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/drug theft, addiction, lies
Words: 3.4k
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…oh, we have more betrayal? Is everyone betraying everyone? Maybe. I spent the weekend getting sunburnt at a Little League tournament dreaming up more ways to hurt these people so buckle up folks.
In the morning, Derek looked exhausted. Like a man who slept at his desk, but he’d done one better, he’d slept on a chair in a hospital room. Letting Jessica take the cot had made sense, she would sleep, he would not. He paced the corridor anxiously, sometimes the only sound in the entire place was his footsteps. There was the distinct feeling he’d forgotten something, but each time he tried to get there everything went blank. Probably just worried about Jack, about Sean being out of his depths there…did Sean know what to do about Clooney? Surely, he could figure out a dog. He’d called anyway, just to put his mind at ease…and yet it didn’t help. Something still ate at him. Looking haggard at his desk had been hard earned.
Spencer loomed in his doorway for a moment, his eyes lidded heavily. He looked exhausted and upset, though the upset part was muted somehow behind some wobbly looking glass. It was warped and softer than it should have been. The minute Derek saw him, a look of complete horror flashed over his features.
“Ohkid…” he started. “I’m so sorry, I completely…shit.”
Silence. He deserved that. Spencer held grudges, and right now he was basically an expert at it. He was still shaky around JJ after the Emily ordeal, and for that matter, he wasn’t exactly solid around her either. Some part of Derek knew he hadn’t even begun to deal with Hotch’s secrets and lies, but something about his injuries seemed to at least divert him for the time being. Well, Derek figured, at least with him being the focus of Spencer’s anger and feelings of betrayal, maybe JJ could enjoy a brief respite.
“It’s okay. The movie wasn’t very good anyway.” That was a lie, he’d enjoyed it very much. He would have enjoyed it even without the help of the little happy pill. Derek had detected the lie. Maybe the pill, too, Spencer thought.
“Look,” he began, running his hands back over his head…he’d forgotten to shave that morning, the stubble raked against his hands like rough sandpaper. Hadn’t even gone home, these were the same clothes he’d worn the day prior. Wrinkled, disheveled…by the end of the day he’d be looking rough. “Hotch was admitted to the hospital yesterday with an infection, I got so caught up…”
“I’m sorry,” was all Reid could think to say. Of course he’d chosen Hotch. He knew it had to be Hotch, in some way or another, and he couldn’t help but feel a little less bad as time went on that he’d taken some of his pills. Hotch really did get everything. “It’s okay. There will be more movies.”
It wasn’t the first time he felt a crush of something like jealousy over Hotch, if he was being honest. Gideon had always treated him differently, like the prized son, not something to be coddled and cared for but something brave to be proud of. He would walk into police stations proud to introduce them to Hotch, give him the floor. He would watch Hotch with a sparkle in his eye that Spencer never saw for him. There was a seed that had sprouted in him when Gideon left, some nip of green and ugly the first time he realized that Gideon probably still spoke to Hotch on occasion…maybe not often, but he’d overheard talk between he and Rossi. Gideon spoke to him because they were equals, Hotch was not a child, Hotch was…well it didn’t matter what he was except that Reid was not it. They were not the same.
It made sense, then, that Derek would also choose him. Even from the start. Derek had been looking at him with those eyes long before the ring disappeared from Hotch’s finger. It was the first time he realized that he was profiling a teammate, breaking that cardinal rule that they all broke repeatedly.
“Reid,” Derek started again, sounding wearier than ever. “Spencer. I really am sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”
“Hey guys? We have a case…” JJ’s chirpy voice broke through the stare down that followed his statement, Spencer’s silence damning. Derek felt his heart stop beating. Of course they did. With Hotch in the hospital, it made all the sense in the world. Bring it on. “Garcia’s already set up at the round table…”
“No way to get us out of it?”
“I’ve been working with Strauss for a few weeks, pushing cases to other teams, offering phone and online consults…she’s been keeping everything at bag but this one is bad. They need us.”
(x)
Colorado was cold. Derek didn’t like cold. Growing up in Chicago, he knew plenty of ways to deal with the cold but that certainly didn’t mean he liked it. The way his nose hairs froze was particularly irritating. A few thousand feet in the air, he was more than a little irritated at the balmy spring he’d left behind for a mountain that hadn’t quite gotten the seasonal message. There was no spring here, the locals said, just 9 months of winter and a mild few months of non-winter.
