Twisted

Chapter 22 - Red Right Hand

When you woke up, before you even opened your eyes, the first thing you realized was that you weren't in your bed.

Your bed was softer, the sheets were silk and the pillows were fluffier-

Spencer.

You were sleeping in Spencer's bed, and in all honesty, both he and you were terrible at this break up thing.

You rubbed your eyes and sat up in bed, trying pull yourself together and get rid of the haze of the sleep. Judging by the state of the bed, it was very obvious that Spencer hadn't slept there and the clattering of plates coming from the kitchen let you know that he was already awake. You yawned, stretching out and kicked off the covers before you quickly made the bed and stepped back to see if it looked good.

Well, it looked acceptable at least.

You shrugged to yourself and stepped out of the room to approach where the noises were coming from, then leaned sideways on the door frame, a smile warming your face when Spencer turned his head to look at you.

"Morning."

"Hi there," you said, your voice still raspy because of sleep, "What are you making?"

"Um- I realized I just had coffee and not much of anything else," Spencer said, "Unless you like leftover Chinese."

"My favorite breakfast."

"So grilled cheese sandwich?"

"Oh man, you don't want to share your leftover Chinese?" you curled your lips, "I guess grilled cheese sandwich could be breakfast too."

He chuckled and put the sandwiches on the plates, so you grabbed them and went to the living room to sit on the couch, Spencer following you with two cups of coffee.

"Jesus Spencer, you didn't have to sleep here," you motioned at the blanket, "You're taller than the couch."

"It's fine, I don't mind."

You shifted your weight and picked at the toast before nibbling on the piece,

"How did you sleep?" he asked and you chewed on your bite.

"Like a rock," you said, "I got like four hours, do you know what that is? A miracle."

He thought for a moment before he walked to the table to pull open a drawer as you grabbed your cigarette package,

"Do you mind if I smoke here?"

"I do actually."

You looked down at the package in your hand, then put it back into your purse as he walked back to the couch, clearing his throat.

"So I was thinking," he said, "The um-the next time it gets too much for you, even though I'm on a case away from the city, if you ever need to get away from your place..." he reached out and put what looked to be a spare key to his apartment on the coffee table and you stared at it for a couple of seconds, your heart skipping a beat.

"Professor," you managed to say when you pulled yourself together and tried to ignore the spark of hope, "I say this with the best intentions, but we really do suck at this whole break up thing."

"We're not so bad-"

"We're literally the worst ex couple I've ever seen. You take your key back from your exes, not give them one."

"But it's not like that," he said quickly, "It's so that you can drop by when I'm not here if you want to."

You were melting, and he wasn't even aware of it.