warnings: addiction, drugs, smut, angst, phone sex, mention of injury, nightmares, ptsd, time jumps (s3/s5)
a/n: Kind of a filler chapter. I'm not gonna lie, I was struggling a bit. I know where I want to go with the story, but I'm unsure about the road there. Also, I wrote the smut while at church on a job. Do with that information what you want.
Spencer knocked on Elle's door, his heart drumming in his chest with anticipation.
It had been a few weeks since he had seen her, and as luck would have it, the team had a case in California. He told them he'd visit his mom, since Vegas was not far away, and assured them he'd be back next week. It was the truth, but before he went to Vegas, he stopped by San Diego to see Elle.
He took a taxi to a street not quite in the center of the city but also not in the suburbs. Her location was pretty good - convenient and unassuming. She lived in a small one-floor apartment in a building complex. The walls were probably painted an off-white shade originally, but they now seemed covered in dirt and grime. He had to take an outdoor flight of stairs to reach the second floor where she lived.
When Elle opened the door, she greeted him with a warm smile and stepped aside to let him in.
"Missed you," Spencer whispered as he stepped in, his lips brushing against her ear.
"Missed you too," Elle replied, pulling his face down to grant him a deep kiss that silenced any further conversation.
Their time together was always like this – intense and consuming.
They spent the nights lost in each other, bodies entwined. If they were lucky enough to spend more time together, the mornings were no different.
Most of their time was spent in bed, sometimes on the couch or in the shower, always together, always naked. For a few precious hours, they shut out reality.
All that was left were their moans filling the room, the mingling scent of their bodies, the warmth of their breath on each other's skin, the sweat dampening their flesh, and the rhythmic thrum of their hearts, beating just a bit faster than when they were apart.
Eventually, they drifted off to sleep, exhaustion finally overtaking them.
But Spencer's rest was restless.
He woke up, heart pounding, drenched in sweat from a nightmare he couldn't quite remember. Disoriented, he glanced at the clock. He had been asleep for maybe an hour.
Elle was not beside him.
He reached out to the empty space where she should have been, the sheets cool to the touch. Concerned, he got up and moved quietly through the apartment. He found her in the living room, sitting on the couch, staring at the wall.
"Elle?" he called softly, not wanting to startle her.
She didn't turn immediately but eventually looked over her shoulder at him. Her eyes were distant, lost in some thought.
"Hey," he said gently, moving closer. "You okay?"
She studied him for a moment before responding, her gaze softening slightly. "Are you okay? You're drenched in sweat."
"I just had a nightmare. The usual," he admitted, running a hand through his damp hair. "Can't sleep?"
Elle paused for a second, her brow furrowing slightly. "Yeah."
"Something going on?" Spencer pressed, his concern deepening as he took in her troubled expression.
"No, just can't sleep," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She glanced toward the window, where the silver glow of the full moon spilled into the room. "I think it's the moon. It's full tonight."
Spencer sat down next to her, the couch cushions shifting under his weight. "You know, there's a lot of stuff about the full moon affecting people," he began, his voice a mix of curiosity and distraction.
"Some say it messes with our sleep cycles, makes us more restless. There are all these studies about how more accidents happen during a full moon, more hospital admissions, even more births. It's like the moon pulls at us, just like it pulls at the tides."
Elle turned to look at him, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips despite her lingering unease. "Have you ever considered you might know too much?"
"Maybe I've read too much," he chuckled softly, the sound a welcome break in the quiet room. "But it's fascinating, right? How something so far away can have such an impact on us. Maybe it's just folklore or maybe there's some truth to it. I mean, people have believed in the moon's power for centuries. There's something... beautiful about it."
She nodded, her eyes reflecting the moonlight as she listened. "Yeah, I guess there is."
He reached out, taking her hand in his, their fingers intertwining. "Wanna talk about it?"
Elle squeezed his hand gently, her grip warm but trembling slightly. "About what?"
Her eyes were distant, as if she were searching for words to make sense of the chaos swirling in her mind.