To make it worse, he’d had to leave Hotch in the hospital. Not for the first time, but probably the worst time. The look on Hotch’s face matched his words, understanding and calm. You have a job to do, he’d said so softly Derek thought he really believed it. Both of us out just doesn’t work. They need you more than I do. That was the first lie of the day, but certainly not the last for either one of them.
With two pairs of gloves pulled tight and stiff over his hands he walked over the frosty high school football field. Counting the yard lines, a distant ghostly roar of fans cheering in the stands, he shoved his hands in his pockets and wondered at how far away from these days he was. Sometimes it felt like his mom should be calling up the stairs that it was time to put his pads on and get ready, others it felt like that was a completely different life. When he’d blown out his knee, he mourned the loss of football…he probably could have played again, but as he sat and tried to peer into a new future, he started to want nothing more than to walk away from the sport that had brought such horrors into his life. He’d already paid a high price to be where he was, but he no longer felt tied to the debt. It was only now that he could look back with any fondness on the sport again.
The goalpost loomed, and he blinked into the blazing dawn over the treetops. His boots crunched in the frosted, crispy grass and he could see the place the body had been hanging. Knew already how high up it was, the types of tools and strength and numbers needed to get a full grown man up there. In his hip pocket his phone buzzed, just once and he knew it was Jessica with the morning report. A call if it was bad, a text if everything was good. They were discharging Hotch, his fever had broken and things were going well.
“You didn’t wait for me!” Spencer called, trotting the length of the field with two hot coffees in hand. Big ones, and Derek could see the steam billowing from the slit in the tops from where he stood.
“Sorry, had some things on my mind…” He nudged at the grass with the blunt toe of his boot and let out a long sigh, watching the way his breath curled around him and carried away on the breeze. Spencer hadn’t held the grudge Derek thought he would, in fact he was downright sweet and almost too attentive. He couldn’t figure it out, but he was glad he hadn’t hurt his friend too badly. Out of a sense of duty, he kept Spencer close, still trying to make up for what he’d done. Even if Spencer moved past it, he felt awful.
Shared hotel rooms were the name of the game, it seemed, almost every time they found themselves in these little mountain towns. In this case there were plenty of rooms but the Bureau just didn’t think it was necessary…it was a ski resort town and the rooms they did get shot the budget to hell. Always about the almighty dollar, Derek thought bitterly as he signed for three rooms to cover his team of five. Rossi bought them all dinner in return for getting his own room.
After a full day (and night) in the field, Derek was spent. He’d told everyone to head back for a few hours, get some shut eye, and they’d hit the trails again in the morning. They were close, and he really didn’t have the energy to think about it any longer. There was something right in front of them and everyone was too exhausted to see it. A few hours of lying in bed watching Golden Girls and trying to sleep would help him hit the reset button. Just as his eyes began drifting shut, his phone rang. Not just a text this time, a constant ring and he frowned. Groaning, he rolled over and swatted at the phone, noting that it was just after midnight.
It was Hotch. Not just Hotch, but Hotch at 2am (it had taken his muddy mind a few seconds to do the timezone math)…Derek could tell before he even hit the green button that it was going to be bad. He wasn’t up at 2am for any good reason.
“The vicodin is gone.” Hotch’s voice was groggy and thick with tears.
“It’s not due for a refill for two more days, how can it be gone?” Derek sighed, that wasn’t exactly the best way to approach it, especially given Hotch’s state of mind. The phone was harder for him to work with, the conversation without eye contact, without social cues, his mind didn’t seem to have caught up there yet. Still, Derek was tired and all he wanted was twenty minutes of sleep. Just a nap. A fucking break from the hell he was living.
“I don’t…” Hotch paused, sucking in a shaking breath. He was in terrible pain and the only thing he could take at this time of night was vicodin. The hydros made him sick, he wouldn’t touch those and the oxy gave him nightmares. Not just nightmares, night terrors, waking up in a cold sweat with a scream swelling in his dry throat. The percocet was the morning pill and vicodin was middle of the night desperation. Only they were gone. “I don’t see them.”
“Aaron,” Derek tried to stay calm, keep his voice even as he spoke. Spencer was on the other bed thumbing through a book, pretending he wasn’t paying any attention to the conversation happening beside him. “I’m in Colorado, I can’t exactly look. Is Jessica there?”
“She’s…” another pause, like he couldn’t sort his thoughts. He sounded almost hysterical, on the verge of a panic attack. “She’s asleep. She’s here.” He didn’t sound sure of that, though. “Sean too. But…Derek the vicodin…”Desperate for a fix, Derek thought. He couldn’t blame him. They’d been weaning him off of a lot of it, he was doing well, but after the infection he was bound to have a few bad nights coming off of that.
