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Doors I Painted Shut | Spencer Reid

Smurph's Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 7 of Routine Maintenance

Warnings: arguments, mentions of suicidal thoughts, mentions of Spencer's past drug use, bad flirting, makeouts, awkward boners

Summary: Spencer and Emily have a serious talk. Later, Spencer can't keep his eyes off you at a bonfire.

The walk to his room reminded Spencer of the BAU. Every time he'd had to trudge down to the Chief's office, knowing he was about to get yelled at, played through his mind and made his shoulders sink.

He struggled with the sticky door, and eventually Emily opened it for him. She walked in and sat down on his bed, and Spencer plopped down next to her. They sat there awkwardly for a few minutes, all the happiness at seeing one another for the first time in two years dissipating into the anxious pool of memory.

"You look skinny," she finally said. "Are you eating enough?"

Spencer groaned and rubbed his face with his hand, "Ugh, Emily."

"I'm sorry. Sorry," she said softly, holding up her hands in defeat. She pointed to his face, "How are you holding up?"

"I'm just glad it's not broken. I was worried the next time I saw Morgan he wouldn't call me pretty boy anymore." Spencer chuckled weakly, hoping it would make this all less uncomfortable, but Emily didn't.

"So you're planning on coming back to DC sometime?"

Spencer shrugged, "I don't know."

She nodded, looking around the room to quell some of her anxiety as he glowered down at his feet. Emily pointed to the dresser across from the bed. It was littered with bottles from the past few days. "You're drinking again."

"I'm not using. Don't worry," he muttered. He dug through his pocket and pulled out a metal coin, holding it up to her. "I've still got my chip. I go to meetings."

"Of course I'm worried, Spence-," she began, but Spencer didn't want to hear it. He stood sharply and flung out a hand in irritation.

"I didn't ask you to, Emily! I'm a grown man and I can take care of myself!" Spencer didn't know why he was shouting, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Yeah, and you're doing a great job with a busted face and a dislocated arm from a bar fight!" she yelled back, standing with him. "Look at you! You're in the middle of nowhere, getting into fights, going off with strangers. You don't even look like yourself!"

"I'm doing my best," Spencer hissed through gritted teeth. "Did it ever occur to you that I don't want to be myself anymore? Or at least not who I was back then?"

He turned toward the sliding door, making his way toward it. It was still latched shut, the curtains stock still instead of waving in the breeze like his first day. Spencer glared at the lock, but he couldn't bring himself to open it. If he did, he might just take off running for the beach.

"Do you remember how I found you two years ago?" Emily's voice came softly from behind him. "The day before Diana died?"

Of course Spencer remembered. Everything was falling apart. He was having nightmares, failed relationship after failed relationship, arguments with his friends. His mother was dying, a waste of her former self… her brilliant mind was gone. He'd been drinking for days alone in his apartment, existing in a court of horrors led by the ghosts of his past.

Emily came in with her extra key. She found him crying in the other room. Spencer had a 1967 Colt .45 hanging loosely from his fingers, gathering up the courage to put it in his mouth. Emily smiled as she eased the gun from his hand, and he was frozen with joy that someone, anyone, had stopped him.

He looked her straight in the eye as they both cried silent tears. She got to her knees in front of him and held his face so gently his whole being crumbled.

It's been years since I've been low like this, he'd told her. I don't like me.

Emily drove him to his mother's nursing home then, pumping him with coffee to sober him up. He was at her side when she died, and everything became crystal clear. He knew why Gideon left, why he never came back even though he loved Spencer and the team. They were as much ghosts as the people they couldn't save.

"I don't like me," Spencer whispered now as he watched the sun over the ocean. It seemed so peaceful out there, like if he walked into the waves they would carry him where he was supposed to go.

"The next day, when you told me she passed and you gave me your resignation…" Emily's voice cracked as she came up behind him. He had to close his eyes to take the impact of her words. "I thought that was the last time I was ever going to see you until I had to identify your body."