The memories from her past were like dark, shadowy specters, vivid and relentless. Each time she closed her eyes, the scenes replayed with haunting clarity: the sounds, the faces, the overwhelming sense of fear.
The nightmares weren't just dreams; they were jagged fragments of her past, cutting through her waking hours and leaving her feeling… exposed and raw.
She struggled to maintain her composure, her heart racing as she tried to push away the images that refused to fade.
The night seemed endless, the full moon casting eerie shadows that only intensified her feelings of unease. Her trauma felt like cold fingers gripping her mind, trapping her in a cycle of anxiety she couldn't escape.
Despite the constant state of anxiety, Elle rarely mentioned her struggles to Spencer.
When he visited, their time together was so limited that she preferred to avoid discussing any of the painful realities of her life.
She wanted to handle herself by herself.
She wanted to manage her demons without burdening him.
She wanted to keep herself together and through it on her own.
Yet, sitting with him, in the moonlit room, struggling to keep her fear at bay, she was thankful.
For him.
Being here.
"I just can't sleep," Elle said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. The effort to keep her tone steady was almost more than she could manage.
"I missed you," she added, her voice soft and filled with a genuine, aching sincerity. She looked up at him, her eyes full of longing. "Just... having you here… I'm glad you're here."
Spencer's gaze was gentle and understanding, but he didn't press for more. Instead, he simply wrapped his arm around her, offering silent comfort as they sat together in the moonlit quiet.
The room was still, save for the soft rustle of the night, and peace that helped to soothe the tumult within her.
"I missed you too," Spencer whispered. "And I'm glad I'm here"
Spencer had been wrestling with a relentless craving for Dilaudid for weeks now.
He had been clean for a while, but the memory of a young face - pale and lifeless - haunted him, a constant reminder of his inability to save everyone. The image replayed in his mind like a cruel loop, each repetition feeding his desperation and dragging him deeper into the threat of his addiction.
The nights were a constant battleground of conflicting desires.
He wanted to escape the guilt and frustration that gnawed at him, to numb the pain and the sense of failure that clung to him. The pull of the drug was strong, a powerful force that promised a temporary reprieve from the agony of his thoughts.
But he knew all too well how fleeting that relief would be, how quickly it would turn into shackles around his soul.
In an effort to manage the growing urge, Spencer had started attending Beltway Clean Cops meetings.
The idea was to surround himself with others who understood the struggles of working in law enforcement while battling addiction. He hoped this would help. That hearing their stories, sharing his own, and being with those who walked a similar path might provide some solace, or at least distract him from the cravings that plagued him.
As he stood outside the meeting room, the dim light from the corridor flickered in his tired eyes. The walls seemed to close in on him, the weight of his dilemma pressing heavily on his chest.
He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found Elle's number.
His finger hovered over the call button, hesitating. They were just friends, who had sex sometimes, but still just friends. And he wasn't sure what calling her would achieve.
What could she do from California to help him in this moment of crisis?
There's nothing she could do.
With a frustrated sigh, he shoved the phone back into his pocket and took a deep breath.
The meeting was about to start. He squared his shoulders and walked through the door.
As he took his seat, he tried to push away the gnawing need for relief, focusing instead on the faces around him and the hope that, perhaps, here he might find a small piece of peace.
Spencer's visits to Elle had followed a familiar rhythm for years now. Every few weeks or months, he would show up and their time together would be a whirlwind of intensity - passionate nights spent together, their bodies intertwined, and then the inevitable departure.
No strings attached, just moments of escape and solace amidst the chaos of their lives. They kept in touch through calls and texts, but their relationship remained defined by the brief, intense nights they shared.
However, the routine was interrupted one day when Spencer was shot. The incident happened right before he was scheduled to visit Elle.
The pain was acute, and the hospital room was a stark contrast to the comfort of Elle's presence he had been looking forward to for weeks.
Sitting in the sterile room, he shifted uncomfortably. His leg, immobilized and propped up, ached with every shift.