“Aaron, just take a percocet.”
“I’ll be awake all night.”
“You’re awake now….” Spencer could hear it in Derek’s voice, the cord was ready to snap. His voice was eerie calm, forced, but it was only the calm before a storm. Something gnawed at Spencer’s guts, something dark with fangs as he listened and pieced together the conversation from Derek’s snappy words. He didn’t feel guilty yet, but maybe he would.
Hotch was starting to hyperventilate; he could hear it. Worse, Derek was on the verge of implosion himself. “Aaron. Are you upset about the missing pills or are you actually in pain?”
“I…” he had no answer, something about the way Derek phrased the question twisted him up and now he couldn’t remember. He was always in pain, since the moment that damn vehicle exploded, he hadn’t known a moment without pain. He thought it had to be that. “It hurts, Derek.” The ache was worst at the front of his thigh, and he rubbed mindlessly at the sore muscles, willing them to stop cramping, stop screaming at him and let him sleep.
“You need…”
“Vicodin, Derek. I need…” He was on a loop now and Derek’s patience had officially run out.
“No, Aaron. If it’s missing, then you need to take two of the percocet and go back to bed. Lay there awake if you have to, at least you won’t be in as much pain. Have Jessica help you into the hammock if that sounds better, I’m sure it’s warmer there than it is here. Do something, but I can’t help you. When I’m back, we’ll figure out what happened to the pills.“ He paused, sucking in a deep, angry breath. "I can call for the refill in the morning, as soon as the pharmacy opens. They won’t fill them for another couple of days but I’ll put it in anyway.”
He was sitting up now, eyes closed, but his voice was a little loud. Spencer’s stomach twisted angrily and Hotch cried. Derek could hear the breaths, shaky and childlike, far away because he’d pulled the phone away from his ear. Great. Hotch was having a panic attack at 2am in the bathroom, and it was his fault. “I’m going to call Jessica. Stay where you are.”
Sean was already in the bathroom and grabbing the phone from Hotch’s hand. He stood there speaking to Derek in hushed tones, one hand pressed firm against his brother’s shoulder while he talked. It was comforting, sure, but also just to hold him in place. To make sure he didn’t try to get out.
Spencer pretended not to be listening, not to be a little less than sad that Hotch was having a hard time. The vicodin in question was in his bag…still two pills. He hadn’t taken the last two, he’d decided he would return them over and over again, but figured he’d bring them on the trip just in case. Maybe the headache would come back and he’d be ready…but no, he’d return them before they were noticed, he didn’t want them. Only now that was blown to hell. Hotch knew they were missing.
After the phone call, Derek paced the room like a lion on the hunt.
“Everything alright?”
He glared at Spencer, and then softened, crumbled. “No.”
Explaining what happened, Spencer pursed his lips and nodded in all the right places. Hoped he wouldn’t give himself away. In his bag was a little golden bottle with Hotchner, Aaron printed clear as day on the label. He felt a little too bold for a man in his position. But he was fucked if Derek found out, so he had to play the wild card. Dig himself in deeper.
“You said Sean was staying there for a while, right?” Spencer asked, not outright saying anything necessarily but planting a seed of doubt. Deflecting a little. He thought he should feel guiltier than he did about that one. Derek sighed.
“I thought of that. I just…I don’t want to bring that up on the phone. He’s clean now, I can tell….”
“Maybe he wanted to sell them?” Sean was almost too easy a target.
“Yeah…yeahmaybe…” The conversation turned in circles, revolving heavily around Sean and the what ifs. Had Derek been paying more attention, he would have noticed the way Spencer’s pulse quickened and throbbed beneath his jaw each time he lied his way further and further from the evidence in his go bag. In war there were always casualties, and while Spencer wasn’t sure this was a war for Derek…he was fine with Sean being a casualty. Sean was just wasted potential anyway, a leech at worst and a distraction at best. Not even Hotch would bat an eye at the idea that it had been him pocketing the pills.
(x)
Sean and Hotch made it out to the hammock, the fresh air helping calm the panic. Because Derek built it himself, the hammock was wide and flat enough for two people to lay on and Sean found it easy enough to get them both comfortable beneath a wool blanket beneath the last of the stars. Hotch wouldn’t sleep, couldn’t sleep, and Sean was drinking a red bull in a desperate attempt to stay awake. Jessica said she’d give him the bed for a nap later if he stayed up with Hotch. He had more overnighter experience. They didn’t talk much but then Hotch never had, he just tumbled around inside of his own head.
