wasted times- s.r

TWENTY-TWO

TW: BRIEF mention of drugs
refresher: heather is spencer's ex gf (see ch.11)

Waking up in the morning was pure bliss.

Spencer's arm was tossed over your torso, pulling your back flush against his chest, his head buried in the crook of your neck with his loose curls tickling the sensitive skin of your neck. Your legs are tangled up in each other, and Spencer's hand has settled itself on the bare skin of your stomach, where your shirt has now ridden up past your thighs.

His breathing is shallow and even, and you're careful not to move as to not disturb his sleep. You spare a glance over your shoulder to look at him, his face smooshed against the pillow with his lips parted in a small pout, small snored flying past his lips every so often.

You try to get out of his reach to go and brush your teeth, but his grip subconsciously tightens against you, pulling you back against him. He grumbles something in his half-asleep state that sounds a lot like, "No, don't go," as he further buries his face in your neck. You smile softly, placing your hand on top of his on your stomach, tracing over the back of his hand with your thumb softly. He slowly starts to come two, his eyelashes tickling your neck as his eyes slowly open, his lips turning up into a grin as they begin to litter your neck with butterfly kisses. 

His hand on your stomach slowly begins drawing lazy circles on your abdomen, his lips now dragging themselves along your jawline. You turn your head to the side, meeting him halfway to lock your lips in a kiss. You pull away quickly, not letting him attempt to deepen the kiss and he lets out a whine of protest. "I have morning breath," you say through a breathy laugh.

"I don't care," he whines.

"That's very sweet, but I do." He attempts to lean down again, but you're quicker at reacting, turning your head away so his lips make contact with your cheek instead. "Kiss me," he demands softly, trying to assert authority with his tone. Instead of saying anything, you pull his arms off you and begin to try and stand up when his hands seize your waist, pulling you back down.

"Five more minutes," He grumbles, keeping his firm on your waist tight. You oblige, sliding back under the covers, which proves to be a difficult task when Spencer refuses to let you out of his grip, but you somehow manage. 

"We should do something today," Spencer suggests quietly. You glance over your shoulder at him with a curious look on your face, "Like what?"

"I don't know. Just a thought."

You push his arms off you again with a small grin, managing to stand up in front of the bed without him pulling you back down. "While you think about that, I'm going to go freshen up. Five minutes is up."

"Time is a social construct, come back to bed," he whines like a petulant child, trying to shoot puppy dogs eyes your way to persuade you. As tempting as it was, it was already nearing noon and you'd been sleeping for far too long. You shake your head at him as you walk backwards out of his bedroom, him flopping back down onto his back dramatically being the last thing you see before you spin around. By the time you finish up and walk back into Spencer's bedroom, he's already getting dressed.

He's jumping in front of the mirror to pull up his pants, no shirt on yet as he buckles up his pants, grabbing a black belt from his dresser and looping it through the holes. He looks up at you in the reflection, a smug smile on his face. "Are you going to continue to ogle at me or are you going to get dressed?"

"Where are we going?"

"Out," he answers vaguely. 

"Thank you so much for that information, it really helps." He's too busy buttoning up his shirt to see your eye roll, but he can certainly detect the dripping sarcasm in your tone. "If we're going out then I need to go back to my apartment." He nods his head in the mirror, butting up the final button and moving to sit on the edge of his bed, sliding on two completely different socks and fastening the watch on his wrist.