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Golden light streams through the window, framing Spencer in morning warmth as he wakes with a careless sigh, nuzzling the collarbone of the arms around his waist sleepily.
“Mmmm… morning, Pretty Boy.” The brunette smiles, his boyfriend’s voice rough with sleep as it drifts through the peaceful air.
“Morning.” He hums, lifting his head to let Derek kiss his cheek (Spencer has outlawed "real" kisses until the older man brushes his teeth, getting rid of his awful morning breath), burying his face in Derek’s chest, grunting indignantly when his boyfriend tries to pull away.
“Don’t you want me to make coffee?”
“But you’re warm,” Spencer murmurs, inhaling the comforting scent of his boyfriend’s body wash— a subtle eucalyptus.
“And you’re freezing, Spence,” Derek chuckles lightly, resting his warm palms on the base of his partner’s neck. “Seriously, am I your boyfriend or your space heater?”
“Who says you can’t be both?” The younger man grins, emerging from his warm ball to kiss his lover’s chin.
“I love you, Pretty Boy, but we have to get up. Seriously, when did I become the responsible one?”
“Five more minutes?” Spencer gives Derek his best puppy-eyed pout, making him shake his head with a chuckle.
“I wish we could, Spence, but it’s time to get up.”
The light outside blinks, darkness flooding the glowing scene for an instant.
“What was that?”
Derek frowns, shaking his head.
“Come on, focus on me, Pretty Boy. Why don’t we make chocolate chip pancakes?”
The world shudders, flashing out of focus.
“Derek, what’s going on?”
The older man pulls Spencer against his chest, rubbing the brunette’s back.
“Nothing, Spence. It’s okay; you’re okay.”
“Come on, Spencer. Don’t do this to me.”
He pulls away from the comforting warmth of his lover’s skin, sitting up.
“Clear!”
“Derek?”
The older man rises, holding his now-trembling partner as silent tears slip down his cheeks.
Sirens. Beeping. Fluorescent lights–
“You’re okay, Spence. You’re going to be okay.”
“Please, Bud. I know you’re hurting, but I need you.”
“I love you, Pretty Boy. Never forget that.”
A sob rips from Spencer’s throat as his bedroom loses focus again, longer than before.
“I don’t want to go, Derek. Please–”
“Clear!”
“I know. I know, Spence— I’m sorry.”
He closes his eyes, memorizing the feeling of his boyfriend’s skin— smooth and warm— as the world shakes, walls crumbling.
“I love you, Pretty Boy. I always will.”
“We’ve got a pulse!”
And Derek is gone.
He’s been here before.
Aaron Hotchner has been here one too many times— his son in a hospital bed– him in a hospital bed when the world is too much to bear— but it hurts the same every time.
He stares at Spencer’s skeletal figure, trying to erase the image of his son’s lifeless body on the bathroom floor from his memory, though he’s sure he’ll never forget it.
Emily sits on the other side of the bed— elbows on her knees, fingers intertwined, and head bowed as if in prayer, but both agents gave up on God decades ago.
He clutches the fabric in his lap— an old, grey t-shirt– Derek’s old, grey t-shirt— a parcel of clothing that hasn’t left his son’s side since his first overdose–
Spencer just had his third
–and he felt so useless, watching his son’s ribs break under the weight of hauling him from the dead— restarting his heart despite his desperate need to escape a world without the love of his life— so he took it with them.
Spencer is faster to wake than the first two times— 52 and 12 hours, respectively— blinking awake after a mere three with a pained groan under the oxygen mask secured over his nose and mouth.
“Hey, Bud,” Aaron speaks softly, the low volume keeping his voice from crumbling under the stress as he slips the shirt into his son’s limp hand, watching Spencer’s eyes wearily find the source of his voice. “How’re you feeling?”
Weak fingers grip the soft material, thumb rubbing over the cloth sluggishly, the younger brunette too exhausted and dehydrated to produce tears as his eyes flutter closed.
“You can rest, Spence, but I need you to wake up again. Okay? I need you to stay with me.” Spencer’s head moves in something resembling a nod, grip going slack around Derek’s shirt as he succumbs to unconsciousness again.
The second time Spencer wakes up, he’s more cognizant.
Aaron is still by his side, asleep with his head resting on the bed, with Alex, JJ, and Penelope on the couch, the blondes asleep as well, and Emilly and Rossi across from them, the three agents still awake idly flipping through their books, pretending to read.
“Spencer,” Alex is the first to notice the brunette’s eyes fluttering open, catching his soft groan and discarding her book to take his hand. “Hey there.”
He blinks slowly, his gaze fixed on her while his lips move silently under the oxygen mask.
“‘Lex?” His voice is barely audible, its use wrenching painful coughs from his dry throat, waking the rest of the team as he struggles to catch his breath.
“I’m here, Spencer,” Alex assures him while Emily pulls away his mask to slip a straw between his lips. “We’re all here; we’ve got you.”
The coughs begin to die after he chokes down a few sips of water, shrinking into the mattress under the team’s profiling gazes.
“How are you feeling, Spence?” JJ asks, eyes red-rimmed and raw from wiping away tears.
He shakes his head, looking away from the blonde, his eyes meeting Emily’s.
“Here— your dad brought this,” She wraps his fingers around Derek’s shirt gently, bringing it to Spencer’s attention. “And Pen brought you a few blankets if you want them; we know you run cold–”
He shakes his head, trembling hands clutching the shirt against his chest before pulling the thin hospital blanket over his head, leaving the agents to communicate with each other through a series of silent glances.
Reluctantly, Rossi, JJ, and Penelope leave, knowing their nephew sought the most comfort from the remaining three adults the last two times, pulling away from everyone besides the trio left behind in the solemn hospital room.
“Spence?” Emily breaks the silence first, slowly pulling the sheet down, allowing him to stop her if he wants, but he doesn’t. “We’re not mad, hun; we’re just worried about you, but we understand if you’re not ready to talk about it.”
The youngest brunette nods, holding the grey fabric up to his nose, finding solace in the lingering smell of his late boyfriend.
“That’s okay, we understand.” Alex and Aaron nod in agreement, watching Spencer’s eyes dart between them.
“Um, Penelope brought this with the blankets,” Alex digs through the bag the tech analyst brought, finding an oversized sweatshirt that belonged to Derek near the bottom. “You can’t put it completely with the IV, but I can help you slip it over your head if you want.”
He nods again, letting his father and Emily help him sit up while Alex pulls the sweatshirt over his head, careful of the tubes and wires attached to his body as she lets it fall past his shoulder, swallowing his lithe torso in a pool of soft fabric.
“How’s that? Good?” He nods, pulling the hood over his head before tucking his knees under the sweatshirt, curling up around Derek’s shirt, and glancing between the three adults.
“Tired?” He nods again, head falling on his pillow as he blinks tiredly. “It’s okay, Bud— you can rest— we’ll be here when you wake up. Promise.”
Spencer hums, not happily, but content with his father’s permission, letting himself drift away into dreams of Derek.