Heartache to Heartache
Mar. 11th, 2011 11:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
coffeebuddhaTitle: Heartache to Heartache
Author: coffeebuddha
Rating: PG/FRE
Characters/Pairing: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.
Word Count: 560
Summary: Spencer wakes up with a crick in his back and neck and Derek's fingers tangled in his hair.
***
Spencer wakes up with a crick in his back and neck and Derek's fingers tangled in his hair. He stays where he is, half seated on a hard chair and half sprawled across a hard mattress, for a handful of heartbeats until his mind reorients itself and he remembers where he is. His first instinct is to jump to his feet and start scanning charts and equipment for updates, but he clamps down on it before he can act. Derek's palm is cool and heavy against the back of his neck and Spencer slowly turns his head so he can look up at the other man, barely managing not to jump when he sees his eyes are open.
"Morning," Derek says, his voice rougher than usual. His smile is weak, but it's there, and Spencer feels something loosen in his chest at the sight. "I didn't mean to wake you up."
"I'm not the one who needed the rest," Spencer points out as he straightens up. He misses the feel of Derek's hand as soon as it slips off his neck, but then it settles on his wrist, like Derek's afraid he's going to disappear if he lets him go. "How are you feeling?"
"Like someone shot me." Derek shrugs, then winces when the movement pulls at his stitches. Spencer must make a face at that, because Derek slowly strokes his fingertips over the inside of his wrist. "I'm fine. I think they gave me the good drugs."
Spencer tries to smile, tries to be the friend he knows Derek needs him to be, but it's hard when all he wants to do is run his hands over every inch of the other man's body until he knows exactly how much damage he's caused this time. Derek looks at him for a long moment, his eyes more focused than they have any right to be with as much morphine is pumping through his system, then tugs on his wrist. Spencer looks down at their hands, then back at Derek with a small frown, which just earns him another tug.
"Come here," Derek says, pulling hard enough that Spencer stumbles closer, ending up with one knee on the edge of the bed and a hand braced over Derek's shoulder. Derek's hand slides up his arm, then down to his waist, pulling him down onto the narrow mattress, their bodies pressed closely together in the small space. Spencer tenses, but Derek just presses a kiss to his forehead and settles back against the pillows. "Would take a hundred bullets for you, pretty boy."
Spencer lets out a short, shocked laugh and presses his face against the curve of Derek's neck, not even caring that there's no way the other man will be able to miss the dampness clinging to his eyelashes. Derek's hand tightens on his hip and he turns his head to rest his cheek on Spencer's hair.
"Sleep now," he murmurs. "We'll probably need to talk about this once the drugs wear off."
"Yeah," Spencer says softly. He slowly relaxes, his tense muscles unwinding from the heat of Derek's body. For several minutes, there's no sound other than the beep of the machines and their breathing, then Spencer drapes an arm over Derek's chest, careful to avoid the gunshot wound. "Hey, Derek?"
"Hm?"
"I'd take a bullet for you too."
***
Thanks for reading! Feedback's always appreciated.
Author: coffeebuddha
Rating: PG/FRE
Characters/Pairing: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.
Word Count: 560
Summary: Spencer wakes up with a crick in his back and neck and Derek's fingers tangled in his hair.
Notes: Originally posted as a comment fic here.
***
Spencer wakes up with a crick in his back and neck and Derek's fingers tangled in his hair. He stays where he is, half seated on a hard chair and half sprawled across a hard mattress, for a handful of heartbeats until his mind reorients itself and he remembers where he is. His first instinct is to jump to his feet and start scanning charts and equipment for updates, but he clamps down on it before he can act. Derek's palm is cool and heavy against the back of his neck and Spencer slowly turns his head so he can look up at the other man, barely managing not to jump when he sees his eyes are open.
"Morning," Derek says, his voice rougher than usual. His smile is weak, but it's there, and Spencer feels something loosen in his chest at the sight. "I didn't mean to wake you up."
"I'm not the one who needed the rest," Spencer points out as he straightens up. He misses the feel of Derek's hand as soon as it slips off his neck, but then it settles on his wrist, like Derek's afraid he's going to disappear if he lets him go. "How are you feeling?"
"Like someone shot me." Derek shrugs, then winces when the movement pulls at his stitches. Spencer must make a face at that, because Derek slowly strokes his fingertips over the inside of his wrist. "I'm fine. I think they gave me the good drugs."
Spencer tries to smile, tries to be the friend he knows Derek needs him to be, but it's hard when all he wants to do is run his hands over every inch of the other man's body until he knows exactly how much damage he's caused this time. Derek looks at him for a long moment, his eyes more focused than they have any right to be with as much morphine is pumping through his system, then tugs on his wrist. Spencer looks down at their hands, then back at Derek with a small frown, which just earns him another tug.
"Come here," Derek says, pulling hard enough that Spencer stumbles closer, ending up with one knee on the edge of the bed and a hand braced over Derek's shoulder. Derek's hand slides up his arm, then down to his waist, pulling him down onto the narrow mattress, their bodies pressed closely together in the small space. Spencer tenses, but Derek just presses a kiss to his forehead and settles back against the pillows. "Would take a hundred bullets for you, pretty boy."
Spencer lets out a short, shocked laugh and presses his face against the curve of Derek's neck, not even caring that there's no way the other man will be able to miss the dampness clinging to his eyelashes. Derek's hand tightens on his hip and he turns his head to rest his cheek on Spencer's hair.
"Sleep now," he murmurs. "We'll probably need to talk about this once the drugs wear off."
"Yeah," Spencer says softly. He slowly relaxes, his tense muscles unwinding from the heat of Derek's body. For several minutes, there's no sound other than the beep of the machines and their breathing, then Spencer drapes an arm over Derek's chest, careful to avoid the gunshot wound. "Hey, Derek?"
"Hm?"
"I'd take a bullet for you too."
***
Thanks for reading! Feedback's always appreciated.
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