"Yet I'm still here," he said bitterly. Pure venom dripped from his tongue as he said it, and a bit of gratitude. She had saved him so he could spend his mother's last moments on this earth with her, and he would forever be thankful for that. She gave him the courage to make a change and leave instead of ending it all in one final blast of blood and bone and gunpowder.

He thought he'd painted this door shut, but now there was a draft coming from underneath. He didn't want to die, but he was petrified of getting up and facing those demons. That's why he ran away, why he was still running away.

"When you called me from Georgia, I was so proud of you." Emily's hands landed softly on his shoulders, and she pressed her forehead into his spine. "You were alive, you were out there. I thought you were going to find yourself and what makes you happy.

"You were supposed to come back, Spencer."

Spencer turned slowly, taking one of her hands in his. He squeezed her fingers and looked her dead in the eyes, "I'm never coming back to the BAU. I don't belong there anymore."

"You could teach-."

"Teach FBI recruits that the BAU is a rewarding place to work? You and I both know that's not true. Just like the people we hunt, that place destroys people," he growled, baring his teeth. "That job killed me, Emily. I'm out here trying to rise from the fucking ashes, not glue a broken vase and fill it back up with trauma."

"I don't like me," Spencer said brokenly. He passed her and went to the bottle-laden dresser. "I don't want to die… or maybe I do, I don't know."

Spencer licked his lip, looking up to see himself in the mirror on the wall. His hair touched his shoulders, a beard he never would have had at twenty four growing scraggly across his chin. His mottled nose made his eyes look even more sunken in and exhausted, and he even noticed a few gray hairs at his temples.

"I wanted the Spencer Reid you knew to die, and he did, Emily. He's gone."

"I loved that Spencer," she affirmed, but she didn't know what she was talking about. "He was sweet, and so much smarter than we deserved. I've never met anyone so full of love and kindness."

The rage that had been simmering at the back of his heart suddenly went full boil. He hated that Spencer, mostly because he disappeared without him even noticing, replaced by the broken shell of a man he was when he left.

Sweeping his arm, Spencer thrust all the bottles on the dresser to the floor. They crashed on the hardwood in a flurry of glass and plastic, making Emily jump a few steps back.

His chest heaving, Spencer turned to look at her. Hot wet tears soaked his cheeks, grief consuming his soul as he watched his best friend.

"Spencer…" she whispered, her eyes welling.

"I need you to know, I love you still," he told her. "I don't like me. Not this me. The best version of myself is still out there, and I am not coming home until I find him."

Emily's jaw tightened. She nodded in agreement, "I hope he's better than the one in front of me now."

Something in his chest ripped apart at her words. Decades of love and friendship was now the distance between them. Spencer never questioned Emily's love for him, and she was the only one who never treated him like a burden… but she knew the old him too well. He was now used to being a shadow in the night, and here was the light of day exposing him and all of his pain.

"Is everything okay?" Honey's voice came frantically. She rounded the doorframe and into the room, her bare feet coming to a stop just before all the broken glass.

Her eyes flicked warily between Spencer and Emily, and she pointed a thumb over her shoulder, "I'll…go get a broom."

"You don't have to clean this up," Spencer told her quietly. He ran an anxious hand through his hair and gave her an apologetic look.

Honey made a face, "I'm not cleaning up shit. I ain't your maid."

Then she was gone, leaving just Spencer and Emily once more. Emily started laughing, "I really like her, Spence."

He glowered at her, but he couldn't help but chuckle, "You shouldn't."

Honey came back a second later with a bucket and a broom. She set them just inside the doorframe, pointedly ignoring Spencer and flashing Emily a big smile. "You going to the bonfire tonight? Drinks and food on the beach, plus music."

Emily smiled back, then pointed at Spencer. "We'll be there."

Honey tapped the door frame before disappearing again. He turned to her and grumbled, "Why did you do that? I don't want to go to a bonfire."

