Summary: You and Spencer head back to Thunderbird after your day out. Spencer gets a call from JJ.
The sun dipped down beneath the trees, the now familiar nighttime chill of Northern California starting to seep through the blanket. Honey snored quietly on Spencer's chest. She was drooling a bit, but he didn't mind.
He'd been awake for a while, just watching the afternoon turn to evening. This stunning place enraptured him with its serenity. Nothing else seemed to exist besides the river, the fire, the wildlife that ran in the forest around them. Honey's breathing lulled him into a happy security, a calmness he hadn't felt in a long time.
Spencer had his hand over hers on his sternum, the other running lightly over her ample backside under the covers. It all felt so natural, like this was right where he was supposed to be. Such a thought would have been terrifying a few weeks ago and sent him running for the hills. But at the moment, it only served to comfort him. After running for so long, the last week or so of sitting still and breathing in the salt air seemed to heal a part of him.
The fact that his car was stuck in Rose's shop against his will only forced him to let it happen.
I wish I could stay like this forever, he found himself thinking. It made his blood run cold.
Here he was, in one of the most beautiful places on earth with a wild wonderful woman on his chest. Her soft moans and sighs echoed around his skull. The memory of her body pressed against his had burned into his mind forever, her trust in him making everything else fall away. The world was still, his mind was calm, and yet his heart began a panicked thumping.
He couldn't stay here. Spencer didn't belong anywhere. He'd lost that right the second he picked up that gun the night before his mother died. Even without pulling the trigger, he became a ghost. He'd killed a part of himself that night.
He actually liked Honey, and it terrified him. While he meant what he'd said to her about intimacy, it wasn't supposed to last and she didn't expect it to. She'd been through enough without becoming romantically entangled with him. Everyone he loved either got killed, died tragically, or somehow became broken beyond repair.
But she's already broken, that small hopeful spark that lived in the back of his heart whispered. How much more damage could I do? So much more. He knew from experience that you can never break completely, but that doesn't mean there's a point in which it just stops. You just break in different places until you die.
"What made you finally leave DC?" Honey's voice came. In his mindful terror, he hadn't noticed her wake. Maybe his petrified heart battering his insides pulled her from her slumber.
Spencer swallowed thickly, but his body couldn't help but hold her a little tighter. "My mom died. She was the only one who needed me."
She kept her head firmly on his chest, almost as if to force herself not to look at him. Her thumb rubbed softly along his chest hair. Whether she was comforting herself or him, Spencer couldn't be sure.
"Everyone here needs me," she whispered. It broke his heart. She sounded so small, like in one blink she might disappear.
"I just want you," he offered quietly. "Whatever you want to give."
Honey slowly got up on her elbows to look at him. Her thigh still slung over his hips, and her wild hair glimmered in the firelight as the sun faded. "I don't think I've ever had a choice before."
She was ethereal in the evening glow. Like an angel that came down just to watch him in the darkness. Spencer didn't want to like her, didn't want to touch her again, but he couldn't stop himself. Maybe he didn't want to. He brushed back a stray curl and nodded.
"Let's make the most of this, then."
She kissed him. Another broken piece of heart muscle glued itself together. Honey pulled herself away and got dressed. The piece broke again as he followed.
They cleaned up their camp and headed for Thunderbird. It was still early when they got back, maybe five o’clock. The light was brighter here than in the forest, as the trees swallowed the sun in their thickness. Now it bobbed easily above the ocean, steadily making its way under the surface to disappear for the night.
"A cardinal crashed into my windshield once," Honey said as they broke through the trees that separated the town from the rest of the world. "I thought he might die. Planned a funeral and everything, but he got up and flew away a day later."
She turned to look at him, "What do you think that means?"
Spencer shrugged. He liked the way she asked these types of questions out of nowhere. First about God and the billboards and now this. "I don't know much about them, besides that they're also called Virginia Nightingales."
She smiled at that, "My mom used to say that they were our passed loved ones coming to visit."
Spencer hadn't heard her talk about her mom, but from Rose's words and Honey's own, she'd lost her sister and her father was a bastard. Maybe he didn't want to know more about her family.
"Maybe what he saw in the reflection was a better life."
She didn't say anything after that. Spencer walked Honey to her door, shoving his hands in his pockets. His sudden anxiety at his feelings toward her eased a bit under the fabric.
"Dinner later?" Spencer asked hopefully as she went to unlock her door.
Honey smirked and leaned on a hip, "You spent most of the last day with me, and you still want to see me tonight?"
"If sex is involved, definitely," he replied with a grin. She squinted playfully his way, and he shrugged, "I'm also just gonna get hungry later."
"I'll see you for dinner, then," she replied smoothly, then headed up her stairs without another look back. Spencer couldn't help but wait until she got to the top of the stairs to close the door behind her, eyeing her skirt and thighs in reverence.
Spencer went into his room, smiling despite himself. He knew he was in trouble with this girl, but he was also leaving in three weeks. Even if he fell for her, he wasn't staying here. Being stuck here was likely the only reason he had the feelings he did. Forced proximity and all that.
All he wanted to do was plop on the bed and fall asleep for a bit after the long drive, but the blinking of the landline on the nightstand caught his attention. It was an old answering machine with a tape recorder. He clicked the button without much thought and went about getting undressed for a well deserved shower.
"Hey, Spence," JJ's voice filtered through. She sounded worried, like she always did when she called. Her voice shook, "I had a nightmare that I've had before again. You were seven, and helpless, angry as hell. You balled up your fists and I laughed at your swings…"
There was something about the way she spoke that made him stop in his underwear in the middle of the room.
"Emily told us what happened. I'm not calling to ask if you're okay, even though all I wanted was to fly down and check on you myself. She says you're okay, that you just want time. I'm going to give you that."
Spencer's jaw trembled at the resignation in her voice, like she'd given up on him or seeing him ever again. He tried to distract himself by grabbing his suitcase and pulling out some pajama pants, but she wasn't done.
"I thought this whole time that you were just running away. I thought you couldn't handle it, this life or your own… I realized something when I woke up this morning in a cold sweat." Tears came to JJ's voice. She sucked in a wavering breath and let it go. "I'd been staring at this hole in your chest that had been dug there for decades. I know you've always been at war with your bloodstream and the lies the FBI fed you."
Spencer sat down slowly on the bed, listening like his life depended on it. "I thought you'd find some way to fill that hole, or that we were helping you. We weren't. I should have been there when you needed a friend. But I was off on my own, we all were, selfish and stupid…"
Spencer held his breath as tears streamed down his face. Silently, they dripped down his cheeks and landed on his thighs. His heart cracked open. He let it pour out.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," JJ pleaded through the crackling speaker. "I can't say it enough. So, if you call me back or let me in… I swear I'll never let you down again. You're my best friend, my brother. I like to think I know the devil you've been fighting with, but I see now that I didn't give you the chance to just tell me about it."
She ended softly, but full of that maternal sisterly ferocity he knew to be true to who she was. "I love you. I'm ready to love you how you deserve. Whether you come back or not, I'm here. I'll always be here."
"Also, not to be nosy, but this nice woman named Mattie May answered when I called," JJ chuckled happily, her usual voice returning. "She said you were on a day trip with a girl named Honey. I'm not gonna tell you to go for it, but I hope you're having fun. I want you to be happy, so I just… I hope you're enjoying yourself."
The line clicked off. Spencer found himself laughing quietly all alone in his dark room. He loved JJ, and the team, he really did. There was just so much history between them all it seemed to do in the last few years was separate them further.
It was time to open himself up to them again.
Spencer picked up the phone. He dialed a familiar number, one he'd memorized the first time he saw it.
"Jareau," JJ's voice came through. Spencer swallowed down the lump in his throat. It took a few moments for him to open his mouth. "Hello?"
"It's me," he managed quietly. He rubbed away his tears as a smile he hadn't felt in a long time creaked open on his weary face.
"I love you, too."
Smurph's Masterlist | Series Masterlist
Notes: I missed these guys <3
Also, have you guy listened to any of the songs that these chapters are inspired by? Which one is your favorite?
Warnings: makeouts, dry humping, sexual negotiations, nipple play, rough heavy petting, hair pulling, interrupted sex
Summary: You give Spencer a haircut... which leads to something else. Later, you go out to dinner with Holly and Michelle and Spencer.
Spencer spent the week avoiding Honey, and she seemed to be doing much of the same. He heard through the grapevine that she spent most of it working on her boat. He didn't know how to address the kiss any more than he'd already. He didn't really want to get into it with her, and now that they'd been forced into this double date he was feeling more anxious by the day.
His car was in the shop still, and unlike every other town he'd been to in the last two years, he couldn't just hop in and drive away from his fears. He was stuck here for at least another three weeks, but as Friday finally approached, he found himself standing outside her apartment door.
He kept finding himself staring at the wall, knowing the only news from her might be bad news. He was making lists of shit to tell his therapist, all the reasons it had been a shitty thing for him to do, when it hit him.
Who gives a shit?
He'd be leaving soon, and she had clearly been interested in him. She didn't tell him to stop, not even when Rose and Emily showed up. Honey hadn't pushed him away or yelled. Instead, she'd kissed him back and moaned in his ear. He had nothing to feel bad about, and neither did she.
It was best to act like it didn't happen.
The last time he really saw her was when Emily left. They'd shared a hug and a long talk, then she went inside. He and Emily had a tearful goodbye full of hugs and promises to call more often, and since then Spencer still hadn't called the team. He should. Maybe tomorrow to let Emily know how it went.
Tucci's wasn't a high class restaurant according to Holly, but it was nicer than the ones in town. Spencer's hair had grown out so much in the last few years, and even after the bruises from the fight faded and he returned his brace to Dr. Altman, he was still struggling with his looks.
Spencer just looked so tired, and with his scraggly beard and overgrown hair, he decided it was time to make a small change. He didn't plan on wearing anything besides a nicer jacket and pants to dinner, but he still felt he owed Honey the decency of looking nice for their forced date.
He knew nothing would come of it, and he didn't want it to. He was a wanderer now, had no home, but he wanted to look nice for her.
Spencer's hand shook as he knocked on her door. He didn't even know if she could help him, but he'd yet to figure out where the barber shop was in town and he didn't want people to gossip around him after he cleaned himself up.
She opened the door in another pair of her trademark tiny shorts and a tight crop tank top. Her newly dried hair hung in ringlets down over her shoulders, the fresh scent of citrus and saltwater wafting from her after a shower.
"Hey," she breathed with an awkward smile. "Is everything okay?"
Spencer nodded, trying to ignore how good her curves looked in that outfit. She still wore her wedding ring around her neck, and he couldn't help but think about how it had felt to lick his way under the strap and taste her skin.
"Do you know how to cut hair?" he asked instead of kissing her like he wanted to. She leaned against the doorframe, tapping it as she watched him.
"Uh, yeah," she replied with a smirk. "Come on in."
She turned on her heel and went right up the stairs, expecting him to follow. His eyes went straight for her ass, watching as it jiggled with each step. She looked too damned good for how long it had been since he'd had sex. It was frustrating. Now that he'd gotten a taste of her, he just wanted more. But he was leaving soon. Not soon enough for it to not be awkward after. The last thing he needed was to be chased out of town under a cloud for fucking their beloved young widow.
Spencer looked around as he reached the top of the stairs, taking in the lofted apartment above the Inn. It was just a big open concept room with a kitchen in one corner, her bed in the other. A television was set up on the wall, a small dining table nearby. There was a room in the middle with an open door, and he could see the big clawfoot tub sitting inside the bathroom.
She had a lot of sea-related decor, mixed with a bit of boho. Her couch was bright orange velvet, with teal and pink throw pillows. She had gauzy white curtains embroidered with seashells along the windows. One of the walls was a brightly painted mural with flowers. The whole place seemed to be jam packed with ridiculousness that somehow fit Honey perfectly.
The walls were mostly windows, overlooking most of the town. It was beautiful up here, the view of the midday sun heading toward the ocean in the distance. Like Mattie May, she had pictures plastered all over.
He recognized Ernesto, Holly and Rico, though they were much younger. Rico had long hair and Ernesto’s hair was braided back. Holly looked more or less the same with his military haircut. There were pictures of more townsfolk, including some with Honey, but there was one that caught his eye.
It was of Honey, but she looked to be about fourteen in the photo on the mantle. A girl had her arm slung over her shoulder and flashed an easy smile at the camera, but she barely looked older than Honey. She also looked almost exactly like her. The broad expanse of the ocean in winter laid behind them, both dressed in puffy coats with red cheeks and bright grins. It must have been taken in her home town in Maine.
"My sister Madelyn," she said behind him. Spencer turned, feeling nosy and caught.
"I've never heard you talk about her," he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets to quell some of his anxiety. "You're not close, I take it."
"We were," she replied with a soft smile. "She died when I was sixteen."
"Oh. I'm so sorry."
Honey shrugged, turning on her heel. She snagged a chair from the table and dragged it into the bathroom, beckoning him to follow. She patted the seat, then ducked down to open the cabinet under the sink.
The bathroom was small, with a freestanding tub and separate shower on one wall. The shower was encased in glass, hand laid tile against the wall and the floor. She had a vanity mirror in the center of the wall, the toilet on the other side.
She pulled out a little case and a cape, which made Spencer chuckle. "You do this a lot?"
"The only barber in town is nicknamed 'Wandering Willie,'" Honey replied, frowning. "And it's not because his name is William."
Spencer made a face and plopped down in the seat. Honey made quick work of tossing the cape around his shoulders and tying it. She gently tugged his hair out of the collar and ran a light hand through it.
"What do you want me to do? Do you have any pictures?"
Even though he had no cell service, Spencer had made a habit of keeping his cell charged and in his pocket. He pulled it out and unlocked it, then went about flipping through old photos of himself. Honey went to the sink while he did so, likely going out of her own way not to be nosy again like she had with his suitcase.
"I always liked it like this," Spencer muttered as he came across a photo of him and JJ. It was at Rossi's wedding, still a bit long but manageable for him. The shorter it was the more often he needed it cut and he wasn't a fan of strangers touching his hair.
Honey stepped behind him, looking at the photo over his shoulder. She smiled, "Cuuute. You look a lot different there."
"Yeah, it was a few years ago," he grumbled, feeling much older than he had when the photo was taken.
Honey tapped his jaw as heat rushed to his cheeks. "I like the beard, though. It's a good look on you."
Spencer bit back a rather foolish grin as she poked through her kit for scissors and a comb. Armed with them and a spray bottle, she shook it a little and smiled, "Ready Freddie?"
"Do your worst."
Honey made quick work of combing his hair. Her deft fingers flitted through his locks, trimming carefully. She was laser focused, those pretty eyes watching every snip of her scissors.
Spencer couldn't help but watch her through the reflection in the mirror. Her hair hung in ringlets, bouncing as she fluffed up his hair to see where to cut next. She pressed her tongue against the back of her teeth as she focused, lost in what she was doing.
She moved to stand in front of him, angling his bangs to see where she wanted to make the cut. Her hip leaned against his thigh, her upper body contorting a bit before she changed her mind. She moved to his other side but seemed to run into the same problem. She didn't seem to want to push her luck and touch him.
Spencer's hands threaded out from underneath the cape before he could really think about it. He palmed her hips and slid her onto his lap, and she put steadying hands on his shoulders to keep herself upright. His thighs spread to hold her in place, safe and upright.
Honey looked down at him with wide eyes and her lips slightly parted. Her cheeks dusted with reddish pink, looking far too innocent and kissable for his liking.
"Keep going," Spencer muttered, his voice husky. "Just do what you need to do to be comfortable."
Honey nodded, but there was no mistaking the uptick in her breathing. It wasn't panicked, and Spencer watched as the blotchy red inched its way up her chest. She wasn't wearing a bra, and he easily noticed her nipples begin to pop through the thin fabric of her tank top.
Her fingers shook a bit as she finished up the front of his hair. She set her scissors down and fluffed it up to eyeball it and make sure it was even. Her nails grazed against his scalp as she did it again, and Spencer couldn't help the way his eyes fluttered shut.
His hands were still on her hips, the pads of his fingers grazing her skin. Thanking God silently for crop tops, Spencer did his best to keep still. Her skin was so warm, and she smelled incredible. All he wanted to do was bury his face in her neck and breathe her in.
"You don't get touched enough," her voice came softly after a moment. "Do you, Spencer?"
Spencer struggled to peel open his eyes as her fingers dragged down and over his beard. He cocked a brow at her while she inspected the fuzzy mess. "What makes you say that?"
"Nobody enjoys getting a haircut this much," Honey smirked. She adjusted on his lap to reach for the scissors and comb again. Spencer did his best to accommodate her. He didn't want her to get up. She was also the only one he'd ever enjoyed a haircut this much from.
"More barbers should look like you, then," he replied smoothly. Honey flashed him a playful squint, pressing on the underside of his jaw to start trimming his beard.
The cool steel of the scissors scraped lightly along his jugular. He swallowed thickly, but willed himself to relax. Her soft hands danced along his jawline, but kept him firmly where she wanted him.
"I'm a bit nervous about tonight," she confessed quietly, her voice hardly above a whisper.
Spencer's brows furrowed, "Because of Michelle and Holly?"
Honey shook her head. She wiped the scissors along the cape before going back in, the smooth slices of the metal sending shivers up his spine.
"I feel like things are weird between us…" she murmured, still focused on what she was doing. She avoided his gaze, and Spencer could see that she was finished, so he put a hand over hers and pulled it away. He didn't want her to stop touching him.
She moved to get off his lap, but Spencer held her tighter. Her belly twitched under his touch, but instead of fighting him she simply deposited the scissors and comb on the floor before taking the cape off him. Letting it fall to the ground, she grabbed a fluffy brush and began sweeping stray hairs from his neck.
"I know you weren't drunk when you kissed me, and that you had second thoughts because of Emily and Rose." Honey spoke quietly, keeping her eyes trained on the brush tickling his skin while he kept his on hers.
"I don't want you to fix me," she declared, strength returning to her voice as she tossed the brush onto the sink. Her hands landed on his shoulders where she sat on her side on his lap.
Honey moved enough to bring one thigh over his spread legs, straddling him. Her eyes blazed as she watched him, her back arching just enough for him to feel under his heavy hands. Spencer swallowed down a lump in his throat as she gathered up the courage to continue. He knew she had more to say.
"I'm not just some sad widow looking for a man to come along and take me away from my grief." She was closer now. Charged air crackled between them as she licked her bottom lip and pulled it between her teeth.
"I'm leaving in a few weeks," Spencer reminded gently. "I don't have time to fix you, anyway."
Honey chuckled and brushed a stray hair behind her ear. She nodded to herself, "I'm well aware…"
She clicked her teeth and gave him those same hooded eyes she had the night before, blush flooding her cheeks. "I also know how boring it can be here without cell phones or the internet. Three weeks is a long time to do nothing, or try to pick up girls in a small town bar who live to gossip… and want more than a hookup."
"It's a lot of effort," Spencer agreed. The air was so thick between them, he couldn't help but wonder where the bomb was going to go off. She was hard to read, but he was beginning to see what she was trying to say.
Honey's palms smoothed over his chest, her breath picking up. She opened her mouth to speak a few times, seemingly deciding what to say. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again they were deliciously dark.
"I could keep you company," she murmured, her voice dripping with heady need and nerves, like he might say no. "Give you something to do in the meantime, some stress relief."
Spencer adjusted beneath her, and it would be a lie to say that she wasn't getting to him. That damned scent of citrus and saltwater, those shy nervous eyes, and her curvy stunning body on his cock was almost enough to take her right there.
"What do you get out of it?"
Honey smiled sweetly, which only made him want to shove her against the wall even more. She leaned in, her breasts pressing against his chest as her nose nuzzled against his. Her lips hovered just in front of his as she whispered, "Three weeks of good sex and an escape from all the shit I'm dealing with outside of my apartment.
"You don't like me and I don't like you very much either," she continued, her thumbs rubbing along his collarbones as her gaze flicked to his lips and then back to his eyes. "I think we can find a way to take that out on one another."
Spencer couldn't help the wolfish grin that peeled open across his cheeks. Keeping one hand on her hip, Spencer tangled the other in her hair and pulled her quickly to him. Their lips crashed together, a surprised but excited yelp escaping from Honey's chest.
She was stubborn to the core, and Spencer found himself battling her for dominance right away. She gripped the lapels of his flannel, pulling him closer. Her strong thighs cradled his lap, and Spencer hooked a few fingers under her knee to tug her flush to his hips. Barely restrained moans echoed between them. His fingers tightened around her thigh, his cock straining in his pants until he couldn't take it anymore with her grinding down on him.
Spencer lurched forward, jostling her onto his hip. She never let up, her fingers tangling into his hair as she nipped his bottom lip. Her scent consumed him, drowning him in the fresh smell of the ocean and the need emanating from her. He carried Honey out of the bathroom and straight toward the bed in the corner. He wanted her now, and now that he had permission he was going to take her. Her thighs clamped down around his waist, but he managed to untangle her and toss her onto the mattress.
Her breasts bounced as she landed, and he descended on her in an instant. They clashed together in a flurry of teeth and tongue, pushing and pulling as she shoved his flannel from his shoulders. Spencer tossed it to the ground, his hands palming her tits through her shirt as she went for his belt.
She managed to get it unlatched just as the phone on the bedside table rang. Spencer pulled back enough to glance over at it, but she just pulled him close and moved onto his neck.
"Shouldn't you get that?" Spencer asked, his voice embarrassingly breathy. Honey’s insistent nipping along his throat was driving him crazy, but the shrill tone of the landline kept breaking through.
She groaned in irritation, wiggling her hips for more friction, “If it’s important, they’ll call again.”
Spencer was about to take that as a good enough answer when her palms flattened on his chest and suddenly he was pushed onto his back. Honey mounted him in one swift move, gripping his jaw tightly in her fingers and kissing him furiously. She did it like she was winning a fight, and he was more than happy to battle with her.
Gripping her hair, Spencer gave an experimental tug that elicited a beautifully dirty moan. Her hips jerked, grinding down on his clothed length. The phone faded into the background of his mind as it stopped its sharp crying through the apartment. Honey’s tight, smaller body arched with every swipe of his palms along her skin, sweet excited groans bouncing between them as they explored one another.
Her warm skin blazed under his hands as he threaded them under her shirt. Bringing them down, Spencer smoothed them over the curve of her ass and thighs, pulling her flush to him once more. The way her hips swirled over his dick drove him wild, the thought of himself inside her doing the same thing nearly made him burst in his pants.
Spencer sat her up, his palm spreading wide along her spine. Each breathy exhale and sigh made his vision blur, but he wanted to see her. All of her. He wanted to watch as she fell apart for him, piece by piece.
Honey didn’t fight him as he ran his fingers under her tiny tank top. She worked with him, arching her back and lifting her arms as he pulled it up. Her breasts bounced free from the thin fabric as she threw the tanktop to the ground. Spencer went straight for them, one hand palming her perfect tit as his lips went straight for the other nipple.
She gasped as his teeth grazed the sensitive flesh, her hips grinding down on him. Swirling around with his tongue, he pinched her other breast, swiping a soft thumb over as a weak apology before doing it again.
“Fuck,” she groaned, her hips working for some relief through her shorts. He was painfully hard, wanting nothing more than to toss her to the ground and fuck her hard with little prep, but he also wanted to savor it.
Honey’s fingers tangled tightly in Spencer’s hair, clutching him tightly to her chest as she moaned wantonly. She whimpered, low and needy, "Spencer, please, fuck!"
"Take off your pants," he commanded as he pulled off her with a soft pop.
Honey went for her button when the phone rang again. She sighed, her chest patched red and blotchy as she leaned over him to snatch it from the nightstand.
"No, no, come on," he begged pitifully as she pushed him into the mattress. She sat on top of him, her hand on his chest as she looked at the screen. She panted, her chest heaving. She was fucking stunning.
"Shut up," she told him playfully, grinding down on him for good measure. Spencer set his twitchy hands on her thighs, squeezing and bucking lightly to keep some of the friction going. Honey held the phone up to her ear, “Thunderbird Inn. How can I help you?”
Honey’s dark eyes fixated on him, her head cocking to the side, “Oh, hey, Emily.”
Feeling suddenly caught, Spencer’s eyes went wide, but then he squinted at her as she listened to the other end. She waved a hand in front of her face and shook her head, “I’m fine, really. I just got back from a run.”
Spencer was growing restless, so he trailed his fingers up lightly. Brushing them along her exposed skin, he delighted in the way she shivered and goosebumps appeared as she spoke to Emily. Her chest puffed out, eyes fluttering shut. She was truly beautiful, strong and unyielding like a port in a storm.
As he palmed her breast, she covered his hand with hers, holding him in place. Her eyes had a devilish glint as she watched him caress her body. His other palm smoothed up her side, tickling along her collarbone before he decided to experiment and see what she liked. Spencer spread his fingers over the column of her throat, getting up on one elbow to brace himself.
She watched him through those hooded eyes, lashes fluttering as she struggled to stay focused on the phone call. His hand flattened over her windpipe, tightening just enough to see her cheeks flush bright red, then he let go, opting instead to trail his fingers down her chest as though he didn’t know what he’d done. But he knew now what he wanted to… just how open she was to other things.
“How about this?” Honey gulped, taking a deep breath. “I’ll call his room to see if he’s there and then patch you through? I’ve got to put you on hold, though.”
Spencer shook his head, but she just squinted down at him. “Sounds good. Give me a few minutes.”