When the sun crested the treetops, Hotch’s voice full of gravel, he smiled a little dizzy and asked Sean if he remembered the camping trip with Haley’s family right before he left for college. Roy had packed his rusty old pick up with all of the essentials but forgot the tents so they had to make do with stringing tarps up in a thicket of trees, creating a sort of shelter. One tarp for a roof, the other for the ground, sleeping bags spread out haphazard on the tree roots. “There was a spider in my hair,” Sean muttered quietly. “I felt it on my ear.” He wouldn’t ever forget that. It had scared him out of his mind, and yet after that he’d asked to join the Boy Scouts. Went all the way up through Eagle, he was a pro in the outdoors now. No more spiders giving him night terrors. Now he went camping without a tent on purpose. Just Sean, his sleeping bag and a fire.
“You were always funny about peeing in the trees,” Sean chuckled, ruffling his brothers hair. The hammock swayed in the breeze and Hotch couldn’t help smiling.
“It’s barbaric.” Clooney’s tail thumped the ground beneath them as the sounds of night became sounds of morning, crickets and frogs giving way to chirping birds and a cooing dove on a nearby phone pole. A gentle drizzle, not even actual rain just quick little bursts of tiny droplets, floated overhead and Hotch closed his eyes, relishing the cool mist on his flushed cheeks. Building the words and working up the courage to ask a question he wasn’t even sure he wanted the answer to.
“Sean…” Hotch asked, quietly. “I won’t be mad if you did, but…” he paused, the words floating into the misty gray dawn and scattering. He fumbled for something in the silence, but Sean seemed to grasp it anyway.
“I didn’t touch your pills. I’ve been clean for two years, and I don’t need money that bad…” It was so calm, no trace of defensiveness that would give him away any other time. Hotch rubbed at the ache in his eyes and nodded. He shouldn’t trust Sean, had a million reasons not to, but he did.
“You didn’t really think I took your pills, did you?” Sean asked, almost amused. So relaxed, and Hotch was certain now it wasn’t him. That only complicated things, though. It would have been so much easier if it had just been Sean.
“No.” It was the truth, and that actually shocked him more. “You would have taken the oxy…” He said it with and smirk and Sean didn’t know whether to laugh or be offended so he did both.
“Three Vicodin aren’t worth squat, you’re right. Not worth dealing with you, that’s for sure. Besides, if I was gonna steal from you, don’t you think I’d wait until I was leaving?”
Hotch let out a soft chuckle and let his eyes drift shut. The ache in his hip was deep and the panicky flutter in his chest would continue to keep him awake, but he felt comfortable enough to rest his eyes until Jessica woke up. It took both of them to help his stiff, aching body out of the hammock and back into the house, both Sean and Hotch collapsing in the bed exhausted. With a wall of pillows stacked between them, an homage to sharing a bed when family would come and stay with them as children (Sean always lost his room to guests, it didn’t yet smell like teenage boy his mother said), they both managed a few hours of sleep.
Hotch slept right through two missed calls from Derek and woke to a short, apologetic voicemail. He barely remembered the conversation but he could recall Derek’s harsh tone, and that didn’t bother him, he figured he probably deserved it. Calling Derek in hysterics while he was on a case was really stupid. He wouldn’t call Derek again, they’d talk when he got back. That was good enough.
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: bombing, fire, surgery, pain medication, a lot of angst, head injury, hospitals, doctor’s appts, medical trauma, mention of drug use (past and present), swearing…(will update as I go…it’s bound to get worse)
Words: 12.2k (and counting…)
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. How are we feeling here? We’re getting there. Spencer’s really in it now. I have never written a love triangle before so I greatly underestimated the amount of build-up we would need to get to Spencer’s pain. We’re on our way now though!
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, hospital, infection/emergency, drug theft
Words: 3.1k
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…we finally have some solid betrayal going on here! And some very very bad choices being made by a few people. I will be out of town for Little League tournaments all weekend so the next update will be Monday, most likely.