Emily shrugged, "Old Spencer hated bonfires and parties. Shouldn't new Spencer try them out?"

"Look," she sighed when he gritted his teeth in response. "I'm not going to tell you what to do, even though all I want to do is burden you with sisterly advice. But…"

She stepped around the glass and picked up the broom, handing it to him. The plastic was cool in his hand, light as a feather. "Clean yourself up. Take as long as it takes. Be alone as much as you need to be. But don't you ever forget that if at any moment you need to call me, or I need to get on a plane… I will do that."

Emily's eyes blazed with the weight of her words, and suddenly the broom seemed like a broadsword, the thing he'd use to slay any demon in his path. "I love you, Spencer Reid. I love all the men that you are, that you will be, and that you have been. All these years, all these hurts and loves and losses and I've never stopped. I never will."

Spencer's chin wobbled pitifully as he watched her, his voice shaking, "You promise?"

Emily's hands lashed out, pulling him into a bone crushing hug. Spencer's tears quickly turned into sobs of relief. Deep down, he knew her words were true, but hearing them out loud and instead of in the teensy tiny optimist section of his brain made everything better.

"I promise," she swore, clutching him tightly. They swayed back and forth as they held one another, just reveling in the comfort of a lifelong friend

"I promise."

Around seven, Emily went to get changed for the bonfire. They'd cleaned up the glass together and put it in the bucket Honey brought. Spencer wasn't quite sure why, but he couldn't bring himself to throw away the broken pieces just yet, so he left it by the bedside.

They laid on the bed after, talking about the last two years more in depth than he had ever on a Zoom call. At his request, Emily left out most of the nitty gritty things about work, instead telling him about the team and their families. He told her about all the places he'd been, and she was most excited about the World's Largest places like the ball of twine and the rocking chair.

His shoulder was already feeling better, mostly just sore. He was looking forward to taking it off completely, but followed Dr. Altman's direction to keep it on another day. He even managed to dress himself, this time in an old FBI tee Emily brought him and a blue over shirt and khakis. He still wasn't a fan of jeans, and after Mexico likely never would be.

The summer heat soared while they were inside, and even though the sun was close to setting, sweat immediately formed on the back of Spencer's neck. They walked easily to the beach, Spencer pointing out some of the places he'd found to Emily. She told him about her night with Honey, how after a few drinks she'd spilled more than she meant to.

"I shouldn't have told her you worked with the FBI," she apologized. She'd opted for some shorts and a tee, holding some flip flops in her hand as they walked. "I'm sorry."

"Honestly? It's okay," Spencer decided with a small smile. "Last night, I told the guys about some of my work. They were really great to talk to. I think I needed to let some of it out."

"They all served, right? I'm sure they understood where you were coming from."

"They were all Rangers except for Lionel," Spencer agreed, laughing a bit. "I guess he was in the Army Ranger Wing in the Defense Forces of Ireland. You wouldn't think it with all the piercings."

"People aren't what they seem at face value, Spence. You of all people know that," Emily told him as they hit the beach. He could see people playing soccer and hanging around the bonfire. There was already a nice little crowd forming, cheering on the players. "They're like onions. Nothing but layers."

Spencer grunted in agreement, because unfortunately she was right. He'd judged too many of these people too early. He was begrudgingly enjoying them and this little town. Even Honey was growing on him.

He spotted her as they reached the bonfire. She wore a tiny pair of shorts and a sports bra, running around the makeshift soccer field. Her long tanned legs gleamed in the fading light, shining with sweat and flecks of sand. Her wild hair strained to be free from her ponytail, bouncing behind her as she bolted around.

They were using old fishing nets attached to poles as their goals. Honey was lightning fast, faking people out and running circles around them. Even though she was barefoot and on sand, she showed no signs of slowing down. She passed the ball to Rico, who caught it with the side of his foot, tapped it to correct the direction, then bolted for the goal.