Honey pressed a button on the phone and pointed out toward the window, “I’ve gotta get ready for tonight, and you need to talk to your sister.”
“She’s not my sister,” Spencer grumbled. He fell flat on his back, mourning the loss of his boner and soon to be release. Spencer got up on his elbows and flashed her a cheeky grin, “I’ll be quick.”
Honey shook her head, “Uh-uhn. You’re gonna fuck me the way I deserve, and to do that we need a bit more time.”
She rolled off him, plopping down on the mattress beside Spencer. Her body heat blazed against him, and he let out a pained breath as he eyed her breasts. Playfully, he reached out and patted one with the flats of his fingers, making her laugh. He couldn’t help but smile back, chuckling a bit.
“Fuck you the way you deserve?” he murmured with a furrowed brow and a grin.
Honey nodded. “I didn’t stutter.”
Spencer laughed as he got up. He made sure to lean down and give her nipple one last light bite before he rose from the bed, and she made a delightful little cry at the feeling. He loomed over her as he adjusted himself in his pants, and she just lounged half naked on the bed and smirked up at him.
“See you later,” he muttered. Spencer leaned over the mattress and hooked his fingers under her knees, jerking her forward until she was nose to nose with him. “Wear something pretty, yeah?”
Honey smiled, and in a show of silliness he rarely got to see from her, she licked the tip of his nose and giggled. “Something with easy access?”
Spencer growled a bit and nodded, “I don’t have a lot of patience.”
Her pupils dilated in a millisecond, her kiss-bitten lip quivering. Spencer gripped her jaw tightly and gave her a rough kiss, relishing in the desperate little moan that made its way to his lips. He pulled away and turned on his heel without looking back, and by the soft exhale behind him he was feeling pretty proud of himself.
Maybe the next three weeks wouldn't be so bad after all.
I was struggling to keep myself together. My whole body was a livewire after Spencer came to my apartment for his haircut. I couldn't stop thinking about his hands on my body, or his tongue on my chest. Light bruises littered my neck and all I wanted to do was press on them to feel the sting.
Oh, if he fucked the way he kissed… I was about to be in big trouble. I needed the release, to fall into something that wasn’t my own pool of misery and let go. His heavy hands on me were the only real thing keeping me grounded the last few days. All I wanted was to touch him again and hear him make those deep guttural groans again. I have so much work to do on myself and my life, and this will be the one guilty pleasure I’ll have for a long while.
In reality it had only been a little over a month since I'd slept with Rico, but it felt like years after making out with Spencer. I was antsy, struggling not to think about just how toe curling it could have been if the phone didn't ring. Idly, I wondered what Emily wanted to speak with him so badly about, but ultimately decided it wasn’t my business.
I wasn't one for makeup, so I just opted to put some on my neck and keep my natural hair down and put on a sundress and some espadrilles. It was yellow with pink and orange flowers, landing just above my knees. I snagged a shawl in case the heat died down, and knowing we were going to a restaurant on the water that was more than likely.
I stood before my mirror, fidgeting and feeling suddenly quite self conscious. I haven't been on a date of any kind in almost ten years, or had to worry if I looked good enough for one. It hit me how ridiculous I was being, worried if Spencer would like the way I looked when the first time he kissed me I was covered in sand and sweat. The man obviously wasn't picky.
Michelle asked me to drive separately in case she and Holly wanted to spend some time alone together, so I grabbed the keys to my beat up Volkswagen bus and my purse, then made my way down stairs.
Spencer waited outside my door, hands stuffed into his pockets as he leaned against the doorframe. He stood up straight as he spotted me, breaking out into a slow smile.
"Holy shit," he breathed, his eyes raking me up and down hungrily. His hand reached out to touch the bright patterned skirt. "You look amazing."
"Thank you," I blushed like a fool. I waved to his outfit with a smile, "You clean up nice, Spencer."
He wore a simple buttoned up dark shirt with a red cardigan over it and khaki pants. His sleeve was bunched up under his watch, his freshly cut hair curled nicely with the product I'd put in it. He flashed me a crooked grin as he let go of my dress.
Holding out his elbow for me, he leaned down and murmured even though we were the only two in the hallway, "You ready?"
I took a deep breath before threading my arm in his, "As I'll ever be."
Tucci's was about a forty minute drive down the coast. Spencer lounged in the passenger seat as I drove. We didn't talk much, but his hand rested heavily on my thigh the whole drive. I didn't push him away, and I didn't want to. Instead, I reveled in his heat and his thumb rubbing soft circles into my skin.
The breeze danced through the windows, the warm summer evening turning the sky orange and dusty. We passed town after town on the lonesome secluded highway, until we were surrounded by trees and billboards. The fluorescent lights illuminated them in the coming darkness, and I didn't even realize I was speaking until I pointed at one.
"Do you think that God reads the billboards?" I asked quietly, not even sure where it was coming from.
Spencer glanced over my way and shrugged, "If He did, they probably wouldn't be there."
I wasn’t sure why, but I liked his answer. It fit him and the cynicism that permeated from his pores. Deciding to leave it at that, we instead flew down the highway to our forced get together with Holly and Michelle.
Tucci’s was busy for a Friday night at ten, people waiting in line outside. We spotted Holly and Michelle in the parking lot, with Holly standing a respectable distance away from her as Spencer followed closely behind me.
Holly had made a reservation, so we were seated soon enough, earning a few glares from the walk-ins. Surprisingly enough, Spencer acted the gentleman even though I knew he had no interest in this date or me romantically. He held doors open for me, and pulled out my chair. When the wine came, he insisted on pouring it for me as well.
I was never one to be told what to do, or taken care of, but I didn't mind this one bit. It was surprisingly…nice to not have to do anything myself. My nerves were on fire being in this setting anyways, in a restaurant on a dock, the ocean just outside the window we were seated by. It was nice not to have to make any decisions at the moment.
My stomach swirled with nausea that made me take breaks from the conversation to nervously sip from my glass. Luckily, with Holly and Michelle fawning over one another it took a lot of pressure off Spencer and myself, and we mostly let them do the talking. There were so many people packed in the tiny restaurant. It was intimately lit with candles and red drapery along the walls. Even though the windows were open, welcoming a slight breeze, I found myself sweating by the time dinner was finished.
This was how I was feeling when I thought I was pregnant, and the doctor told me it was just nerves. After multiple negative tests, I finally believed him, but sitting there trying to keep myself upright I cursed his diagnosis of anxiety and stress.
I needed to get my shit together. A panic attack was the last thing I needed.
The dock swayed with the water, and I rubbed a sweaty palm over the back of my neck to ease away some of my nausea. Spencer watched me curiously in between speaking with Holly and Michelle, who seemed to be having a good time and not noticing my mini freak out in a crowded place.
There were couples all over, leaning over white dropped tables in beautiful clothes. They spoke in hushed tones, even Holly and Michelle, clasping hands on top. Champagne flutes glittered under the lights, the occasional clinking of silverware on ceramic accenting the gentle music playing.
I missed Ernie… I needed him here, with me. I shouldn't be here. He should be here. He was the one everybody loved, and I was just the outsider who died with him that night, her body returning to shore.
I ran a shaky hand through my hair, trying to console my body. It didn't want to cooperate, and as sweaty as I was, I pulled my shawl tighter over my shoulders while goosebumps broke out on my skin. Sucking in a wavering breath, I closed my eyes for a moment before letting it go.
A hand on my knee got my attention, and I glanced up to see Spencer pushed forward in his seat across from me, obviously the one touching me. His brows furrowed and he squeezed me gently, cocking his head to the side.
I stared at him like a deer in the headlights, not sure of what to do. My legs begged me to launch from the table and run all the way back to Thunderbird. I didn't want to stop until I hit the bay and dove underneath the waves.
"I could use some air," Spencer seemed to decide for me. He stood and folded his napkin before setting it on the table, then held out his hand for me. "Care to join?"
I stared at it dumbly until he rounded the table, his palm up for me to take. Spencer flashed Holly and Michelle a smile, "I don't know this place very well. I don't want to get lost."
My hand moved on autopilot, clasping his tightly. Spencer pulled me to my feet before leading me out of the restaurant, his fingers laced in mine. His gait never slowed, laser focused on the exit as he weaved through the traffic of people coming inside.
The restaurant windows faced the water, but the entrance faced the parking lot with the dock wrapping around to the back. The walkway to the dock lay awash in fairy lights strung up between posts. The sun had dipped down behind the clouds, and now the small twinkling bulbs lit the way to the water. In my haze, I just let him lead me, trying and failing to keep my breathing under control.
A hand carved bench sat at the end of the dock. Boats floated in the distance, easing through the water. The waves crested and fell in a natural time, the crash followed by the hushing spread of the water hitting the surface. Spencer guided me to the bench and sat me down. Kneeling in front of me as I watched through glassy, tear filled eyes, he untied my espadrilles and set them to the side. I didn't realize how much I was shaking until he took one of my feet and pressed his thumb into the arch and my body relaxed.
"Just breathe," he murmured, watching me closely. His eyes held sympathy for me, but no pity. Tears streamed down my cheeks, grief I hadn't expected pouring through, but I refused to let myself completely fall apart.
I clutched the shawl tightly around my shoulders. I leaned against the cool wood and closed my eyes, listening to the ocean and her beauty. The soft rocking of the dock was surprisingly a welcome feeling, lulling me into a safe place I hadn't been to in a long time.
I thought of Isle of Honey, of Ernie. Long nights spent floating on top of the water, legs tangled together on the deck of the old schooner. We'd breathe in the scent of sex and the ocean, our hearts thumping in time together. I was in my safe place, with my safe person, just existing among the wild ferality of the sea.
"I'm sorry," I whispered after a while. Spencer had long since moved onto my other foot, massaging tension gently from my body. I wiped at my cheek and chuckled bitterly, "I'm sure this is really sexy."
All I truly wanted from Spencer was an escape, a few moments to let go and forget about everything going on. I wanted my uncertainty to fade into the background, for my guilt to calm to a simmer when it constantly roared at a boil.
Spencer made a face and set my foot gently on the dock. He eased himself on the bench next to me, his thigh touching mine, but he didn't move to hold me. I appreciated it.
"Some guys are into that, you know?" he replied cheekily, giving me a wink and a smile.
I sniffled through my laugh and shook my head, "So this is your turn on?"
Spencer huffed a bit, looking down at his hands. His voice was low and a bit sad. "That kinda thing takes a lot of time and trust. I don't find that much on the road."
I nodded. That trust was something I built with Ernie, but he never had the ability to be truly rough with me, which I had been fine with. Rico, on the other hand, was more interested in a quick barrel toward both our releases, and I didn't have the mental capacity to do much else. They had both been wonderful and attentive, and I would always be grateful for those experiences.
I nudged Spencer with an elbow, offering a weak smile through my swollen cheeks and likely red face. "I'm a big fan of the color system, and my safeword is 'applejack.'"
Spencer chuckled. His arm wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me close but not too tight. He was something to lean against during the storm in my heart, and I found myself snuggling into his side and pressing my palm to his chest.
Cinnamon and bergamot flooded through my nostrils, accented by the salt of the sea as we sat there. A few errant passersby came down the dock, saw us, and quickly turned around. We paid them no mind, just listening to the waves and enjoying the quiet.
"I haven't been on a date in ten years," I found myself saying. The ocean swallowed my words and took them out to the distance, but not before Spencer heard them. He pressed his cheek to the top of my head. "I know this wasn't really a date but… I don't know why it hit me so hard."
"Memories are like freight trains, Honey," he murmured. I felt him clear his throat, the soft rumble under my ear through his shirt. His fingers tightened around my arm. "You either know when they're coming on the schedule or you don't notice until the whistle blows behind you. Sometimes the whistle doesn't even blow, and it hits you."
I thought about that for a moment. He was right, and a part of me hated this broken man for knowing the broken part of me so well with so little effort. I wanted to hit him and yell and scream, but the broken part of me knew that was exactly what the broken part of him wanted to do too.
"That's the most depressing shit I've ever heard," I said instead.
The laugh that bubbled from his chest made me smile before it even broke the surface. Spencer guided a hand over my hair and kissed the top of my head as he chuckled to himself.
"Yeah, well, it's all I've got," he said as he pulled away.
Spencer leaned back on the bench, legs splayed and his arms laced over the edge. The fingers of one hand ran light lines up and down my shoulder. It only made my body relax more, melting into his side and reveling in the comfort.
Boat horns sounded in the distance, calling out to other ships in the night. The spotlight from a lighthouse down the coast cut through the darkness, pointing out toward the black. It was guiding people home, back to the land.
Sitting there, I realized I didn't want to be on the land anymore. Thunderbird would always be the place that took me in and became my home. For far too long I'd treated it like a tomb, my final resting place after a lifetime of mistreatment and uncertainty.
When I lost Ernie, I stopped moving forward. The lighthouse in the bay became my siren beacon, my way of screaming that I was the safe place now. I would keep everyone safe, I would guide them home. They could come to me for anything they needed, and I would provide.
Sitting then in the arms of a stranger who'd defended me and saved me, and I'd saved him, it hit me. I wasn't the port in the storm. I wasn't the place to go to escape the monsoon, the hurricane.
I was the eye of the storm. The place where all this started was with myself, and how I reacted to the world around me. I let myself loose from my tiny fishing town in Maine and descended hurricane Honey upon Thunderbird. I was a wild animal full of rage and regret, and they calmed me to a raindrop. I'd always be grateful to them for that.
The hurricane was back, and after ten years she wanted to rage again. I needed to find a middle ground. I needed to become the rain after the drought, not devastation or starvation.
I didn't have to leave Thunderbird forever. I'd spent ten years fixing up our old schooner, repairing the damage caused by the storm that ruined my life. It was almost finished, and in a way, so was I. I could do what Ernie and I always dreamed of, and sail off toward that horizon in hopes of swallowing the sun. Then, I could follow the lighthouse back home.
"Hey," I started slowly, easing my way out from under Spencer's arm. He looked down upon me gently, waiting for my direction. "You wanna get out of here?"
Spencer smiled. "Lead the way."
Smurph's Masterlist | Series Masterlist
Notes: Oh, I'm so excited for the sex next chapter... You have no idea.
Also, have you guy listened to any of the songs that these chapters are inspired by? Which one is your favorite?
Warnings: makeouts, first times, fingering, soft dom!Spencer, hickies, bruises, water sex, beach sex, subdrop, aftercare, crying after sex.
Summary: You decide to take Spencer to a secluded spot to rock his world. He turns the tables on you.
It neared two in the morning before Holly and Michelle emerged from Tucci's, hand in hand and grinning like madmen. Spencer couldn't help the smile that peeled open across his face at the sight. Good for them, they both deserved it.
Honey stood a bit away from him, keeping her distance in front of her friends. Spencer didn't mind. It wasn't the first time a woman wanted to keep it from her friend that she was sleeping with him. It probably wouldn't be the last.
Michelle made a beeline for Honey, scooping her up in a big hug. Honey set her chin on her shoulder and squeezed her back as Holly sidled up next to him.
"Thank you for coming," he murmured with a sheepish grin. "I didn't think this was your scene, but I wasn't ready to do this alone."
Spencer shrugged, "Anytime, man."
Holly reached out a hand for Spencer to shake, and when he took it pulled him in for a bear hug. Spencer chuckled to himself and hugged him back as the girls whispered between themselves.
"You guys wanna hit up Tooky's?" Holly asked as he pulled away.
Spencer glanced over at Honey, who gave him a subtle shake of her head. He didn't really want to go back there anyway after what went down with Lonnie and Lloyd, or have a reminder of that horrible night.
"I'm ready to head back," he said instead. All he really wanted to do was pound Honey into the mattress anyways.
"I know it's not my business," Holly began, keeping his voice down while the girls chatted. He cleared his throat and adjusted as he stood in his uncomfortableness. "And I don't know what's going on, if anything is going on, but-."
"Hurt her and I'll get my ass kicked?"
Holly chuckled, "That… and just keep something in mind for me, man. She's rough around the edges, but she deserves the world. Even if it's just sex, which I don't want to hear about, respect her."
He kicked lightly at the ground and avoided Spencer's gaze. "You'll have friends here even when you leave, Honey included. We like you, so don't screw up your chance to come visit if you ever find yourself back this way."
"I won't," Spencer promised. He meant it, and he valued Holly's words. "Maybe I'll come back some day."
He didn't even know if he meant that last part, but it was nice to know the option was there.
Holly nodded, and they said their goodbyes. Spencer made sure to open the door to the van for Honey before going around to his side, then they set off for Thunderbird.
The dark highway spread out for miles, lonesome and scattered with a few errant off roads. The sky lay above them in a deep greenish blue, the redwoods and pines along the road shadowed in darkness. Spencer thought something was missing, and it took a bit to realize it was the fireflies.
They didn't occur naturally in California. The Midwest was full of them in the summer, blinking lazily in the night air. The closest thing out here were the stars shining brightly above them. They glimmered across the horizon, disappearing into the far-off ocean.
Music played softly through the speakers of Honey's beat up van. Spencer kept his hand on her thigh, just under the hem of her dress as he leaned against the door. It comforted him, as it had been years since he’d spent more than one night with a woman, let alone worked up to the point of touching her like this without having slept with her. He was looking forward to that, and three more weeks of easy sex and physical comfort. Maybe she’d even sleep next to him after.
He glanced over to check on her. It was late, nearing four in the morning. The wind from the cracked window blew her hair back, the light from the dash washing her in a teal glow. She was truly a beautiful woman, looking ethereal in the dim lighting.
"Where are we going?" he asked after a while. Thunderbird had only been about forty minutes from the restaurant, and they'd been driving for over an hour.
Honey smiled to herself, but she didn't look his way, instead focusing on the road ahead. "I want to show you something."
She didn't say anything else. He didn't press it. If she was going to murder him in the woods he was pretty sure he could over power her. If she wasn't, he'd been through enough with her to know he'd probably enjoy it. She'd been right about the camping trip with the guys, so he dropped it.
Another hour later, and she turned onto an off road. The van jumped and protested with each bump, but Honey just pressed on. They drove for a good twenty minutes before she turned again, stopping just inside an enclave of trees. As she put it in park, Spencer looked over at her again. She just popped open her door and hopped out. Spencer followed, meeting her around the front of the van.
She reached out a hand for him, and he took it. Her warm fingers clasped his loosely, and she took off further into the ocean of foliage. The sun began peeking through the trees, and she was heading straight toward it. He could still see the van behind him, glad it was still in his line of sight.
Birdsong blossomed as she led him down a winding dirt road. Her sundress flowed behind her like a river, billowing in the breeze. They hit another curve in the direction of the sun, and she was lost in its shine as they stepped out of the trees.
It took a minute for Spencer's eyes to adjust to the light, but when they did his breath caught in his chest. A riverbed lay before them, clear blue water trickling along lazily. Mountains of trees surrounded the lake, spread out as far as the eye could see. The sun made its way up the opposite side, blanketing the water in shadow and Spencer and Honey in shade.
"Why did you bring me here?" Spencer asked quietly. It was so serene and perfect, he almost wanted to cry at this place's natural beauty. It was such an intimately hidden place, surely as secluded as parts of Honey, as parts of himself.
Honey squeezed his fingers, "I don't know. I just wanted to."
She turned to him with a soft smile and adventure gleaming in her eye, "How do you feel about a day away from Thunderbird?"
"Sounds like a dream."
Honey went back to the van and moved it closer to the riverbed, backing it up through the little winding road. She angled the back to face the bank, then opened up the trunk. She had everything one would need for an impromptu camping trip inside. A blanket was spread just outside of the van, a few camping chairs and a little meal kit. She even had a traveling trash can and some food in a cooler. She went quickly to work setting up a fire for the cool morning chill and made some coffee over the flames.
Spencer lounged on a chair on the blue patterned blanket as she handed him one of those metal cups campers liked to use. Honey eased herself next to him and sighed happily. Steam rose from her mug as she held it delicately, her knees pulled up to her chest. She’d long since taken off her shoes, opting to walk around barefoot, her wild hair bouncing down around her shoulders.
This was exactly the place a woman like her belonged. A stunning creature sitting in one of the most beautiful places Spencer had ever been.
“I love this place.” She spoke quietly, her voice far away as she lived through an old memory. She pointed off toward one of the ridges. “When I first found it, I thought for a moment I’d fallen off that cliff and died. I thought it was heaven.”
"How'd you find it?" he asked lightly, sipping from his mug. Everything out here was still, moving only in the way that was natural to it. It was the sort of peace Spencer had been searching for all this time. He was honored to be there.
"When Ernie died, I was still too scared to go back in the ocean. I still don't like it, but I'm good with the rivers," she began, but it wasn't sad. That bright spirit glinted in her eye as she watched the scene before them. "I just started driving out to the middle of nowhere and hiking. I found this place a few years ago and I like to come here when I need a break."
"Found yourself needing a break?" he asked lightly. She nodded slowly, then looked over at him.
"I don't know if you know this, but I shot two guys last week." Her tone was playful, but her eyes raged with the memory. "Plus, it's good to get away sometimes."
Spencer reached out a hand, and she clasped it without hesitation. He squeezed her fingers tight before threading them together. "I'm sorry you had to do that."
Honey looked at him sadly, "I'm sorry you took a bat to the face."
He chuckled and shrugged. "I've had worse."
The sun warmed them as it rose, blanketing them in the steady rise in temperature. Honey's skin lay awash in orange and pink as it broke through the clouds, her eyes gleaming in the light. She let go of his hand and set the coffee cup on the ground.
Spencer watched curiously as she stood and stretched, letting out a sweet groan as her arms came down. Honey turned to him with a devilish grin.
"I don't know about you, but I'm gonna cool down before it gets too hot."
Spencer was about to ask what she meant when her fingers laced underneath the hem of her dress. His jaw dropped as she pulled down a pair of pink satin panties. They dropped to the blanket and she stepped out of them, then pulled the sundress over her head.
Her hair swung down, landing over her shoulders and back. Her naked body glimmered in the light, curvy in all the right places and made of perfect places to grab a handful. His heart nearly stopped beating in his chest at the sight.
She leaned on one hip and smirked at him.
"Care to join me?"
I was feeling pretty good about myself as I walked into the river. The water was warm from the summer, welcoming and safe as I stepped further in. Waiting until I was deep enough, I ducked below the surface to wet my hair.
When I popped back up, pushing my locks back from my face, I spotted Spencer hurrying to undo his belt. He'd already stepped out of his shoes, fingers fumbling to unlatch the leather and pull his pants down.
Feeling a bit sorry for him, and rather excited, I made my way back to him. The rocky shoreline was smooth and warm under my feet, his jaw agape as he watched me approach. Water dripped from my body as I reached him, my hands pushing his away gently.
I leaned in and pressed my lips to his, reveling in the hungry groan that escaped from him. Smoothly, I undid his belt as his tongue slid against mine, unzipping his pants and pulling his shirt from his waistline. Spencer's fingers deftly unbuttoned it as I slid my hand inside his pants, palming his growing length.
He moaned into me as he tugged off his shirt and tossed it onto the blanket behind him, revealing his fuzzy chest and soft belly. I let my hands wander up his stomach, loving the slight twitches of his muscles as he pushed down his pants.
I couldn't help myself, and I had to pull away just to get a good look at his cock. He was already hard and standing straight up, a slight curve at the end that I'd personally always enjoyed in a man. My hand wrapped around his thick length, hardly able to meet my fingertips together. When I gave him an experimental pump, he bucked forward in my hand.
Biting my lip, I looked up at him through my lashes and smiled. In a flash, Spencer scooped me up and pulled my hips flush against his. He kissed me furiously, pulling me by my leg to grind against my damp folds.
I couldn't help but cling to him tightly, moaning against his lips as he stalked off toward the water. He pulled away to watch where he was stepping, so I moved onto his neck, nipping and sucking little bruises into his skin.
The river welcomed us, enveloping our bodies in the warm water. Spencer’s strong hands held me close, safely keeping me in place as we went deeper. The birds sang through the trees, squirrels running up trunks and over logs. The trickling sound of the water drowned out our kissing like horny teenagers, but I didn't mind.
I leaned back and sighed, my legs wrapped around his waist. Spencer held my hips as I lay back into the water, my hair following the flow of the current as I closed my eyes. I floated like that, just enjoying the feeling of someone else's hands on me.
Without warning, Spencer went under the water, pulling me with him. I held my breath at the last moment, opening my eyes underneath to see him with puffy cheeks and trying not to smile. Our hands reached out in unison, tugging one another close and meeting in the middle.
Bubbles popped their way to the surface as Spencer kissed me underneath the serene stream of water. His lips were warm, both of us holding our breaths until he pulled me back above to the fresh air.
"You are fucking incredible," he panted, holding me close. Our naked bodies slid along one another, his dick pressing against my belly. I smiled and set my forehead against his, trying to catch my breath. His eyes were intense, glinting with mischief. Spencer's hand smoothed down my back and over my thigh, reaching between us. My jaw went a bit slack as his fingers brushed against my pussy, easing his way between my folds.
"Just look at you," he murmured, his gaze unyielding as he watched me for a reaction. I sucked in a wavering breath as the pads of two thick fingers pushed against my entrance, swirling just enough to make me twitch in anticipation. He cocked his head, "Are you sure you want this?"
I nodded emphatically, "Spencer, please…"
That seemed to be all the permission he needed. In one swift movement, Spencer kissed me roughly, his free hand tangling into my damp hair, the other breeching my cunt under the surface. I moaned sharply, the sudden intrusion stretching my walls as two fingers pressed inside.