Hotch’s voice wavered, confusion made it sound watery and insubstantial. He didn’t trust his eye, not in the low light and red haze. The shadows had been playing tricks on his sleepy mind. Still, it was more than his eyes, he could smell his brother’s cologne, something musky and almost floral to mask the cigarette smoke in the fibers of his clothes. Sean was standing there or he’d reached a new level of hallucination. One seemed more likely than the other, especially with the vertigo he’d experienced on his way to the bathroom earlier that morning. Out of nowhere, legs made of jelly and a strange heat that surged from his hip to his knee. Over in a flash, not concerning enough to mention, he took his medication, relieved himself and hobbled back to bed without incident. Now his brother was staring at him, not just standing but looming, really, backpack slung over his shoulder like he was just leaving instead of just arriving. “What are you doing here?”
Sean smirked, as if to challenge Hotch’s mental acuity. Even with the long shadows cast over his features Hotch could tell he wasn’t going to take it easy. He never had. “Guess.”
“Jack told mom what happened,” Hotch started, flickering through a line of thought that was almost solid enough to grasp. “Mom called you. Probably bought you a bus ticket…how long are you staying?” He spoke slowly, carefully choosing each word, proud that he had managed to get through it without stumbling.
“Boss gave me a week.”.
With some great effort, Hotch talked Sean into helping him out of bed. He’d taken his pills on an empty stomach and it was starting to hurt. The dizzy feeling swelled in him, pounded from his eyebrows to his chest and he clutched Sean’s arm tight. He hadn’t intended to but it was just no use pretending he could do it on his own. The vertigo would pass. Blame the eye, he figured, he’d left it uncovered the last few days and it was messing with his equilibrium. Hell, it was messing with everything. Seeing the world through the red glare was like watching some old movie representation of Hell, minus the horns and pitchforks. “You good?”
Hotch nodded, he couldn’t focus on walking and talking at the same time but he could nod. The walk to the kitchen was slow, and he was dragging his leg more than stepping but the joint had slowly become a ball of flame and all he could think about was sitting down.
“Where’s Derek?”
“Work.” More of a grunt than a word as he sat, eased himself down into the chair leaning heavily on his good side. The ball of flame in his hip shattered and became shards of glass. “He’s going to a movie with Spencer later.” Sean didn’t seem to pay much attention to the way his face scrunched up in pain as he sat down, maybe he thought it was normal.
“Cool.” A break, Sean studying the cabinets one by one, inspecting their food selections and organization. He was a kitchen guy, it was what he did. “Alright, time to get you some lunch Skeletor.”
While he fumbled around for the items he wanted, the front door opened and slammed shut, followed by cheerfully loud voices. Jack and Spencer breezed through quickly, Jack stopping only to wave hello to his dad and paying no mind to his uncle at the toaster. Spencer said nothing, just walked right through to Jack’s bedroom and they heard the door slam shut behind the two friends. On the door was a handwritten sign with a hand drawn flag of Jack’s own invention and words that didn’t quite make sense, the spelling was just creative enough to be nonsense, but the basic idea was that Jack’s room was off limits to anyone that wasn’t he or Spencer.
“Not even a hello?”
“Spencer is teaching him how to play Risk. They’ve got a card table in there covered with it.”
“He’s a little young for world domination…”
“He’s good at it.” Not just good, great. He’d listened to Spencer over dinner the night before rattle on and on with information he could barely keep up with, but it all amounted to praise for Jack’s awareness and ruthlessness.
The conversation was halted by the dropping of a piece of toast slathered with orange marmalade and a glass of sweet tea in front of Hotch. Sean’s specialty. He was southern through and through. Hotch couldn’t help but smile. Sean’s after school snack, day after day. It was memories on a plate. There was a twinge in his hip and he shifted, pressing his thumb a little nervously into the joint.
In Jack’s room, they’d already set themselves down at the table and Jack was studying the board to make sure he remembered where everything was, what he’d wanted to do. He was little but he wasn’t stupid, he’d figured the game out now he just had to remember all of the mechanics. What his plans had been when their timer went off. Spencer was just glad Jack was trustworthy, everything was in exactly the same place as they’d left it though he was sure Jack had been faced with temptation more than once…just to make a little move, just one little thing. See if Spencer would notice, but he knew that he couldn’t fool Spencer. He’d win without cheating. Spencer rubbed at the ache in his temples and squeezed his eyes shut while Jack concentrated on the game, double checking that he remembered the rules.
“Your head hurts again?” Jack asked, huge brown eyes studying Spencer carefully. Spencer nodded, a little embarrassed that the kid had seen his discomfort.