Someone blocked his way, and they fumbled for the ball for a moment before Rico spotted Honey at the corner of the box. He kicked it her way, but it caught air and soared over the players in the middle of the field. Honey wasn't deterred, expertly letting it hit her chest and catching it with her foot. One cannon-like swing of her leg later, and it barreled through the goalie and into the net.

"Fuck yes!" Rico roared happily. He and the rest of the team rushed Honey as the crowd cheered.

Spencer watched with a reluctant smile as he picked her up and set her on his hip, all of them far too excited for a beachside pickup game. Emily made a beeline for Collie, who stood with Rose and Mattie May by the drinks cooler. A strong jawed man stood next to Collie with his arm around her waist as they approached, and Spencer assumed he was Augustín.

Collie made some introductions, confirming Spencer's thoughts. Augustín wore a linen white shirt and matching shorts, his dark eyes locking into Spencer's as Collie introduced him.

His grip was strong as he clasped Spencer's hand in both of his, "I want to apologize for my son's hotheadedness. I could blame it on his Latin blood, but in truth he's a boy lost in the woods."

Spencer shook his head, "There's nothing to apologize for. I like Rico. Plus, I think we're all a little lost, right?"

Augustín flashed Collie an approving look, and Spencer hoped that was a good thing. He patted Spencer's cheek and nodded, "You're a good boy. I can tell."

"Uh, thanks," Spencer said as he released his hand from his death grip. The rest of them chuckled and went about passing around drinks.

Rose seemed to have him pegged, handing him a plastic cup with bourbon in it, then giving Emily a beer. Augustín held up his own to the center of the group and proudly declared, "Salúd!"

"Salúd!" they echoed, clinking their drinks together. Spencer savored the burn as it went down, absentmindedly glancing back to Honey.

She was panting, coming down from her excitement and chatting with Rico, Holly, and Michelle from the diner. Spencer hadn't seen her without a shirt on before, and he couldn't help but admire her athletic body. She was well toned from years at sea and working with tools, a nice sheen of sweat glimmering off her skin from running around.

He hadn't seen her smile very much, but it looked good on her. She waved her hands around as she spoke animatedly, making them all laugh. Rico stood a respectable distance away from her, but they seemed to have made up with the way she talked with him. He was happy about that. The thought of being a point of contention between them left a sour feeling in his gut.

"Just like that," Emily murmured as she elbowed him lightly, "an IQ of 187 is slashed to 60."

"Shut up," he growled back playfully, but he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away. She was truly a beautiful woman who held herself with confidence, even if it contained an overwhelming grief. She put on a good front in front of her friends, one she didn't seem to put the effort into showing Spencer.

She caught his eye, trailing off and letting her friends take over the conversation. Excusing herself, she went over to him, and Spencer broke away from Emily and his group to meet her halfway.

"What happened to, 'that doesn't sound like my idea of a good time?'" Honey asked playfully, badly mimicking his voice.

"Maybe I'm tired of being Mr. Buzzkill," he replied easily, making her laugh. Spencer pointed toward the cooler behind him, "Can I get you a drink?"

She shook her head slowly, giving him a soft smile. "I'm gonna stick with water tonight."

"Brave girl," he marveled, taking a cheeky sip of his bourbon. In situations like this, it became his lifeline, something to hold onto.

They stood there for a while, silently sizing one another up. Honey's coy smile set a fire in his belly, though a part of his brain wanted to blame it on the alcohol. She waved a stray hand to his sling.

"How's the arm?" she asked with a wide grin that he couldn't help but return.

"Getting better. I'm looking forward to taking it off tomorrow."

"Good," she murmured, but as stilted as this conversation was she didn't seem uncomfortable. Instead she took a few steps closer until she was at his side, looking off at the ocean. He preferred looking at her.

"You ever sail?"

Spencer shook his head, "I'm not a strong swimmer."

Her eyes trailed the distance to the sunset, stretching far away. A light breeze caught her hair and made it dance in time with the waves, and she made no move to tuck that wildness away.