My body tensed around him. Spencer eased his way in, curling and dragging the pads of his fingers as he pulled them out, only to push them back in. My chest heaved with each pump, my hips rocking back down to meet them. The water sloshed around us, but he was focused solely on me.
He leaned his forehead against mine to watch me, his cheeks red and blotchy. I could feel his cock against my thigh, bobbing up and down with the water. His hair started to curl as it dried, his strong hands holding me exactly where he wanted.
"Mmm, Spencer," I whined desperately, bucking my hips for my release. It had been so long, and my eyes fluttered shut in anticipation when he gripped my jaw suddenly and stopped his hand between my legs.
Spencer angled me to look at him, his eyes blazing. I clenched around his fingers at the fire that lay there, and he leaned in to nip at my bottom lip before pulling away.
"You're too tense," he growled in a low voice. His fingers could have bruised my cheeks by the way he held me, and all it did was make me want to fuck his hand until it cramped. "Let go. I'm gonna take care of you, but you have to let me. Stop trying to be in control all the time."
My eyes turned glassy at his words, his promise to get me where I wanted to go. I found myself nodding dumbly, and only then did he begin moving his fingers again, pumping me slowly and steadily picking up speed.
"Keep your eyes on me," Spencer whispered. My thighs twitched around his hips. "I wanna watch you cum for me."
He kissed me then, his curling digits driving me closer and closer to the brink of insanity. I was floating on air, my face heating up and my body relaxing into his wants and wishes. He kept a firm grip on my jaw, watching intently in a way that with anyone else might have made me feel too seen, but it was deliciously dominating.
I let my body take over, letting Spencer guide me instead of barreling toward a release. We had all the time in the world, and my hips rocked in motion with what he wanted. My breathing picked up, my chest heaving.
"There you go," Spencer murmured. The coil started to tighten in that panicking way, excitement coursing through my veins as my walls tightened around him. I watched him through hazy eyes with my mouth hung open as he cracked a cocky grin, his eyes swimming with desire. "Just take it, good girl. Let me watch."
The moan that burst from my chest was pathetic, my fingers tightening in his hair. My hips rolled, grinding down on his beautiful hand as that tension in my lower belly finally snapped.
"Spencer!" I cried out into the wilderness, the mountains swallowing my ecstasy. My eyes rolled back as I pressed my forehead against his, my body shuddering and clamping down on him.
Spencer slowed as it waned, and when he pulled himself from me I let out a whine. His arms encircled me, pulling me in for a bear hug. I went limp in his grasp, letting my head loll on his shoulder as I caught my breath.
"Oh, that was perfect, perfect," he cooed sweetly in my ear. Spencer pressed a gentle kiss to the side of my head as he held me close. "Good girl…"
I closed my eyes, reveling in the comfort and his praise. Spencer rocked me back and forth under the water, lightly rubbing a hand up my spine. I felt him pull back a little to look at me.
"Don't fall asleep on me now," he warned, and the next thing I knew he was carrying me out of the water. I clung limply to him, ready to doze even as the cool air hit my naked skin.
Spencer set me gently on the blanket and smoothed back my hair. I grinned weakly up at him, and he cocked his head at me. "I'm not done with you, Honey."
My skin buzzed with electricity as Spencer smoothed his palms up my thighs. He squeezed now and then as he made his way up further, taking time to fondle my breasts. His hard cock stood at attention between his thighs, making me more excited than I could ever explain. I couldn't help but sigh as his broad hand feathered lightly over my throat, my eyes fluttering shut.
"God, look at you," he breathed, looming over me. I reached out for him, and he complied without hesitation. Spencer leaned down and kissed me gently, his hand moving to cup my jaw.
I moaned into his mouth as Spencer lowered himself on top of me. My head swam with the want I had for him, with the release I wanted to feel again. My arms encircled his neck, my legs tangling around his waist, but Spencer shook his head and pulled back.
He tapped my nose, and I'm sure I looked ridiculous going cross eyed trying to follow it. "Just lie back and take it, okay?"
I made a face, "Why don't you want me to take control?"
Spencer chuckled and gave me a quick kiss. I tried to chase him for more, but he shoved me down into the blanket with a hand on my chest. He gave me a serious look, "I'm tired of watching you take care of everyone. I don't care what you do away from me over the next few weeks, but when we're together, I'm going to take care of you."
"Why?" I asked quietly. I enjoyed it, sure, but it had been so long since anyone had wanted to do so. At least in this way. I was everyone's rock, everyone else's safe place.
His eyes were dark and delicious as he watched me in the morning light. "Because I said so. I don't have any control in this town, and you have too much of it. I think it's time we both have a change in scenery."
I nodded in acceptance. In truth, I wanted that. I wanted to let go, to have even the small opportunity to do so. Spencer reached out and grabbed my jaw again, looming darkly above.
"Yes or no," he growled darkly. "I wanna hear you say it."
My back arched at the dominance in his voice. I shivered even in the morning heat, wriggling a bit to alleviate the pulsing between my legs.
"Yes," I whispered shakily.
"Good girl," he praised softly. Spencer moved himself onto his knees and grabbed his pants from our pile of clothing. I watched through hooded lids as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket, flipping it open until he slipped a condom wrapper from the old leather.
I got up on my elbows, slowly making my way up to him as he put everything back into the pile. I was getting to my knees in front of him when he caught me, cocking a brow my way.
"What did I just say?"
I shivered in delight at his commanding voice, but I just fluttered my lashes at him. I put one hand on his belly and smiled, the other reaching between us to stroke his cock. Spencer's jaw clenched, but he just watched me with a squint.
"Can I put it on?" I asked sweetly. I twisted my wrist and gave him a light squeeze, delighting in the way his length pulsed under my palm. "Pretty please?"
This was new for me. I was used to sex being a fight for dominance, a quick battle for release. Sure, with Ernie, it had always been special and loving. We enjoyed trying new things and experimenting, but being completely submissive was something I hadn't tried.
Spencer nodded, handing me the wrapper. I was glad he brought it. I was still on birth control and Rico and I hardly used them besides as an afterthought, but Spencer was new to me and I was new to him. Who knew who he'd slept around with or the last time he'd been tested.
I kept my eyes trained on his as I opened it and pulled out the condom. Spencer's chest patched red, his lips kiss bitten and swollen as he watched me back. Shuffling closer, I licked my palm and wrapped my hand around his length, giving him a few twisting squeezes.
His breathing picked up, his hips twitching in anticipation. Pinching the top of the latex lightly so it didn't bubble at the tip, I held him firm as I slid it down his dick. When it was secure, I smoothed my palms up his chest and leaned in for a kiss.
His lips were warm as they pressed against mine, one hand going for the hair at the nape of my neck as the other slid down my body. I moaned into him, melting into his strong presence and falling into Spencer Reid.
He gripped my ass harshly, grunting as he pulled me flush against him. In a swift move, his hand went down to the back of my thigh and tugged it up, and the next thing I knew I was on my back on the blanket again.
Spencer made quick work of mounting me, grinding his length into my folds. I tangled my hands in his hair as he latched onto my neck, nipping and swiping his tongue to soothe. His hands wandered, squeezing and pinching only to smooth a hard palm over it after. I wriggled beneath him and whined for more friction, and soon enough he gave me what I wanted.
His hand slipped between us, lining his thick head against my entrance. My thighs splayed open, wanting and ready for him. I struggled to relax as he breached me, he was so thick, but after a deep breath and a pause he pushed forward. He was so much larger than me, and my body struggled to accommodate his member as he pumped himself with my cunt.
"Oh, god," I whispered shakily, my limbs trembling with each smooth roll of his hips. Spencer kept a firm hand in my hair as he did so. He had himself braced on his elbow, his body keeping me so in place I couldn't even rock back into him.
My cheeks flushed with heat. My vision blurred as he filled my emptiness. The stretch burned, but it was worth it, so worth it. The deeper he went, the deeper I fell into his eyes. Spencer watched me with an intensity I'd never seen before, as though he were trying to read my mind and succeeding.
My jaw wobbled as his hips rolled in a slow swirling motion. Spencer rocked me into the blanket, the packed sand shifting beneath me with each gentle thrust. His own face was patched red, but he was taking in my expression, watching for any sign. I knew instinctively that whatever one he found, he'd follow the road it led until he reached the end, then go find a new one.
"So fucking tight," he groaned, his eyes fluttering back for a moment as he enjoyed himself. I clung to him limply, my mind running further away each time his cock pressed further inside me. "So wet and warm… this perfect pussy…"
I needed more. I needed to be beaten into submission by him, but it seemed Spencer had something else in mind to drive me crazy other than brutally fast and hard sex.
His forehead pressed against mine as he picked up his pace. Spencer's breath fanned across my lips as he bottomed out, both of us sucking in deep as my body adjusted to him. Each roll of his hips was focused, poised to hit me deep and elicit a moan with every firm push of his head against my cervix.
His eyes entranced me, my mind and problems drifting further away. I couldn't even remember my name. It didn't matter anyways. All I existed in at that moment was Spencer, in what he was giving me and what I took without hesitation.
He kissed me with purpose, using each press of his lips to accentuate a thrust, a moan, an animalistic grunt from him. Even the rushing river faded into the void of my mind. Our breathing became the only sound I heard, the sharp slap of his hips hitting mine echoing around us.
"Spencer…" I whined, nuzzling close, desperately. Forceful huffs burst from my throat with each thrust, as though he were more than happy to fuck the breath out of me completely.
My body took everything he gave. My mind fell into a fog, a hazy gray space of our breathing and the sweat on our skin. We slid together with ease, both of us moving in time and falling further into the sensation.
He destroyed me in an instant with this. My ecstasy stood up tall in the flowers, all bright yellow blooms at the tip. He set me on fire, put out but left to smolder in the mid morning sun. That ember stayed lit, and as my orgasm crested, my trembling jaw fell open once more to call his name up to the skies and disappear in the clouds.
"Cum for me," Spencer murmured against my lips as I chased him subconsciously. His entire being swallowed mine, absorbing me into his chest as we became one in that moment. "Crumble to pieces, Honey. Honey…"
I shattered, my gaze locked to his. Spencer never let up, never stumbled. He was this steady presence to cling to as a part of my mind burst into pebbles, the walls I'd kept up all these years exploding into rubble. I fell apart. I crumbled.
The fire refused to dissipate, the smoldering flames lingering to be risen again. Spencer thrust hard one last time, capturing my lips with his. We slotted together perfectly, and I pulled him tightly to me as he moaned desperately into me. I felt him cum, the thick rush of heat that filled me even though he was protected. His groans turned to trembling grunts as he finished, nearly collapsing when he was done.
Spencer pulled away just enough to press a trail of kisses down my jaw and neck, soft whispers fanning across my skin, "Perfect, perfect girl… good girl…"
His praises echoed through my bones, bouncing between my rib cage until they hit my heart. I reveled in them, his gentle hands brushing back my hair and his sweet words piercing me like a knife.
"You're fucking amazing, Honey," he said one last time. We both sighed as he pulled out, then got to his knees.
I found myself pulling up to sit. My arms wrapped around my knees, holding them close to my chest as he went about taking off the condom and cleaning himself up. I heard the crinkle of the wrapper, the sounds of it hitting the trash can, but my eyes were focused on the scenery around us.
Emotions I couldn't place swirled in my chest. The broad expanse of forestry laid out before me like an endless haven. I was safe. I was satisfied. Still, my body shuddered as hot tears came suddenly. My jaw clenched tightly to keep them in check, but I couldn't stop the swell of vulnerability that surfaced.
"Hey," Spencer said softly, his gentle hand landing on my shoulder. I couldn't look at him. His arms encircled me instead. I wished it felt like a vice, something to break free from, but again Spencer Reid was something solid and warm to lean against, to be consumed by.
"I don't…I don't know what's wrong with me," I muttered. My skin melted into him, my arms leaving my knees to clutch his and keep them around me. "I need to be touched. I don't know why."
Spencer's legs spread to pull me between them, his thighs encasing my own. I molded to fit his bigger frame, letting him hold me and in the same moment holding him so tightly around me I might be crushed.
"You're not doing anything wrong," he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear. I was so ashamed of being seen. I wanted to disappear to nothing with the weight of his eyes looking right through me. "You let go. You didn't lose control, you gave it up, and it was glorious. Just take a minute to get it back."
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. The scent of sweat and sex swirled around us, the faint plume of coffee beans just on the edge from the nearby fire. Its soft crackles grounded me, the steady rise and fall of his chest against my ribcage calming my fast beating heart.
"Thank you for giving that to me," Spencer whispered after a while.
I turned enough to look up at him, but he never let me go. My brows furrowed together as I swallowed a lump in my throat, not sure how to phrase what I wanted to ask. “Why did you want that?”
Spencer’s eyes widened a bit, but then they softened for me. One hand came up to cup my jaw and rub a light circle into my cheek. He sighed, “Let’s just say it’s been a long time since I’ve had any real intimacy with anyone. Sex is one thing, but this?”
His palm smoothed down my arm, lightly squeezing my bicep. He hugged me tighter and gave a little grunt with the effort. “I’m not in the place to ask anyone to trust me enough for this. I’m a fucking mess, a loner, and I’ve been running from my problems for years instead of just facing them. I can’t keep a girlfriend long enough for real intimacy to happen.”
“Then why did you ask me for it?” I asked quietly, my voice shaking just enough to denote a bit of fear. Not of him. Of myself, of how much I enjoyed it.
“After what happened at Tooky’s…” Spencer trailed off, taking in a deep breath. He needed a moment to gather up his courage, opting to press his lips to my forehead to gather his thoughts. I leaned into it, sucking up any bit of comfort I could get in that instant. Spencer sighed against me, “I find myself trusting you. It’s been a long time and selfishly, I’d like to let myself do that more before I leave.”
He pulled back to look down at me, “Is that okay?”
His eyes were filled to the brim with a hesitant uncertainty I’d never really seen from him. He was so guarded, so angry and lonely, but as I watched him it seemed to strip away delicately to show a deep part of him. Spencer was vulnerable, and dreadfully alone. I was too.
“Yes,” I replied softly. “I want that too.”
The sweet smile that cracked open on his tired face made my heart swell. He seemed so relieved. Spencer kissed my forehead again before pulling me in close. We sat like that for a while, the slow trickling of the river taking away some of the emotions with it, flowing out to sea.
"Wildflower Honey," Spencer murmured quietly as we dozed later, tangled up under a blanket found in the back of my van and holding one another tightly as the day lazily passed us by. We didn't talk much, or about anything but some of the things we were interested in sexually.
He said it again, Wildflower Honey, in a soft whispering exhale as he fell asleep. He started to snore quietly, and I smiled against his fuzzy naked chest. We drifted to sleep in the evening heat.
Wildflower Honey.
Smurph's Masterlist | Series Masterlist
Notes: Oh, my heart o.O I love them so freaking MUCH. What do you think of softdom!Spencer and his need for intimacy?
Also, have you guy listened to any of the songs that these chapters are inspired by? Which one is your favorite?
Summary: Spencer leaves with the guys to the Falls... but not before getting into an argument with you. Later, someone from his past shows up unannounced.
Getting down the ladder was an adventure in and of itself for both Spencer and Honey. They both only had a hand between the two, but after a few minutes of fumbling they managed to hit sand. Both fairly tipsy for this early in the morning, they walked slowly back to the Inn. Honey hadn't driven anyways, instead walking straight from the clinic. Neither said much, and they strolled instead in silence, waving at the handful of people milling about.
An old four seat jeep was parked in front of the Inn, a tall sandy blond man leaning against it and smoking a cigarette. He watched the street with hyperfocus, sharp eyes catching any movement. Spencer assumed he must be Holly Henson in the military green tee and cargo pants. He even wore military grade boots and a Rangers cap, a man who never really left the war.
His eyes lit up as he spotted Honey, and he flicked the cigarette into the gravel drive before running up to her. He scooped her up in a bone crushing hug, lifting her tiny body up at least a foot and a half in the air. Honey let out an oof as she was gripped tightly, but she looped her arms over his shoulders and hugged him back. Her legs dangled down his front, her feet barely reaching his knees.
"I'm so sorry, Honey Bear," he said in a deep tearful voice. He rocked her from side to side. "I should've been there."
"I'm okay, Holly,"she said softly, cementing Spencer's assumption of who he was. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"No, no," he insisted. This giant man's chin wobbled as he buried his nose into Honey's neck. "If I'd just been brave, you wouldn't have been there and this never would have happened."
Honey wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed him tighter. "It's a brave man who can admit when something’s not safe for him, Holly. You're the bravest guy I know."
He sniffled as she kissed his temple, then she twisted to point behind her at Spencer, who just stood there awkwardly. Her voice strained as his big arms held her in a death grip.
"Holly, this is Spencer. He's staying at the Inn while Rose fixes his car."
Instead of putting her down, Holly just shifted Honey onto his hip like a toddler. He reached out his left hand to shake Spencer's good one, nearly breaking his fingers in the process.
"It's a good thing you did, man," he said as he let go. "This girl's near and dear to my heart."
"She did all the work," Spencer replied awkwardly.
"Can you put me down now?" Honey asked lightly, but Holly just held her tight and shook his head.
"Nah, I need this for a few more minutes."
That seemed to be enough for Honey, and she just leaned on his shoulder as he turned to the jeep and tightened a latch. The man was massive, but obviously had a very tender heart. He reminded Spencer of Morgan and Alvez, albeit a bit more in touch with his feelings.
Spencer was watching them with begrudging amusement when the door to the auto shop next door opened. The little tinkling of the bell caught their attention, and out walked Rose with a very sheepish looking Rico following closely behind.
Honey wiggled out of Holly's arms, and he set her down gently on the gravel as Rico made his way toward her. His head hung low, ringing his fingers together. Spencer felt bad for him. He was an idiot, but he'd just been trying to defend Honey at the time. Her body coiled tightly, and she crossed her arms over her chest as he approached. Rico reached out a hand but she angled herself away. He nodded to himself and looked down at his shoes.
"I'm so sorry, Honey. I was so drunk, I didn't even thin-," he began, but she cut him off.
"Apologize to him," she growled, pointing a thumb over her shoulder at Spencer. "You could have gotten him killed."
She turned on her heel and patted his shoulder, "Have fun. I have a toilet to fix."
Honey ignored Rico’s pleading gaze as she stomped inside the Inn. He sighed heavily and ran a rough hand over his forehead before meeting Spencer's eyes.
"I'm fine," he told him before he could apologize. "I've taken worse beatings than that."
Rico shook his head. "I should've left when Honey told me to. I was being a jackass and drowning my feelings. I'm sorry you got caught up in it."
Never one for handshakes, but after finding it got him a lot farther and made things easier than telling people he didn't like germs, Spencer just stuck out his hand. Rico stared at it for a moment before taking it.
"My mom says you're a good guy," he said, obviously uncomfortable. "She's a good judge of character. Should've taken her at her word."
"Who's your mom?" Spencer asked as he let him go.
"Collie. She likes that you knew she was Basque. A lot of people don't even know what that is."
"I've traveled a lot. She's really sweet."
"You two done or can we leave?" Rose cut in. He leaned against the jeep, but the slight quirk of his mouth told Spencer he wasn't really irritated. "Lionel's already up waiting for us at the camp."
"I'll just go get changed."
Spencer headed inside the hotel, trudging down the hallway to his room. He pulled his pants out of the plastic bag Dr. Altman had put his things in and took out the key. As he was fumbling with the lock and sticky door, he heard one behind him open.
He turned to see Honey stepping out of her apartment, flashing him a small smile and holding a DeWalt tool bag. She pointed at the door, "Need some help?"
"Sure."
She took over for him, throwing her shoulder into the door and cracking it open. She waved him inside, following him as he stepped through.
"Think you can get this brace off?" Spencer asked. He grabbed his suitcase and tossed it on the bed, letting it bounce before going for the zipper. When he struggled with it she shooed him away and opened it for him.
"Pick one."
Spencer pointed to a blue tee and a darker flannel. Honey unfurled them gently, taking care not to move around his other clothes. She hardly even looked at the suitcase, and Spencer could tell she was going out of her way to not be nosy.
She rounded him without a word and unstrapped the sling from his shoulder, holding his elbow and gently lowering his arm from the strapped position over his chest. Spencer gripped the back of his collar and tried to pull the shirt over, but winced audibly as a pain rocketed through the joint.
"Can I help?" Honey asked cautiously. Her voice was a bit small and hesitant, and Spencer felt an odd flush hit his cheeks.
He nodded once, avoiding turning around to look at her. He didn't know why he suddenly felt so conscious of the fact that she was about to see him without a shirt on. Clearing his throat, Spencer held his shoulders up tight just to feel a bit more confident.
He'd had plenty of one night stands over the last two years, and had little issue taking off his shirt like he had when he was younger. This felt…charged somehow, like there was an electricity in the air between them.
Her fingertips brushed under the hem of his shirt, and in a flash of mild panic he remembered that this shirt likely belonged to Ernesto. Shame flooded across his chest at the thought of making her remove her dead husband's clothing from him. He was nothing to her, just a stranger. He shouldn't have her doing this.
But her hands were so smooth, and as they brushed over his spine Spencer had to close his eyes. She touched him far more gentler than anyone has in a long time. His one night endeavors were fast and hard, just long enough to satisfy his partner and clear his mind for a moment. This wasn't something he'd experienced in years. Probably not since Max, and in truth he hadn't thought of her much since he left DC either.
It was best to leave that all in the past.
Honey stepped in front of him as she eased the shirt over his shoulders, keeping her eye on his swollen joint and wincing at the sight. She folded the shirt carefully and set it on the mattress, running a soft hand over it and sighing before picking up his blue one.
"You should just forgive him," he found himself blurting out. Honey held the shirt midair and cocked her head at him. "Rico wasn't trying to get you injured. He was just trying to help."
She frowned, her brows marring in irritation. "You don't know anything about me and Rico."
"I know he loves you. He just wanted to keep you safe."
"Good for him. Give me your arm." She shook the cotton at him, and he gave her what she asked for.
With a softness he hadn't really seen from her, Spencer couldn't keep his eyes off her as she put his shirt on for him. She even put his flannel on, smoothing down the lapels before reaching for his brace.
"I'm usually in and out of a town. I don't like the idea of getting in between you two."
"There's nothing to get in between," she grumbled back, this time taking his arm without asking first. She slipped it over his arm and shoulder, tightened it gently and slowly. Honey sighed angrily and met his eyes.
She stared at him for a moment, searching his gaze for something he wasn't quite sure of. Crossing her arms over her chest, she tapped her foot in irritation like she had his first night here.
"Why don't you stay anywhere for very long?"
"What do you care?"
She squinted at him, "You're asking about my life. Why shouldn't I ask about yours?"
Spencer ran his free hand over the back of his neck, contemplating if he should even answer. She just watched him expectantly, tapping her damned foot on the hardwood.
"I'm not exactly good company," he spat. "Would you want to put up with me for more than a day or two?"
Honey shrugged, unsatisfied. "There's a lot of people I wouldn't want to spend that much time with, yet they haven't wandered across the country for no reason."
"I have reasons," Spencer gritted out. Who the hell did this girl think she was? She had no right to his life, even if she had saved it. "They're none of your business."
"You know about my dead husband, and I'm sure you know the horrible way he died," she countered, not moving an inch. She was insufferable. "Tit for tat, Mr. Buzzkill."
Spencer's squint somehow was even tighter as he glared at her. "My mom died and I decided I didn't want to live the life I was anymore. I didn't have to take care of her anymore."
"Dead mom's a good excuse to ditch your friends and family instead of admitting you ran away."
"Fuck you."
"No thanks, I only fuck my dead husband's friends," she shot back.
They glared at one another for a few moments, both unrelenting in their aggressive stances and irritation. Her bruises only made him angrier, as did the thought of her dead husband. It made him feel guilty for wanting to throw her on the bed and fuck the fight out of her.
Finally, she cracked. Her lip twitched up into a smile, and before he knew it Spencer was laughing with her. It petered out after a few seconds but it dissipated most of the tension in the room. Honey brushed back her hair with a shaky hand before pointing at the Thunderbird Soccer League shirt.
"I'll get this back to Mattie May," she murmured, picking it up. She held it to her chest and ran her thumb along the faded logo, trying to seem braver than she was.
"Good call," he muttered back. "I'll see you tomorrow."
He sidestepped her and made his way out of the room, wanting to walk away without another thought. He couldn't really help himself, though, and chanced a glance over his shoulder.
Honey held the shirt up to her nose, her eyes clamped shut. Spencer watched painfully as a stray tear trickled down her cheek and stained the cotton fabric. She let out a long sigh and opened her glassy eyes to look out the window toward the beach.
Spencer's courage evaporated in an instant. He had to get the hell out of there before he wrapped his arms around her for comfort. She didn't need or want it from him, and he'd done enough already to hurt her feelings.
The truth was, she was right. Spencer had run away. On a cool DC morning, Spencer turned in his resignation to Emily, got in his car, and drove for Georgia. He wasn't sure why that was the first place he went, but he didn't stop until he hit the Macon County Line.
He was running away again, this time without a car and away from Honey. He didn't really want to do this guys night with Rose and the guys, but he had to get away from her. It was sick, the way his stomach was churning around a woman he'd only known for a few days.
He wanted to take her someplace safer, pull her pain out with his teeth. She made him feel the way JJ had when she was pulling away, slowly wasting away after her miscarriage. She was his best friend, and he saw what her secrets were doing to her. There were all these reasons all the time for them all to be afraid. He just wanted to take her someplace safer.