Morgan had accompanied him but had stepped away for a while to handle some personal matters on the phone. The hospital room was too quiet, filled with the distant hum of medical machinery and the occasional footstep echoing in the hallway.
Spencer took out his phone, the weight of the decision pressing heavily on him. He dialed Elle's number, his heart pounding with a mix of pain and anxiety.
"Hey," Spencer said when Elle answered, his voice strained and weary. He leaned back against the hospital bed, trying to find a more comfortable position. "I... I wanted to let you know that I won't be able to come over for a while. We have to cancel next week, and I'm not sure when I'll be able to see you."
"What happened?" Elle's voice was sharp with concern, the worry instantly evident.
Spencer hesitated, his hand trembling slightly as he rubbed his forehead. "Oh, nothing really."
"Spencer…"
With a deep sigh, he finally admitted, "I got shot."
Elle's response was immediate, her concern palpable even through the phone. "Oh my God, Spencer! Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he reassured her, though his voice betrayed his discomfort. He shifted slightly, wincing as pain shot through his leg. "It's pretty bad, though. It's my knee. I can't walk right now. I'm sorry, I just wanted to let you know."
There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, and Spencer could almost hear the worry in her breath. He pictured her biting her lip, a crease forming between her brows. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do? I could come and help you."
"No," Spencer said gently, trying to inject some firmness into his voice. "You have a new job. You should focus on that. I'll be okay."
He heard her sigh, the reluctance clear in her voice. "Okay. But call me if you need anything, alright?"
"Will do. Thanks, Elle." He hung up, a heavy feeling settling in his chest.
"Everything alright?" Morgan asked, his tone casual as he suddenly appeared in the doorway. Spencer quickly put his phone away, trying to compose himself.
"Yeah," Spencer said, forcing a smile. "Just called the facility where my mom's staying. Had to let her know I couldn't visit."
Morgan's eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and concern. "You know, you're always visiting your mom. It's like a regular thing with you. How often do you see her?"
Spencer chuckled softly, the sound mingling with his discomfort. He shifted again, trying to ease the pain. "More often than I'd like to admit. She's been having a rough time, and it helps to check in."
Morgan raised an eyebrow, sympathy evident in his gaze. "I'm sorry. I'm sure you'll be able to visit soon."
"I'm not so sure about that," Spencer said, glancing down at his injured knee, the bandages stark against his skin. He sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on him.
When Spencer finally made it back home, the journey from the hospital to his apartment felt like a marathon despite the short distance.
The cast on his leg was bulky and cumbersome, propped up on a stack of pillows on the couch. He sank into the cushions with a sigh, the discomfort of his injury mingling with the exhaustion of his ordeal.
As he settled in, his phone buzzed with a message. It was from Elle.
Are you home already?
He tapped out a quick reply, his fingers clumsy and slow due to the pain.
Yes, just got in. It's good to be back.
Almost immediately, his phone rang. Elle's name appeared on the screen. He answered, a mix of relief and longing filling him.
"Hey," Spencer said, trying to sound as casual as possible, though his voice was soft and strained.
"Hey," Elle responded, her voice warm and soothing. "How are you feeling?"
"Better now that I'm home," Spencer said, glancing down at his cast. "It's frustrating, but I'm managing. I miss you."
There was a pause on the other end, and Spencer could almost feel her presence through the silence. "I miss you too," Elle said softly. "and since you're stuck at home, and I'm miles away, how about we do something a little different tonight?"
"What do you mean?" Spencer asked, his curiosity piqued yet laced with confusion.
Elle's voice dropped to a more intimate whisper, the sound sending a shiver down his spine. "I'm pretty sure you can figure it out, Doctor."
Spencer's mind raced, trying to decipher her words and the sultry tone she used. He felt a flush rise to his cheeks, unsure how to respond. "I... I don't know what to say to that."
"What are you wearing?" Elle asked, her voice taking on a teasing edge.
Spencer glanced down at his clothes, feeling slightly self-conscious. "Umm... a button-up shirt and a vest. And just a pair of pants."