"I miss it."

Spencer nudged her a bit with his elbow, and she turned to look at him with a soft swell of grief. A quote surfaced in his mind at the sight of her resilience, the gaping wound that would never quite heal. Give your tears back to the ocean. You have no use for them anymore.

He almost said it aloud, but it was too personal. Instead he gave her a weak smile and said, "Good thing it isn't going anywhere anytime soon."

Honey smiled, a pretty shy smile as her bruised cheeks flushed. She rubbed an anxious hand over her neck as she glanced away from him, quickly catching sight of the water and pointing out toward it.

"There's nothing like the smell of the salt water. Chasing the sunset…letting everything go and knowing you're nothing out there." He eyes faded once more, adventure taking over as a memory clicked in her mind. Her voice was soft as she continued, "You're at the mercy of the gods… They'll guide you home, or pull you under."

"That sounds like life," Spencer whispered. "You either give up under the water or fight to break the surface."

Honey cocked her head and watched him softly in the fading light. Her mouth quirked into a thoughtful smile, "What happens if you're too tired of treading water?"

Spencer shrugged, making a face, "You find someone to help hold you up."

"And if they're not a strong swimmer?"

That surprised him, but she couldn't be talking about him. She barely knew him, and didn't seem to want to. Was she just asking for advice? Did she want to know how he'd made it this far with what she now knew of him? Maybe she was testing him.

Spencer's gaze bored into hers, though, his voice strong. "Then you teach them how. You save each other."

Honey seemed satisfied with his answer, and she nodded in reply. She turned to look at her feet, kicking the sand as she gathered her thoughts. Everyone around them chatted happily, focused on one another as Spencer and Honey stood off to the side. He hadn't realized how much they inched together during their conversation until her shoulder brushed his. The final blaze of the sun caught her cheekbones and shoulders, that summer tan the perfect shade. Despite the bruises, Spencer admired the slope of her nose, the way it framed her face so nicely.

He wanted to reach out and touch her, run his fingers along the curve of her jaw and trail them over the back of her neck. Through the bourbon and loneliness, he imagined his palm would fit nicely there, his thumb rubbing that sensitive spot behind her ear. Maybe she'd even close her eyes and sigh at the feeling.

She caught him staring, that gentle curve of her sweet smile reacting to his gaze. Spencer cleared his throat and chose to watch his drink instead. Maybe he should stop while he was ahead.

A call from the group later and they joined them around the bonfire. Honey sat next to Holly and Michelle, Collie and Augustín on her other side. Spencer would look up just in time to see Honey avert her gaze somewhere else, and he couldn't help but do the same each time she did as well.

Eventually someone brought out a guitar, someone else some cymbals. They passed it around, smoking, drinking, and eating and listening to a few songs. In between glances from Honey, Spencer spotted Rico watching them both with his brows furrowed. Spencer tried to stop after that, not wanting to ruin this burgeoning friendship with him, but it was as if his eyes were magnetized to her.

The soft glow of the firelight hugged her cheeks, illuminating her smile every time she laughed at something someone said. She clutched a water bottle tightly in her lap as she sat cross legged in a lawn chair. After the sun went down and the air cooled, she started rubbing her arms and scooting closer to the fire. If all of these people weren't around, he likely would have given her his flannel. It would look good on her.

Emily sat next to him, chatting easily with Mattie May and Rose. She was going to leave in the morning, so he tried to join in where he could, not wanting to waste this time with her. He'd missed her more than he cared to admit, but he glanced over again to catch Honey again quickly averting her eyes from him.

It was a good night of hanging out on the beach, and after a few drinks Spencer found himself comfortable enough to doze. It was strange for him to sleep in a public place. Even on cases, Spencer was restless and awake every hour or so, but with Emily by his side and a group of people who had been nothing but kind to him, he let himself release a bit of tension and fell asleep.

