Work Text:
Hiding their relationship wasn't the plan. Having a relationship wasn't even the plan.
Elle showing a shred of interest in author Spencer didn't know she liked, and him subsequently inviting her to go with him to a reading of the author's, wasn't supposed to lead to them grabbing coffee afterward. They didn't intend to talk until the coffee shop closed and their drinks were ice cold.
With no work to do, no coworkers around, Elle got to hear Spencer talk uninterrupted. He stuttered over a few words but not once was he cut off.
Her belief that he was not only an intriguing speaker but an attentive listener had never been proven more correct.
Spencer realized two things during that walk:
1. He didn't know Elle as well as he thought he did.
And
2. Every new piece of information only made his heart swell further.
He lied to himself about it. Those tingles in his hands when she walked close enough to touch were only because it had been a while since he experienced close contact with another person. His brain nearly short circuiting at the sight of her outfit when she's not trying to look FBI appropriate was from not being used to seeing her that way.
He walked her home. Hugging her goodbye crossed his mind but he killed that idea and waved instead. If it weren't for the pearly white smile she responded with, he would've felt stupid about it.
The stars burned brighter on his way home, the blood in his heart that he worried was getting difficult to filter felt cleansed. He went over his favorite parts of their conversation in his head until he fell asleep.
They started grabbing coffee before work, earlier every day until it became an hour before work. When the rest of the team went home, they stayed at the bureau later.
Reaching the point where they hung out at each other's apartments was their downfall. Nobody was around, there was no point in hiding behind a wall with only one person on the other side. Words they'd both buried were washed up, they didn't have to throw them back, not with each other.
Elle knew she was doomed the first time she dozed off in Spencer's bed. His hair hung in his face but he was too tired to move it, so she did. Grazing the tip of his ear and realizing how warm it was, probably red but it wasn't light enough to know for sure.
The last flicker of energy he had was put into the softest smile she'd ever seen. She knew then that he was gone and dragging her right with him.
None of it felt real when she sat in the waiting room an unfamiliar hospital. Out of state, in the middle of a case. Waiting. Spiraling.
She wasn't there when it happened. Aaron had split the team into two groups, each going to prominent suspects. She wasn't with Spencer when the man he and Derek tried to apprehend caused a fight he was unfit for and his head hit concrete somewhere along the line.
Not even one glimpse of him before he got rushed away. Left to wait with the rest of the team, where not a single person was aware that her turmoil went beyond worrying about a coworker.
If the worst happened, the rest of them would still go home to full houses. They wouldn't have empty space in their beds where he should be. They wouldn't dread taking off their glasses because his wouldn't be there to keep them company.
Nobody questioned her behavior. They had better things to worry about than how her leg bounced uncontrollably, while she played with two separate rings in her hand, her teeth sinking into her lip.
Nothing was enough, the overwhelm wasn't slowing down. For a second she forgot where she was. She found herself wondering why she's so anxious when Spencer had to be nearby, able and willing to calm to her down. Then she remembered.
A doctor emerged and inquired for relatives of Spencer. The mention of his name brought her out of her head, back to her restless body. She couldn't speed to wherever they kept him the way she wanted to, not without raising suspicion.
Two people were allowed to see him at first. Fighting every need to protect (gate keep) something she loved so much, she insisted on being one. A few of the team members raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. Derek was the other person — a more obvious choice.
Hospital hallways were too long, Elle decided. Grey areas between life and death, a hallway that always led to change of some genre, rarely good in her experience.
The doctor paused by a door, hand resting on the doorknob like it had no purpose. "Before you see him, there is one thing you should know—"
Amnesia, likely to be temporary. Likely. Not certain, not promised. There was a chance Spencer would never remember the time he told her his biggest fear was forgetting.
No amount of training Elle had in keeping a composed face in times of difficulty was enough. She walked into that room with a fear she thought was reserved for other people, not her, and it showed.
There he sat, a bandage around his head hiding the hair she'd combed her fingers through the night before.
As timid as the day they met, he couldn't look at either of them. His best friend or the woman he called his girlfriend to himself, her, and any stranger he could.
Was she still his girlfriend if he forgot and nobody around them knew? If not, what was she? His coworker? Coworkers don't know about how much blood still seeps out of the wounds your mother left you.
He hadn't been changed into a hospital gown, still wearing the sweater vest she packed for him. Dark green mixed with brown, she'd found it rotting in his closet one day. She said it brought out his eyes and it became his new favorite. There was a drop of blood on its shoulder.
Going too close to him felt wrong, like his bubble of personal space was inflated. Neither Elle nor Derek were interested in invading it.
Spencer's progress in knowing that not all staring was mocking was erased. He just wanted to go home. Home. The name of that blonde woman he had to try and make dinner for was on the tip of his tongue. A lukewarm shower was still better than having his skin crawl with grime.
Elle was sure the doctor was saying something. Nothing moved through her ears but muffled ringing and her own heartbeat. Spencer was picking at his fingers, about to make a hangnail bleed, and she couldn't stop him.