"Mhm... sexy," Elle purred.
"Thanks?" Spencer replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
"Aren't you going to ask me what I'm wearing?" Elle's voice was playful, almost daring.
"Oh, right, sorry. What are you wearing?"
"Guess!" she challenged, her voice light with mischief.
"Umm, well, you usually wear some pants, dark ones, and a shirt," Spencer ventured, trying to picture her usual attire.
"That's it?" she teased.
"Well, you obviously also have underwear on, and a jacket when it's colder," he added, feeling a bit out of his depth.
"Spencer..." Elle's voice was a blend of amusement and exasperation, a teasing lilt that sent a shiver down his spine.
"What?" Spencer's confusion was evident, his brow furrowing as he tried to grasp the situation.
"I'm trying to have phone sex with you." Her tone was both playful and serious, the words dripping with desire.
"Oh..." Spencer's eyes widened in realization, his cheeks flushing a deep red. He felt a mix of surprise and excitement, his body responding to her suggestive words.
"If you want to, of course."
"Yes!" he blurted out, then quickly felt a rush of embarrassment at how eager he sounded. "Umm... yes. Yes, I would like that very much. I just... umm... I've never done that before," he added, his voice dropping to a shy whisper.
"That's okay. Just do what I say and what feels good," Elle reassured him, her voice soothing and seductive.
"Okay," Spencer agreed, his heart pounding in his chest.
"Sooo... back to what I'm wearing. You're actually extremely wrong, Doctor Reid. Must be a first for you, sorry. I'm in my bed, under the covers, with absolutely nothing on. Nude. Naked. Alone. Thinking about you. Imagining you're here, next to me, trying to remember how you feel."
Spencer's breath caught in his lungs. He saw her so clearly in his mind, every detail, every curve and shape. His pulse quickened, and he felt a warmth spread through him.
"If you were here, I would help you feel so much better. That leg must hurt," Elle continued, her voice a soft caress.
"It does," Spencer admitted, though he would never tell Elle just how much pain he was actually in. He had refused to take any narcotics to help with the pain, determined to endure it. He wanted to tell her everything, but it felt like too much, even for him.
"I think I can help with that," Elle said softly, her voice filled with promise.
Spencer took a shaky breath, trying to calm the fluttering in his chest. "How?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.
"Close your eyes," Elle instructed gently. "Imagine I'm there with you, next to you. My fingers are trailing down your arm, touching you softly, making you forget all the pain."
Spencer closed his eyes, following her words. He could almost feel her touch, light and teasing, sending shivers down his spine. "I can feel it," he murmured.
"Good," Elle responded, her voice a soothing balm. "Now imagine my lips, brushing against your neck, whispering how much I want you, how much I need you."
A soft sigh escaped Spencer's lips. He could almost hear her breath, warm and tantalizing against his skin. "Elle..." he breathed.
"Yes, Spencer?" she prompted, her voice husky and filled with longing.
"I need you," he confessed, his voice trembling with desire.
"I'm right here," she whispered. "Imagine my hands moving down your chest, slowly undoing each button of your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath my fingertips."
Spencer's hand moved unconsciously to his chest, his fingers mimicking the actions she described. He could almost feel the gentle pressure of her hands, the heat of her touch. "It feels so real," he said, his voice thick with emotion.
"I'm glad," Elle replied, her voice filled with affection. "Now, imagine I'm kissing you, my lips soft and eager against yours, just as always, tasting you, savoring you.."
Spencer's lips parted slightly, a soft moan escaping as he lost himself in the fantasy. He could almost taste her, sweet and intoxicating.
"Can you feel me, Spencer?" Elle's voice was a seductive whisper, wrapping around him like a warm blanket.
"Yes," he replied, his voice barely audible. "I can feel you."
"I want you to touch yourself," she instructed softly. "Pretend it's me, making you feel good, taking away all your pain."
Spencer's hand trembled as it moved down his body, his breath coming in short gasps as he put his hand under his underwear and touched his already hard cock.