He woke up to a soft hand on his shoulder, sniffling hard and adjusting his tired eyes to the light. Honey kneeled in front of him with a gentle smile, rubbing her palm softly so as not to jolt him awake.

“What time is it?” he asked gruffly. He rubbed his face as she let out a soft chuckle. “Where’s Emily?”

“It’s about one in the morning, and she went to Collie’s with Rose, Mattie May and the De La Cruz’s,” she told him, but she didn’t pull away. The warmth from her hand bled through his shirt, his lonesome skin drinking in every drop of physical touch it could. “C’mon, I’ll take you back to the Inn.”

She held out her hand for him as she stood, and he let his palm slide over hers. He could have sworn her fingers squeezed his for a moment before letting go. Nobody else was around, instead they were off on different sections of the beach, leaving just him and Honey alone by the smothered fire.

"You don't have to leave the party if you don't want to," he said awkwardly, but she just shook her head.

"Everyone's pretty drunk and it's no fun being the sober one," she chuckled, then beckoned for him to follow. He did, and they made their way up the beach. By Spencer's memory he must have fallen asleep around ten, so three hours later he was pretty sobered up. His head hurt a little bit, but other than that he was fine.

The stars shone so brightly that if he reached up his hand Spencer swore he could grab one right out of the sky. The glittering blanket above stretched for miles, kissing the sea behind them. Even the lights from town couldn't drown them out.

"You can see everything out here," Spencer marveled as they walked. They weren't in a hurry, and the night was a nice temperature with the slight breeze, so they went about slowly. "The sky is so clear."

"You don't have that in DC?" Honey asked lightly. She still wore only her sports bra and shorts, her hands rubbing her arms to keep warm.

"There's too much light pollution," he said, shaking his head. Spencer found himself removing the velcro of his arm brace, letting his arm down slowly. Most of the pain was gone, the bruises the only thing left of the fight a few days ago. "It was like that where I grew up too."

She watched him idly as he tucked the brace under his armpit and shrugged off his flannel. He handed it to her without a word, and she slipped it on with a small smile. It nearly swallowed her shorter frame, coming just above her knees. Spencer regretted giving it to her. She was far too cute like that. He just wanted to pick her up and carry her home.

"Where did you grow up?"

"Las Vegas."

She made a pleased noise, “Ahh, so you know how to count cards?”

Spencer squinted her way, chuckling, “Yeah?”

“Good, keep that to yourself,” Honey told him seriously. “There’ll be a poker night one of these days and you and I will clean up.”

Spencer shook his head and laughed, and they walked the rest of the way mostly in silence. It wasn’t a long journey, just up the hill, but at night Spencer had to admit he would have had a harder time finding it than in the day.

He held the door open for Honey as they stepped into the Inn. The walk to his room felt shorter than before all of a sudden, almost unfairly. Honey's door to her apartment was right across from his, and she unlocked the door and pushed it open. Lingering in the doorway, she leaned against the frame. Spencer made no move for his own door, instead content just standing there watching her as she thought of what to say next.

"I'm glad you came out," she said after a bit, giving him another one of those soft smiles that made his chest hot. "And Emily. I like her."

"She likes you," he replied softly. "Thanks for inviting me. I had a good time."

"Good…" She trailed off, tapping the door frame absentmindedly. "Where do you think you'll go after this?"

"Probably Oregon," he said, "it's where I was going anyway."

Honey scoffed, "Oregon doesn't have anything on Thunderbird."

"Funny. That's what Nell said."

She squinted at him playfully, "That guy's crazy, you know."

"So are you."

Spencer was close enough to feel her body heat. His shirt hung open to show off her physique, toned and glistening in the dim light. He could even smell the sweat on her skin, those big eyes of hers watching him and waiting for his next move. Later he would blame it on the bourbon, but realistically Spencer knew he was sober. She just looked so damned good, and it had been so long. He wanted to feel her hands on his skin again, soft fingertips grazing up his back.

“I should give you this back,” Honey decided. She moved to slip the flannel from her shoulders, but Spencer's hands reached out, dropping the arm brace in the doorway.