At the same time he wanted to leave. He was sick of carrying the weight, of his friends and his own. He couldn't be their emotional pack mule, something they never seemed to understand. They only wanted to know what was going on with him to know, and to baby him. It was never to be a part of his life.
He talked too much and rambled too long about things they didn't care about. It took almost twenty years for him to just keep it inside, to stop being a burden on anyone else. It was the way he saw his mother, and soon enough he became his team's burden too.
Being in this town was like being haunted by the ghosts of right now. He already knew this place was going to stay with him, and for fucks sake… all he wanted was to move on. He wanted to leave every place he'd been for years.
Spencer wanted to go some place safer.
When would he find it?
I stood there in Spencer's room for a long time, clutching Ernie's shirt to my chest and trying not to cry. I boxed up most of his stuff years ago and put it in storage, and Mattie May had the key. I knew she was just trying to be nice and give Spencer something to wear without going through his suitcase, but it killed me that she gave him one of Ernie's shirts to wear instead of Rose's.
I missed him so much. Words could never explain what I lost that day. There was nothing to convey the torture of holding my dead husband in the water for three days, holding out on hope that he just might wake up and tell me everything would be fine.
Each day I expected him to walk through the doors of the Inn. He used to bring me saltwater taffy every Friday along with some sushi, and to this day I spent my Fridays eating just that in my lonesome studio apartment. I never stopped hoping that one day he may bring it to me so I wouldn't have to be by myself.
I put on a show for the townspeople. I don't let Mattie May or Rose see that each night I drink myself to sleep. I don't let Collie or Augstín know that some days her coffee is the only thing keeping me up after a bender. I don't let Michelle know I'm squirreling away every dollar I make at her diner just in case I take the plunge one day and leave Thunderbird for good.
I'm so fucking tired. All these memories won't just let me rest. All I have done the last ten years is keep the town going while everyone moved on with their lives and I'm still stuck in first gear. How can I move on from Ernie when every day he's all around me?
I heard the jeep pull away, but I couldn't seem to move from my spot until I heard the landline ring at the front desk. Hustling down the hallway, I clutched Ernie's shirt under my arm to get to it.
I picked it up just as it dropped, then slammed it back in the cradle with unknown anger. I snatched it again and with a rage yelled fuck you into the receiver before putting Ernie's shirt on the desk.
After a few moments of glaring at the floor, I managed to pull myself together a bit. I had things to do today, so I couldn't let myself wallow over anything that shithead Spencer Reid said to me or him wearing my husband's clothes.
I grabbed my tool bag from Spencer's doorway and headed to Room 2. This toilet was the bane of my existence, but I was determined to fix it instead of replace it. Most of the fixtures here were original, and the last thing I wanted to do was get rid of anything I didn't have to if I was going to sell if I ever got the courage to leave.
A few hours later I found myself elbow deep in the damned thing, tweaking the water flow and trying to find the issue. I was dead focused on a leaking pipe in the back when a knock on the doorframe jolted me from my spot.
"Fuck!" I screamed, yanking my wrench down too far. I somehow managed to hit the flush as I jumped to my feet, and before I knew it a geyser of water erupted from the bowl.
A manicured pair of hands yanked me away, and I stared in awe as a polished woman in a red pantsuit with gray hair knelt down and shut off the water. It soaked her front and pants, but I was rooted watching her in shock.
She stood and wiped some water from her forehead as she turned to me. "You need a new toilet. The flow is reversed and the pipe’s about to burst."
"Who the fuck are you?" I asked sharply, my brows furrowed.
Keeping her cool better than I would, she stuck out a damp hand. "Emily Prentiss. I believe we spoke yesterday."
"Oh," I managed, reaching out on autopilot and shaking her hand. "What happened to, 'Spencer's a grown man and he'll call if he needs me?'"
"I got worried when he didn't call, so I did and nobody answered. Usually he lets me know if anything has happened." Emily put her hands on her hips and pointed behind me. "What room is he staying in?"
"Room 4, but he's not here right now. He went with the guys to the Falls," I told her. I didn't really want to like her because of her dismissive attitude the night before. "They'll be back in the morning."
Emily quirked a brow, "The guys?"
"A few guys from town. They all served and they don't like the fireworks," I replied, pointing a thumb over my shoulder at nobody in particular. "Heard that he doesn't either, so they took him camping for the night."
Emily burst into hearty laughter that made me take a cautious step away from her. It died down and she wiped her eye with the back of her hand. "Sorry, if you knew Spencer like I do you'd know how ridiculous the thought of him camping is. I'm sure he'll be very comfortable in his suits and sweater vests."
"I don't know," I muttered, "I dressed him in a tee and flannel before he left."
Her brows raised, "You dressed him?"
I shrugged, "It's hard to dress yourself with a shoulder brace."
Emily hummed, but she seemed satisfied with my answer. She took a deep breath, "Well, I'd like a room for the night, then."
"Sure. I've got an unobstructed view of the beach in Room 6."
"It doesn't seem like anyone else is staying here at the moment. Why didn't you give it to Spencer?"
"Because fuck him, that's why," I replied bluntly. Emily chuckled a bit at my brazenness so I laughed with her. "Plus, he was rude to me when I first met him."
Emily nodded, making a face. She motioned to her clothes, "How about I get cleaned up and you show me a good place to eat?"
"Oh, I'm not a tour guide, but I can point you in the right direction."
"No, but you seem like an interesting person and Spencer said everyone here is weird… so color me intrigued."
I leaned on the doorframe and waved my wrench at her, "I think I'm gonna like you, Emily."
"Everyone does, Honey."
An hour later I was sitting outside Collie's Cafe with yet another stranger. Emily had opted for a pair of leggings and an old tee with the FBI logo on it. She had her long hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail, leaving me feeling a bit frumpy with my wild curls and old wife beater and shorts.
It was my go to outfit as it was easy and both options came in a large number of colors to choose from. My hair had always been a bit unruly, and when I was younger my mother used to straighten it for me. After moving to Thunderbird, Ernie taught me a bit about curl care, but mine never had the same tight smooth ringlets his did. Instead they frizzed out and made me look a bit like a haggard lion.
People milled about, getting ready for the night's festivities. Nell always set off the fireworks in the bay, and I usually watched from a secluded spot on the beach. The town was alight with red, white, and blue. Everyone dressed in the colors, bright headbands and buying things for the night.
"Spencer mentioned this place has really good coffee," Emily mused as she looked through the menu. "But he fills it halfway with sugar so his opinion isn't the best."
"Collie is a master with beans. She orders it from her hometown in Bay of Biscay," I replied uncomfortably. People were staring, and while I was used to it for being the sad widow, this was different. "Her father ran a coffee company in Spain."
"My ears burn!" Collie announced as she approached our table. She wore a themed dress today, a far cry from her usual traditional dresses of her homeland. This one had the same style but was adorned with American flags. "You have a new friend, maitea."
"This is Emily," I introduced her. "She's staying at the Inn tonight."
I wasn't sure what to say, but I was sure Spencer wouldn't want everyone knowing his friend flew down to check on him.
"Wonderful! I'm Collie." She reached out a hand to Emily, who took it, expecting to shake it. Collie clapped a hand over hers and gave her a tight squeeze. "You are beautiful!"
Emily couldn't help but smile and squeezed her back before letting go. "Thank you. This is an adorable cafe."
Collie beamed, her natural beauty shining through wonderfully. She turned to me and put a soft hand under my chin and frowned, clicking her teeth. "That Lonnie, I could kill him for laying a hand on you."
"I'm fine, Col," I told her, pulling away sheepishly. "Micah’s got them locked up anyways."
"How is Spencer? Is he okay?"
"He's fine. Rose stole him away for the night."
Collie clicked her teeth again and smiled, "That he will like. Good boys all around."
She took our orders and disappeared back inside. Emily and I made small talk about the town and spoke to a few passersby who were trying not to seem nosy, but we both knew they just wanted to meet the stranger. Collie came back out with our coffees and food, bringing out some karouga for a light dessert before going back in.
"So," Emily said after she took a long sip of her coffee. "Spencer got hurt defending you?"
I nodded, then told her the whole story. She listened intently, her gaze unwavering and giving nothing away. "He met me at the beach this morning, which is probably why he didn't call you."
Her brow raised at that, "You didn't wait for him to wake up?"
I shrugged, "I'm not good with that hospital. I needed to blow off some steam so I went to my boat to work on it."
"A lot of people don't like hospitals," she agreed with me. "Do you sail or race?"
I smiled at her. Not a lot of people knew much about racing sailboats. "I used to race back in the day. I grew up in Maine. I found water rescue, though, and that became my passion. I have a schooner now, but when we got that we mostly just cruised."
"We?"
I made a face and looked away, "My husband and I."
Her eyes fell to the ring on the chain around my neck. In all honesty, if my own ring hadn't slipped off in the accident I'd probably still wear it on my finger.
She didn't press me on it, and I knew she'd read me like a book. We finished up at Collie’s and she insisted she pay, so I decided to let her. She wasn't the asshole she seemed like on the phone, and I was enjoying her company.
Somehow we ended up in the liquor store grabbing a few bottles of tequila, then down to the beach. I didn't know why, but I brought her to the Isle of Honey. The sun was beginning to set and the fireworks would begin soon. The horizon blazed in streaks of red and orange, dark blue. Emily and I sat on the deck of the old schooner, passing a blender back and forth of margarita mix and tequila like Spencer and I had that morning.
"He wasn't always like this, you know?" Emily asked after a stretch of silence. "When I met Spencer he weighed a buck twenty and wore these thick glasses… he was so sweet and innocent."
I scoffed, "That's hard to imagine." I couldn't see it in my mind. All I saw was the dickhead in a flannel and khakis who made me grit my teeth.
"Yeah, he went through a lot in the last twenty years. The work we did, it changes you. He was never really given the chance to just be himself."
Emily sighed and crossed one ankle over the other, leaning back on her hands. She watched the horizon, and as always the damned ocean calmly watched us back. "His mind is amazing. It moves faster than anything I've ever seen. All that knowledge plopped into the head of a skinny kid from Vegas. He could've been a super villain, he's so smart, but he wanted to help people."
My brows furrowed, "What did he used to do?"
Emily looked my way with a frown, "He was an FBI agent. My team profiles serial killers."
To say I was shocked would be an understatement. She must have read it on my face, because her eyes widened, "You didn't know that."
I shook my head, "He's not much of a sharer. I'll give him credit where it's due, though. This is the nosiest town I've even been to and nobody's gotten much from him."
Emily winced and brought her legs up to her chest. She sighed, "Well, shit."
"Wouldn't have thought he was a genius either," I shrugged, taking a long sip of my margarita. The lemon lime flavor hit the back of my throat nicely after my shitty twenty four hours. "This morning I told him he was an idiot."
Emily laughed at that. She made grabby hands for the pitcher, so I passed it to her. She took a deep pull off the old glass and nodded, "He's a good guy. I promise. We should have loved him the way he needed us to."
"He should have asked for it, then," I replied quietly. "From what I've gathered, he ran away because it got too hard."
"He did, more than once," she whispered. Her face wracked with memory and pain. "We all just got so caught up in our own lives, and Spencer was always a rock and the youngest of us all. He never wanted to be a bother and we treated him like one whenever he opened up."
I knew all too well what that was like. For ten years I'd kept my feelings to myself to spare my family and the town. I did everything I could to make sure they were taken care of, neglecting myself in the process. The thought of letting them know how demolished I was was painful. I couldn't bear the thought of letting them know the old me was dead.
"When he left, it hit us like a ton of bricks," she continued on, just as lost as I was in her own pain. "We saw how much we put on him, how we relied on his brain instead of learning for ourselves. He was so tired of the blood and the gore, but we all just assumed he was a lifer and would never do anything else. It never occurred to me how much pain he was in.
"Two years later and I know he's still hurt. I thought he'd find himself by now, find what he needed to be happy, but he's still lost."
"Then this could be the place for him," I told her honestly. "This is a town of lost souls. Almost everyone came from somewhere else."
"Is that how you came here?" Emily asked softly. "You were lost?"
I nodded, "I came from a bad situation. My dad was… a monster, to say the least. I had a sister and she died, so as soon as I turned eighteen I lit out of there. I met my mother in law at a truck stop and she brought me here.
"I never left," I finished quietly. I watched the ocean intently, both loving and hating it. The ocean was both my safe place and my doom. At so many points in my life it was the best place for me, and others just a source of misery and grief.
"And now you want to leave and you feel guilty." I glanced over at her and she shrugged, tapping her temple. "Profiler. Saw it a mile away."
"It's hard to leave a place that gave you everything and took it away at the same time. I keep thinking it'll give me that again, y’know?"
"It was the same for Spencer, and myself," Emily agreed. "Our team was the only real family most of us had, and the things we experienced were only things we'd understand. But Spencer… he went through more than the rest of us. We just assumed he'd bounce back sooner or later, and then he handed me his resignation, told me his mom died… and then he just left."
"Hard to know if that's cowardly or brave," I muttered. I wasn't used to learning this much about a customer, especially one I detested. I couldn't seem to help myself, though, and asked, "Who was Maeve?"
Emily grunted in contemplation. She frowned and twisted her hands in her lap. She sat up straight and let out a long sigh, "His girlfriend. She died ten years ago or so. Him asking about her made me want to come down in the first place, and him not calling me kind of worried me more than I could handle."
“You think he’ll be angry when he sees you’re here?”
Emily nodded, “Probably, but it’s been two years. Hopefully that’ll make up for it.”
I didn't have anything good to say, so I didn't reply. We made a new batch of margarita mix, strawberry this time, and sat in silence watching the fireworks. They exploded over the sky, shimmering lights trickling down over the ocean's surface.
Every now and then we spotted Nell's boat with the light flashes. The giddy old man clapped with each boom, but my heart sank with them. The last few days left my mind a mess, and all I could see was the thunder that preceded the end of my life as I knew it.
There was no wind tonight, but I could still feel it whipping my hair back and forth under its power. The harsh spray of the water hit my face over and over again, knocking me back on my ass every time I tried to get up. Ernie kept a firm hold on me, trying to keep us both from sliding over the deck, but in the end it didn't matter.
Boom! Over and over again. The whole world seemed to rumble with thunder and lightning. We were powerless, lost to the sea we'd made our home on. Ernie made the ocean my safe place again and then it betrayed us. It took him from me, and as I sat on the deck of our broken home, rage filled my veins.
I envied Spencer, and it pissed me off. Somehow that walking melancholy managed to gain the courage to walk out of his life and get away. I wished I had that bravery, but at the same time I hated him for it. Emily's pain was obvious, her regret at his loss emanated from her skin in waves. How could he do that to someone who loved him like that?
Imagining the pain I would cause if I left splintered my heart in my chest. These people took me in when nobody else wanted me, when I was scared and alone and angry at the world. They saw what I could be and gave me every opportunity to be myself, and now I hated who I'd become.
Ungrateful, spiteful, bitter. I'd become my father, and the thought terrified me. How could I do this to all of these people who wanted the best for me? How could Spencer?
I didn't realize tears were flooding my cheeks in silence until Emily patted my shoulder. The heaviness in my face hit me like a ton of bricks as she pulled a travel kleenex from her purse and handed it to me without a word. I took it with a shaky hand and wiped my face, praying it would stop.
I didn't think I'd ever stop being haunted. The ghosts of my past and the ghosts of right now surrounded me. The future was so…gray, and I couldn't see past the fog. It was a long time coming, and for the last ten years I'd contented myself with just existing, but sitting on this boat and watching the fireworks with a swollen face and a sprained wrist lit something deep inside me.
I realized how tired I was of just sitting here, going through the motions day by day. It was exhausting to just be, and if I wasn't going to leave Thunderbird I needed to do something else. At the rate I was going, I was bound to end up with a gun in my mouth.
All these ghosts weighed on my shoulders, but they didn't mean to. I'd forced them all to stay with me by living in my memories every day, every moment for the entire thirty one years I'd been on this earth. I've been killing myself in slow motion for as long as I can remember.
The time was now. The future was happening at this very moment, and I was wasting it and myself, wasting the love of the people around me. They deserved better… and damn it… I did too.
I need to start living.
Right now.
Smurph's Masterlist | Series Masterlist
Notes: Next chapter, guy's night! I think Emily and Honey will get along just fine. :) How do you think guy's night will go?
Warnings: mentions of Diana's death (not explicit), mini-PTSD flashback for Spencer, Spencer's horny and lonely, also cranky.
Summary: After two years on the road, Spencer breaks down in Thunderbird, California. In only a few hours he meets some of the most eclectic townspeople of his life when all he wants is some peace and quiet.
(Note: Because of the nature of this fic, being inspired by one of my favorite bands, the chapters will be a bit longer than usual to fit with the vibe of the song they're named after <3)
After he was released from Milburn, Spencer’s mother passed in her sleep. It was blessedly quick and painless for her, and though it tore him apart he was grateful at least for that. Finally, Spencer had nothing pressing tying him to D.C., and he followed Gideon’s lead so many years later. Buying a Jeep and taking to the road, Spencer lived out of a suitcase as he’d done for years.
Instead of searching for serial killers, he began a long search for himself.
For two years now, he’d asked miles of pavement and yellow dashed paint who he was. He questioned the night sky and the morning sun over countless towns and cities. He’d even asked the mountaintops and hillsides, and yet he had found no answer.
Spencer started drinking again. It seemed the thing to do in shitty motel rooms and dive bars, putting on a few pounds with each greasy dish that accompanied his bourbon. The bags under his eyes were no longer from a lack of sleep - though he still didn’t get much because of the nightmares - but instead they stained his skin from the exhaustion of that ever-present question in his mind.
Is this who I am now?
Am I broken? Am I beyond salvation? Am I as worthless and lonely as I feel every single fucking day?
It all started when he tried to strangle a pregnant Cat Adams in an interrogation room. He slid down the cold concrete wall in a prison too much like the one he’d been released from when it first erupted through his brain like a bullet. One question led to another… and another and another, but they always started with that one.
Is this who I am now?
At this point, he was sure he’d never find the answer. Instead, he’d contented himself with wandering, exploring all that America currently had to offer. One day he’d move internationally, maybe go back to Paris where he’d spent time with his mother.
He’d happened upon Thunderbird, California early that morning. Worried he was lost forever in the Cali wilderness, Spencer followed the rising sun through winding forest roads as it streamed through the trees. After a few hours cautiously eyeing the offshutes of paths and trails, he finally burst into civilization.
It was a tiny beach town. A handful of buildings littered the main street, string lights connecting them along with the wind-blown piles of sand scattering along the road. Houses haphazardly were plopped along the varying hills that hid it from the outside world, but it was beautiful.
The shops on the main strip were brightly painted, handmade signs reading Billy’s Bait and Go!, Sue Says Sew, and Gil’s Grocery proudly proclaiming strangely named stores that gave little question for what they did to service the town. Spencer had yet to spot a normal chair on the porches outside- they were all either beach chairs or porch swings swaying in the light breeze.
Sunday was the Fourth of July, and the town was in full patriotic mode. Red, white, and blue windmills and flags sprung up from nearly every lawn. A fireworks stand was smack dab in the middle of a roundabout in the center of town, with a few people hurrying across the curved road to it. A man in an oversized Uncle Sam hat handed out sparklers to the kids, smiling wider than the sun.
Spencer spent the morning in the town diner, Bean There, looking out the large window as the small town came to life. It was apparently known for its local coffee. Spencer had to admit it was good, on the top ten list he’d tried in his travels. Though the best coffee had been found in a China Town shop in lower Indiana, which he was loath to admit.
He sat in a booth in the corner, people watching as the crowds picked up and petered out. All sorts of people filtered through the door as they used the diner as a waystation before heading out to the rest of their days. In a town of less than five hundred, any outsider was noticed immediately, and Spencer was no different. Nearly every person who came in eyeballed his Jeep on the way through the door and squinted at Spencer before ordering. He didn’t mind, he was used to being the outsider, had been his whole life.
He picked at a plate of waffles and bacon, holding a book loosely in one hand as he enjoyed the morning sunlight through the window. His waitress, Michelle, had given him a side-eye after his first hour, unsure what to make of him. He simply tipped her early, going with a twenty-five percent tip of what he’d already ordered. She was much more amenable after that, mostly leaving him alone but checking in periodically with a smile and a refill.
His hair was still long. He had refused to cut it, even after JJ's insistence over video chats. He liked it, especially liked these new trends of men finally getting to put their hair in a bun. He liked the look, and had been enamored with the Nordic styles he read of in his youth, braiding and intricate knots decorated with silver and beads. He missed those days in Earth’s history.
He wore a pair of jeans and a purple flannel shirt with his boots. Though he often preferred suits, this style had appealed to him greatly in his early days on the road. He’d been called a “hipster” more times than he cared to admit, but he felt strong in his fashion choices. He knew he looked good, and Spencer had long since gotten used to the beard. Shaving on the road was hard and without the dress code constrictions of the BAU, he was happy to grow it out.
“Hey, Honey!” Michelle chuckled from behind the counter as the front door swung open. It chimed in greeting as two people stepped through and into the cool air-conditioned building. Spencer tried not to stare at the woman, but he’d spent a good long time on the road and it had been a while… and she was gorgeous.
Her hair poofed around her shoulders, eyes alight with an animated excitement. Copper toned muscles peeked out of a tank top and tight jeans, a red flannel tied around her hips as she sauntered into the diner. She had her arm looped around an older man’s waist, who hugged her tightly back before letting go as they approached the counter.
He had a clearly visible Ranger tattoo on his bicep, both of which were bigger than Spencer’s head. With his slicked back salt and pepper curls and giant frame, Spencer knew he wanted nothing to do with being on that man’s bad side.
“Mornin’, Chelle,” she smiled, easing into the stool across from the waitress. The man stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders, looking curiously around the diner as many patrons had that morning. His gaze landed on Spencer, who quickly glanced out the window to avoid his hard stare. "How's it going?"
“Oh, you know how it goes- a flirt here, a proposal there,” Michelle jokingly lamented as she pulled two mugs out from under the bar. She snagged the carafe from the coffee maker and filled them before sliding them across the counter.
“Oof,” the man chuckled heartily, finally tearing his dark eyes from Spencer and to her. “Sounds exhausting.”
“You joke all you want, Rose Delgado,” Michelle scolded, her playful smirk turning to a hard glare. She pointed at him, “I am a catch and everyone here knows it.”
Rose held up his hands in defeat, “My bad, Chelle. You’re absolutely right. If I were a few years younger I’d try for your hand too.”
“Who says you can’t?” she quipped with a wink, and Rose went bright red.
He dragged an awkward hand across the back of his neck and laughed, "Huh, well, I think Mattie May might have a problem with that."
The women laughed along with him, and Michelle tapped the counter lightly with her fingers, "I'll put your usual in. Extra powdered sugar, right, Honey?"
The girl referred to now forever in Spencer's brain as Honey nodded, licking her lips. "It's gonna be a long day, Chelle. Give me as much coke as you got."
Rose smacked the top of her head in jest, and Honey looked up to stick her tongue out at him. She glanced over at Spencer as he slid out of the booth, and even as he made his way over to the counter to pay she never averted her gaze. A gold ring was tied to a string necklace around her neck, and it was all Spencer had not to follow it to where the pendant rested between her boobs.
"You drive that Jeep outside?" Rose grumbled as he approached. Michelle came back up to the counter as Spencer tugged his wallet out of his pocket.
He handed her more than enough for his meal and another tip, then nodded, "Yeah, that's mine."
"Your axle is about to crack. You should get it looked at."
"I'll do that," Spencer replied politely. He was used to strangers telling him things he didn't really need to do by now. They often took one look at him and deemed him an academic, which wasn't wrong, but to them it usually meant he couldn't take care of things himself.
"Here's your change, baby," Michelle interrupted, reaching across the counter with a ten in one hand and a to-go cup of joe in the other. Rose stared at him, as did Honey, but Spencer just shook his head at the waitress.
"Keep it. Thanks for letting me keep your booth for a few hours."
He swept up the cup, gave her a nod and turned on his heel out the door. She laughed to herself and shouted after him, "Come back soon!
"Boy tips real good," he heard her just before the door closed behind him. "He can live in that booth if he wants."
Spencer smiled to himself as he hopped in the jeep. This was a nice town, but he'd been through a lot of nice towns. He had to keep moving, searching, coming up with a reason for leaving his friends behind to worry about him.
He decided to see the beach before going back through the trees. He wanted to see Oregon, but his phone didn't work so well in these isolated parts of the state so he'd have to buy a map somewhere. He made note of the lone gas station in town, then followed the signs to the sand.
It was early, but there were people in the water. Spencer wasn't much for swimming, so he parked his jeep in the small lot and pulled a blanket out of the back. He found a secluded spot on a hill, unfurled the blanket and sat down. He took off his flannel and shoes, leaning back to enjoy the view.
The sounds of shrieking laughter and the waves lulled him into complacency as he sipped his coffee. The sun was hot, but not too bad for this early in the morning. Unlike DC, this area wasn't humid, and the soft winds off the water cooled his skin.
Is this who I am now? Popped into his mind, always at the worst times. Once upon a time, he was a strong and capable man, an elite FBI agent always willing to go the extra mile. Now, even sitting here exhausted him. Speaking to the townsfolk at the counter exhausted him, and all he wanted to do was have a drink and go to sleep.