He followed her words, his mind filled with images of her, her touch, her scent, her everything. "Elle," he whispered, his voice filled with longing.
"I'm here," she reassured him, her voice a soothing presence. "I'm always here."
He squeezed himself more urgently, his body reacting to the vivid imagery and her soothing words. The pain in his leg seemed to fade, replaced by a growing sense of pleasure. "I need you so much," he confessed, his voice raw with emotion.
"I know," Elle whispered. "And I need you too. Imagine me there with you, taking care of you, making you feel better."
Spencer's breath hitched, his body shuddering with the intensity of his feelings. He could almost feel her presence, her warmth, her love. "Elle, I..." he started, but his voice trailed off, lost in the overwhelming sensations.
He could so clearly see her delicate, slender hand, smaller than his own, stroking him slowly, teasing his tip and smearing the precum.
She always snuggled close, her lips trailing soft kisses along his skin.
Her body intertwined with his, moving in perfect harmony as if she knew exactly what he needed. She knew precisely how to touch him, how to drive him to the edge of insanity while giving him everything he craved.
"Now, let go," she whispered, her voice a soft command. "Cum for me handsome,"
Spencer's body tensed, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. With a final, shuddering breath, he let go, his body releasing all the pent-up tension and pain. He lay back, spent and exhausted, his heart racing. He was silent for a while overwhelmed by both pleasure and the pain.
"Are you okay?" Elle asked, her voice filled with concern and love.
"Yeah," Spencer replied, his voice weak but content. "Thank you, Elle. You are... incredible."
"Anytime, Doctor," she replied with a soft laugh. "Get some rest. I'll be here when you need me."
"Uh, Elle, wait!" Spencer's voice trembled with urgency.
"Yeah?" Elle's response was cool, almost detached, her tone a stark contrast to the warmth he once knew.
"How are you holding up?" Spencer asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.
"I'm fine," Elle replied curtly, her tone not matching her words.
"How's work?" Spencer prodded gently, hoping to draw her out.
"I actually recently changed it. Again." Elle admitted, her voice carrying a hint of hesitation.
"Really? Why?" Spencer knew Elle had been exploring various career paths over the past few years, from working with the government or law enforcement as a consultant to aiding victims of sex crimes. His curiosity was piqued.
"I... got fired," Elle confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Why?" Spencer's concern deepened.
"I just did, Reid. It happens," she replied, trying to brush it off nonchalantly.
"Yeah, I know, but why would they fire you? With your experience?" Spencer pressed, bewildered.
"I might have not really... been there," Elle muttered, her voice faltering.
"What do you mean?" Spencer asked, confusion lacing his words.
"Reid... it doesn't matter. Things like that happen, I'm fine," Elle insisted, her tone growing defensive.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Spencer's voice was tinged with hurt, the sting of her omission clear.
"I didn't want to bother you, Reid. It's none of your business," Elle snapped back, her frustration bubbling to the surface, sharp and cutting.
"None of my business? Elle, we talk almost every day. How can you say that?" Spencer's voice rose, incredulous and wounded.
"Because it's true!" Elle shouted, the tension in her voice unmistakable. "We're just friends with benefits, remember? We don't owe each other anything."
Spencer was left speechless, his mind reeling. He finally managed, "I just care and..."
"Well, maybe you should stop caring this much. Anyway… I have to go. Bye, Spencer." Elle's words were cold and final, the call ending with a click that seemed to echo in the stillness of the moment.
Spencer stared at his phone. He felt a mix of anger, confusion, and a deep sadness settle in his chest.
His mind raced, replaying the conversation over and over, trying to understand where things had gone wrong. He just wanted to reach out, ask how she's doing.
Elle's words had left him paralyzed, each syllable she spoke a nail pinning him down.
His heart pounded in his chest, the ache spreading through his body like a slow poison.
Questions swirled in his mind: What had he done to deserve such coldness? Did he say something wrong? The room around him felt darker, phone still clutched in his hand.
After that day he tried calling but Elle stopped picking up his phone calls.