“Yeah, it’s fine, kiddo. Not so bad today.” Jack ignored him, already on his feet and moving toward the door with a plan. He’d been thinking about it for the last few days, once his mind was set on something it was set. He’d talked to his dad and Derek already, really. If your friend has a hurt should you help them? A seemingly simple question with a very simple answer. If you can, yes. Even Jessica had elaborated enough to say that you should always try to help people, even when it’s hard. Even when they aren’t your friends. Well, that had settled it…he knew he could help Spencer.
Perched on the sink, his feet dangling over the edge, he rifled through the medicine cabinet. Top shelf, the daddy pills. Everything else was Band-Aids and tummy stuff, but Derek kept those yellow bottles that made daddy feel better up high. He didn’t know what any of the words on them meant but he’d figured out they all really did the same thing, daddy only had pills to make the hurt go away. He twisted and twisted at the little white caps but to no avail, they wouldn’t budge, they would just spin and spin. He could figure them out, he knew he could, but something told him just to take a bottle to Spencer and let him do it.
He hoped he wasn’t doing anything too wrong…his dad had so many and it seemed like Derek was always getting new bottles, he could spare just a little to help Spencer play the game with him. “Here you go! My dad takes these…they make his leg not hurt so bad…”
Spencer held in his hand a poisonous tube of sweet relief. He almost salivated, and still he wanted to push them back. Like it burned. Hadn’t he just been thinking the other day that he’d like to get his hands on something? Anything? Closing his eyes he saw the orchids, still fresh and beautiful and blood red on Derek’s desk. Blood red just like Hotch’s damned eye that wouldn’t seem to heal. It was creepy. He wore sunglasses, even in the house, just to hide it but Spencer saw the blood in there and imagined it sloshing around. “No, Jack I…these are your dad’s.”
“He has five bottles…I counted.” It was so innocent. Five bottles meant enough to share with a friend, Jack couldn’t see any reason not to. He got the impression from the look on Spencer’s face that maybe was doing something wrong and thought he might want to apologize. Spencer looked scared. He considered giving the bottle back, telling Jack to take it to the bathroom but what if he was caught? He didn’t want the kid to get in trouble, but he certainly couldn’t take it back…if he was caught with it, even as innocently as this, Hotch would think he was relapsing. As if he’d even cared the first time, really. Who was he kidding? Hotch was so blitzed out on a cocktail of these things right now that he probably wouldn’t notice. He shook the bottle, only a few left in there anyway, the prescription was probably ready to be refilled. Maybe they wouldn’t even notice.
“Five bottles?” Spencer asked, quietly. His voice raised an octave and that was hard to control. He was talking more to himself, but Jack nodded. “Thanks Jack.” He wasn’t confirming he’d take any of them, but he had decided that the kid was only trying to help. Slowly, reverently, he dropped them into the pocket of his vest when Jack looked back down at the board and decided he’d find a way to put them back in the bathroom before he left. No way he’d keep them. He couldn’t keep them.
He’d worked so hard to stay away. He’d survived being shot in the knee and healed just find without them…what was some annoying headache in comparison with that?
Except he was so excited about the movie he was going to with Derek later that he forgot all about them in his pocket. He and Jack played an hour of intense Risk and he all but ran out of the house and to the movie theater without considering that he’d now taken a disastrous and dangerous step toward relapse. By the time he realized they were there he was parking in the garage, the flashing lights of the theater inviting him in. He’d put the pills back tomorrow, he figured. Hotch had five bottles…four now…of whatever it was he was taking. Probably a hefty mix, all things considered. Besides, there were only three left in this one, he’d counted the little shadows. Three wouldn’t be missed for a while.
One day wouldn’t hurt.
(x)
Hotch started acting funny about halfway through his toast, after swallowing his sweet tea and Percocet. He’d been planning to ask Sean to pass him a cookie, one of the oatmeal raisin ones Penelope made for him in secret. Watching Sean pick his way through the Tupperware full on the counter was making his stomach grumble, but he couldn’t manage to slop the words together. His ears were ringing, his tinnitus back with a vengeance. Inside his skull was the entire percussion section of a 2nd grade band, complete with out of time triangles and tambourines. It wasn’t that he couldn’t think around it, more just that he couldn’t do anything but drown in the cacophony.
“Sean?” His voice was ragged and soft by the time he found it. “My hip feels…” Like fire? Like shards of glass on fire? Not for the first time that day, but certainly the worst and for the last fifteen minutes it hadn’t let up, it only seemed to increase. Afraid to touch it, to explore, he squirmed and felt the last remaining sutures pull. Where there had been so many, his entire side stitched up this way and that, only small places still remained and those places were the source of the flames. Breathing was getting hard. The heat was terrible, creeping like a forest fire over the surface of his skin. Sean came quickly and helped him stand, he was sure it was just the sitting down that was doing it but standing only served to make it worse.