Derek's voice was more clear given his proximity to her.
Ways to trigger his memory. Specific things he'll struggle with. How long it'll take for him to heal. The odds of it actually being permanent.
Elle needed to move or else she'd explode, she paced to the other side of Derek, a few steps nearer to Spencer, where she could touch that bubble without bursting it.
The doctor answered every question to the best of his ability, Elle listened with only half a mind. All the noise stopped when Spencer finally spoke.
"Papillion Bengale Rouge."
Elle looked at him like a deer in headlights. He looked at her so simply, fear overtaken by curiosity.
"What?" Derek asked.
"Her perfume." Spencer said, not taking his eyes off of her.
Derek's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He would expect Spencer to know the specific shade of her lipstick, maybe even where the fabric of her shirt was sourced, but perfume? The same man who once told Derek his secret behind smelling good was soap and laundry detergent recognized a specific brand of women's perfume?
Elle dared to glance at Derek, who stood there dumbfounded. When he turned to look at her she turned away, crossing her arms over her chest, trying to grasp at any way to escape the corner she'd been forced into.
"Elle, he knows your perfume?" he almost wanted to scoff but didn't have the energy.
"Apparently."
"Elle." Spencer said, trying out the name, seeing if it fits.
Elle.
Shared books. Reading together. Slowing down to read with her. Her hair falling on his shoulder. Panicking when she falls asleep, not knowing if he can carry her to sleep in his bed without making her uncomfortable, or dropping her.
Elle who convinced him to find a scent he liked in cologne and helped him find one. Elle who, at the same time, had bought kiss-proof lipstick for the first time even though she liked the childish blush he got when his lips were redder than usual.
Elle.
He knew her.
He knew the order in which she got ready for bed, the prescription of her glasses.
Derek, Elle, and the doctor watched Spencer piece things together, mumbling under his breath.
Derek was stumped, confused beyond belief. Elle wondered how that moment would ever end, it felt like an eternity watching his brain compute. Was this him remembering everything? Would there be gaps she would have to scramble to fill before it felt too late? She should've paid more attention when she got him to watch 50 First Dates with her and he talked her ear off about memory loss.
They saw a change in his eyes. More fear than that morning, but undoubtedly the Spencer they knew, probably trying to decide whether he should tell them about smell's strong link to memories or statistics about amnesiacs.
"What just happened?" Derek asked.
Spencer may have gotten back the knowledge that he'd gotten Elle the ring she wouldn't stop turning but everything in his head was slower than usual. Thinking usually didn't physically hurt like that.
Derek looked from Spencer to Elle, desperate for an explanation of how she single-handedly put their newfound fears to bed without meaning to.
"I was doing research on how scents influence your perception of people. I asked Elle what perfume she uses and took note of how strangers interacted with her while we were interviewing potential witnesses during that home invasion case."
A believable reason on paper. In his haziness, Spencer was proud of it, even.
Derek wondered if maybe Spencer convinced Elle to join him in an overly elaborate prank to get him back for when he replaced all his files with blank paper.
Nothing about how she looked at Spencer could be faked. God, Derek felt so stupid for not seeing it before. A kind of longing so sweet it's cloying. Desperation, hurt. The gravity of the situation hit him and standing with them suddenly felt like invasion.
"I think I'm gonna wait outside." Derek reversed out of the room as if trying to keep a savage animal from chasing him. The doctor slipped out after him, mumbling something about getting a nurse to answer any further questions.
Elle didn't have time to make up for lost oxygen before Spencer tugged her toward him. His hands clasped together behind her back, his head against her abdomen. He lost himself in how it contracted and relaxed from her breathing.
He could hear the internal gurgling of her stomach. Home. He wasn't going back to that dark house with blocked out windows, he was going home with her refusing to leave his side.
She hadn't been scared to touch him in a long time. Her hands were familiar with the texture of his hair but she had to be cautious to avoid aggravating his pain.
"I missed you," he mumbled into her waist.
"You've only been conscious for twenty-five minutes."
"I couldn't remember your name for twenty-two of them. That's twenty-two minutes too long." His neck arched back to look up at her.
Her best attempt at hiding that her unease would take longer to shake would never convince him.
"I'm fine," he said, ignoring the light peeking around her like a halo that burned his eyes.
"No you're not."
"I'll be fine. I've dealt with concussions before." His head retreated to where it was.
Both of them knew he had never gotten a concussion on the job; he remembered too late.
The ache in his head increased at the thought of explaining how he once managed to hit his head against the edge of a desk during summer vacation.
Elle would have asked further questions if his eyes weren't getting more languid by the second. She held his head with the utmost care. "Did the doctor tell you if you can be discharged yet?"
The only indication that he wasn't asleep was his tracing of squiggly shapes on her lower back. They'd normally follow a pattern, now they were sporadic. "Hm?"
"Never mind."