too great. He thought it might take the edge off of everything being so black, no light in the room save for the pool of silver trying to drip through the blinds from the winter moon.
Spencer couldn’t find a way to shut his mind off, even with the swirling feeling the pill was giving him. He was floating inside of the blankets, relaxed and almost separate from the intensity of the cold. Is this what it feels like in a chrysalis? His mind was fluttering on furry moth wings, warm and sticky and god he just wanted to talk. Like a child afraid of the dark, talking would help. Maybe he could tell Derek about moths.
“Derek?” His voice was small and came from deep in the mound of blankets, floating through the curves and crevices. It didn’t sound like his own as it moved further from him. Derek’s response was simply a hum, deep and gravely and thick with sleep. Derek slid closer on instinct alone, wrapped him in his arms and buried his face in Spencer’s neck. His deep breathing had all the quality of a big cat purring and Spencer lost his moth dream and was thinking about tigers now. There was a part of him, buried deep, that knew without a doubt that Derek was sure he was holding Hotch, and he was right. Hotch, forever cold, shivering in the blankets and putting his cold feet between Derek’s legs to steal whatever warmth he possessed…that was where Derek’s mind was. Deep in a dream of being home, in better times, when Hotch wanted to be touched and, hell, could be touched. And maybe he was being silly about that, maybe he should have asked Hotch if he wanted it, if he was waiting too but he just didn’t…it didn’t matter. He was dreaming about it now and it was so good.
Spencer slipped around inside of the embrace until they were face to face, and in the dark he couldn’t tell if Derek’s eyes were open or closed but he pressed his lips to Derek’s quickly and waited. Bold, maybe, but he had felt Derek’s erection against his back and he wondered just enough if it weren’t for him, at least on some level. Maybe he was thinking about Hotch, sure, but if he found out it was Spencer would it really be thatbad? Derek kissed him back hungrily, holding him tight, and Spencer found himself no longer second guessing any of it. His entire world was the swell in Derek’s pants and his sweet cherry chapstick.
It was all he’d ever wanted. The kiss was sleep laced and languid, full of a weird slow-building intensity. Every move carried rainbow shock tracers in the dark, and Spencer almost seemed to watch himself grow bolder by the minute, cold hands slipping up beneath Derek’s sweatshirt, fingertips against abs he’d been dreaming about for years. Every move with less and less inhibition, and when he wasn’t pushed away, when he was welcomed…he couldn’t stop himself, he lost all control of his impulses. One hand first, no sense of timidity left, slipped lower and lower until he was grazing Derek’s hip bone. Just a little further and he’d have it all, he knew it, and he felt bold. An out of body experience, he felt Derek hard against his thigh and he let his hands move further without waiting for any further invitations, Derek’s lips on his and his roaming hands were all the permission he needed. Beneath the waistband of Derek’s sweats he paused and smiled into the kiss, not surprised to find that Derek wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
Pressed up close, Spencer’s pulse quickened and Derek’s breath was so damn hot against his neck. The chill of the room couldn’t touch him there. He let his hand slip further, dangerously close and trembling with anticipation, would have made it too if he wasn’t stopped by a sudden sharp intake of breath from Derek. Not quite a gasp and definitely not a noise of pleasure, Spencer drew back instantly, pulled his hand back to safety. The space between them grew until it felt like a canyon and he listened to the quick, shallow breathing from Derek in the dark. He couldn’t see a thing, and for the first time that night he was grateful because for another blissful second he could pretend that it hadn’t been a mistake and that Derek wasn’t going to be upset with him. Spencer stared wide eyed straight ahead as Derek blinked himself fully awake, came to his senses, his breathing now almost panicky.
“Spencer?” he gasped, almost falling out of the bed in his desperation to put more distance between them. There was no amount that felt like enough. His hands were shaking, but his body…god his body still wanted that touch. It had been so long, almost 4 months now, he’d been dreaming about touching Hotch again…he dreamed it almost every night now and woke up in a cold sweat but he hadn’t thought it would happen now, in a bed with Spencer and god…what has he done? Spencer was almost cowering for a moment, trying to wrap his mind around the situation. He thought Derek was awake, or at least partially awake…into it…
“I’m…I’m sorry. I thought...” Spencer stammered, blinking wildly in the dark. Derek stood in the puddle of silver moonlight rubbing his face, trying to get a grip on what was happening, what his body was still driving him toward. For one blissful moment he lighted on the possibility that he was still stuck in his dream, that he was actually still sleeping. But somehow he knew that wasn’t true. This was real. A cold shower sounded stupid under the circumstances but he needed it. So desperately, even if he froze to death. “Derek?”