“…lie down…” he mumbled almost incoherently as the vertigo came back with a vengeance and he faltered, slumping heavily into Sean’s side before the world went gray and he went headfirst into the fog.
On the couch, Sean put an ice pack on Hotch’s burning hip and called Derek who spared no time rushing home. He’d started running while he was on the phone, not bothering to shut his office down…he’d ask Penelope if she could later, it seemed unimportant now. By the time he rushed through the door, Hotch was awake but barely. Groggy and blinking slow, sweating beneath ice packs with Sean pacing behind him nervously.
“Sean,” Derek called, breaking his trance. “I’m sure you didn’t do anything. Help me please.” With Sean’s help, they shifted Hotch enough on the couch that Derek could see the incision, the site that now looked red and infected. The sutures, only four of them left, pulled taught around glistening pink skin. It was hot to the touch and Hotch flinched away from even the remotest sensation. Even the warmth of Derek’s cinnamon gum breath was too much. “Looks like an infection,” he said softly, pulling out his phone to call Jess and let her know.
Derek would take Hotch to the hospital while Sean stayed with Jack. It wasn’t exactly something Sean was comfortable with, he’d never been on his own around a kid before, especially not this kid who was so different from other kids. Jack who looked right into you, who spoke in words most six year olds wouldn’t use, Jack who knew too much about life.
Lifting Hotch into his arms, Derek grunted and struggled to secure him in place. Long legs, head lolling to the side and back exposing his throat until Sean tipped him forward, dropping his chin to his chest. It was Sean who guided him, held doors open, made sure he got to where he was going without slamming Hotch into walls and doorways in his hurry. Holding him was no problem, even at his heaviest he wouldn’t have given Derek any trouble, but those long legs…they seemed to go on forever and there was no good way to fold him up.
Derek was pacing the exam room while they poked Hotch’s already bruised and scarred arms with needles, placed IV tubing and dimmed the lights. They were going to admit him, already planned to without the results of the blood tests, they could see the signs of infection already in his growing fever and redness. It was just a waiting game now…can you guess his counts? How bad is the infection? How long had it been festering unnoticed? Derek couldn’t help it, he thought of Osmosis Jones, a movie he and Jack had watched more times than he could count. You ever try to blow dry your hair with a fart?It made him smile and would make for an easy way to help relay what was happening to Jack. Or maybe it would just keep his own spirits up.
Jessica sat with him. Paced with him. Conspired and whispered with him. They lost all track of time while doctors and nurses floated around them, in and out, adding and changing IV bags, checking vitals, poking at him.
At Derek’s house, Sean was doing everything he could think of to entertain Jack who seemed oddly okay with what was going on. A little worried look would flash over his features but it was so quick that Sean nearly missed it. He guessed it made sense, Hotch hadn’t been home long, he’d been away overseas, it was almost just like he hadn’t come back at all. “Wanna watch a movie?”
Jack always wanted to watch a movie. By the look of uncle Sean, he’d pick a good one…something his dad wouldn’t approve of, and he wouldn’t even ask if it was okay. He got in his pajamas without complaint, helped Sean clean up the house and make some snacks, anything he could do to ensure that they got to watch a good, good movie. Not a baby movie. Jack fell asleep with a chocolate milk mustache on Sean’s chest in a mess of popcorn to the dulcet sounds of Ripley blasting her way through aliens.
(x)
Spencer waited and paced the movie theater lobby, watching the clock tick away the time. He checked it against his own watch, and then his phone, to make sure. First Derek was just late but that could be traffic easily, he was working and sometimes things got jammed up pretty good this time of day. They had plenty of time until the movie started. And then Derek was even later, so he bought them their popcorn and sodas and found the best possible seats. No sense waiting in the lobby, Derek knew how to get into the auditorium. He left the ticket for Derek at the box office and settled in. When the movie started, the room went black, he was still alone. Sodas in the cup holders surrounding the seats he’d chosen, sitting on the outside so maybe Derek might use their shared arm rest and be closer to him…it had been planned out perfectly, except the seat remained empty. He set his popcorn there and fought back the tears. No text, no call, nothing from Derek except silence. Halfway through the intro credits, the music already agitating his now immense headache, he felt the bottle of pills in his pocket. Vicodin.