Is this who I am now? He wondered. Am I the guy who has nowhere to go and nowhere to be except the road, running far away from my past and the pain that follows?
He supposed so. Being out here hurt less than sitting in his empty apartment, looking into the void of his missing heart and wondering just when exactly his life passed him by. He always thought he’d have a family, kids and a wife by now. He thought he’d have a house and people to depend on him, that he’d love and they’d never wonder if it was out of obligation or a bond from trauma like it had been with the BAU.
Sure, they called him every week or so, just to see if he was okay. Their voices were always laced with concern, but a dripping tiredness of having to worry about the kid. Spencer hadn’t been a kid in a long time, and with each new trauma their babying of him became just another weight added to his shoulders. Another reason to prove himself.
It never worked.
Deciding it was time to go, time to run away again, Spencer dragged himself away from the beach and its false allure of peacefulness. He rolled up the blanket and put it back in its usual spot in the back of the jeep, put his coffee in the cupholder and he was off again.
Coming up the bend from the beach, he spotted a pothole one second too late. The back wheel slammed into it with a loud crunch, and before he knew it the back of the jeep collapsed into the sand-dusted street.
“Oh, goddamnit,” he grunted, punching the passenger seat in irritation.
Spencer pulled his phone out of his pocket, and sure enough he had zero reception. He groaned and let his head fall back on the headrest, his eyes shutting. Sucking in a deep breath, Spencer counted to five before letting it go.
“Yer axle’s cracked!” a voice came from the side, and when Spencer opened his eyes he spotted a beat up truck next to him on the road. It had cans dangling from the sides on old fishing line and other random trash piled up in the back, a boat hitched to the back of it.
An old grizzled man leaned heavily out the window, pointing at the back of the jeep and nodding, “Yep, y’ain’t goin’ nowhere, son.”
“Yeah,” Spencer snapped, furrowing his brows at him. “I noticed.”
“Ain’t no need to take a tone with me, boy,” the man grumbled. He pointed a gnarled finger at Spencer that shook in the air. “I’mma help you.”
Spencer didn’t have a lot of faith that his twisted tree limb of a man was going to be much help to him, so he waved his cell phone at him. “I’m sorry. Can I borrow your phone so I can call a tow truck?”
The man frowned with an exaggerated bottom lip and shook his head animatedly, “I ain’t got one of them things! Ya think I want brain cancer or somethin’?”
“Uhm… no?” Spencer began, but he cut him off with a beckoning hand.
“No. I don’t,” the man nodded firmly. “C’mon, I’ll take ya up to Rose’s place.”
Spencer groaned internally at the name he’d heard this morning. It was the same squinting old man who told him the axle was about to crack in the first place. Then he brightened up at the thought of getting to see Honey and her tight tank top again.
“I ain’t got all day, son. I’m busy, y’see,” the man called, breaking through his thoughts. Spencer nodded to himself and turned off the jeep before getting out and snagging his suitcase from the back seat.
He rounded the truck only to open the creaky door and find almost an entire carton of cigarette packs littering the floorboards, along with a variety of loose tools and nails. Spencer climbed into the cab and closed the door behind him, setting the suitcase on his lap. It was a travel size, just big enough for a week’s worth of clothes and shoes. He kept his toiletries in another bag in the back of his car.
“Thanks for the ride,” he said softly. “Sorry for snapping. It’s been a bit of a day for me.”
The man chuckled, a little choked huffing sound from deep in his throat. “It’s been a bit of a day for everyone, son. It’s only nine in the mornin’!”
Deciding it was better to scoff in his mind and not at this weird stranger driving him through town, Spencer nodded. The brightly colored shops passed them by as the man drove at a snail’s pace, stopping for the allotted three seconds at each stop sign and never using his blinker.
“Name’s Nell, by the by,” the old man declared suddenly, jerking Spencer out of his reverie of the town. “Not that you asked. What’s yer story, son?”
“Uh, I’m Spencer,” he said slowly. Awkwardly. “I’m just traveling.”
“That’s a sheht story. No pizzazz, no flare. Ain’t you got stories where yer from?”
How do you like dead mutilated bodies? He wondered. Spencer laughed quietly and made sure to stare straight ahead. Nell’s eyes flicked quickly to his each time he looked over, and the truck veered with them.
“I’m not much of a storyteller, Nell.”
“Shame,” Nell muttered, his top lip twitching as he seemed to think very hard about that. “Puppy dog eyes like that, you could get a peach and a half to follow you home if you could string a good yarn.”
Spencer struggled to follow that metaphor, so he just gave a noncommittal hum. The thought of a man who looked like Nell referring to a woman as a ‘peach’ left a bad taste in his mouth.
"You ever been this way up before?"
"Nope. Just passing through on my way to Oregon."
"Ah, sheht," Nell grumbled. He slapped the steering wheel and pointed at nothing. "Oregon ain't got nothin' on Thundabird! I came here after 'Nam and never looked back!"
Spencer thanked God that Rossi didn't talk like this, not that fighting in Vietnam caused mushmouth, but he was getting irritated.
"Lotsa people round here just showed up. Never left. It's a town of strays, y’know? Might find somethin' purty and never wanna leave like I did."
"Oh yeah?" Spencer asked, not really paying much attention. He gazed longingly out the window and decided he could have walked faster than Nell drove.
"Met my Bernie and never could leave. She’s purtier than a seagull at sunset, I swear it.”
“You have any kids?”
“Nah, she’s small. Not much more’n me can fit in there most of the time.”
Spencer made a face and turned to him, disgusted, “What?”
Nell leaned forward and rubbed a hand across the dash of his nasty truck, “She’s small, but she’s a beaut! All I ever needed.”
Thankfully, they finally made their way up to the diner. Delgado’s lay catty corner to it, right next to a small inn called The Thunderbird Inn. Spencer got the hell out of Bernie as fast as he could and waved a hand to Nell. “Thanks for the ride, Nell. It’s been a trip.”
“Anytime, son!” Nell chuckled manically, and it was all Spencer had not to grimace. He pulled out of the small driveway slower than molasses, almost hit a stop sign, then rumbled down the street.
Spencer took a steadying breath and shook his head before going into the mechanic's shop. A small reception area stood in the front, the smell of grease and exhaust puffing in from the door leading through the garage. There was a window in front of a desk where a small woman sat in a headscarf. She wore a brightly colored floral shirt, her braids piled high above her head as she gave him a small wave.
"How ya doing, baby?" she asked with an easy grin. The tension in Spencer's shoulders from talking to Nell eased in just one look at that smile. There was also something about an older black lady calling him ‘baby’ in a soft voice that made him feel better for some reason.
"Uhm, my car broke down," Spencer said, pointing behind him.
She nodded, "I'm Mattie May. Rose told me you might be making your way here."
"Oh, he did, did he?" Spencer snarked, rolling his eyes.
"Don't take it personal," Mattie May hushed. She stood and rounded the corner, then waved for him to follow. "Man's got a sixth sense about cars. In fact, I first met him when I broke down on the side of the road outside of town."
Spencer followed Mattie May behind the counter and into a small kitchen area. He eyeballed the fridge as she puttered around. Pictures of Rose, Mattie May, and Honey littered the front. Some had group photos with a few of the eclectic townsfolk he'd run into already, others with people he didn't know.
"He asked me to dinner before fixing my car. I fell head over heels and never looked back. Moved here a few months later." She pulled out a fresh pot of coffee and poured him some in a brightly colored mug with flowers on it, then one for herself. "You take sugar, baby?"
"Lots of it," he muttered, leaning down to look at more of the photographs. "This town's like the Bermuda triangle, huh?"
"For lost souls… yeah, I guess it is," she said softly. Her skin glimmered under the fluorescent lighting, dark and beautiful against the bright purples and pinks of her shirt and beaming smile. "You lost?"
Spencer stood up sharply, suddenly rocked with defensiveness. He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "How long do you think the repairs will take?"
Mattie May clicked her teeth and sighed, then handed him the mug. "Rose will have to tell you that. If he doesn't have the parts you can stay at the inn. I'll have Honey make you up a room."
Spencer took a sip. It was fantastic, obviously from the same beans the diner used. "Is she your daughter? I saw her with Rose at the diner."
"We've definitely taken to her like she is. Another stray that showed up a while back and never wanted to leave."
"Do people who come here ever leave?" he snarked, flashing her a look.
"People land where they need to. Sometimes that's here."
"I'd like to get the hell out of here as fast as possible. No offense."
Mattie May smirked at him and leaned against the counter, "None taken."
"Axle cracked, huh?" a familiar deep voice came from behind them. Spencer looked to find Rose leaning over the front counter and watching him expectantly.
"Right in half."
"Hmmm," he grunted, nodding to himself. "I'll send out Rico."
"The man's got somewhere to be, Rose," Mattie May said, waving her cup at her husband. "How long will it take to repair?"
Rose pushed himself off the counter with a sigh. He ran a hand over his face as he ambled slowly into the small kitchen, then shrugged. "I don't have that model in stock as nobody in town drives it. Could take a month for the parts to come in."
"A month?" Spencer asked sharply. He set the cup down harder on the counter than he meant to, and it hit with a clatter. "I can't sit around here for a month."
“Or more.” Rose shrugged, "UPS only comes through here once a month by boat. It's too hard to get through the mountains."
"Where you off to in such a hurry?" Mattie May asked softly. She set a comforting hand on his shoulder and gave him a soft squeeze. "If you gotta be somewhere soon, I'm sure we can find you a ride."
Spencer rubbed the back of his neck roughly in irritation. "Nowhere. I just don't like sitting in one place too long."
"You some sorta drifter?" Rose asked, eyeing him with a hard glare. Spencer was sure he looked the part with his old flannel, messy hair, beard and battered boots, but he didn’t like the thought after his previous line of work.
Spencer glared right back, his jaw set tightly. Mattie May blew out a breath and gave him another squeeze before letting her hand fall from his shoulder. “It might do you good to sit still for a while, then. C’mon, baby, I’ll take you over to Honey and we’ll get you a room.”
Mattie May steered him around Rose and out the front door. A loud boom! Made him jerk away from her and flinch from the sound. A few errant pop pop pops followed, and when he heard her soft laughter he looked up to see kids lighting fireworks in the street.
His vision dragged, his blood pounded in his ears as he tried to convince himself he was fine. He wasn’t being blown up, and he wasn’t at Everett Lynch’s home. Mattie May’s voice ripped him sharply to the present as she called to them.
“Y’all go somewhere else and do that! People are tryin’ to work!”
Their shoulders deflated and they nodded, “Yes, Mrs. Delgado!”
She shook her head and chuckled, turning back to Spencer. He stared at the charred spot on the pavement where the firecrackers had erupted, chest heaving as the acrid scent of burnt embers flooded his nose.
“You okay, baby?”
Spencer found himself turning toward her kind voice, his eyes wet and suddenly more tired than he’d been in months. “Yeah. I’m… I’m not a big fan of the fourth of July.”
“The firecrackers?” she asked. He nodded. “Did you serve?”
“Uh, no ma’am.” He didn’t want to tell her anything about the FBI. Since leaving, Spencer hadn’t told anyone that he used to be an agent. What he’d become was too shameful.
“Holly Henson isn’t much for it either since he came back from Iraq, neither is Rose. I bought them some noise canceling headphones for this time of year. I have an extra pair.”
“I'll keep that in mind. Thanks."
She led him into the front of The Thunderbird Inn, where Honey sat behind the reception desk with a young man Spencer hadn't met yet. He was tall and about her age, near thirty, leaning over the counter and smirking at her. His easy going grin and good looks reminded him of Luke, as did his dark closely cropped hair.
"I'm serious, Honey. It'll be fun."
Honey lounged in a roller chair and crossed her hands behind her head, "I'm not going to the bar on the fourth. I'll end up having Lionel and Ritchie pawing all over me and looking down my shirt."
The man peeked a little further over and grinned, "I'd tell you to wear a different shirt, but I can't exactly blame them for trying to sneak a peek."
Honey sat up sharply and slapped at him, and he jumped back with a mad laugh. She looked over his shoulder and her eyes brightened as she saw Spencer. "Axle cracked, huh, big tipper?"
Spencer squinted at her and nodded. Mattie May laughed and put a hand on his shoulder, "He needs a room for the night, Honey. Rico, Rose is lookin' for you. You gotta go tow this young man's car."
She turned to him, "I never caught your name."
"Spencer. Spencer Reid."
Rico eyed him the way Rose and every other person in this town seemed to, "Your axle cracked?"
Spencer sighed in pure exasperation. “Yes.”
Rico glanced back at Honey, who shrugged and made a face. He made his way toward the door, watching Spencer. His shoulder bumped Spencer's as he passed and then he was gone, Mattie May following closely behind.
"I got Room 4 open, Mr. Reid," Honey said playfully as Spencer glared out the door where Rico went. He looked up to see her dangling an ancient key attached to a little green tag with the inn name on it. "Follow me."
Spencer followed her and her tight jeans down a hallway to the left. The inn was a big square, two levels, with only a handful of rooms on the first floor. Honey took him to the center where the rooms met in the middle of the curved hallway. A door across from his had a sign on it that read Management on the front in faded gilded lettering and a doorbell on the side.
"Dinner’s at six. I'll bring you a plate," she said absentmindedly as she fiddled with the door. She clasped the handle and tugged up as she turned the lock. "Door sticks, and there's a patio out back where we usually have a bonfire this time of year. If it's too loud, let me know."
The door opened with a crack, and she pushed it open for him to step inside. The room was small and airy, wide broad windows that had a view of the far off ocean and palm trees. Spencer spotted boats and people in the water as he stepped up to them to look out. The tulle cottony curtains swayed with the breeze through the cracked door, and without much thought Spencer shut and locked it.
The bedspread was a bright sky blue with matching pillows. The walls were painted off-white, with pictures of the beach and the town plastered all over, much like Mattie May’s fridge and the reception areas of both businesses. Spencer dug into his pocket as he looked around with hardly disguised disdain and pulled out his wallet. He handed his credit card to Honey, but she just stared at him.
“Don’t you need this?”
“First night’s on Lionel. He was supposed to fix that pothole weeks ago.”
Spencer squinted at her, “How do you know I hit a pothole?”
She smiled, wide and bright. “Saw you drive toward the beach. Townspeople know to avoid it.”
“Good to know,” he grumbled, stuffing his card back into his wallet. “Is there a phone I can use?”
“Mmm, most people here don’t have cell phones. Providers don’t get great service around here, but there’s a landline on the nightstand.”
Spencer nodded, looking to where she pointed. “Internet?”
Honey laughed, but when she saw him watching her sternly she stopped. “Oh, you’re serious. There’s Collie’s Cafe down the street. It’s dial-up but it’ll get you what you need for a dime every ten minutes.”
“God this place really is the Bermuda Triangle,” he groaned, rubbing his face roughly with his hands. “Does everyone have a weird name here?”
Honey put her hands on her hips and made a face, “Who’s got a weird name?”
Spencer just glared.
Honey broke out into a creeping slow smile and nodded to herself. “You’re not a lot of fun, are you, Mr. Reid?”
“You can call me Spencer.”
“Hmm,” she hummed. She tapped her jaw and watched him, “This is a nickname kinda town. You stay here long enough and you’ll get one too.”
“I hope to God that doesn’t happen,” he said irritably. “If Honey’s not your real name, do you mind if I ask what it is?”
“Y/N,” she replied with a grin. “Call me that and we’ll have a problem.”
“I don’t want any problems, Honey,” Spencer snarked back. “I just want to leave Margaritaville and go to Oregon.”
Honey bit her lip and smiled before turning on her heel and walking toward the door. She lingered for a moment with her hand on the knob, obviously chewing on something in her mind. Sucking in a breath, she glanced his way once more and said in a soft voice, “Maybe your problem is that you can’t enjoy where you’re at, Spencer. Maybe you should take a breather.”
Before he could angrily reply, she closed the door behind her. It didn’t fit in the frame well, and he heard her little grunt as she pulled up on the knob to latch it shut. Shaking his head and letting out a pained breath, Spencer hoisted his suitcase up and tossed it on the bed, grateful to be alone again. He plopped down next to it, elbows on his knees as he looked around, and that question popped into his head again.
Is this who I am now?
Smurph's Masterlist | Series Masterlist
Notes: PLEASE tell me what you think... this series is so close to my heart. What do you think of the townspeople we've met so far? Reader/Honey? Sad!Spencer??
Warnings: barfights, fistfights, mentions of death, tension, arguments, BAU talk
Summary: You head to Tooky's bar to tend bar for Holly, and a fight breaks out. Later, Spencer finds something out about you and things get worse.
After a long irritating day of trying to fix a toilet in Room 2, I went up to my apartment for a nice hot shower, stared out the window for a bit like always, then made my way to Tooky's.
It was one of my favorite spots in town. Nestled in the middle of the bay on the beach, the ramshackle bar held a special place in my heart. It was where I first kissed Ernie right before an eighteen year old me went home with him that night we met. If only I'd known what happiness would come after that night, I would have cherished it more.
A whirlwind engagement, three years of bliss and love and the sea, all culminating in one violent night that took him from me. I should have known I wouldn't get to keep him or my happiness.
I tried to shake away the crushing weight of my own memory as I did every day driving through these streets, but some days it was harder than others. Instead, I focused on driving my shitty old VW bus around the pothole that Spencer hit on his first day. With a smirk I noticed it was bigger than the day he got here.
A majority of the seating was laid on the sand, hand placed stones that Tooky herself had put down when she first came here. She’d turned this beach into a paradise of hammocks, tables, and a small theater with a sheet hung with the ocean behind it. The woman was ancient, but she was more than happy to show off her much younger forty year old wife Vera who looked at her like she was made of gold.
The bar was open, little cut tiles shaped in the design of fish and the waves outside under a wood top. Glasses hung from mounts just in reach for servers and the mirrored back held all the tequila and alcohol a girl could ask for. Tooky had small swings on the outside of the bar walls, and the patrons used the windowsill as a table. People already milled about though the sun was just beginning to set, the ocean blue shimmering with the bright pink-purple of the fading light.
“Hey Tooky!” I called as I stepped in, that old familiar smell of cigarettes and palm fronds washing over me like the sand in the wind.
Tooky, aged like the mountains and canyon ranges around us, rested on a stool behind the bar. Blue and pink neon flashed over her silver braids, the ends of which laid in her lap they were so long. Turquoise and sandstone jewelry hung from her long earlobes and wrinkled wrists, and she gave me a big smile and a wave when she saw me.
“Honey Bee, c’mover here!” The silver backed bracelets clacked with her movements, her sundress swishing along. Tooky Builds-the-Fire was as old as the sea itself, but she didn’t let it slow her down. She was as full of light now as she likely had been as a kid.
I made my way over and gave her a big hug. Her spindly arms held me in a death grip, nearly cracking my back. She let me go and placed a kiss on my cheek and gave a sneaky pat on my backside. "Where's that lovely wife of yours?"
Tooky pointed a shaky finger toward the beach, "She's helping the band get set up. You know how much she likes the music."
"Hey Honey!" Micah called, carrying a box of bottles from the kitchen, his long braids hanging over his shoulders. He set them on the counter and pulled me in for a quick hug. He pointed at Tooky, "Thanks for helping mom out tonight. Holly doesn't do so well here during this time of year."
"Oh, I don't mind," I told him with a smile. I set a hand on his shoulder and gave him a squeeze. "Besides, gives me something to do other than fix toilets all night."
Micah gestured to his uniform, "And you couldn't say no to the town sheriff, right? Cuz I'm so intimidating and all."
"Oh, Sheriff Builds-the-Fire, you are the only man in this town I both fear and admire."
"As it should be," Micah grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn't much taller than me, and the fact that he looked almost exactly like his mother made him insecure at times. People didn't tend to take him seriously.
Micah pointed over to the corner of the bar and leaned in close enough to whisper, "Your boy's been here all day drinking his feelings. You might wanna check on him."
Sure enough, there was Rico in the corner hunched over a glass of whiskey. I could see the liquor in his eyes all the way from the bar, and I sighed before putting my stuff away in a locker in the kitchen, then made my way over to him.
He was drawing on a cocktail napkin, and even before I came up to the table I knew he was drawing a picture of Ernie. Rico had painted the mural of him outside Collie’s, and Ernie was the one who bought him his first sketch set. The two of them had the same crooked smirks, always together no matter what. Even when Ernie and I took over the inn for Mattie May, Rico would stop by every day for lunch just to hang out with his best friend.
I slid into the chair opposite him. He didn't bother to look up. "Do you need me to take you home, Rico?"
He shook his head slowly, "I'm doing just fine here, Honey."
I couldn't stand it, his standoffish pose. He was on the defensive, but I could never resist poking the bear. It was something Ernie loved about me, but it was something Rico became easily frustrated by.
"You should go home, get some sleep."
He finally looked up at me. His eyes were wet, red rimmed and exhausted. My shoulders sank with the weight of his gaze, and he knew it.
Rico swallowed thickly, "You gonna marry me?"
"Ric-."
"I didn't think so," he said softly, waving a hand. "I knew the first time I asked that you'd say no."
"I do love you, Rico. Okay? I'm just…." The words spilled out like a geyser, but it needed to be said. I was never going to marry him, no matter how much I wanted to just to make him happy. "I can't stand the thought of you hating me because of this."
“I don’t hate you,” he said earnestly, but I couldn’t help myself.
“Rico, I can’t have you mad at me because I don’t want to get married. I’m not ready to do it with anyone-.”
"I'm allowed to be mad,” he cut me off firmly. “I'm allowed to be upset, okay? I know it makes you feel guilty but… it can't be my problem if you're not going to marry me. I need to feel what I feel, too. You’re not the only one who’s sad and fucked up around here."
I looked down at my lap and nodded as the tears welled. My voice strained as I tried to keep myself together. "Yeah… I know."
Rico pushed his empty glass toward me, “Will you get me another?”
I got up on shaky legs and took it with a trembling hand, “I’ll have Vera bring it over.”
I didn't even know why I was so upset. I didn't want to marry Rico, and the only real reason we'd started up in the first place was because of a drunken night last year. We were both lost without Ernie, and the thought of having to go on without Rico as at least my friend killed me inside.
Turning on my heel, I made my way back to the bar, the glass hung loosely in my fingers. I pushed it across the bar where Vera had made her way to, cleaning a glass with a cloth.
“Hey, Vera. Can you get Rico another one?”
She leaned on one leopard-printed hip and shook the washcloth at me, “You don’t wanna serve your boyfriend?”
I felt tears threaten to spill as I shook my head, “Can you just take care of him for me tonight?”
“Sure, Honey,” she said quietly. Vera filled the glass with Rico’s favorite, pressed a hand to my cheek as she passed and gave me a smile. Her bouncing blonde curls made me feel better, as did looking over just to see Tooky watching her backside with a lopsided grin.
I let out a breath and decided to take over for her, picking up a glass to clean. When I turned toward the door I nearly jumped out of my skin at Spencer Reid sitting on the other side of the counter with a cheeky smile and a wave.
“You, uh, you made it out Mr. Buzzkill,” I said shakily, trying to covertly sniffle. It didn’t work, and he squinted my way.
“Are you crying?”
I waved a hand in front of my face and shook my head, but I couldn’t help glancing over to where Rico sat in the corner talking to Vera. Spencer twisted on his barstool enough to look at him with a furrowed brow and a frown.
“I’m fine,” I told him, and he turned back to look at me. His face told me he obviously didn’t believe me, but there was no way in hell I was going to talk to him about this stuff. “What can I get you?”
Spencer watched me for a moment, a pair of not-quite hazels searching me in an almost analytical way. He seemed to scan me and know in that moment that if he pushed me I was going to freak out, so he pulled out his wallet and a ten, then slid it toward me.
“Bourbon, neat,” he decided.
I pushed the bill back to him, “First one’s on me.”
“You know, nobody around here will let me pay for anything."
"You should take it and put it toward something fun like seeing the sights," I told him with a watery grin. I leaned over the bar and put my chin in my hands. "There's a lot of great places around here."
Spencer made a face and nodded, his gaze flicking down to my boobs. He made no effort whatsoever to disguise it and smirked like a cat, "I've got sights aplenty right here."
With that I snatched the ten and held it up for him to see, then stuffed it down my bra, "Just for that, I'm keeping this."
Spencer leaned back and laughed, "You earned it."
I poured Spencer his bourbon and made my rounds, waving hello to the people who came in. Nell ambled in after a bit, waving goodbye to Bernie before coming inside. Rose and Mattie May came up to the bar, trapping Spencer between them and Lonnie and Lloyd on the other. He conversed with them lightly, clinging to his bourbon like it was a lifeline, but I saw him eye the twins with caution.
Lonnie and Lloyd Evarts were fraternal twins who just…sucked. They were assholes, and I avoided them and their leering every chance I got. They drank as much as they wandered around town picking fights and bothering people.
Lonnie was the oldest by a few minutes, with a beer belly, rough gray speckled beard and greasy hair. Lloyd was tall and lanky, over a head taller than his brother, and liked to speak with a low creepy voice. They just liked to be a bother, so I got them their drinks and went on my way.
I sang along to the music as I worked, the band playing soft acoustic rock as the street lights came on and the hot sun turned into an only slightly cooler night. Sweat made its way under my arms under the heat of the lights and errant conversations, but I tried to keep myself busy and not focus on Rico.
Eventually, I couldn't really help myself. He just looked so damned lonely in the corner by himself. I poured some water into a big cup, ignoring Spencer's watchful gaze and pleading eyes to save him from Mattie May's questions and went over to Rico.
