Up in Flames | Spencer Reid x Reader |

Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Come a Little Closer, Just a Little Closer

Like sinister vines tangling around your limbs, holding you close, the silk covers that encapsulated your body restricted you from nudging away from the piercing ray of sunshine that targeted your eye. Eventually, however, even your tired state of being was not superior to the irritation that was growing from the ache that was increasing in your hues. With a brief groan escaping your lips, and a struggled motion, you finally flipped onto your side, your back barricading the light from interrupting your rest.

Yet, you couldn't really make yourself fall asleep again. You were already quite awake since you started acknowledging the small details of the room that you were in and the apprehensiveness that filled your lungs, causing mildly shallow breathes. You were in a very nice hotel. The walls were painted in a delicate lavender tint, enhancing the silver décor that accented the room's richness. The window, with a lack of light, would have given you the best view of the city's skyline. The table to your right was littered with half-eaten dishes and cans of Heineken, which only half of were printed with your Hooker Rouge lipstick.

Just as you were attempting to formulate a hypothesis as to what the hëll happened, you heard the shifting of material at a close range of distance. Your body naturally stiffened at the sound and your eyes involuntarily shot two sizes wider than they originally were. You'd been in this position before. At least, the first night of those horrid days was exactly like this— classy interiorized room, night full of riches spent.

'Was he here? Is it honestly him? It can't be . . . it just can't be . . ." Your mind began to chant as your propped yourself onto your elbows and prepared yourself mentally for the worst. Your heart was throbbing out of your chest, the rhythm reverberating to your eardrums making it sound like war drums. Your hands, in a defensive manner, gathered a fistful of the sheets from beneath you. If something were to happen, you'd just throw the covers, strike the man and make a run for the door.

With that in mind, you held your breath, and waited for cold shards of earthy orbs to stare back at you. Yet, that was not the case. He was not there. But your disheveled friend was. Reid was still asleep, slumped on the quaint little couch across from the bed where you sat. He was sort of— pretty like that. His jaw line remained in a comfortable position between the descriptions of soft and defined. His dark chestnut hair seemed to both frame his square face while also sticking out in all directions, giving him an effortlessly appealing look. Similar to the night before, his shirt was no longer tucked into his pants and the some of the top buttons were undone. Might you even add, it seemed as though some of the buttons were actually missing.

You were unsure how to feel. You felt both relieved that it was only Spencer but at the same time, you were distressed that it was Spencer you were seeing. He was almost unrecognizable. Did you completely ruin a perfectly good man by forcing him into things he was unaccustomed to?

Your little spiral of contemplation was immediately interrupted by the male's stirring. You froze, if you hadn't already, your gaze unyieldingly glued to the man's fawn face. The male woke, sighing contently as he did. It was not until his brown hues came into view did you realize the discoloration that rimmed his left eye. You would have assumed it was dark circles if it wasn't for the purple-ish color his skin had, and for the fact that he struggled to open the eye all the way. "Jesus Christ . . ." You cursed beneath your breath, watching the man straighten himself in the chair.

"Oh. You're finally awake," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, which you assumed was aching from sleeping in such an absurd position on the settee. "You took so long— I sort of . . . fell back asleep again."