“No,” he muttered, grabbing it by the lapels and pulling it back over her. Spencer tugged it closed, but he didn’t button it, instead holding it there with his hands as he looked down at her.

Honey swallowed thickly, her eyes hooded. She watched him through her lashes, so soft and sweet like that in his clothes… Spencer didn’t even realize he was stepping forward until her chest brushed against his sternum. His hand slid from the shirt to glide over her shoulder and up her neck, cupping her jaw in his palm. The other wrapped around her waist as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

Honey let out that sigh of relief he’d imagined as he kissed her, but in reality it was so much better than in his head. Her palms brushed their way up his chest until they wrapped around his neck. Her back arched as his thumb brushed her spine. Spencer flattened his palm to pull her hips flush with his.

She didn't fight him, didn't smack or yell like a part of him thought she might. She melted into his embrace, kissing him back fervently. Spencer's fingers tangled into her ponytail, giving a soft tug and pressing his tongue against her bottom lip, demanding entrance. Honey moaned breathily as she let him in, making his chest swell with desire. Her body molded to his as he pressed her against the doorframe, small and strong and pulling just as much as she pushed. She tasted like salt water taffy, a bit like citrus, and he wanted more.

The hand on her back slipped down over her ample backside, giving her ass a rough squeeze before making his way down behind her thigh. She read his mind, hopping up as he lifted her and shoved her inside. His shoulder ached from the strain, but his lonely mind ignored it. Spencer pushed her up against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, grinding himself against her clothed core.

His cock stirred in his pants, her soft moans only making him harder as they made out like horny teenagers. Her scent consumed him, making his head swim with lust. He hadn't been touched like this in so long, and hadn't been able to touch like this either. Spencer squeezed every part of her supple body he could, loving the way her soft skin molded to his hands.

Honey was growing restless, her strong thighs clenching around his waist for friction. Spencer's free hand wandered under the flannel she wore, palming her soft belly and slipping it up to her breasts. She gasped as he ran the pad of his thumb over her nipple through the thin fabric of the sports bra, making him smile in satisfaction against her lips.

He trailed kisses down her jaw to her neck, grazing his teeth along the sensitive flesh. Honey's hands tangled into his hair as he nipped and sucked a line to her collar bone, a shuddering whine escaping her kiss-bitten lips.

"Thanks for walking me back," Emily's voice came from down the hall, making them both still. "I don't know where Spencer got off to."

In a swift movement, Spencer pulled Honey further into the doorway. He shut the door softly, turning the handle so the latch didn't sound out their location. With his nose buried in her neck, they stood there catching their breaths as quietly as they could as the footsteps approached.

Spencer's heart pounded in his chest when he heard Rose's voice, "I'm sure he called it an early night. We kept him up late last night."

Spencer tore himself away from the taste of Honey's skin to look at her. She was watching the crack of the door, still holding tightly to him. Her lips were red and swollen, patches of blush and fresh bite marks littering her neck and chest.

He couldn't help himself, so he pressed his lips to her neck. Spencer kissed his way to her jugular, swiping his tongue over it before giving her a soft bite. She sucked in a sharp breath, whispering through gritted teeth, "Fuck…"

"He said he had a really good time. Thanks for taking him out," Emily told him just as they passed the door Honey and Spencer were sinfully hiding behind. "He deserves to have some fun."

Spencer didn't really want to listen to them talk, instead wanting to bury himself deep inside this girl and feel her shudder around him. He pulled her off the wall and turned to go up to the apartment, but she pinched him.

"The stairs creak," Honey warned him under her breath, so Spencer set her against the wall again and buried his face in her chest, letting out an irritated groan.

Honey chuckled and patted his hair, almost making his leg thump like a dog’s. Her nails grazed his scalp, earning a guttural happy grunt from him. Spencer kissed the tops of her breasts softly, making his way up to her jawline once more before capturing her lips with his.