Setting the water in front of him, I slid into the chair next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He sighed heavily and met my gaze with a watery smile.
"Hey," I murmured, giving him a squeeze.
Rico licked his lips and chuckled, "Hey."
He covered my hand with his and returned my squeeze, "I think I need help getting home."
I leaned my chin on his shoulder and nodded, "I already called Micah. He's on his way."
Rico let out a long sigh and glanced up to where Spencer was sitting stiffly next to Lonnie and Lloyd. He waved a drunken hand that way, "My mom says he's really nice. He knew she was Basque just by her accent."
"She even brought him karouga," I told him playfully. "She might ditch your dad for him if you're not careful. Augustin is gonna be traded in for a new model."
Rico laughed quietly, slurring a bit, "She said the same thing about me and you. Said he may have eyes for you."
"Oh, well if Augustin is on the table I'll take him."
"You're sick."
I reached out to palm his chin and smile brightly. "You kinda look like him. Maybe that's why I think you're cute."
He groaned and pushed at me, "You're disgusting. I'm gonna throw up all over you if you don't shut up."
We laughed together for a moment, and it faded into us watching one another sadly. Twelve years of grief and friendship tied us together, Ernie the knot that kept it all from falling apart. I pressed my lips to his shoulder, breathing in the scent of smoke and sweat on his skin.
"Collie and Augustin would have been great grandparents," I whispered, and he nodded, his hand absentmindedly reaching out to palm my empty stomach. I placed my hand over his, "They still will be. You have time, Rico."
His fingers tensed, then released, his thumb rubbing circles for a few seconds before he pulled away. Rico ran a heavy hand over his face and let out a grunt that told me he was trying to contain his emotions. "We shouldn't have a serious conversation right now. I don't know if you know this, but I'm pretty drunk."
"Drink your water and we'll settle the tab."
It took a few minutes, and some spillage, but he finished it. Rico held out his hands like a child, and I took him by them both and hoisted him to his feet. A handful of wobbly strides later and I got him up to the bar between Lonnie and Spencer.
"Vera, can you settle his tab? Stick it on my card."
Rico set a heavy hand on Spencer's shoulder, who stiffened up tightly from it. He leaned in close to drunkenly whisper to him, "How you likin' the town, hipster?"
"It's Spencer," he said slowly back, flinching away from Rico’s breath. "It's…fine. How's my car?"
Rose leaned back enough to tug on the back of my shirt for my attention, "Did you call Micah?"
"He's on his way." I swatted at Rico, who was leaning far too heavily on a stranger he didn't know or even like very much. "Rico, leave the man alone."
"'M being polite to your guest, Honey," he told me flippantly. I shook my head and gave Spencer an apologetic frown. "Your Jeep's got a lot of miles on it for the year. How long you been on the road, man?"
I spotted Lonnie smirking at me out of the corner of my eye, trying to catch my attention. I did my best to focus on the receipt for Rico’s frankly astonishing amount of drinks he'd had today.
"Two years. I've been just about everywhere," Spencer told him sheepishly, and he put a steadying hand on Rico’s chest to keep him from falling on him and out of my arms.
I signed the receipt and slid it back to Vera, but as I turned back to Rico and Spencer I felt an unfamiliar hand on my backside. Glancing over my shoulder, I spotted Lonnie grinning at me with tobacco stained teeth.
"Back off, Lonnie," I snapped. When I pushed at his wrist, his grip only tightened. "Ow! Goddamnit, Lon-."
Rico twisted off my shoulder before I could stop him, ripping Lonnie's hand from my ass. Spencer got up sharply from his stool and stepped up next to him, his hand going for his belt.
Lonnie wasn't phased, and he ignored them completely. He loomed over me and cocked his head, his equally nasty brother standing behind him. "I hear Rico didn't knock you up. Lloyd and I are more than happy to step in, do what he can't."
"Back off, Lonnie," I urged, trying to keep Rico behind me. "Tonight's not the night."
"I think it's a perfect night," Lloyd sneered, grinning at me like the creep he was. "We'll show you a good time, Honey. Let you feel a real man for once."
"You boys better head home if you know what's good for you," Rose spoke up, and when I looked back he was up on his feet too.
“Mind your business, old man,” Lonnie snapped. I was closer to him than I ever wanted to be, stale beer and cigarettes washing over me as I struggled to keep Rico in place and standing. Lonnie knew that Rose and Rico had served, and both were certified badasses, but Lonnie and Lloyd both served too, and for some reason they thought that gave them the right to fuck around and not find out.
“I’m talkin’ to the lady here,” he continued, reaching a dirt stained hand out to push back my hair. I swatted him away but he wasn’t phased, nor by the sudden silence that overcame the bar. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, and it was my least favorite feeling in the world.
“I don’t want to talk to you or your brother,” I told him in a low voice, hating to be the center of attention. “I’m taking Rico home. You two just enjoy your night.”
I pulled on Rico’s arm until he moved with me, staggering and glaring at the twins over his shoulder. We barely made it two steps before Lonnie called out again.
“Maybe I’ll find you one of those nights you’re walkin’ home alone, then, bitch!”
Fuck.
Rico turned on a dime, the droopy effect of alcohol reverting to fierce stupidity. I was caught between them, his chest against my back as he swung a heavy fist toward Lonnie. It connected with his cheek with a loud smack of Rico’s knuckles.
Everything seemed to explode in a millisecond.
Lonnie barely flinched through his own alcoholic haze, his fist barreling toward me before I could react. A blast of pain cracked across my vision, a bright haze of red and white bursting over my sight as my body twisted from the force, a sharp yelp bursting from my chest.
I hit the ground hard, my wrists and knees taking the impact. Yelling echoed in the back of my mind, the sounds of fists hitting flesh and broken glass. Hot blood dripped down my nose and chin as I struggled to blink back into focus. Somebody had their hands on my shoulders, which I feebly tried to push away.
The napkin Rico had drawn Ernie on lay on the floor beneath me, trickling droplets of iron red beading the surface before bleeding into the paper. Memories swirled in my mind as I gazed bleary eyed at a drawing of my dead husband. Blood and the whipping wind jerking my hair from my scalp… sharp lightning cracking and thunder booming around us… the sight of the love of my young life bleeding out in the ocean.
Then just as suddenly as it all began, it stopped.
I looked up cautiously to find Rico on his ass next to me, clutching his nose, but that wasn't what made my heart stop in my chest. It was Spencer.
Lloyd laid flat on his belly with Spencer's boot between his shoulder blades, struggling to get up. Lonnie's arm was twisted behind him and out, Spencer pinching between his thumb and his pointer finger with one hand, the other tangled into his hair.
"Get the fuck off me, man!" Lonnie snarled, but Spencer just twisted his arm further, earning a strangled yelp from the drunken asshole.
Mattie May and Rose both had their arms under my armpits, hoisting me to my feet. Hastily, I snatched the napkin from the floor and enclosed it in my fist. I could hear her speaking softly to me over the ringing in my ears, asking me if I'm alright. All I could focus on was him, and the shift in his body. It was like staring at a whole other person.
"Apologize," Spencer snapped, his dark eyes sharp and more focused than I'd ever seen. Even with a handful of drinks in him he was steady and strong, his grip unyielding. "Now."
“Fuck y- argggh!” Lonnie tried, but another sharp turn on his shoulder had him howling. “Okay, okay! I’m fuckin’ sorry, man!”
“Not to me, dumbass,” Spencer growled lowly. Keeping one foot on Lloyd’s back, he turned Lonnie to face me and my spurting nose and lip. “Apologize to her.”
“I’m… sorry,” Lonnie gritted out, but the burning hatred in his eyes told me he wasn’t, and that this wasn’t over.
“Alright!” Micah’s voice sounded out as he sauntered into the bar, and all turned to him. His weathered hands planted on his hips as he glowered down at the Evarts brothers. “That’s enough, boys. Head home.”
Rose pushed me gently behind him as Spencer released the twins. They both got to their feet rubbing their shoulders and scowling at me. Micah knew me well enough that I wasn’t going to press charges, so he waved them out of the bar and went for Rico.
“I’m guessing I have him to thank for this escalation?” Micah grunted as he bent down. He and Rose looped their arms under his and pulled him to his feet as he tried in vain to quell some of the blood flow.
“Yeah. I’ll help you get him to the car,” Rose replied gruffly. He kissed Mattie May on her cheek and I avoided the sight painfully as they drug Rico out of the bar.
“Honey, lemme look at ya,” Mattie May urged, tugging on my jaw. When I wouldn’t turn she instead twisted in front of me, slightly obscuring my view of Spencer.
I watched him and his reddened cheeks, the way his hands started to shake now that the fight was over. I watched him watching me back even as he snagged his bourbon off the bar and downed it in one go.
“I’m fine,” I muttered. She ignored me, as did Vera and Tooky, poking and prodding around. I didn’t know why, but I couldn’t seem to look away from Spencer. He couldn’t look away either, it seemed, just gazed at me with a deep bone aching sadness and shame I’m sure reflected in my own eyes.
Another squeeze down my arm, a sharp rocketing pain that burst through my wrist. It was enough to drag me away from Spencer Reid, my angry gaze flicking to Mattie May, “Ow! Goddamnit!”
“Let’s get you some ice, Honey,” she replied quickly, her former nurses’ training kicking in. Before I knew it I was being dragged around the bar and into the kitchen, but when I looked over my shoulder Spencer hadn’t moved his gaze from me, but something had changed.
The sadness had switched to grief, and a little bit of fear.
The world spun as the girls pulled Honey into the kitchen. Spencer watched helplessly as the door swung shut, his body shaking and too stiff all at the same time.
Is this who I am now?
He could see her through the window, see that she was okay and talking. One of the women blotted her nose with a dish rag as Mattie May pulled out a first aid kit. Spencer leaned against the bar for support, but he was certain if he looked away from Honey he would crumple into a ball of tears.
Spencer was an idiot, reacting like that. The first sign of trouble and his training kicked in, that old familiar chivalry he’d thought he left behind on a cool DC morning as he skipped town like a ghost. He saw Lonnie and Lloyd, looking too much like the men he’d met in his work, and worst of all…
He saw Honey, frightened and too hard-headed for her own good to not back down from a fight she couldn’t win. You can’t win against men like that, people with their minds made up… and all he saw for a moment was Maeve with Lonnie’s fist heading right at her. His agent training burst out of him without permission, and the next thing he knew it was like after prison again, stopping some asshole from messing with Tara… when he was out of control and pissed off at the world.
Is this who I am now?
A heavy hand on his shoulder made him flinch and duck, turning sharply to find Rose looking at him with his dark eyes. Spencer’s heartbeat pounded in his ears, his breath struggling to return to normal. Rose motioned to the barstools in front of them, pretending as though he didn’t notice.
“Sit down, son.”
With a shaking hand, Spencer took a deep breath and pulled out a stool. He slid onto the cool leather and gripped the bar while Rose went around the other side. He pulled a bottle from the bar wall and poured him another drink, then pushed it toward him. Spencer snatched it like a man dying of thirst and poured it down his throat.
"It's a good thing you did, taking over like that."
Another deep breath, count to five, let it out.
"Bar fights are a dime a dozen. Don't worry too much about it. Lonnie and Lloyd aren't stupid enough to press charges."
The glass barely had the chance to hit the bar again before Rose poured him another. Spencer lifted it to his lips, just moments away from temporary salvation in the arms of liquor when he spoke again.
“Ex-con or cop?”
His only reprieve from the world hung mid air, just out of reach of his mouth as Spencer stared shell-shocked at him. “What?”
“Mattie May says you didn’t serve, but you don’t like fireworks.” A quirk of his heavy brow told Spencer he wasn’t getting out of this one. “Your hand went straight for your belt, like you were reaching for a gun. You got that haunted look in your eyes like a man who's seen some things. You didn’t serve so… ex-con or cop?”
Spencer swallowed thickly. The cool beads of condensation from his bourbon trickled down his hand and wrist. Rose sighed, “Nobody’s judging here, son. We welcome all kinds in this town, as you’ve surely noticed.”
Is this who I am now? What would ever be the right answer to that question? Both. Neither.
Spencer’s heart weighed a thousand pounds as he stared painfully back at Rose. Licking his lips to prepare himself, his jaw quivered. His voice shook as he admitted for the first time in years, “FBI. Almost twenty years.”
Rose didn’t say anything about that, but the slight twitch that etched across his weathered features told Spencer everything he needed to know about his thoughts. Really? You? How could someone like you be capable of such a thing?
“Thank you for your service,” he said instead.
“Don’t,” Spencer replied.
He downed his drink, pushed it forward for another. Rose obliged, tipping the spout over the rim. Spencer found himself looking once more to the kitchen window, his eyes sliding over without much thought. Honey seemed pissed off as ever, glaring at something in her hand as Mattie May wrapped her wrist with an Ace bandage. The distinct swell of a coming bruise tattooed across her cheek and lip, her nose red from cleaning blood away.
“She’s fine,” Rose’s voice came through, tearing his gaze away. “Honey’s taken harder hits than that.”
"Her husband?" Spencer asked, a bit unsure of such a bold question. "That why she wears that ring?"
Rose scratched his chin as he thought. His eyes wandered around the bar, seeing who was close. When he was satisfied nobody would hear, he leaned on his elbows on the bar. "You know, Honey don't look like it, but she grew up catching lobster on a boat off the East Coast."
"How'd she end up so far from home?"
"I don't know specifics," Rose muttered with a shrug. "Her daddy was a real religious type. Made it clear one day she could live there with his rules as gospel, or leave. She left, hitchhiked until she met Mattie May at a truck stop on her way home from visiting her sister."
A sweet genuine smile stretched across his cheeks, "She brought her to town. Honey met Ernesto. It was…instant. They just fell in love like that."
Sigue viviendo, Ernesto, Spencer remembered, thinking back to the mural outside Collie’s.
"Yeah, those two were something else. Before she came along, Rico, Holly Henson, and Ernie were just three boys who came back from Iraq with hell to raise. They were wild. Honey walked in one day and those boys all turned into men. She showed them they could be more than haunted."
Spencer couldn't help but squint at his words, glaring at Rose as he downed his fourth shot in as many minutes. Rose dutifully poured him another, continuing on, "They all loved the water, fishing. Honey trained in water rescue back in the day, and she still went out when they needed her. Ernie and Honey would go on these week long trips up and down the coast. Ernie used to wear his ring on a chain around his neck so it wouldn't get lost.
"One day they didn't come back on time," Rose said, and this time it was his eyes that became haunted. They traveled back to a time Spencer couldn't see, remembering something he didn't know.
"They got caught in a storm, a big one that came outta nowhere. They tried to get control of the boat, but a lightning bolt hit the deck, blew the damned thing into pieces."
The breath caught in his chest, Spencer's body subconsciously leaning forward as he found himself wrapped up in the story. He could hear Honey griping about being left alone, but it all seemed so far away.
Rose sighed, his dark heavy gaze landing on Spencer's once more. "Some tourists found her a few days later holding onto a piece of driftwood. She was holding his body to her by that chain with his wedding ring on it. Hers had slipped off in the waves."
Spencer looked over to the kitchen window once more. Sure enough that ring hung around her neck. She fiddled with it as she stared dead eyed at what looked like a napkin, rolling it between her fingers.
"She brought my Ernie home to me," Rose spoke quietly, earning Spencer's undivided attention once more.
"He was your son." It wasn't a question.
"Yeah, he was a good egg." An unspoken declaration of devotion from a man going through unimaginable pain.
"Goddamnit, I'm fine!" Honey snarled, stomping her way out of the kitchen. It seemed to be her favorite word. "Leave me the fuck alone!"
The door swung behind her like a dog's wagging tail. She squinted at Spencer and Rose as she came out, but Rose reached out a hand for her bicep, pulling her back to him.
He tapped her chin, "That's a good shiner, kid."
Honey's scowl morphed into a slow chuckle. She shook her head and pulled away from him with a big grin, "You're a dick."
Mattie May made her way out of the kitchen next, inching her way back into the main room as if she was a bit fearful of Honey’s wrath. Her arms made their way around Rose's waist as she watched her flit back around the tables.
"Will you stay with her? Help her close up and drive her home?" Mattie May asked Rose softly. "I don't like the idea of her alone after what Lonnie said."
"Yeah, but you know Honey. She's gonna growl at me all night about it."
Spencer's mouth opened before he could think to stop it, "I could drive her home so Mattie May doesn't have to go by herself."
Both of them turned surprised to an equally surprised Spencer, but they were far more amused.
"Boy, I know you've had more drinks than the five I poured you," Rose told him sternly. "I wouldn't trust you to drive a stationary bike right now."
"Well, that is true," Spencer replied, realizing in embarrassment the slur of his voice. "She can drive me home. There's no way I'm finding my way back to the inn by myself anyway."
They looked at one another, seemingly having one of those silent conversations couples do when they've been together long enough. Not so funnily, he used to have similar ones with the BAU.
"Okay. You two be careful, though," Mattie May smiled. "Gets pretty dark around here at night on the beach. There ain't many streetlights."
"Will do," Spencer replied. He saluted her with his drink and polished it off, welcoming the amber gold and the edge it took off with it.
He vaguely registered Rose asking Honey to drive him home, focused on drowning his feelings in his bourbon. After a few more hours, the patrons shuffled out. The old woman behind the bar and the pretty blonde left before closing time, and eventually it was just him and Honey alone.
She ignored him mostly, avoiding his gaze as Spencer tried to avoid hers. She made her way behind the bar, pulling out trash bags and tying them off.
"You didn't have to do that, y’know," she muttered, and when he looked up she was watching him through her lashes. Her cheeks flushed a dark pink, only making her bruise look darker.
It was already blotching purple, and by the morning it would turn black and blue. Part of her lip had split, and god help him, it pissed Spencer off more than anything.
"I can take a punch, Mr. Dreary," she said when he didn't reply. She pointed at his glass. "You didn't need to do that. You obviously didn't want to."
"Oh, I wanted to."
Her hand reached out, fingers loosely grabbing the tumbler. She twisted it for a moment and bit her bottom lip as she thought. "He was trying to hit Rico and missed. He's a drunk asshole."
"No, he wasn't." Spencer told her. Honey's brows twitched, but she didn't say anything. "He may be a drunk asshole, but he aimed right for you in a place that would bleed the most and bruise the worst. I'm sure he's had plenty of practice accidentally punching women."
"And you know so much about that?" she challenged, stubborn as ever. "He's all bark and no bite."
"I know more about it than I'd like." Spencer's own hand found its way across the bar, clasping around her good wrist. "I've seen hundreds of Lonnie's. They seem all bark and no bite, but they're impulsive. Especially when they're angry. When he said he'd wait for you to walk home alone one night, he meant it. He'd have no problem finding you and raping you in the street before leaving you there."
Her jaw clenched tightly, but she nodded with tears in her eyes. Honey cleared her throat and held up one of the trash bags, "You might as well make yourself useful. Dumpster’s through the kitchen."
Spencer slid his hand from her and got to his feet. He rounded the bar and took it from her hands, his legs more than a bit unsteady.
"You okay?" she asked quietly, watching him nervously.
"I might be on my knees painting the inside of the toilet later," he told her with a watery lopsided grin, "but I'll be fine."
Her laugh was all he needed to walk away from her, smiling to himself. She chucked quietly behind him as he made his way into the kitchen. It was dark, illuminated only by the red light of the EXIT sign. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he passed through the hot room, still emanating heat from the hours of serving up burgers and fish fry to the patrons.
The night was only a few degrees cooler as Spencer pushed open the heavy back door and stepped into the alley. It reeked of stale beer, piss, and sand, making his nose curl up. He tossed the bag into the dumpster, the bottles inside hitting the inside with a loud clang.
He gripped the slatted wall for support as he turned inside. His legs didn’t want to cooperate along the shifting sands, his veins mostly alcohol by now. Tugging the door back open, he stepped back inside into the glowing red blanketing the kitchen.
"Get away from me!" Honey's voice came from the bar area.
Spencer's body kicked into gear, his hand going to his belt for a gun that wasn't there. His badge wasn't either, and he was drunk. Old familiar instincts blazed to life, his ears picking up on a shuffling to his right. Spencer turned just in time to see the business end of a baseball bat coming toward his face.
It connected with his nose, the fragile cartilage cracking under the force. Spencer was swept off his feet with the impact, landing hard on his ass on the concrete. The bat came down again as Honey screamed in the other room.
Blinking blearily through the pain, Spencer's foot shot out, his boot catching the side of his assailant's knee. The man screeched in pain and collapsed, clutching his kneecap and howling
"Oh fuck, Lonnie!" he cried out, and Spencer recognized him in the dark. It was Lloyd Evarts.
The swinging door flung open and in came the bastard Lonnie himself, dragging Honey in by her hair. Fresh blood dripped down her nose under the red lights, and he tossed her to the ground before swinging a heavy foot out. It caught Spencer in the ribs, his movements slow with the alcohol and stun of the hit to the face.
“Take that, you piece of shit!”
Lonnie kicked him again, and again. Spencer tried to swing out his fist, but caught nothing but air. Lloyd was on his feet in Spencer's drowsy haze, stomping down on his shoulder and side as he tried in vain to get up from the floor.
If he didn't get up, he'd probably die.
The unmistakable rack of a shotgun ran ice water through his veins. He couldn’t see Honey, couldn’t find a way to pick himself up to get her the hell out of here. What an embarrassing way to die for who he used to be… shot on a cold floor in a town he didn’t know or like, trying stupidly to protect a girl he didn’t want to be attracted to.
The gun blasted out with a loud boom! that rattled the kitchen. Spencer braced for the all-too familiar feel of bullets in his flesh, but they didn’t come. Instead a loud howling ripped through the room through the ringing in his ears.
Another pump of the gun, the clattering of a spent shell casing petering across the concrete. The gun went off again, followed by the screech of a wounded animal. The blows stopped battering his drunken body, shuffling feet and screams echoing around him.
“Let’s go! Go, go, go!” Lonnie’s voice cried out, followed by them scrambling out the door.
Spencer rolled onto his back, vaguely registering the gun hitting the ground. All the fight was gone, and he was just a pair of black eyes. The EXIT sign glowed ominously above him, the acrid smell and copper taste of blood in his mouth. He couldn’t breathe through his nose, sure that it must be broken.
“Spencer,” a soft voice came, full of tears and worry.
A shadow moved in front of the sign, dark and surrounded by the red light. Soft dark hair glimmered even in the darkness, and Spencer reached a bruised hand up to run his fingers through it. He palmed her cheek, his breath catching in his chest as his brain struggled to remember where he was.
“Spencer, stay awake,” the voice said again. “I’m going to get some help.”
It was so quiet, shrouded in darkness and mystery. Familiar, but where was he again? He didn’t know. He didn’t really care, either. His thumb ran across her cheekbone, a slight hiss of pain escaping lips he couldn’t see. Her skin was warm, the fresh scent of saltwater and sweat washing over him. All he wanted was a hug, someone to hold him until he felt better.
“Spencer, can you hear me?”
“Maeve?”
Smurph's Masterlist | Series Masterlist
Notes: PLEASE tell me what you think... Also, what do you think is going to happen next?
Warnings: mentions of grief, self realization, mentions of nightmares, bad flirting, awkward ask outs, descriptions of sex, masturbation
Summary: You decide to go on a run to get rid of some of your pent up energy. Meanwhile, Spencer and Emily go to the diner and Spencer gets roped into a date
I didn't sleep at all. Instead, I laid in Spencer’s flannel and my underwear all night staring at the ceiling, my lips still buzzing from his rough kisses. I could still feel his hands on me, his tight caresses… and the way he lifted me and shoved me against the wall… fuck.
It all happened so fast. All day something had been charged between us but that walk back to the Inn was different. I don't sleep with every guy who gives me a jacket on a chilly night but… if Rose and Emily hadn't come back when they did I would have screwed Spencer Reid until those pretty hazel eyes bugged out of his head.
…oh, but that kiss.
With his scraggly beard and long hair, I wouldn't have pegged him for a skilled kisser. If he fucked the way he kissed…maybe I should have just taken him upstairs after that. Emily and Rose’s words had obliterated any chance of that, though. Looking at him and knowing he was broken was fine, but the implication that we could somehow fix one another? No. No thank you.
My mind kept flashing back to his hands on my breasts, my ass, my face. My thighs clenched together each time and all I wanted was to reach into my dresser drawer and use my vibrator until it died but something about it felt weird. Delightfully dirty…but weird enough that I stopped myself.
His scent lingered on the fabric. Soft notes of bergamot were flushed with cinnamon from his cologne. Now it stained my sheets, as though he were lying next to me. I wished he was. I didn't want to be alone.
At about four am, I reached for my landline and dialed Rico’s number, knowing he'd come and fuck me until I couldn't walk. At least then I'd be satiated. But as I stared at it, my finger hovering over the call button, I had to remind myself that we were just friends now. We'd repaired our friendship and that was where it needed to stay.
I tried calling Michelle next to talk to my best friend about it, but she didn't answer at home. I tried the diner. No answer.
I ended up tossing the phone across the room and plopping back on the mattress to glare at the ceiling.
Even his dick was thick and long through his pants, straining against the fabric. Fuck, I thought angrily, sweeping at the air to push the thought away.
I was trying to get my life together. Sleeping with a customer, even one who kissed like Spencer Reid, wasn't conducive to being a productive member of this town. That's what I wanted to be. Involved, helpful, maybe even happy. I needed to get myself out of this decade-long funk and do more than just exist here.
