does your heart still remember my name - criminal minds oneshots

on your couch

tw canon-typical violence and drug use

post s12 

*

They didn't talk about whatever it is between them.

Luke had been there through the worst year of Spencer's life, stood with his hands wrapped around the bars of the Mexican holding cell, threatened people to keep Spencer safe, had carefully applied arnica to the bruises littering his skin after getting out of prison.

It wasn't like Spencer could go to anyone else. Morgan was too far, JJ had her boys, Tara and Rossi would get uncomfortable in the face of his trauma – not their fault, of course, but he wouldn't do that to him – Garcia was the opposite problem, she would probably cry and coddle him and suffocate him, and Emily... she had enough on her plate, as is.

Luke was nearby and kind and Spencer knew he'd be up when he ended up outside his door at just past midnight.

He wasn't even sure how Luke would help him, all he knew was that he couldn't spend another second in his apartment, walls caving in.

He doesn't hesitate to knock, but he freezes up when the door opens. It's too vulnerable, his skin crawls at the idea of letting another person in only to get heartbroken all over again. He doesn't know if he can handle that on top of everything he's been through.

"Spencer?" Luke looks exhausted, blinking blearily through the crack of the door. Roxy whines behind him. "What are- Do we have a case?"

"No," he says but doesn't elaborate. He shifts on his feet, prepared to turn and disappear at any sign.

Luke stares at him for another long moment, profiler eyes sliding over Spencer's body. And finally, he opens the door a little wider, stifling a yawn. "Come in."

Roxy stays back, pacing the floor as she waits to be allowed to sniff Spencer.

"You want a coffee? Tea? Something to eat?"

Spencer tugs at the ends of his hair as he follows into the kitchen. Luke was clearly about to go to bed, wearing a pair of loose plaid pyjama pants and a tight white tank top, and now Spencer's here, interrupting and ruining his night and god, he hates himself.

"I should go home," he blurts.

Luke pauses, sets down the mug he'd pulled from the cupboard, turns on Spencer. "Do you want to go home?"

"No." It's not like he could lie to Luke.

"Okay. Do you want some tea?"

It's that simple to Luke.

It almost makes Spencer feel small, childish, like his insecurities and nerves makes him less than Luke somehow.

He accepts the mug that gets pressed into his hands nonetheless, barely reacting when Roxy gets impatient and starts sniffing at his shoes.

"It's been a long time since I've asked for help."

He knows that's not where he should start, but he needs Luke to understand how much trust he's putting in his hands, just how precious it is that he's holding.

"I know."

Spencer folds himself into the corner of the couch, cradling the warm mug against his chest. He doesn't look at Luke, can't bear to see him.

"I don't exactly have a good track record of the people I care about sticking around."

"And that makes it hard to let yourself care about others and even harder to let others care about you."