He didn’t want to lose this momentum. He wanted to barrel toward release, and his mind swam with heady desire. Fuck, all he wanted was to listen to her make those sounds loud enough to crack the windows. She tried to hold back her noises as she kissed him back, but Spencer wanted to rip them from her over and over again… but Rose and Emily had other plans to ruin his night and his boner.

“Honey does too,” Rose muttered, but Honey heard it sure enough. They pulled slowly away from one another as he continued. “Since her husband died she’s just been… stuck. I’ve spent the last decade watching her be miserable and accepting no help.”

“Sounds like you have your own Spencer then,” Emily chuckled as Spencer and Honey had to look away from one another. “Maybe they’ll do one another some good.”

“Goodnight,” Rose said after a moment, and Emily returned it. Spencer listened until they heard the door shut and lock before turning back to her.

Honey swallowed thickly, but unlike before it was with anxiety instead of sexual tension. Her chest heaved, his moving in time. She let her hands fall from him and clenched them in front of her chest, so Spencer lowered her slowly to the floor.

She watched him with those wide eyes as her feet hit the ground, neither of them quite sure what to do. Rose and Emily unknowingly slammed them with a thousand pounds of pressure when ten minutes ago all they were thinking about was getting laid.

“I, uh, I should probably go,” Spencer muttered awkwardly as he took his hands off her tight unbelievably sexy body. “I’ve… been drinking. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Right,” she whispered back, but Spencer could tell it hurt her a bit by the way she looked to the left to avoid his gaze. “Thanks for… walking me home.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, even though she’d walked him back.

She tugged on the sleeve of the flannel. “Do you want this back?”

“No,” he told her again, gripping the lapels and pulling them closed over her scantily clad body. “Goodnight.”

Honey nodded and headed up the stairs without another word or a backward glance. Spencer waited for her to reach the top before heading back to his own room. He picked up the arm brace before opening her door and shutting it behind him. Spencer managed to get his sticky door open, quickly shutting it behind him.

Locking it, Spencer stood with his back against the hardwood, staring wide eyed at the sliding door. He could see people partying in the distance, but all the joy of the night dissipated with his hard-on.

“What the fuck did I just do?”

Smurph's Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Notes: I love how much of a soft hardass Emily can be... as for Spencer and Honey? Oh I want them to screw so badly right now but unfortunately we have to wait ;)

Also, have you guy listened to any of the songs that these chapters are inspired by? Which one is your favorite?

@thedancingcostumeyoungadult @muffin-cup @simplyparker @spencerreidsmommy @hotchandspencearedilfs @gspenc @kbakery @nomajdetective @givemeth @hoshihiime @halloween-is-my-nationality @reidselle @thisiscalmanditsdoctorreid @dreatine @thebloomingeagle @fortheloveofwonderland @theforgottenwinter @parkerreidnorth @reidselle @randomhoex @scargarcia-magshotchner @stitchwrites @pygmygoat-bicyclehelmet @cle13 @aysixdy @elhotchner @directioner5life @elhotchner @loveeee2134 @preciousbabypeter @la-stuffs @stories-you-wont-hear @hotchlover @fortheloveofwonderland @lokiandhisdagger @bellanutellababyyy @dark-night-sky-99 @straightforbuckybutgayfornatasha @maltamurdock @charelletjee @kansas-reid @zephyrmonkey @spencer-reid-wonderland @spencersprettyslut @im-sure-its-fine @tvdstelenaforever @teddylupintonks @lilibet261 @kneelforloki @dirtytissuebox @almostgenerallyalways @whovian378 @cl0udyqu33n @thegettingbyp2 @averagestudent03 @the-sun-died-out @squishycalumxo @sebastiansstanswhore

@louderfortheback @pandabiiissh @calebye

@dottirose @lfaewrites @padsfirewhisky @wheels-upin-thirty @f-me-reid @justanothercmblog @academiareid @moyo5653 @comfybabie

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