As soon as the sun started to peek through the windows, I got up and changed into a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt. I had a few light hickies on my neck from Spencer's phenomenal tongue and teeth action, but with a bit of concealer I would be the only one who knew about that.
I pulled on my running shoes and headed down the stairs. I flung open the door, ready to begin the second my feet hit the carpet on the first floor, but instead of berber I ran face first into Spencer's chest.
He caught me before I could fall on my ass, grabbing me with both arms and standing me upright. He hadn't put on his brace yet, but he was dressed. He looked better than I wanted him to in a purple button up, white tee and black jeans.
"Jesus, are you okay?" Spencer asked protectively, checking me over. His hands were hot even through my light sweatshirt, bleeding through and flashing me back to last night. "What are you in such a hurry for?"
"I was, uhm… I was running," I stammered. He cocked a brow as I struggled in my awkwardness to swallow and manage to say, "I'm going running."
"Oh," he nodded, like last night's events hadn't happened at all. "Okay."
"Do you wanna, like, go with me?" I asked, only semi hopefully.
"Oh, fuck no," he said sharply. I must not be as good at masking my emotions as I thought because he took one look at my face and held out his hands defensively. "Not because of last night… I just don't… do that."
I nodded, not really knowing what else to say. Spencer pointed down the hall toward Room 6. "Emily's leaving today, so we're going to breakfast. You should stop by, say goodbye to her."
"Okay," I agreed. I turned on my heel to literally run out the door, but Spencer reached out and grabbed my hand.
When I looked up at him, I could tell he was protecting himself. His shoulders were squared, jaw stiff, but his eyes were soft. "Are we… Are we good?"
"Yeah, of course," I blurted automatically, nodding my head much too emphatically. "Heat of the moment and all that."
"Right. Enjoy your run," he said quietly. Emily's door cracked open, and I saw my chance and took it, high tailing it out of the Inn.
I took off down the street, ignoring the turning heads from passersby. My heart already pounded in my chest, and I knew I'd be the talk of the town today because of the simple act of running, but I had other things on my mind.
Ernie and I used to run together before playing pickup soccer at the beach. It was our morning routine before heading to the Inn. He'd kiss me goodbye for the day and go to the shop, then join me for lunch. Rico would tag along sometimes, but mostly he just came for lunch because he knew I'd make extra for him.
The nights were just for me and my husband. We'd head out to the docks and mosey around the bay in our schooner. We'd cut through the waves, soaring toward the horizon with nothing but adventure in our hearts. We were so young, carefree. I don't know how I managed to be so brave at eighteen when now I was just terrified all the time.
The cicadas were deafening, their voices caught in the breeze. Loneliness threatened to drag me down into the sand as I hit the beach. It was strange to run without Ernie, like I could disappear.
But something hit me as I breathed in the salt air. It felt…good. I was here, I was alive, and like last night when I played that pickup game I finally felt like a person again. My lungs and heart pumped blood through my veins, my muscles burning as I pushed myself further and further.
I was still here. I wasn't going to disappear.
I stopped as I hit the edge of the ocean. The water was coming up, the high tide wouldn't hit until later in the morning. It inched toward my schooner where it sat down the beach. I had it set up so that if and when I was ready, all I needed was high water and I could bust out the supports, sending it out to sea.
If someone bombed heaven, the sky would look like it did now. Pink and orange lay fractured in outlines, scratching its way toward the water. Ernie should be walking next to me, and without him, all alone felt like all I'd ever be.
It wasn't true, though, and standing there exhausted with my hands on the back of my head I drank in the morning. So much beauty laid before me, the glistening waves dancing in the distance. A spark ignited in my heart at the sight, one I haven’t felt in so long it was almost brand new to me. My body shook suddenly with an emotion that I couldn’t explain as I had the overwhelming urge to just sprint into the water.
I toed off my shoes and tucked my socks inside them, dropping my sweatshirt on top. Sucking in a deep breath, I walked toward the water in just shorts and my sports bra. I haven't stepped foot in the ocean, not even a bit, in almost a decade. My jaw trembled as the cool morning water touched my skin.
Heat rushed to my ears as I struggled to quell my panic. I clenched my fists and moved forward anyway. The tops of my feet disappeared as I watched the horizon, then my ankles, until I was knee deep in my salvation and my torturer.
The wet sand pushed up between my toes, goosebumps breaking out across my body. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I let the water envelop me. The sand dipped down the further I went, the edges of my shorts soaking in the light waves.
I belonged out there. As much as I'd both loved and hated the ocean through my life, it was where I was the most myself. My heart called out to the distance, wishing the ocean would grow hands to hold me again. It brought me back to the surface the night the lightning struck and destroyed my life. It gave me yet another chance to live again, and I've squandered the last decade in misery.
I didn't realize how far I'd walked until the water hit my chest, soaking my collarbones and arms. Silently, I let the ocean surround me, the gentle waves lifting and pushing and pulling me as the water rose. I almost hoped it would take me out to sea, toward that horizon that I could never catch, but instead it pushed me toward shore.
Part of me knew it was just the coming high tide, but that adventurous spirit and superstitious soul that loved the ocean and its mysteries was convinced it was because it just wasn’t my time yet to return to her.
I made my way back to the shore and plopped down in the wet sand, suddenly more exhausted than I’d been in years. My heart broke open as I sat there, my head in my hands, and I cried for a long time by myself on that beach.
I have so much more living left to do. I'm just ready to start, but I have no idea how.
Spencer walked with Emily to Bean There, his mind churning over the previous night. Honey consumed his mind, and if he was being honest her awkwardness that morning hurt him just a little bit.
He understood it. After all, he'd left her just as awkwardly in the doorway to her apartment. Still, a part of him almost hoped she'd yell at him about it or try to make him talk. He felt so guilty, knowing that she was grieving and all he’d wanted was a quick fuck with the local widow. He couldn’t really tell her that, but it was a complicated emotion stabbing him in the chest.
He spent all night watching the sliding doors in his room, hearing the people mill about and continue their fun on the beach. He almost wanted to go back and join them, but his social anxiety crept up and refused to let him leave the bed.
Knowing she was just upstairs gutted him. He could have gone up and apologized, or kissed her again. He could have given her that friction they'd both been chasing, but all that confidence he'd had jumped out the window when Emily and Rose interrupted them.
Michelle greeted them with a smile and a wave of her coffee carafe as they entered the diner, clearly happy to see him again after the big tip he'd left earlier in the week. She looked a bit busy, her dark hair tossed up in a ponytail as she flitted between the tables.
Emily made a beeline for the same booth in the corner he had picked on his first day, right next to Rose, Rico, and Holly who sat together. Holly stared dreamily past them until Spencer slid between the table and whatever he was looking at, giving Emily the seat against the wall. He trusted her to watch his back.
"Hey Spencer!" Holly grinned brightly as he saw them, throwing a wave. "Hi Miss Emily."
Emily smiled at that and put a hand on his shoulder as she eased into the seat, “Hey, Holly. How are you this morning?”
“Good,” he replied, but he gestured to Spencer with a quirked brow. “Have you seen Honey this morning? She usually joins us."
"I haven't," Emily said apologetically. She looked innocently at Spencer, who'd gone stock still like he'd been caught in the act though he'd done nothing wrong. "What about you, Spence?"
"Uhm, I-," he began, clearing his throat awkwardly. Rose squinted at him as Rico finally looked over with his mouth stuffed with waffles. Spencer shrugged and looked down at his hands, "She said she was going for a run."
Rico’s jaw dropped, his mouth filled with mashed food. Rose and Holly's eyebrows raised and they stopped what they were doing to stare at him.
"She went… running?" Rose asked incredulously.
Spencer glanced up at Emily, who shrugged in response. He nodded, "Yeah, like an hour ago."
"Was she upset?" Rico asked sharply, nearly making Spencer flinch. She'd been awkward around him, sure, but not angry or sad. He felt an inch away from getting into trouble, so he shook his head.
"No. Is her going for a run really that big of a deal?"
"Honey went for a run?" Michelle's voice came as she approached with some mugs for Spencer and Emily. They clinked lightly as they hung limply from her fingers. Her usually sweet and happy face dropped to concern.
“She… she seemed fine, I swear,” Spencer insisted, not really understanding what the big deal was. Everyone seemed so worried, and he and Emily were dreadfully in the dark. “She actually asked if I wanted to go with her, so I think she’s okay.”
“You?” Rico pressed, and Spencer nodded. He nodded to himself and looked back at his food with a frown. "Hmm."
"She'll come to us if she needs us," Rose decided. He picked up his cup and aimed it toward Michelle as she set Emily and Spencer's down on their table. "Would you mind giving me a refill, 'Chelle?"
Michelle obliged, pouring the thick black wonder that was her coffee into his cup. She turned to Holly, who was giving her that dreamy stare again, "What about you, Holl?"
He just watched her with a soft smile until Spencer couldn't take the tension any longer. He kicked him lightly between the tables, startling him out of his reverie.
"Oh, sure," he muttered, blushing furiously. His cheeks flush brightly, and he had to look away as Michelle filled his cup.
"You feelin' okay?" she asked worriedly.
Holly nodded at his lap, "Yeah, yeah…"
Michelle made a face, but she didn't press him. Rico gave Holly his trademark squint as she went back to work, hurrying between tables and the kitchen with her carafe. Spencer did his best to ignore it, but Rico didn't let up.
Holly still stared at his lap while Rose pretended not to notice, but even Emily couldn't help but smile at him curiously. Spencer decided to kick her under the table as well so she wouldn't get involved.
"Just leave it alone," he hissed lowly so only she could hear.
She made a face to let him know she was irritated, but decided to take a sip of coffee instead. "Where did you disappear to last night?"
Heat rushed to his cheeks. The lustful memory of himself pressed against Honey in the heat of the night surfaced, her soft moans echoing in his ear. He could almost feel her gripping his arms even now.
Spencer shrugged over his mug, "I got tired, so I went back to the room."
"You just went to bed?" Emily pressed. She leaned back against the booth and cocked a brow at him.
"Yes."
"Nothing else?"
"Emily-."
"Because I couldn't find Honey either," she mused, loud enough for Rose to obviously listen in on, but Rico was still glaring at Holly. "Did she come back with you?"
Now it was Spencer's turn to squint, and he did. His eyes narrowed at Emily. Why did all of his female friends want to play matchmaker?
"Drop it," he growled. Spencer picked up his mug and aimed it her way, "You're leaving in a few hours. Do we have to get into this now?"
"It'd be good for you to have some fun. You know, let loose, bang a pretty widow."
Rose coughed heavily into his cup, choking on his coffee. It seemed the one thing Emily hadn't figured out yet was that he was Honey's father in law. Spencer did his best to ignore it as Rico slapped Rose’s back to help him out.
"I'll decide what's good for me, okay?" Spencer groaned, trying desperately to avoid Rose’s now focused glare.
Emily let it go, and instead they ordered their food and chatted for a bit. It was impossible not to notice Holly's obvious staring at Michelle the longer they sat there. How he didn't see Rico eyeing him was beyond Spencer.
Michelle was beautiful, and she looked a lot like Collie. She wore a plain black tee and shorts with her blue apron, hurrying about with the practiced ease of an experienced waitress. She showed little sign of exhaustion, aside from her messy ponytail, offering every patron a warm smile and a cheeky comment.
"Did you fuck my sister?" Rico blurted out after a while, making Emily and Spencer go stock still. Rose’s gaze finally moved from Spencer to stare wide eyed at him.
Holly's face turned beat red as he dropped his utensils, "W-What? No, man!"
"Then why are you staring at her like that?" Rico pressed irritably, leaning forward. "What the hell is going on with you?"
Holly's voice lowered to avoid the gawking of the other customers. "I'm not…staring, dude. I'm not some creep."
Realization dawned, and Rico broke out in a slow smile, "Ohh, I get it. Just ask her out, man. She'd probably say yes."
"She's your sister, Rico. I'm not asking her out."
Rico shrugged and made a face, waving toward Michelle as she chatted with some customers. "She's a grown ass woman and you obviously want to. Just do it and stop staring like a weirdo."
Holly bit his bottom lip and chanced a glance her way. She spotted him and gave him a small wave, and he returned it with a dopey grin. Rose chuckled into his cup with relief as Holly turned back to Rico.
"I can't, man. No way. I won't do that to her," he muttered ashamedly, shaking his head. His fingers trembled as he picked up his mug and took a shaky drink. He swallowed heavily and sighed, "I get nightmares. You remember what happened with Andrea. I won't do that to Michelle too."
Rico set a gentle hand on Holly's shoulder, "That was ten years ago, dude. You didn't mean to do that. You had a nightmare and you couldn't control it."
Holly fixed a stern gaze Spencer had never seen from the puppy dog of a man on Rico. "I scared my wife so badly she left me on the spot. That's your sister."
"And you're my best friend," Rico replied easily, his eyes warm. "I know you'll treat her with respect. I know you'd make her happy if you let yourself. If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't tell you that you should do it."
Holly didn't seem convinced, gnawing on his bottom lip. Spencer hated getting involved in this crap, but he couldn't seem to help himself. Emily seemed to read his mind as he unfurled a napkin, digging through her purse and handing him a pen. He scribbled down a number and held it out to him.
"PTSS isn't curable but it's treatable with therapy and sometimes medication," he murmured as Holly cautiously took the napkin. "This is a friend of mine, and she does virtual sessions that are covered by VA benefits."
"But there's no internet besides at the cafe," Holly muttered, glaring down at the phone number and name.
"My mom's got a private room you can use at the cafe," Rico said softly, nudging him with his shoulder. "You're not the only one in town who goes to therapy. I used it for mine after Ernie died."
The look on Holly's face could only be described as a mix of grief and gratitude. He clutched the napkin to his chest and nodded at his friend, his chin wobbling a bit.
"Sorry for the wait, guys," Michelle announced as she came up to them with plates full of food. She deposited them on the table along with new mugs of fresh coffee, whipping the tray under her arm and giving them a bright smile. "It's been a busy day. Can I get you anything else?"
"We're good," Emily replied. Spencer nodded in agreement. She went to turn back to her work when Holly reached out and grabbed her hand lightly with his big fingers.
"Hey, 'Chelle?" he asked quietly as she faced him. His big puppy dog eyes were so sweet and worried as he looked up at her.
Michele simply smiled down at him, and Holly sucked in a deep breath. "Do you wanna have dinner with me on Friday?"
Michelle chewed her cheek nervously, her gaze flicking between him and her brother. "You mean…like a date?"
Holly nodded, "Could be a double date if you want. Get the new guy a date and have a night on the water at Tucci's."
He thrust a thumb at Spencer as he said it, and Spencer's head shot over to glare at him. Holly ignored him. "What do you think?"
"I'd love to," Michelle replied shyly. Her cheeks flushed as she squeezed Holly's fingers. "I'll ask Honey. She could use a night out."
There was no mistaking the way Rico rubbed his face irritably as Michelle walked away, and Spencer kicked Holly under the table as she did. "Why am I going on this?"
Holly shrugged, pointing at Rico, "I think it'll take some pressure off to have someone else there, and I knew she'd bring Honey and those two aren't knocking boots anymore."
Rico and Spencer shared an awkward glance as Holly continued, "C'mon, man. Please?"
Rico nodded slightly, and even though Spencer knew he didn't need his approval he appreciated it. If Honey found out he'd given it, though, she'd be pissed.
"Fine," he snapped. "But you owe me."
The door chimed behind him as someone stepped in, Emily's grin turning devilish as she looked over his shoulder, "Speak of the devil…"
Spencer turned to see Honey herself step into the diner in a pair of shorts and a sports bra with a sweatshirt tied around her waist. The end of her ponytail was drenched with water, trickling down her shoulder and between her breasts, even soaking into the leather laced around her neck. She was more than worthy of the leering from men around the diner, Spencer included.
Her skin was damp, glistening under the lights as she looked around. She was so beautiful, and Spencer's mind couldn't help but remember her body wrapped around his the night before. Again, he wished desperately that Rose and Emily hadn't interrupted them… he wanted to bury himself inside her and never leave.
"You don't answer your phone?" she asked as she spotted Michelle coming out of the kitchens, flinging her hands up in irritation.
"Look at this place!" Michelle snarked back, but they both broke out in grins. Michelle pointed to her damp clothing, "What the hell happened to you?"
Honey approached the counter with an excited laugh, setting her hands on the edge and leaning over towards Michelle on the other side. "I was in the ocean."
Rico, Rose, and Holly all looked her way at that, their eyes wide. Michelle's hands covered Honey's over the counter as she leaned over as well, "Are you okay?"
"It was… oh, 'Chelle… I went on a run, and it was fantastic! I went to the beach and I just walked right in, like I never left." Honey's voice dripped with excitement and wonder as she spoke. Spencer remembered Rose saying she hadn't touched the ocean since her husband died, and a part of him was truly happy for her. "I went all the way up to my chest and just watched the horizon…"
"C'mon, let's go in the back," Michelle decided, ushering her around the counter. She looped her arm around her shoulder. "I'll make you something to eat."
"She went into the ocean?" Rico hissed as they disappeared. "What the hell is going on with her lately?"
"She's gotta move on sometime, right?" Holly asked. Emily cocked her head at Spencer, but he flashed her a warning look.
"Just let her be," Rose muttered, waving a mug at them both. "She'll let us know if she needs us."
They left it at that, and Spencer and Emily finished their breakfast, opting instead to talk about the team and other things besides Honey. But his mind couldn't help but wander… and wonder if he'd had any part in her strange behavior this morning.
Emily had said she wanted to leave this place, to get away from her past. Maybe all of the week's excitement had gotten to her, and she decided to stop worrying about others and do what she wanted. He couldn't be sure, but the pressure of Emily and Rose’s words kept getting to him.
He couldn't fix Honey, and she couldn't fix him. They were simply two ships passing in the night, coming across one another before disappearing into the distance. They just looked alike on the surface, but were completely different deep down. Their baggage was different, their trauma… their paths to healing were in different directions.
He couldn't fix Honey… she couldn't fix him…
A part of him wished they could.
Smurph's Masterlist | Series Masterlist
Notes: What do you guys think about everything going on? Comments are fuel for this story and it is very dear to me so I'd love to know what your thoughts are on it!
Also, have you guy listened to any of the songs that these chapters are inspired by? Which one is your favorite?
Warnings: blood, PTSD memories, mentions of child abuse, hospitals, drug addiction,
Summary: You struggle to get Spencer help, and it sends you back into your memories. Later, when he wakes up, Spencer seeks you out for reasons he's unsure of
I stopped making deals with God three days after Ernie died. Three days in the ocean, hungry and exhausted and so thirsty I thought I was drier than a husk, I made deals over his dead body. I swore if He would just make him wake up, make the blood flow again and the sharks stop nipping my feet under the waves that I would start believing again. It was the only thing that kept me alive.
It was a deal I'd made so many times over the years. I'll be a better believer if You make my dad stop hurting us. I'll be a better daughter if You just make the pain go away. If you bring my sister home I'll do anything.
That rat bastard never did anything. I guess He knew it was bullshit, as I'd never kept up my end of that deal anyway. I still got into trouble, still couldn't help my sister, still couldn't be a daughter my father didn't want to backhand across a room.
The nicotine stained walls of my father's house closed in on me a little more each day, so I ran to what I knew… the ocean. Unlike Thunderbird, it was cold almost all year round. It grew hands to hold me. I numbed my lungs in the salt air. I thought the current would take me out to sea, swallow me whole, and I'd be free of this agony.
It all came to a head, and my sister Madeline passed. I couldn't help her, and looking back I shouldn't have placed the blame on myself for what happened. I did what I could, and at sixteen it wasn't admittedly much when she first started going down a road that terrified me. I made deals with God that if he just brought her home… I would bring her to church with me… we'd be saved together.
She died in an old shack on the beach. Needle in her arm, glassy eyes staring up at me while her fellow drug users hardly acknowledged my screeching as I held her. They lit out before the police got there. My father refused to claim her body, citing her 'Godlessness,' as though it wasn't his fault she ended up there and dead at eighteen. I looked to the ocean for help, but it was calm in the distance.
I spent two years working and saving money. I told my father it was for college, but the day I turned eighteen I left a note telling him all the things I never had the courage to. I took Madeline's ashes with me. I made it as far as Nevada before I ran out of my meager savings. Minimum wage was even more minimum thirteen years ago.
I met Mattie May while shivering in the rain at a truck stop, eyeing the men and women equally. My lack of trust was all-consuming, took a toll on my body and mind. I don't know how she convinced me to get in that car with her, but I have this image in my mind of a mutt being led on with the promise of a treat and a blanket.
Oh, the magic happened after that. I've never felt closer to God than I did with Ernie. His smile was from Heaven, glittering and wide like the sea herself. His lust for adventure matched mine, his painful memory of the war understood mine. He was my soul mate. He saw all my broken pieces and fit into the cracks. Without forcing it, they were made to be together.
But holding his body by that chain… mangling him even further, the only thing that kept me going was the thought that maybe…maybe I could wake him up. He was gone soon after we hit the water, but I couldn't let myself believe that. I spread both his and my sister’s ashes in the bay, praying once more for a miracle.
I think God wanted me to live so I would suffer. And suffer I have. Almost ten years of constant agony and numbness has become my life again, and I blame Him.
But the ocean grew hands to hold me, I tell myself in this horrifying moment. It's ten years later, and I'm holding Spencer Reid. He's covered in blood, and I want to drown in it first so I can't watch him die too.
When I was in shambles. When I got too weak, the ocean grew hands to hold me.
"Maeve?"
Spencer's hand was slick with blood as he held my face in his palm, trapping my hair between it and my neck. The hot sticky liquid smeared across my skin, cooling quickly in the open air. I look out the windows to the sea for help, but I haven't been with her for so long she watches back. I abandoned her long ago when Ernie died, too scared to go back in the water.
My fingers dug into his flannel as I held him back. The world shifted beneath me as I knelt on the concrete, blurring and too sharp all at the same time. I miss the ocean. I want to choke under the waves to escape.
I want to be with Ernie.
His face was cracked and bleeding from the bat Lloyd hit him with, nose gushing crimson and pooling over his cheeks onto the floor beneath him. It was too much, Ernie's face flashing before me like he was dying in front of me again.
Memories swirled in my mind. I could still feel it. The wind whipped my hair, stray strands sticking to my cheeks and neck as wave after wave crashed down on us. A blast of light, the explosion that ripped my hand from his…
Ernie's gone, I told myself achingly, you're not lost in the waves any more.
I tore myself from him, getting shakily to my knees, and went for the landline on the wall. My hands vibrated from the power of the shotgun, fingers numb and sharp as a livewire as I typed in a number I knew by heart.
"No, come back," Spencer coughed wetly. "Please don't go again."
"It's okay, Spencer," I told him. The phone rang slowly as I watched him lie there, out of his mind and drunk off his ass. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Altman Clinic," a familiar southern twang came through, making me sigh in relief.
"Obediah, it's Honey-."
"Well, howdy, Honey. What's shakin'?"
"I'm at Tooky's." I had to rush before he jumped into more small talk. "Lonnie and Lloyd Evarts just beat the shit out of this guy-."
"Heard there was a fight tonight. Thought nobody was hurt though," Obie drawled. "You had a good scare, huh?"
"Goddammit, Obie!" I yelled into the receiver. I didn't have the time to gab. "They came back. He's hurt really bad. I need help."
Obie went right into doctor mode, "I'm on my way. I'll have Barbie call Micah."
I hung up without replying, twisting and falling back to my knees over Spencer. His eyes were glassy, gazing in wonder at the EXIT sign. I cupped his face in my hands, angling him to look at me.
"You're gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay."
"Maeve?" he asked again, his voice pathetically hopeful and full of tears.
"Who is she? Is that your wife?" I asked frantically. "I'll call her and she'll come."
Spencer shook his head, lip twisting down to a shaking frown under the crimson light. "She's not coming back."
My heart sank. I didn't know enough about him to provide any comfort. I only had my own grief and bruises and they weren't helpful to anyone. I looked out at the ocean again, and the waves calmly danced in the distance.
"Can you stand?" I licked my lips. They were already wet, sticky and copper tasting. I tried to ignore it and the sharp pain in my wrist.
"Just gonna sleep here tonight, okay?" he whispered. "Just don't tell JJ. She'll be so disappointed."
I didn't know what the hell he was talking about anymore. I just had to get him out of this locked box in case Lonnie and Lloyd decided to come back again.
Rounding him, I decided to drag him through the kitchen and into the alley so Obie could put him in the van. I locked the kitchen door just to be safe, then looped my hands under his shoulders. As I began to lift his dead weight with my bruised fingers he let out a sharp yelp.
"Stop, stop, stop!" Spencer called out, twisting away and out of my grip. He hit the floor hard, groaning and trying to curl up. His voice shook, "Fuck…"
"Okay, it's okay," I tried to soothe, but I was struggling not to panic. My heart beat through my ears, my veins pounding along in time.
I had to get him out of here. It's all I could think about. Get him out, get him out…out of the water. We weren't in the water, though. At least there was that. We were on solid land, safe from the violent storms that ripped my life away from me.
I went to his feet, gripping his boots at his ankles. My wrist screamed with a sharp tear up my forearm, the makeshift brace Mattie May had given me not doing much but holding it together. With a harsh tug, I pulled Spencer toward the alley door.