“No, it’s my fault,” Derek mumbled, still in shock. “I guess my mind…” Four months, he thought bitterly. Four months and now look at him. The worst part was that there was maybe no end in sight. And god now he was going to have to tell Hotch…he couldn’t even look at Spencer, he felt so awful. “I must have been dreaming. Kid, I’m so sorry. I really fucked up.”
“It’s okay…” Spencer said it in a way that Derek thought sounded heartbreaking and hopeful, like he wanted it. Suddenly things were falling into some kind of painfully clear and bright order and Derek felt his stomach twist. He was going to be sick. “Derek, it’s okay if you wanted to…I know it’s been a long time…”
The dark wrapped him up tight, and Derek thought for a moment that he might pass out. What had he done? What the hell had he done? Forcing his breathing to slow, he counted, tried all of his tricks to calm himself and think rationally. He didn’t do anything he couldn’t explain to Hotch, it was innocent…stupid, incredibly fucking stupid, but innocent. As long as he took a shower and killed the last of the fire on his skin (and in his pants), it would remain innocent.
“No,” he replied softly, finally finding his voice. “No, Spencer, that’s…I’m sorry if I lead you on, made you feel like something was here that isn’t…”
He was already walking toward the shower, now in a sort of daze. “I never meant to. I’m so sorry.” The bathroom door closed and locked behind him, and yeah, he knew the power was off and he’d be freezing in a pitch-black ice-cold shower but that was fine. He sat himself down beneath the spray and cried the tears he’d been holding in since Hotch got home. Maybe longer. Maybe since the moment Emily came back and smiled at him with a watery apology floating in the depths of deceit. He didn’t know anymore, but his tears were hot and the water was cold and his body went numb sitting there.
Morgan: He’d tease Emily because they argue like brothers and sisters, but he’d also be proud that they were able to be themselves and be happy. He’s very protective of the two of them when unsubs are trying to hit on them.
Reid: He’d be kind and congratulate them. He might be sad for a little bit because he had a crush on JJ, but he can see how happy they are and he’s nothing but supportive.
Garcia: She’s the ultimate Jemily shipper. She has printed t-shirts with Jemily slogans and she puts up rainbow flags everywhere and constantly hugs her two best friends. When they’re on a case, she prints out photographs of JJ and Emily to decorate their desks for when they get back.
Rossi: He’s not surprised. His first reaction is “it’s about damn time” and he invites the team for a special Rossi dinner at his mansion. He’s also secretly preparing for their inevitable wedding at his.
Hotch: He already knew but he didn’t want to deny them the opportunity to share their big news. He smiles and congratulates both of them whilst remaining calm and objective. He reminds them to keep it professional at work but he’s secretly delighted that they’re happy together. He’s extra protective during cases with homophobic unsubs.
‧˚ʚhalloween hookers and party poopers [rafe cameron, was supposed to come out for halloween but i never finished it]
‧˚ʚpoppy’s love [sirius black?, series]
‧˚ʚjawbreaker [joel miller, series of fics and hcs for my tlou au]
warning.not really a warning lol but plz keep in mind that i’m currently fixing my blog + navigation so you may see me spamming posts or making masterlists with no active links, but that just my process. it’ll be rather quick and i think it’ll be worth it. after that, i’ll just have to keep it up, which shouldn’t be too hard! thanks for your patience and understanding ‧˚ʚ ⋆ ꜝꜞ
+ if you leave a comment the answer will be from @siriusly-parker-main ☹︎ don’t worry it’s still me lol tumblr just doesn’t let you choose which blog to comment from so it’s my main blog or wtv but you don’t need to follow it or anything it’s just my personal blog for rebloging stupid stuff