Just three. Still three. He could take one now, and put the bottle back with the last two when he brought Jack home from school the next day. He doubted they were inventorying them, that wouldn’t make any sense. They weren’t worried someone was eyeing the stash. Popping one into his mouth quickly, he slurped it down with a gulp of Pepsi and a handful of popcorn. His headache vanished quickly, but a lead ball settled in his belly. Guilt. A deeply upsetting feeling of stepping back in time…he knew damn well, the way his head swirled pleasantly with the soundtrack, that he wasn’t going to return the other two pills either. He’d already named them dinner and dessert. The thought amused him as he slipped further into the memory of this light feeling.
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: bombing, fire, surgery, pain medication, a lot of angst, head injury, hospitals, doctor’s appts, medical trauma, mention of drug use (past and present), swearing…(will update as I go…it’s bound to get worse)
Words: 15.7k (and counting…)
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. How are we feeling here? We’re getting there. Spencer’s really in it now. I have never written a love triangle before so I greatly underestimated the amount of build-up we would need to get to Spencer’s pain. We’re on our way now though!
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.
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.
This Friday, instead of my normal fic recs of the week, I figured I would rec the Whump Spencer Fics from my May Challenge. Each participant was given a Bad Person, Bad Thing and an optional one line prompt to make a Spencer Whump focused fic. Some fics are still being worked on and will be added as they are finished.
Contrastby@spencermyangel - Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid, “I never wanted anyone to know,” Spencer whispered, and Morgan studied him carefully. Spencer took a deep breath and started rocking back and forth. Spencer tells Morgan a secret he thought he would never share with anyone.
Baby genius is lateby@sams-fluffadise - The BAU Team & Spencer Reid, Spencer/OMC, When the very punctual Spencer Reid is late for work, his friends get worried. He does not reassure them by showing up with a black eye and a split lip.
❤️ Running Toward Nothing@masterwords - Hotchgan, 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.
NSFW/Explicit fics
Hook, Line, Sinker (High on Misery)by@artdecodyke - Hotchreid, Moreid, Jemily With the BAU all struggling with forms of addiction, Strauss comes up with the perfect plan: put them all on a bus home so they can arrive at Quantico detoxed and ready again
❤️Not in a Way That Matters by always_in_pain- Moreid, Things may seem better at work but home life just keeps getting worse now that Spencer and Derek are dating. The scariest part is, Spencer can’t see a way out.
is it just me?by@writer-in-theory-Hotchreid, Spencer and Aaron said goodbye once before when the Hotchner family had to enter witsec to hide from Mr. Scratch. Years later, Spencer is expecting a happy reunion but may find out they’re just too different.
❤️ He Makes Dirty Words Sound Pretty by @artdecodyke - Moreid, The only time that Spencer is quiet is when he’s on heroin. The only time Derek’s voice breaks is when Spencer can’t quit. Spencer doesn’t want Derek to suffer as he does.
Team Bondingby@brillianthijinx - Hotchreid, Spencer doesn’t know what he’s in for when he’s called into Hotch’s office out of the blue. Will any of the team be able to help him?
❤️ Don’t Trust the Reaper by goobzoop- Hotchreid, When Hotch doesn’t show up for work, Spencer knows something is wrong. But nothing could have prepared him for just how wrong it could be.
Already Got Your Heartby@andiebeaword - Cat/Spencer, Spencer’s fresh out of prison, lying to his team once again. Did Cat Adams manage to dig her claws all the way to his heart?
❤️ Who’s Afraid Of the Bogeyman?by@pandorasdreamings-Spencer Reid & BAU Team, When Spencer is kidnapped by Mr. Scratch, they must race against time to save him before his mind breaks. There’s only so much even a genius can take.
Silk Roadsby@highwayfiftyeight-Hotchreid, Spencer/OFCs, Spencer/OMCs, One moment is all it takes. One moment for his friends to look away. Then he’s gone. Spencer gets taken. Hotch and the team have to find him.
Link to collection - I will be keeping the collection open for at least another month to make sure the people that asked for more time get it. The questionnaire for a prompt will remain open until then as well for anyone else that might want a prompt, or another one. I listed the prompts that were given out but weren’t able to be finished on the collection profile for free use as well.
Thank you everyone that participated in my first collection! These have all been so wonderful and I had a blast. I most likely won’t be doing another collection until after summer as I already have several projects planned but feel free to drop an ask for suggestions
Tags below cut. Click this link to send a fic rec or to be added to Fic Rec Friday Taglist.