I kicked open the heavy metal, letting it hit my back as I inched him out into the open air. Blood smeared across the concrete. Whether it was from Lonnie or Spencer I couldn't be sure, I just needed to get him out of here.
Cherries and blueberries illuminated across the brick, reflecting along the dumpster and nearly blinding me. I managed to pull Spencer along the sand, the door swinging shut behind us. I waved toward the lights.
Obie seemed to have spotted me. He turned the van and backed it down the alley to us, stopping just in time. He hopped out and hustled through the sand, the spurs on his boots clinking.
Obediah Altman was lanky and tall, his cowboy hat shining in the harsh light. His clinic was only a few blocks away, as was everything else in tiny Thunderbird. The turquoise of his bolo tie flickered against the red and blue lights on his makeshift ambulance, and a whistle rang out as he approached.
"Good lord, Honey Bee," he drawled with his deep voice, "They fucked you up, huh?"
"Help me get him in the van," I snapped. "He weighs a ton."
"'S what happens when you drink yerself silly," he told me, bending down to grab Spencer's shoulder. "Turn yerself into dead weight!"
I didn't respond, gripping Spencer by his boots once more. We lifted him at the same time, but Spencer yelped sharply and twisted himself out of our grasps. I narrowly missed his foot hitting me square in the chest, but Obie kept a good hold on him.
"Shoulder's dislocated," was all he said. He scooped Spencer up with more strength than I would have thought this stick of a man could muster, picking him up like a baby and setting him in the back of the van.
I climbed through the double doors after him, putting his head in my lap. Unable to explain my sudden protectiveness over this man who just hours ago made me so angry I could've kicked him in the chest, I pushed back his hair and held back tears. He looked back up at me with those glassy eyes, and for too many times tonight I was plunged back into a world of memories I’d sooner forget.
In a daze, I existed in limbo as Barbie came running out with a stretcher and a kit. Ten years ago we did this same thing, but Ernie was already dead so it had just been an early funeral procession. I’d refused to get on the stretcher, and Mattie May held me up as we followed his inside. I haven’t stepped foot in here since.
I existed through a fog, following blindly as Ernie/Spencer was taken from me once more. Obie and Barbie ran around me in a flurry of machines and gauze. I think I just followed them around with a glazed look on my face, suffering through a haze of PTSD I thought I had gotten past when Barbie slid something in my hand. Her mouth moved, but it took a few times to pierce through the ringing in my ears.
I've been running for a decade now. Running first from my father and now from Ernie. I want him here but I also just want to forget him and this town that saved me. I don't belong here anymore, just like Spencer doesn't, and now like me he might die here.
“...contacts,” she said again. I cocked my head as I finally noticed her, and she set a heavy blood-coated hand on my shoulder. It seeped through my shirt and slid the fabric over my skin. “Find his emergency contacts, Honey.”
I managed to nod. She turned back toward the mess that was now Spencer Reid. I wish the current would carry me home. I wish Ernie were here with me now to tell me I was going to be okay. I wish he were here to tell me the ocean wasn't God, and that she would grow hands to hold me once again. I wish my sister were here, that Rico was. I wish I wasn't as alone as I feel every goddamn day.
His phone screen lights up in my palm. I don't remember clicking the button. I don't even remember putting his bloody thumbprint on the screen to open it, or calling the first number in his ICE list or picking up the landline behind the desk until a voice answered on the other end.
"This is Prentiss," a lovely voice said, commanding and yet somehow still open.
I couldn't answer. The acrid scent of blood and sterilized equipment surrounded me. The bright lights streaked across my vision, and I was sure the linoleum would swallow me whole until she spoke again.
"Hello?" she asked, her voice rising an octave. "Spencer?"
I seemed to kick into gear, but my own voice betrayed my panic. "I'm here. Sorry, I-."
"What happened to Spencer?" She cut me off as I stared at his immobile body. He was limp as Obie and Barbie worked on him. "Tell me."
"I'm, uhm. I'm at the Altman Clinic in Thunderbird-."
"I know where he is. What. The. Hell. Happened?"
"A… a, uhm, bar fight," I managed to stammer. "He stopped some guy who hit me and… they came back."
"He's gonna be fine. Dislocated shoulder, broken nose, coupla bruised ribs," Obie drawled to Barbie, who nodded and glanced over at me. "Probably has a concussion, but he's okay."
I reiterated the words with a monotone back to Emily, whose name I suddenly remembered from Spencer's contact list. "Doc says he's gonna be fine. I'm so sorry."
She was quiet for a moment, and I heard a door click shut somewhere near her. She took a deep breath and asked, "Is this Honey?"
It took me back, my brows furrowing in confusion. "Uhm, yes. I own the Thunderbird Inn where he's staying."
“I need to talk to the doctor.”
I called over Obie, who introduced himself to Emily. He nodded and jotted a few things down on a notepad, his eyebrows raising, “How many bullet wounds?”
My own shot up as I looked over at Spencer. He didn’t seem the type to get shot up, but then it hit me. Maybe he and Maeve were just victims of something as simple as a driveby. Maybe that was how he lost her.
“...concussions from an explosion… scars on his forearm and leg from a what?” Obie asked, wide eyed. Who the hell was this guy? He nodded, “What was the drug?”
He nodded again, then handed the phone back to me. I could hear the slight tremble in Emily’s voice as Obie showed his list to Barbie, but I couldn’t see it. They shared a knowing glance, but went back to work anyway.
"How old are you?" Emily asked after a moment.
I bit my bottom lip and glanced over at Spencer. What the hell? I adjusted the receiver against my cheek and answered, "Thirty one, ma'am."
Emily chuckled to herself, then sighed. "Have Spencer call me when he gets back to the hotel."
"But, you're his emergency contact," I stuttered, my face mangling up in confusion. "Aren't you going to come see him? Make sure he's okay?"
"Spencer doesn't want me there. If I show up it'll do more harm than good."
I didn't know what the hell that meant, and I didn't want to know more about Spencer than I needed to. I was already way out of my comfort zone with a customer. "What about Maeve?"
Emily made a shocked noise, and there was more shuffling wherever she was. I heard her swallow thickly and take a steadying breath. "She's not available."
"He asked for her," I pressed. I didn't want this man to be alone, not when he was hurt. I also wanted to get the hell out of this clinic. "He thought I was her for a moment. I'm sure if you explained what was going on, she would come see him."
"She's dead," Emily told me flatly. "He was confused. He doesn't want me there, and I promise you if I show up he's just going to be angry. Spencer's a grown man who can take care of himself, and he'll call me if he needs me."
She hung up without another word, leaving me scoffing at the phone. No wonder he left home to wander around the country. My heart reached out to him, though. I was sure that if I were in the same spot as him, I'd ask for Ernie too.
The rest of the night went by in a blur. They took him away for a bit, patched me up as I glared at the floor, and before I knew it Mattie May and Rose were sitting beside me in a room. They held my hands as I stared at Spencer's bruised face, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest.
At least he was breathing. At least I wasn't watching Ernie's dead body like I had almost ten years ago. I wasn't holding Mattie May as she broke down in tears or listening to Rose wail himself to sleep.
"I gotta get out of here," I announced after a while. The sun was beginning to peek through the blinds, and I needed a drink. I stood to make my way toward the door when Mattie May put a soft hand over my new cast.
"You should be here when he wakes up."
I looked back at her with a hard glare, then glanced over at Spencer. My mind was too muddled with memory to stay, exhausted and wired at the same time.
"I'm gonna go work on the boat."
She and Rose shared a knowing look, but I pulled away from them before they could hug me like I knew they wanted to. Rose cleared his throat and nodded, "We'll send Rico down when Spencer's awake."
"Don't," I told him bitterly. The last person I wanted to talk to right now was the idiot who started the brawl in the first place. I still had the napkin in my pocket.
"Honey-."
I turned on my heel and walked out. I stopped making deals with God when the light of my life finally died. I wanted to guard what was left of the good in me and Ernie, our life in this town. If ash blocked out the sky, I would hold the town safely with my left hand, and ball up my right. I’ll always owe something to this place, but the closer I get to the ten year anniversary of my husband’s death I realize how I’ve made this place my own tomb.
When I was in shambles, when I got too weak, the ocean grew hands to hold me. It’s time I stopped blaming God and the ocean. It’s not their fault that they can’t help me. I’m the problem, and I hurt everyone around me. Even a stranger like Spencer was hurt just because I was around, and Ernie died because he always loved my adventurous spirit. He wasn’t even supposed to go on that last trip with me… I have to get away before I hurt anyone else.
I’ll miss everyone at once, everything about this place. I miss it and I’m still here, living in a future memory. But most of all, I miss the ocean. I’ve been running for a decade now in place, never going anywhere.
I think I’m ready to go.
Spencer's head pounded as he struggled to open his eyes. A sharp yipping sound permeated his fuzzy brain, accentuating what was already one of the worst headaches he'd had in years.
"There he is," a deep twang came from his left. "How ya feelin', son?"
Spencer managed to open one eye only to see a tall Asian man in a cowboy hat and lab coat smirking at him over a clipboard. A bolo tie peeked out from his plaid shirt under the coat, glittering turquoise shining under the sunlight from the window to his right.
"Honey," he managed to croak out. Spencer tried to get his hands underneath him to sit up, but his right one wouldn't move from his chest.
"Hold on, boy," a familiar voice came from somewhere near. There was a loud click and he was being sat up on whatever hard surface he was on.
"You're okay, baby," a soft one came next, and when Spencer managed to blink away the fizzles from his vision he spotted Mattie May and her warm hand on his shoulder.
"Where's Honey?" Spencer rasped. He couldn't see her, and his body wracked with aches and pains. "Did they hurt her?"
"She's fine," the cowboy said in a much too cheerful voice. "Sprained wrist and a few bruises, but that girl's been through worse."
"Lonnie and Lloyd?" he gritted out through a pained hiss as he got himself comfortable.
"Micah picked ‘em up this morning, trying to pull shotgun pellets out of Lloyd’s arm and Lonnie's ass."
Spencer grunted in acknowledgement, taking in the room around him. Someone had changed him into a t-shirt and sweatpants, and his right arm was cinched tightly to his chest. He figured he’d dislocated it with Lloyd curb stomping him into the concrete. Metal bars surrounded him, and for a moment Spencer worried he'd landed himself in jail… but then the smell hit him.
"Am I in a fucking dog kennel?" he asked, his confusion and irritation knocking him upside the head.
“Only place long enough to fit you and the stretcher,” the doctor shrugged, looking down at his clipboard once more. “You’re gonna be fine. Just take it easy for a few days, keep the brace on for three. Folks, if I could have the room with my patient.”
“I was a trauma surgeon up in L.A. back in the day,” the doctor muttered as Rose and Mattie May left. “Small town like this can’t afford a doctor and a vet, so I went to veterinary school to do both. If it’s really bad, we’ll airlift them to the hospital in Wild Creek.”
“Where’s Honey?” Spencer asked, ignoring him. He didn’t care about all these random people in this town and their ridiculous lives before coming here. He didn’t even really care about Honey, but he’d gotten his ass kicked trying to keep her safe, and he was a bit disappointed she wasn’t sitting here.
Doctor Altman pointed behind him, “She’s at the dock, working on her boat.”
“When can I leave?”
“Right now, but I wanna talk to you about your liver,” he replied nonchalantly. He fixed Spencer with a pointed stare as his lip curled down into a frown. “Keep goin’ like this and yer fixin’ for a transplant.”
“I’ll be long gone before I need one,” Spencer shot back.
The doctor nodded, “But before you kill yourself you’re gonna stimulate the local economy with all the bourbon you can buy.”
“At least I’ll be doing someone a solid,” he replied.
“I talked to your former supervisor at the BAU,” Altman sighed, glancing down at his clipboard. Spencer’s blood chilled in his veins. “She explained that you didn't want pain medication due to addiction, so I withheld. You're not really in enough pain to need it anyways."
"Yeah, you're a real Saint," Spencer muttered, but then his face flushed with shame. "Did anyone el-?"
"Nobody knows but me and Barbie, my fellow doctor," Altman cut him off with a dismissive wave. "Or about explosions, torture, or gun shot wounds. Half my clients might be animals but I still have doctor-patient confidentiality."
Altman glanced up at him, "Honey was pretty worried about you. I think she could do with finding someone who makes her happy, but I'll let you know everyone in town is mighty protective of her. She’s done a lot for this place, y’know?"
"I'm not sleeping with her," Spencer said defensively, even though he wouldn't mind doing so. "She doesn't even like me, and I don't like her."
“Shame,” Altman grinned, turning to talk away. He threw over his shoulder as he made his way out the door, "Funny how you took a bat to the face and she shot two men, then, huh?"
A few moments later, a young woman named Barbie came in and helped him sit up and stand from the bed. He was wobbly, but Spencer knew from experience he’d be just fine after a few shitty days of pain and irritation. She had bright blue hair and beautiful dark skin, and those spacers in her ears that Spencer couldn't help but look through every time she wasn’t paying him much attention. She told him without him asking that they call her that because of her playful wigs and matching scrubs, and when he said they should have called her Polly Pocket she laughed.
At his request, Mattie May drove him down to the dock to find Honey. Spencer watched the small town go by in the side mirror, eyeing his bruises and pinched eyebrows and hating every moment of it. The arm brace itched and his shoulder ached, and all he wanted was a drink.
“I know you want to check on her, but she’s not in the best mood,” Mattie May drawled as she avoided the pothole that landed him here in the first place. “She doesn’t like hospitals, and she was pretty tired when we got to the clinic last night.”
“Nobody likes hospitals,” he muttered, not really thinking, just glaring at his mottled nose and its purple blotches.
“She hasn’t been there since Ernie died. It’s where we stored his body after the accident,” Mattie May said quietly. Spencer tore his gaze from himself to see her eyes glistening with tears. She cleared her throat and nodded to herself as she drove along the beach. “Doc Altman did the autopsy, but you could look at him and know it was that lightning strike that killed him. Honey took it the hardest of all of us, but instead of hiding she started working. She did everything for everyone in town, just like Ernie used to.
"She did shifts at the diner for Michelle, helped Rose in the shop when Rico was too much of a mess to leave the house. She even fixed Bernie for Nell one time." Mattie May's eyes were far away but she drove steadily down the winding road. "The whole town came to a standstill, we just couldn't believe what happened. They were so young and in love and… she just never stopped moving. I think it's killing her."
The ocean shone brightly on her side of the car, the sun reflecting off her high cheekbones and full lips. Despite her grief, Mattie May smiled at Spencer. She reached over and patted his knee. “Time doesn’t make things much easier, but folks sure like to say it does. I’m sure you know a bit about that.”
“Distance doesn’t help like I thought it would, either,” Spencer replied softly. He liked Mattie May. Hell, if he let himself admit it he liked Collie and Michelle too. That was about it, though. Everyone else was crazy. Spencer swallowed thickly and put his hand over hers, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
She flashed him a megawatt smile and pointed at her chest, “He’s still here with me. I didn't lose anything but the ability to see and talk directly to him. That boy’s with me every single day and just like when he was alive, every day I’m better for it.”
Mattie May sighed happily as they pulled down onto the beachway. “Calling it a loss makes it seem like they’re nothing now, like they just disappeared. It feels that way sometimes, but love doesn’t just evaporate, baby. It turns into something else and finds its way back to you. You just have to look for it in all of its forms. You have to let it in again.”
Spencer didn't have a good reply, so he said nothing. Mattie May parked in the same lot he had his first day and pointed down the beach, "The boats beached down there a way. It's on stilts, you can't miss it."
Spencer thanked her and pulled himself slowly from the car. His body felt like a bruise being poked by a curious child, and the hot sun did little to alleviate it. He felt like an idiot in sweats and his converse. He still didn't know who gave him the clothes, or put them on him, but his red shirt read 'Thunderbird Soccer League.' At least it wasn't scratchy like most t-shirts.
Sweat pooled beneath the arm brace, his hair sticking to the back of his neck. He really needed to cut it, but he liked the slight rebelliousness of growing it out. Twenty years of the FBI's strict rules made it seem taboo, and despite the year Hotch let him grow it out until Strauss complained, he hadn't had it long in a while.
He spotted the boat, and just like Mattie May said it was on stilts. The dock was only a few hundred feet away, why didn't she just put it in the water?
Isle of Honey was scrawled across the side in white script. Three masts stood tall against the oceanic backdrop, the bright blue of the hull glimmering under the sunlight. He vaguely recalled this type of vessel was called a schooner. Spencer found his hand reaching out on its own to touch the shiny surface. Smooth fiberglass welcomed his touch, and before he knew it he was smiling.
A deep crack was sealed and patched through the middle. The image of that fateful night crashed through his mind without permission. He could see the storm in his mind's eye, see Honey with the same fear in her eyes as she had last night before Lonnie's fist connected with her cheek. He could even imagine Ernesto and his locs, the lightning strike on the deck that must have blown the ship apart.
"So you're alive," a voice came from above. Spencer looked up to see Honey, her body in silhouette as she eclipsed the sun. Her hair shone brightly, her beautiful figure cutting just the right curves as he stared dumbfounded at her. "Glad I didn't do all that work for nothing."
A bottle hung limply in her fingers, and she swayed a bit on her feet, dressed in a tight wife beater and shorts. Spencer let his fingers drag down the side of the hull and flashed her a smile, "Permission to come aboard, captain?"
She scoffed and waved a hand, "Permission granted, dickhead."
A few cinder blocks were attached as haphazard stairs that led to the ladder. It took him a few minutes to make his way up, and Honey reached out a hand and gripped him under the armpit to pull him the rest of the way.
He couldn't help himself as he finally saw her up close, and his free hand reached out to touch her cheek. The first bruise was as big as he'd thought it would be, covering most of the left side of her face and nose, but a newer one blossomed in a flat line across her chest and now she had a black eye.
She flinched but didn't pull away, and a hand wrapped in a thick brace came up to rest over his wrist. Spencer's rage from the night before bubbled up like acid, his voice low, "What did they do to you?"
"Relax, I was fine White Knight," she replied dismissively, but she shook before him. Her breath smelled like tequila, and her watery smile betrayed her false confidence. "Lonnie…twisted my hand behind my back and shoved me into the bar. He hit my face on it by gripping my hair."
Honey made a face and shrugged, "You came in before it went further, so I'm fine. I should've locked the front door."
Spencer let his hand slide from her, and he took the bottle from her fingers. Tequila wasn't his favorite, and it was barely seven in the morning, so he winced as he took a long swig from it.
"You didn't do anything wrong," he told her after a hard swallow. "I told Rose I'd get you home safe and I was too drunk. Probably should've stopped after those idiots left."
Honey shook her head, "I'm not your responsibility. I barely know you."
Spencer nodded, but she couldn't understand. The way he was trained, she was his responsibility. Someone was in trouble and he was too wasted to help her like he should've. A few years ago he would have marched the Evarts twins down to the station himself.
She side eyed him, frowning. Her bruised hand reached out and gripped the hem of his mystery shirt, "Did Mattie May give you this?"
Spencer looked down, a bit self-conscious. Getting his first real look at it, he saw that it was well worn. The letters were etched and faded from years of use, sweat stains under the armpits and at the collar line.
"I don't know," he shrugged. "I woke up in it."
"Hmm," she hummed. Honey's eyes went glassy for a moment, but then she flashed him a smile that hurt his chest, because he'd given it so many times himself. "Just don't ruin it. She loves that thing."
Honey took the bottle from his hand and went to the front of the boat, taking a swig and fiddling with something. Spencer realized at that moment that the shirt probably belonged to Ernesto. Calling him Ernie, even in his mind, felt too familiar. He didn't know the man well enough to call him by a nickname said with as much love as the people in this town.
It felt wrong to wear it after being so pathetic at protecting this dead man's wife. He didn't deserve the comfort, and wished it was at least scratchy so he could take it off.
He cleared his throat to get her attention, but she didn't look up. For some reason he waved to the distance and asked, "Why don't you park this at the dock?"
Honey shrugged as she pulled on some rope and tied a knot. "I don't like the water."
He nodded to himself. Unsure why, he didn't want to go back to the room just yet. He chalked it up to not wanting to walk all the way there. Spencer's feet moved on their own until he ended up sitting next to her on the deck, passing the bottle back and forth.
The ocean glimmered like a gemstone, soft waves dancing out in the distance. Kids laughed as they ran around wildly, enjoying firecrackers that were thankfully just far enough away to not be a bother to him. Boats zipped about in the bay along with jet skis and people on water skates.
"You know about Ernie, don't you?" Honey asked after a while.
"Why are you asking me that?" he asked back quietly.
"Most people would've asked why I was building a boat if I didn't want to take it on the water," she whispered bitterly. "You might be an asshole but you're not an idiot."
"Not as big of an asshole as you thought, though."
"I suppose not. You're more of an idiot than I originally took you for, but something had to give."
He chuckled at that. Spencer couldn't really help himself, and he bumped his shoulder against hers, "So why are you building a boat if you don't want to take it on the water?"
Honey scoffed, but a smile broke out across her bruised face. "I hate seeing it beached."
Her shoulders sank and she fiddled with her fingers. "We lived on it for so long, it doesn't seem right for it to just sit here collecting dust. Ernie really loved it, so did I."
"What are you going to do with it when you're done?"
Honey laughed, a bit maniacally. She settled down and pointed out at the water. "I'm gonna set it on fire."
"That's a good plan," Spencer replied, making a face.
"Yeah, I thought so too."
They sat there for a little longer, just watching the water. The sun beat down on them, making them sweat, but neither really noticed. It was comforting to just sit there with her. Her hair blazed in the sunlight, brightening up what started as a shit day in a dog kennel.
Spencer couldn't really explain it, but it comforted him to know what she'd been through. It obviously destroyed her, and like him she had long since given up on putting the pieces back together. He knew instinctively that Honey wasn't going to try to fix him, and he had no interest in fixing her.
Sometimes it was nice to just be broken, and make no apology for it.
"Aren't you supposed to be getting ready?" Honey asked suddenly, breaking him out of his reverie.
"For what?" he asked sharply, a bit suspicious.
"To go to the Falls with the boys."
"What boys?"
She held out her hand and ticked them off as she rattled off names, "Rose, Holly, Rico, and Lionel."
Spencer glared at her, "What makes you think I'm going anywhere with four strange men?"
"Rose said you don't like the fireworks. They all served so on the fourth of July they all go to the Falls and camp out for the night," Honey explained with a smirk. "You can't hear them from there. They cook out and drink, and I know you like doing one of those things."
She shook the bottle at him with a shit eating grin, and Spencer took it from her. Taking a long pull, he squinted at her. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and glowered, "They're not gonna kill me, are they?"
She shook her head and laughed, "Only if you have a drinking contest with a bunch of Rangers. Then you might die. Those guys are professionals."
"Good to know," he huffed, shaking his head.
"So, you're gonna go?" Honey's eyes were wide, syrupy sweet as she lit. Spencer's heart clenched tightly in his chest at the sight, and he found himself nodding. "It'll make the guys happy, whether they'll admit it or not."
"I don't have anywhere else to go anyways," Spencer shrugged it off, but her happy giggle made him smile back. "Might as well die in the California wilderness with a bunch of random dudes."
"See, they'll love that especially. Bravery goes a long way with these guys."
"So they're only inviting me out because I got my ass kicked defending you?"
Honey leaned her shoulder against his and nodded. "Won you a few points in my book, too. Aaaaanndd, they're not really asking. I was informed that you would not be sleeping in my hotel tonight."
"Mmm," he muttered. He hated looking at her bruises, but he couldn't make himself look away. There was something about her that kept his eyes on her, something stirring deep in his gut. Spencer set the bottle on the deck and waved a hand at her brace. "Thanks… for getting me out of there."
Honey's eyes meet his, glittering in the rising sun. Saltwater and citrus emanated from her skin with the light breeze, her entire being seeming to come from the sea. He had the image of a mermaid pop up in his mind, free of the land and all the pain that comes with it. He wished she could escape to the sea like Rose said she used to, but after what happened to her husband a fear of the ocean was only natural.
"Thank you for protecting me from those jackasses." Her voice was small, embarrassed even. Her eyes went glossy and her chin wobbled a moment before she spoke again, "I don't know what they would have done if you hadn't been there."
"Doesn't matter now. If something happened to you, I'm sure Rose would've killed me anyways."
She laughed lightly, and that clenching came back to his chest. "Let's just say we're even."
She stuck out her good hand, so he put out his. They didn't match up as it was his left and her right, but after a moment of twisting they got them clasped. She shook his once, but didn't let go.
Their fingers lingered, hanging loosely with each other. Even with the heat of the day it was comforting, and Spencer's mind made a note of how long it had been since he had a hug. Fourteen months and seven days, to be exact.
He cleared his throat and let his hand fall back to his side. He had to look down at his lap to avoid her sharp gaze.
He had no business being here, on the personification of this girl's grief. He had no right to be a part of her story or this town's. He shouldn't even be wearing the hero's shirt, finding comfort in its softness and memory.
Spencer wasn't a hero. He was hardly even a man anymore. He hadn't been for a long time.
"You ready to go?" Honey asked softly, and when Spencer turned to look at her she was smiling at him with more kindness than he deserved.
She stood and held a hand out for him. He ignored it and managed to get his wobbly legs to work to stand by himself. Honey watched him curiously but said nothing. He waved a hand toward the ladder.
"After you, captain."
Smurph's Masterlist | Series Masterlist
Notes: How do you think Spencer will fare with the boys? Do you think their tragic backstories will clash or help them get closer?
